“That’s where kickboxing started, isn’t it?”
“You have been studying,” Liam said. “Yes.”
Dylan leaned down closer to Cutter but kept his gaze on Liam. “What about Tae Kwon Do?”
“Like those head-high kicks, do you?”
Dylan smiled kind of lopsidedly. “They look cool.”
“That they do. You’ve got the speed and agility for it. And it takes balance, since the stances are narrower. Then you’ve got Muay Thai, which is the every-body-part-is-a-weapon thing.”
Dylan grinned then. He seemed relaxed now, and Liam decided to chance shifting the conversation slightly.
“Really, your approach depends on the why.” Liam watched him steadily as he went on. “If you do it because it’s trendy or cool, that’s fine. It will do you good no matter your reason. You just pick the one you like most and go for it.”
Dylan looked puzzled. “I figured you’d be all about deeper reasons.”
“I’m working on the assumption you’re just dipping your toe in now, not looking for a life’s passion. If it becomes that, fine, but you need to know your choices for now. Which brings us back to why. Why are you interested?”
Dylan looked down at Cutter, seeming glad of the distraction of the dog’s presence. “Maybe I just want the cool factor.”
Liam waited until the silence made the boy look back up at him. “I’d believe that with some,” he said quietly. “But I think you are, as you said, deeper than that.”
The boy looked pleased, but the expression quickly vanished. Liam went on conversationally.
“There’s the physical side, of course—the great exercise. There’s also learning that control, of your body and mind. There’s the self-confidence that comes with knowing you can protect yourself or others.”
Dylan went very still. Strike, Liam thought. But before he could pursue it, a rather raucous guitar riff sounded. Dylan grabbed a cell phone out of his backpack, looked and grimaced.
“Yeah?” he answered and then listened. Liam saw the kid was keeping a wary eye on him, as if he were trying to decide whether to walk away to keep the call private. In the end it was short, and he didn’t. “Wait there. I’ll come get you.”
He ended the call with a swipe and stuck the phone back in his pocket. He glanced at Liam and shrugged.
“I gotta go get my little brother.”
“Now? Where?”
“Down by the marina.” He gave Liam a sideways look. “He cut school again.”
“Again? Has he done that a lot?” Liam asked.
Dylan hesitated, then shook his head. “Just since our mom died. In March.”
“That’s rough. You need a ride?” Dylan gave him that wary look again, and Liam shrugged. “If we’re done I’ll be leaving anyway.”
“Sorry, I know you only came for me—”
Liam cut him off with a wave. “No problem. Family comes first.”
“Yeah. Right.”
Liam knew he hadn’t mistaken the bitter undertone in Dylan’s voice that time. “Come on. I’m parked right over there. Hound?”
Cutter jumped up and trotted ahead of them toward where the truck was parked as if he’d understood the conversation. Once in the truck, Cutter settled in the small backseat of the crew cab. It was a moment before the boy spoke again.
“That thing you did with Alan,” he said. “What was that?”
“Besides cool, you mean?”
He got a grin for that one. “Yeah.”
“That was just geometry and physics.” Dylan blinked, clearly startled. “Angle of attack and the tendency of a...large body in motion to remain in motion.”
Dylan made a strangled noise that sounded like a smothered snort. Liam counted it as success. The too-serious boy had laughed a few times, loosened up a bit, so there was definitely progress.
“You can drop me off here,” Dylan said as they reached the street that led slightly downhill to the picturesque marina. Again a sideways look. “Kevin’s kind of scared of strangers.”
It was too early to push, Liam thought and let it go. “Okay. But take my number. I’ve got a couple of things to do here, so I’ll be in town for a bit. In case you want a ride home or back to school or something.”
They exchanged the numbers, but Dylan said, “No, we’re good. I know what buses to take. Thanks for the ride.” Then he hefted his backpack and reached to give Cutter a good-bye pat.
“See you Thursday?”
The boy seemed oddly relieved. “Yeah. Sure.”
Liam watched him go, but when the boy looked back over his shoulder he figured he’d better move along. He drove down a block, parked on a side street, put his hunting jacket on for some camouflage and sprinted toward the water. In the shelter of the entrance of the souvenir shop on the corner, he scanned the people along the waterfront. He spotted Dylan sitting next to a small boy on one of the bright blue city benches. Kevin was slumped but upright. There was little resemblance between them. With his blond hair and fair skin, the younger boy looked much more like the photos Liam had found of their mother.
Dylan had his arm around him. Protectively.
It was, in a way, a reassuring scene. But every instinct Liam had developed since coming to Foxworth was clamoring. There was definitely something going on here. And while it might simply be two boys trying to adjust to life without their mother, those instincts were saying it was more. He watched until the two boys walked up to the main street and caught one of the smaller county buses heading north, toward where Emily had said they lived.
“I think you’re right, hound,” he said to Cutter when he got back to the truck. “Dylan’s not the problem. He’s the one trying to deal with it.”
Cutter woofed approvingly from the backseat.
“And thanks for the help,” Liam added, knowing the dog was half the reason Dylan had opened up at all.
Cutter leaned forward and swiped his tongue over Liam’s cheek. As a “you’re welcome,” it was pretty clear.
“Definitely a smart alien,” Liam said with an inward grin.
He’d just started the truck when his cell rang. He hit the button above his head for the Foxworth system.
“Burnett.”
“Hi. It’s Ria.” His pulse took a leap before she even said her name. He’d recognized her voice instantly, even though he’d half expected it to be Dylan or maybe Quinn or Hayley. “Just wondering how it went with Dylan.”
“Oh.” Of course. He should have known. Only when she spoke again did he realize he’d been quiet long enough that she felt she had to explain.
“I have Emily in two classes tomorrow. I’m sure she’ll ask.”
“I just dropped him off at the marina. His brother called Dylan to pick him up.”
“You’re at the marina?”
“I parked out of sight so I could keep an eye on them, so I’m downtown now.”
“So am I.”
“Oh.” Brilliant conversationalist, aren’t you, Burnett?
“Lunch break,” she explained. “Can we meet and you can update me?”
His pulse did that crazy thing again. He frowned. This was crazy. Sure, she was attractive, he liked the way that glossy dark hair of hers gleamed in the sun, he bet she looked cute in those glasses she’d mentioned and, more than all that, he liked how much she cared for her students, but that didn’t explain this.
“I’d like to stay in the loop,” she said from the speaker, and he realized he’d again left her hanging.
“I...sure.” He was going to regret it, he was sure, but he didn’t know how to get out of meeting with her. Quinn had said they would need to communicate, that she and Emily would be more likely to notice any changes in Dylan.
“Java Hut?” she suggested.
<
br /> Liam sighed. He could see the sign for the popular coffee stand from where he sat in his truck.
“Okay. I’m practically there.”
“I’m at the drugstore. I’ll head that way.”
In the silence after the call he just sat for a moment. This made no sense to him. He just didn’t react this way. He was lighthearted, never-get-too-close Liam Burnett. In his way, he stayed as unentangled as Rafe. And women didn’t see him as a challenge, not the way they did with his dark, brooding partner. That was the reason he cultivated the lighthearted, joking demeanor; it was a good shield. Nobody expected him to be serious. Or get serious.
With a sharp shake of his head he got out of the truck and locked it after rolling the windows all the way down for Cutter.
“I won’t be long,” he promised the dog. Anybody who tried to take advantage of the open truck would regret it.
He took a quick glance inside when he got there, at the line to the counter and the few, full tables. He saw a woman with dark hair, but it was longer, didn’t have the sleek swing Ria’s did. Saw another sitting at a table with her back to the door, but she was hunched over her phone, focused solely on it despite apparent friends sitting with her, and that just didn’t fit with what he knew of Ria.
He backed out of the doorway and leaned against the wall just outside. He looked toward the small drugstore. There were several people walking along the main street, taking advantage of the lingering sunshine, although the air was already cooler with the hint of oncoming fall. But when he spotted her, they all seemed to fade away.
For some reason he could hear Rafe’s low, rumbling voice in his head. Target acquired.
What a crazy thing to think. And yet it was sort of like that, when you were focused on someone and the rest of the world became merely periphery. At the same time it was different, because Ria wasn’t the focus, and certainly not a target; she was merely connected loosely to the case.
He nearly snorted out loud as she stopped a few yards away, smiling, to bend gracefully to pet a passing dog. Ria Connelly wasn’t merely anything.
She straightened, looked his way and obviously spotted him. And smiled again as she tapped her phone and then slid it into a pocket. It was a different smile this time than when she greeted the dog. Wider. More pleased. And the difference made his pulse kick up again, no matter how he ordered himself to stand down.
She was carrying a small bag from the drugstore. Not, he noticed, the white paper bag from the pharmacy in the back. So not sick, or at least not prescription-sick. As she got closer he could see the square shape of a box in the plastic bag.
Just about the right size for a box of condoms.
A sensation he’d never felt before blasted through him, a combination of heat and surge and, at the same time, recoil and dread. The heat for her and the dread from wondering who she needed them for.
Cutter’s steady gaze shot through his mind and the way the dog had tried to herd him toward Ria at Foxworth.
Damn. Hell.
And no. A big, neon-light no.
Chapter 11
Ria saw him push away from the wall just outside the door to the Java Hut. He looked odd, his expression something she couldn’t quite put a name to. He took a step toward her and then stopped, apparently deciding to wait until she threaded through the group of patrons that always seemed clustered around the popular stop. By the time she got to him, the strange expression was gone.
There was a man with his hands full of the fancier Java Hut concoctions coming toward the door. Liam stayed holding it until he was clear. The man nodded and said thanks as he went out. Definitely good manners, Ria thought.
“You’re not sick, are you?”
His unexpected question threw her, but after a moment she figured it out. She’d called him from the drugstore when she’d glanced at the clock and realized his session with Dylan would be over.
“No.” She gestured with the bag. “Just some lozenges. My throat gets dry by the end of the day. All that talking.”
His expression was so peculiar she stared at him. Relief and a touch of...disappointment? But he clearly wasn’t going to explain, because without a word he headed for the end of the short line.
“Cutter?” she asked, moving along with him.
“On guard duty in the truck. He’ll be fine unless this takes too long.”
He sounded like a man facing an onerous task. Irritation flicked through her. She had every right—they had all agreed—to be updated on what was going on. But, perhaps fortunately, they were at the counter before she could put her irritation into words.
She ordered her favorite chai tea latte, while Liam stuck to black coffee. No froufrou for him, she thought, unsurprised.
“Shall we take them down to the water, so Cutter can come with us?”
His brow furrowed as if she’d asked him a difficult question.
“I promise this will be short,” she said sweetly. “I don’t expect you to exert yourself.”
His expression shifted as if that had stung, as she’d meant it to.
“Yeah, sure,” he muttered, finally answering her question.
He was behaving unusually, very different from the good-natured, cheerful guy she’d first met at Foxworth. Whatever was bothering him, she didn’t want it to interfere with helping Dylan. And it wasn’t like he was going through anything like her own silly internal battle. He barely looked at her, while she couldn’t help stealing glances at him every chance she got.
One of the great—and hardest—lessons of life, she thought. Attraction isn’t always mutual.
She walked alongside him, taking a sip of her drink as they turned a corner. Feeling a chill at the sudden drop in temperature as they walked into the shade of the big art gallery on the corner, she spotted his truck. Cutter gave a happy whine as they neared the vehicle, and she shifted her cup to her other hand so she could greet him properly with a scratch of his ears. Liam dug a leash out of a side pocket on the door and snapped it onto the dog’s collar, next to the blue ID tag.
“Civilization, hound,” he told the dog as he jumped down to the sidewalk. “City manners on.”
At her laugh, he glanced at her. “I’m not sure this qualifies as an actual city,” she explained as they started toward the water; the town had less than ten thousand people.
“I’m from the wide-open spaces. Anything bigger than a couple hundred people is a city to me.”
He said it with a smile so she laughed again. And when he didn’t seem to take offense, she asked, “Where?”
“Little town about halfway between San Antonio and Austin famous mainly for being in some music video. Population, last I heard, was still under a thousand. But even it’s a city now.” He paused as they entered the waterfront park, looked at the small marina with its rows of boats, both power and sail. “Nothing like this, though.”
“It is pretty, isn’t it?”
They’d reached one of the bright blue city benches. She looked at the plaque that was secured to the backrest. She lifted her cup and murmured, “Here’s to you,” before taking another sip.
“You knew that guy?” Liam asked as they sat down.
“No. But the person whose name is on that memorial plaque was very important to someone or several someones. Just acknowledging that.”
“You do that every time you sit on one of these?”
“Yes. And I’m working on the bricks in the courtyard. Try to add a new one every time I go through there.”
“That’s a lot of bricks,” he said. It was. The entire walkway between the two rows of businesses was paved with bricks that held names or nicknames in tribute to someone lost.
“It doesn’t seem right to just walk over them without even noticing.” For a long moment he just looked at her. She suppose
d he thought she was foolish, overly sentimental or perhaps even a bit odd. She didn’t care. Not about this. “I do it out of respect and gratitude that I haven’t had to think about such things, yet.”
“You’re really something, you know that?”
He said it softly, but the tone of his voice was unmistakably admiring. And she realized she’d been wrong; she did care what this man thought of her.
Before she could slip further down that dangerous path, she spoke. “I’ve never met the brother, but it’s in Dylan’s records that he has just the one younger one. Several years younger. Shouldn’t he be in school?”
He took another swallow of coffee before saying, “Apparently he’s been cutting school. Dylan told me that much, and I didn’t want to push him for more, not this soon.”
“You’re right,” she agreed. “Although if he already trusts you enough to ask for a ride, that’s a good sign.”
“I offered, and he accepted, a bit hesitantly. He’s pretty wary.”
“And he never used to be,” she said, frowning. “Will he come back to school? I have him in last class today.”
“I don’t know. Like I said, he didn’t want to talk about it. Said he’d get back to school on the bus, though.”
“How did his brother look?”
He thought about that for a moment. “Lost,” he finally said. “And Dylan seemed pretty protective of him.”
She nodded. “That fits with the old Dylan.”
She realized that, whatever his reservations had been about meeting with her, they had apparently vanished. He finished his coffee and looked thoughtful as he crumpled the cup and put it in the adjacent trash receptacle.
“Something’s definitely eating at him. It may just be grief, but...”
“You think it’s more?”
“My gut does. And so does his,” he added, gesturing toward Cutter.
She glanced at the dog, who indeed had his “city manners” on, plopped on the grass beside the bench and merely watching the parade of people and even other dogs. He would stretch his neck and sniff if one came over to him, but he never budged from that spot.
Operation Alpha Page 7