Operation Homecoming

by Justine Davis

  Amy blinked. “What?”

  “He knows you have a problem. And,” Hayley added in a dry tone, “he expects action.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That look he gave me, after you petted him. That’s his ‘fix it’ look.”

  Amy remembered the moment when the dog had sat at her feet and looked at Hayley. Was it possible the dog had sensed her turmoil? From what her friend had told her, the dog was incredibly empathetic.

  Amy drew in a deep breath, savoring the salt-tanged air, looking out over the water toward the towering, snowcapped Olympic Mountains. She couldn’t wait to get into the thick trees where the fresh scent of evergreens would add its own note to the smell of home.

  “I did want to talk to you about something. I need some help working something out, and you’re the only one I trust.”

  Hayley smiled. “We always do work it out, eventually.”

  “Yes. Not,” she added hastily, “that that’s the only reason I came.”

  “I’m glad to see you whatever the reason,” Hayley said. “So what’s the problem?”

  “I... It’s complicated.”

  “I assumed so or we could have talked it out on the phone.”

  “No, no, I couldn’t talk about it on the phone.”

  Something about Hayley’s demeanor changed then, and the next sideways glance she gave her was different, more intent, more alert.

  “Amy, are you in trouble? Did something happen?”

  “No and yes. Or yes and yes, maybe. I didn’t do anything wrong,” she hastened to assure her friend.

  “I never thought you had. Or would. Is it a personal thing? Some guy?”

  Amy laughed sourly at that. “Please. My love life is as dry as LA these days. Only available men I meet are lawyers, and I’ve found I don’t care for most of them much. Not that it matters—I’m not their type, either.”

  “Not shallow and flashy enough?” Hayley suggested.

  For the first time since she’d started this journey, Amy laughed with genuine pleasure. “And that is why I run to you, my friend. I would have said too quiet and serious. LA legal affairs is a high-powered world.”

  “Their loss,” Hayley said dismissively. “So, what kind of help do you need? More than just talking it out?”

  “I...don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

  “One question, then.”

  “What?”

  “Should we head for the house, or should I have Quinn meet us at Foxworth?”

  Amy hadn’t expected that to come up so soon. Hayley seemed ready to spring into some sort of action, just like that. Maybe working with Foxworth had brought that on.

  “House,” she said. “It’s not...immediate.”

  She put it out of her mind for the pleasant duration of the ferry ride. They took a walk around the upper deck, outside, so Amy could take it all in again. She looked back as they crossed, seeing the dock and the buildings shrink as the ones they were heading for slowly grew and she began to be able to pick out familiar buildings amid the tall, thick trees. She looked toward the cliffs of the south end of Whidby Island to the north, always a favorite spot of hers since the day she’d seen a pod of orcas passing through the strait.

  To complete her ritual, she hit the snack bar for a cup of her beloved clam chowder. Her glasses fogged up as she held the steaming cup under her nose, and they both laughed.

  “I like those,” Hayley said, indicating the red frames.

  “So do I,” Amy said. The various pairs of glasses she had were her one indulgence; since she had to wear them, she wanted options. What had been a painful necessity as a child had become almost a signature style for her now. She even thought she looked odd without them.

  The ferry docked, and Amy felt the calm settle in. The pace was slower here in this more rural area, and she always felt the change. Once off the boat they chatted about other things until finally Hayley started down the familiar driveway. Amy looked around. Every day for years she had come down this driveway to meet Hayley for school, and for respite from the chaos of her own house on the weekends. Now, the empty space to the left, where another house had once stood before it exploded the night Hayley and Quinn met, made it feel almost off balance to her.

  “It sounds so crazy,” she said, “that that was a safe house where they were hiding a federal witness.”

  “Worth it,” Hayley said. “Vicente was a rock at the trial, and some very bad people were put where they belong.”

  “And you found Quinn. Or rather, he found you.”

  Even as she said the name, she spotted the man himself coming out the front door. And there was no doubting the sincerity of his greeting as he grandly opened the car door and welcomed her. Tall, dark and intimidating, with that sardonic arch to his brows, Quinn Foxworth would have made her very nervous if he hadn’t been smiling so widely.

  At least, he was until Cutter replicated his action from the airport, turning to sit at Amy’s feet and looking intently at Quinn.

  “Oh?” he said with a glance at Hayley. She nodded. “Hmm.”

  It must be one of those husband/wife things, Amy thought, communicating without really saying anything. Or in this case, husband, wife and dog.

  Quinn lifted her heavy case and carry-on as if they were grocery bags, and to Amy’s relief made no comment on their weight. Hayley must have warned him.

  It still got dark fairly early this time of year, so the light was already fading by the time they were settled in the comfortable living room before a fire Quinn had built, simply because she’d said she’d missed such things in LA. She liked this man, she thought, not for the first time.

  “Now, what is it?” Quinn said.

  Startled, Amy looked at Hayley.

  “He’s a get-straight-to-business kind of guy,” she said with a smile.

  “But how did he— Never mind. Let me guess. The dog told him.”

  “Actually,” Quinn said, “he did.”

  That’s his ‘fix it’ look...

  Apparently Hayley had meant it.

  “Really, I just need advice,” she said. And she was suddenly having second thoughts, because once she told someone else of her suspicions, she was committed, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that.

  “We’re good at that,” Hayley said.

  Quinn studied her for a moment before saying quietly, “If you’d rather, I’ll leave you two alone. But Cutter seems to think I might be of help.”

  She didn’t know how seriously to take this. “So he not only tells you there’s a problem, he tells you who should, as you put it, ‘fix it’?”

  Quinn’s mouth quirked wryly. “Believe me, I know how it sounds. I was the hardest sell on his unique...talents.”

  “Hayley’s told me all about his abilities,” she said doubtfully, “but seeing it in person is quite different.”

  At her words the dog rose from where he’d plopped beside the fire. He walked over to her and rested his chin on her knee. He looked up at her intently. It was a natural thing, she thought, to pet a dog who did that. Yet it was odd how she felt as if she had no choice.

  The moment her fingers touched the silky fur of his head, a strange sort of calm came over her. She stroked, gently. Again, then again.

  “Crazy, isn’t it?” Quinn asked. “How he makes you feel better?”

  She looked up. Realized she truly did feel better. “It’s...disconcerting.”

  “At the very least,” Hayley agreed, grinning now.

  “So is it personal or professional?” Quinn asked.

  That straight-to-business thing again, Amy thought. “Professional,” she admitted, although she still wasn’t sure she should do this. But she’d come over a thousand miles, so it seemed
silly to quibble now. And she was feeling better about it, she had to admit. Maybe it really was Cutter, she thought as the dog laid down at her feet, resting his chin now on the toe of her foot.

  “I thought you loved your job,” Hayley said.

  “I do.”

  Quinn lifted a brow. “Problem with people, then?”

  “Sort of. I mean, the support staff is great, and Kim, the receptionist, is a sweetheart, but the attorneys... Most of them are just driven types, always looking for ways to raise their profile. Becca Olson—I told you about her, Hayley, she’s the one I have lunch with almost every week—is the only really friendly one. I think that’s a ‘we girls have to stick together’ thing, since there are only a few of us. The guys are pretty cold fish, and I wouldn’t be surprised at anything from them. But I always thought my boss...”

  She broke off, still not quite ready to put her suspicions into words.

  “You’ve always said you respected him, that he’s tough but fair,” Hayley said.

  “I do. Did.” She saw by their expressions that neither of them missed the switch. “But I think... I’m afraid he’s involved in something.”

  “Something you don’t like? Or something crooked?” Hayley asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “I met Marcus Rockwell once,” Quinn said, startling her. “He impressed me as a pretty straight arrow.”

  “You met my boss?”

  “Through a friend, who has another law firm in LA.”

  “Oh? Maybe I’ve met him. They all run in the same circles.”

  “He’s pretty high up in those circles himself. Alex Armistead.”

  Amy’s eyes widened. “I’d say so. As in the very top. We like to think of ourselves as their main competition, but in truth his firm is a couple of rungs up at least. I’ve never met him, even though their office is across the street. Seen him now and then.”

  “He’s a good man.”

  Amy had the feeling that was not an accolade Quinn Foxworth passed out lightly. “He...”

  Cutter erupted to his feet with a trumpeting bark, cutting Quinn off. Amy jumped. Nearly shrieked. Even Hayley drew back in surprise.

  Quinn, however, was instantly on his own feet. Amy could practically feel the change in him. Just looking at him, he’d gone from her best friend’s concerned husband to the man she’d only heard about until now. The fighter, the leader, the man in command. So much so that she wasn’t truly surprised when he spun to the cabinet behind him, reached down and touched something that made a part of the surface pop up. An instant later he had a black pistol in his hand and was headed across the room after the dog.

  Amy gave Hayley a startled glance. “Some people aren’t happy when we’re done with them,” Hayley said, on her own feet now.

  Cutter was nearly to the front door when he stopped dead and fell silent in the same instant. He gave a low whine that sounded almost puzzled. And when he looked back at Quinn, his expression was almost comical. The dog looked utterly confused.

  Quinn diverted to the window closest to the front door, but kept to the edge, out of sight from outside.

  “What is it, boy?” Hayley asked the dog. “A threat?”

  That same puzzled-sounding whine. It might not be words, but even Amy could interpret the canine “I don’t know.”

  Quinn reached out and slid the window open a fraction of an inch. He leaned over, clearly listening. Then he took a quick look.

  “Somebody walking down the drive,” he said. “Can’t tell who.” He glanced at Cutter. “And apparently neither can he.”

  “Odd, he’s never reacted like this before.”

  Quinn leaned farther to look through the window again. “Guy isn’t trying to hide,” he said. “And he’s got a duffel bag with him. Don’t recognize him, though.”

  He looked a moment longer, glanced once more at the puzzled Cutter, then straightened, setting the weapon down on the table next to the door. That alone made Amy’s pulse slow a bit more. Whether he trusted the dog’s instincts or his own more she didn’t know. But she did trust him. Something about this man she barely knew seemed to inspire that.

  Quinn looked at Cutter, who was, Amy realized, staring at Hayley. With that same intensity she’d turned on herself. After a second or two the dog got up and walked to Hayley, then turned to face the door. Putting himself, Amy realized, between her friend and the door. Just as Quinn had put himself between them and the possible threat.

  “Well, now,” Hayley said softly as she touched the dog’s head, “this is all new.”

  “He’s protecting you, right?” Amy asked.

  “He’s not in protect mode. Believe me, you’d see the difference.”

  “He wants to be between you and whoever it is,” Quinn said, “but doesn’t think whoever it is is a threat? Dog, you are a challenge.”

  He went to the door, opened it in the instant before Amy heard a footstep on the wooden porch. Cutter leaned but didn’t move, and Amy could see his nose flexing as he sniffed eagerly. Yet he didn’t leave Hayley. She marveled at the workings of his canine mind even as she glanced back toward the door with building curiosity.

  She heard a voice, low and unintelligible, except she thought she heard Quinn’s name.

  “You son of a bitch.”

  Quinn threw a punch so quickly Amy barely saw his arm move. She heard the thud of something hitting the boards of the porch. Someone.

  Stunned, Amy froze. Cutter growled, but didn’t move. At least, not until Hayley did. When she ran to Quinn’s side, Cutter moved as if he were Velcroed to her side.

  Amy rose, but hesitated. This might be some family thing; she should stay out of it. Obviously what threat there was Quinn had dealt with it.

  But then Hayley gasped. “Walker?”

  Amy’s heart nearly stopped.

  No wonder Quinn had clobbered him.

  Chapter 3

  Walker Cole rubbed at his jaw. At least it wasn’t his nose, he thought, which had already been broken twice before, once in each direction. As a result it was still fairly straight, but you could feel the kinks where it had healed.

  And that, he thought, was probably the stupidest thing he could be thinking about just now.

  Gingerly, he got to his feet. He kept a wary eye on Quinn—he’d had no doubt from the instant the big man had opened the door who he was—but his attention was focused on the woman now beside him.

  Hayley.

  His baby sister.

  The only family he had left.

  The one person left in this life he loved unreservedly.

  She was staring at him in shock. And why not? He hadn’t been home in over five years now, since he’d stopped here before heading to Chicago, the Great Lakes. All had been well then, their mother healthy, Hayley happy in her job in Seattle, and he hadn’t felt a qualm at moving on when the walls started to close in.

  He hadn’t realized he’d never see Mom again.

  He hadn’t planned on anything that had happened after that last visit.

  “Hi, sis,” he said finally, and it sounded lame even to his ears.

  She shook her head as if she were at a loss for words. And the dog. When had she gotten a dog? Or was it her new husband’s? Whichever, he wasn’t liking the way it was staring at him, as if it couldn’t decide whether to welcome him or go for his throat.

  Walker glanced at the man beside her, now with his arm protectively around her shoulders.

  “If you’re expecting an apology, you won’t get one,” her husband said coldly.

  Slowly, he shook his head. He studied the man for a moment. He’d met men like this, had learned to assess them. “No. I had that coming.”

  Quinn drew back slightly, looking like a man whose car suddenly made an u
nexpected sound. Walker glanced at his sister. And she finally spoke.

  “I don’t know whether to hug you or slug you myself.”

  His mouth quirked. “I’ll gladly take the latter if it gets me the former.”

  That did earn him the hug, and she let him hold it for longer than he’d dared hope. For a moment he simply couldn’t speak. Hayley had been his most ardent defender for so long, but even her devotion had to have run out years ago. He would never forgive himself for that, and he doubted she would, either. Not when he couldn’t tell her why.

  But that didn’t stop him from savoring every second of this. He’d never have thought this could be so precious, never thought just holding his sister close again could make him ache so much. Moisture stung his eyes, and he tried hard to blink it away. He tightened his embrace, half-afraid he’d hurt her, but again she let him. Maybe she felt the little tremors going through him, and was too kindhearted to pull away when he was shaking under the impact of a simple hug after the years of cold distance.

  “Who’s the furry one?” he asked when he finally had to end the contact that had warmed him more than anything in the past five years.

  “This is Cutter,” Quinn answered. “And I’d hold off petting him. He hasn’t decided about you yet.”

  But you have, Walker thought. And I don’t blame you.

  “I suppose you’d better come in,” Hayley said, her words and tone telling him he was far from forgiven. He’d expected that. She had every right, after all.

  “Are you sure?” Quinn asked her, sounding as if he would happily toss Walker into the sound.

  “He’s my brother,” she said simply. “I can’t just throw him out.”

  Quinn made a sound Walker suspected was disagreement with that. But he stood aside and let Walker through the doorway.

  The house had changed. It startled him, but he should have expected it. He swallowed past the sudden tightness in his throat as it was pounded home to him that his mother was truly gone. This house that she had made the near-perfect home of his childhood would never ring with her laughter again. And he hadn’t treasured it or her nearly as much as he should have. And now he would never see or hear her again, except in memories.