Operation Alpha

by Justine Davis

  “What has you wondering about Dylan’s mother?”

  “Her social media accounts.”

  “Ah. I know she wasn’t the technophobe he says his father is, because he talked about how excited she was about a new phone. It had a better camera.”

  “That’s exactly what I meant. She posted a lot of pictures. And apparently did a lot of hiking.”

  Ria nodded. “She loved to go out and look for wildlife, especially eagles. Dylan said she used to take him a lot, when he was little, before Kevin was born. That kind of curtailed those expeditions.”

  “Except that day.”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “It’s so sad—she gets back to what she loves, and it kills her.”

  He gave her a look she couldn’t quite interpret. “She was with her husband that day, but her photo captions seem to indicate she usually went with friends.”

  Ria nodded again. “A group of three. I remember Dylan laughing about her calling them her girlfriends. You know, like kids do when they think their parents are way too old to use the word.” Her smile faded. “I wonder if Dylan realizes how young she really was.”

  “Probably not. The thirties seem old at sixteen. But when he hits them himself, it’s liable to come down on him like a thousand-pound bronc.”

  She leaned back in her chair and looked at him. “You’re very wise.”

  “Thanks for not adding ‘for my age.’” His tone was dry.

  “I’ll bet looking young comes in handy sometimes, with your work.”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes.”

  “And when you hit thirty, maybe you’ll be glad.”

  He eyed her for a moment before saying neutrally, “Two years, if you’re asking.”

  She managed not to blush. Or show the relief she didn’t want to even feel that he wasn’t as young as she’d feared. That he was, in fact, only a year younger than her. Not that it mattered, she told herself firmly. They were merely working together for a common goal, not starting a relationship.

  Images blasted through her mind, visions of what that might be like. They took her breath away, and she seriously considered taking her frozen-lemonade-chilled hands and clapping them over her cheeks as the blush she’d beaten down at first finally won.

  * * *

  It took Liam a tenth of a second to decide he would give a great deal to know what had brought on the rise of pink in her face. A bit longer to fight down his own reaction, to quash the hope that she’d been curious for a private reason. He was not going there. He couldn’t. He had no right to even think about it. How could he even consider risking it, for her sake?

  No, this was business, and business it would stay. And it was time he took this back there, right now.

  “Did Dylan ever mention them all going hiking, the whole family?”

  She looked thoughtful for a moment and then shook her head. “Not recently, as far as I remember. Just trips when he was a kid.”

  “What about his mother and father going hiking without him and his brother?”

  “He talked about that last day, of course, but it was upsetting, obviously, so we didn’t talk about it all that much.” She frowned. “Does it matter?”

  He shrugged. He thought it might, but he wasn’t ready to go there yet. “Just putting together the picture. The more I know, the better. So Dylan wasn’t a hiker?”

  “It wasn’t his favorite thing, no.”

  He finished the last of his lemonade. Looking at the empty glass made him realize that on some level he was wishing this could go on. She was easy to talk to, as long as he kept his baser urges under control. True, he was having to work harder at that than he had in a long time, but it seemed worth it to look across the table and see that smile.

  She looked at him curiously. “How long does Foxworth pursue something before giving up?”

  “Foxworth doesn’t give up,” he said. “Unless the person we’re working for calls us off.”

  “What if you don’t find an answer?”

  “Then it’s still open. Quinn’s got things whirlin’ in his head that are from years ago. He hates loose ends. And he gets what he wants. Eventually.”

  She smiled then. “Like he got Hayley?”

  He grinned. “Just like that. Although one of those loose ends is still dangling from the case they met on. And it’s one Quinn will be relentless on.”

  “More than others?”

  He nodded. “This one’s personal to him. I don’t envy his target when he finds him.”

  He remembered the conversation he and Rafe had had about the time when—and it would be when, not if—Quinn finally nailed down the mole that had almost cost them that mission and more. The mole that could have cost all of them their lives, including Hayley. They’d covertly investigated two FBI agents, a senatorial chief of staff and the senator himself. On the latter two, they’d found enough dirt to disgust them but nothing to do with their quarry. So Quinn had quietly turned the info over to one of the rarest beasts in DC, an honest politician, closed that trail and continued the hunt.

  He snapped back to the present, belatedly tuning in to Ria’s comment on Foxworth.

  “—have built a remarkable thing.”

  “Yes.”

  “Out of tragedy, hope,” she said.

  “Who said that?”

  “Countless, I’m sure. I think it’s human nature or the two sides of it, anyway. How we deal with tragedy, I mean. The optimist looks for some kind of hope.”

  “And the pessimist...what? Says, ‘See, I told ya so’?”

  She laughed again. And he still liked the sound of it. “Exactly that.”

  He realized suddenly they had strayed far from the reason he’d wanted to meet with her. Or, at least, the reason he’d told himself.

  He also realized he was enjoying this, more than he’d enjoyed anything in a while. And he only now noticed the place was filling up as the late-nighters began to arrive.

  They should clear out. And he didn’t want to. He wanted this night, this conversation, to go on. And on. Blaming Cutter for planting this damned idea in his head wasn’t helping it go away.

  “Dang dog,” he muttered, barely aware of saying it out loud until she looked at him oddly.

  “Need to get back to him?”

  That easily she handed him an out. And that quickly, he was at war internally, one part of him demanding escape, the other tempted—oh, so tempted—to stretch this out as long as he could.

  Regarding the case, he already had what he’d come for. And he thought he’d managed to do it without setting off any warning bells in Ria. He didn’t want her to inadvertently let something slip to Dylan, not before he had a chance to dig further.

  So if he had that, why was he still sitting here? For that matter, why had he felt the need to do this in person anyway? He could have asked her over the phone about the hiking.

  “Liam? What’s wrong?”

  “My daddy would say my ox is in the ditch.”

  She blinked. “Translation, please? My Texan’s not up to par.”

  “You’re better off not knowing,” he said, letting her think it was something off-color, rather than explaining it simply meant he couldn’t do what he wanted to do.

  He got to his feet, taking the out they’d stumbled into. When she pointed out where she’d parked three blocks down, he wondered if situtations like this were half the reason men had invented gentlemanly manners. Because if he should walk her to her car, it also meant another few minutes spent with her.

  There was enough traffic headed for the ferry that he noticed it as he walked to the driver’s door with her. He stood by as she opened it, turning to look down the road to see if it was safe to pull it open.

  He turned back. She’d taken a step to be clear of the d
oor. They collided.

  He expected her to jump back. Break the contact. She didn’t. Maybe she couldn’t. The car. The traffic. Damn it. Don’t do this. Don’t...

  He was still thinking it as he kissed her.

  Chapter 20

  The sound of the ferry traffic faded into nothing, inaudible over the pounding of her heart. She’d known he was going to do it. Or was that hoped? Did she, really?

  And then even thought faded away, crowded out by new and vivid sensations, the feel of his mouth on hers, the feel of his body against hers, the overwhelming heat that seemed to swirl out from every point of contact.

  He didn’t crush her lips with his—this was more of a tasting, testing, as if he were as curious as she was. But the heat grew and, with it, the urgency, so quickly she only realized when her head started to spin that she’d forgotten to breathe. Or maybe it was the effect of the kiss itself; she didn’t know. She didn’t know anything, except she’d never felt this way in her life over a simple kiss.

  Simple? You call this simple?

  The same voice in her head that had been mocking her efforts to keep Liam Burnett out of her thoughts was sounding annoyingly triumphant now.

  He broke the kiss, pulling back sharply. She felt bereft, and that in itself was disquieting. The only saving grace was that he looked as unsettled as she did.

  “I—” He swallowed, tried again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Why?” It came out faintly, breathlessly, because he’d stolen what air she had.

  She could almost feel him drawing himself up, steadying himself. She liked that he had to but not that he was doing it. Which fit perfectly her own tangled state.

  “You’re a smart lady, Ria. You don’t want anything to do with me, that way.”

  That kicked her breathing back into gear. She honestly did not understand. It wasn’t like he was a cop and she a...witness or something. They might be working on this, but they normally didn’t work together.

  Maybe that was it. He had this exciting, sometimes dangerous—how could it not be if they had a sniper, for God’s sake—job, and she was...well, what she was.

  “Is a teacher too boring for you?” she asked.

  He pulled back slightly. “You? Boring? When I have to work just to keep up with you?”

  She smiled inwardly at the compliment, but she didn’t want to get sidetracked and said only, “Some men find that...annoying.”

  He reached out then, brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek. “Darlin’,” he said, the drawl suddenly leaping to the fore, “I find you a whole lotta things, and boring isn’t even in the footnote to the list.”

  She wasn’t sure if it was the accent or the way he put it, but she was charmed all over again.

  “Then why?” she asked again.

  He sucked in an audible breath. “There are things you don’t know.”

  “I know you got in trouble as a kid, went to jail. How much worse can it get?”

  He went very still. It was a moment before he said flatly, “Much.”

  He meant it. The shadow she’d seen before, that told her he was one of those who knew grief firsthand, was there in his eyes again. Only this time it wasn’t merely a flicker; it stayed.

  “Go home, Ria,” he said. He sounded weary, in that too-much-of-the-world way she’d seen in police and military personnel. Too weary for his age and far too weary for the age he looked. And yet he spent his time helping people and clearly loved what he did, what Foxworth stood for. It was a puzzle she couldn’t seem to let go of.

  But she sensed this was not the time.

  How much worse can it get?

  Much.

  It wasn’t until she was pulling into the garage of her condo that she remembered something else he’d said, about working for Foxworth.

  Some days it’s the only thing that gets me through, knowing what we do.

  So there had to be something, other than relatively minor hacking offenses, that ate at him, that he couldn’t get past. She wondered what it would take to turn a normally laid-back, easygoing guy like Liam into someone who couldn’t let go.

  But more than that, she wondered if that’s how he felt, why he’d kissed her in the first place.

  If he went up in flames the way you did, then you know why he did it.

  That, she thought as she went inside and tossed her keys and purse down with more emphasis than usual, was what she should have asked him. Not why he shouldn’t have done it but why he had.

  * * *

  Cutter nudged at his hand. Liam absently stroked the dog’s head as he stared at the screen of what Rafe called his industrial-grade laptop. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for; he was just following tangents and connections hoping something would hit. Or as Rafe also called it, falling down the rabbit hole.

  Now there was a guy with a past, one worth warning someone off for. But Rafe never had to warn anyone off, because he never let anyone get close. Outside of Foxworth, he was a loner and seemed to prefer it that way. You’d never catch Rafe doing something stupid like...like...

  And just like that there he was, back in the moment on the street, next to her car, when he’d made one of the more stupid decisions in recent memory and kissed her.

  Stupid. Definitely the word.

  But, damn, it was sweet. She made him feel like the first burst of bluebonnets in spring did. Like the way the smell of his mother’s pecan pie baking always made his stomach growl, Ria made every carnal sense he had leap to life. As if it were inbred, instinctive, not just a response but some deep, intrinsic part of him.

  He’d never had that kind of reaction before, and it unsettled him. While Ria had all the things that attracted him, there was so much more to her, what his mother called still waters that ran deep, that he knew better than to even think what he was thinking. She was not the sort of woman who kept things light and easy, the easy part—as in easy to walk away—being the operative word there. No, she was the kind who lured you in simply by not trying, by just being who she is, so that you knew there were no phony fronts, that she was utterly genuine.

  Cutter nudged him again. And again, until he shifted his gaze from the distraction of the screen and looked at the animal. The dog’s steady and sometimes unnerving gaze was fastened on him intently.

  “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, hound,” he muttered at him.

  The dog never wavered, just stared up at him.

  “It’s not happening. I’ve got my reasons, and you’d better get used to it.”

  The dog shifted then, but only to stretch out and nudge his cell phone with his nose.

  “I’m not calling her.”

  The dog nudged the phone again.

  “No.”

  And again, only this time Liam had to grab it to keep it from sliding off the table. He set it back down, this time well out of the dog’s reach. And practically the moment he let go of it, it rang.

  Startled, he looked at the screen. His gaze shot back to the dog.

  “Is that all that was? You knew your mom was going to call?” He felt silly, thinking the dog had been urging him to call Ria. Which told him where his brain was at, no matter how much he denied it.

  He grabbed the cell and answered.

  “Hey, how are two of my favorite boys?” Hayley asked.

  “We’re good. He knew you were going to call. Practically knocked my phone off the table right before. I swear, it must ring at a doggy sound level before we can hear it.”

  Hayley laughed. “Just checking in. I know it’s late, but I figured you’d still be awake.”

  “Yeah.” Like I’ve been sleeping much lately anyway. “How are Walker and Amy?”

  “Busy. Her boss had a big case coming u
p and she’s researching like mad. And Walker’s got the office under control. In fact, he just wound up another case.”

  “Not bad for only being in operation since May.”

  “No, he’s doing well.”

  Liam smiled. Hayley and Walker’s relationship hadn’t been the best when he’d had secrets to keep. But now his actions had been explained, he was an out-and-out hero and the two were very close. Even more so because her brother just happened to be flat-out in love with her best friend Amy.

  Another of Cutter’s successful matchups.

  He wondered if the dog had ever failed on one of those before.

  “Liam?”

  He snapped back to the conversation. “What?”

  “I asked how it was going on your end.”

  Other than your dog trying to pull his matchmaker routine on me? “Early days still. Got a few threads peeking out, but nothing that’s unraveled yet.”

  “How’s Dylan?”

  “Stressed out, that boy is. Met his father this afternoon, so I can see why.”

  “He one of those threads?” Hayley asked.

  “Yes. I know anger’s part of grief, but he’s one touchy guy. Heard anything from Quinn?”

  “He thinks he’s onto something, but he’s not committing yet.”

  “He’ll find that mole, you know he will.”

  “Yes,” she said simply, “I do.”

  The utter faith and confidence in her voice gave him an odd feeling. What must it be like for Quinn, to know the woman you loved had such trust in you? To know she never, ever doubted you would get the job done? That you would do the right thing? He wondered which came first, the trust or the love? Or did they have to come together before you had a rock-solid relationship like the Foxworths had? How did you even start building a thing like that?

  You start with being the kind of man Quinn is and always was, not a dumb-as-a-fence-post kid who makes stupid choices that other people pay for.

  He grabbed for something else to talk about.

  “I’ve been looking at the pictures Melissa Oakley posted online that last day, and I read the report again. It’s thorough, and it’s clear that the edge of the trail had gotten undercut by water and wind erosion and just collapsed.”