Operation Homecoming

by Justine Davis

  “You were right,” he said. “If he was going to lie, he’d have made up something better than ‘I can’t tell you.’”

  “Yes.” And the moment she’d realized that was the moment she’d also realized she’d fallen for him all over again.

  Hayley looked intently at the husband she knew so well, then said sternly, “Quinn Foxworth, you’re dodging. Why?”

  “Because I did something you told me not to do.”

  “News flash. Not the first time.”

  He smiled, looking as if it were in spite of himself. But it faded when he said, “But this was personal. To you.”

  Hayley’s gaze narrowed. Then widened in obvious realization. “You started digging, didn’t you?”

  “I wanted to know, to find out what I could. And to have it, in case you changed your mind.”

  Amy knew Hayley had told him not to, the first time he’d asked. But she also knew she couldn’t deny how many times she herself had come very close to asking Hayley to change her mind and tell him to go ahead in these past couple of weeks.

  And she had sensed that her friend had felt the same way. Quinn, being Quinn, could well have picked up on that.

  “And did you find out anything?” Amy asked, trying not to sound apprehensive.

  “Yes. No real details but enough, I think.”

  Amy took a deep breath. If it was enough to soothe Quinn’s anger toward Walker, then it must be something convincing.

  “Talk,” Hayley said.

  He shook his head. “Someone else needs to explain. Turn on your tablet and the video chat, will you? I need to make a call.”

  A few minutes later the three of them were huddled together to look at the small screen. It was on, a video window open, but blank until Quinn hit a couple of buttons on his phone and sent the feed to the bigger screen for all of them.

  A man’s image appeared, square-jawed, dark-eyed, with skin the color of a rich, dark tea. He was wearing a suit and tie, and behind him was a plain wall, only a clock visible. Amy wondered if that was purposeful. Then she noticed the time on that clock. Three hours later. East Coast, she thought. And it wasn’t a big jump from that to DC.

  “Tobias Cabrero,” Quinn said, then gestured toward Hayley and Amy. “My wife, Hayley, sister of the subject in question. And her friend Amy, who...has reason to need to hear this.”

  “You come with the highest of recommendations from a man I revere, Mr. Foxworth,” Cabrero said, his voice matching the strength of his appearance. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be trusting you with even this much.”

  “I revere him, too, Mr. Cabrero,” Quinn said. “Rafer Crawford is the finest man I know.”

  Cabrero nodded. “Let’s dispense with the formalities. I don’t have a lot of time, so I’ll give you what I can, and say up front I probably won’t be able to answer many questions, nor will I confirm any names. I can only say this much because the operation has now concluded with the last arrests made yesterday.”

  “That’s all we ask,” Hayley said.

  Cabrero nodded again. “Very well. About eight years ago the Bureau became aware of a terrorist sleeper cell.” FBI, Amy guessed then. She’d been right about DC. “We had reason to believe it had spread to multiple cities and was behind two bombings in suburban Chicago and in Philadelphia. Rather than taking it down, we monitored and tried to infiltrate. For three years we tried without success. Then one day a man walked into a field office to report something he’d stumbled onto. It was quickly apparent we had found our back door. He was completely unsuspected by the cell, and had a way in.”

  Amy’s breath caught. She heard Hayley’s gasp, but neither of them dared look away from the screen.

  “I can’t say much more, since I can’t disclose operational procedures, but I will say that that man, that civilian who had only what training we were able to give him in a very short period, did an incredible job. For five years he risked his life every day. In the process we saved hundreds, perhaps thousands of lives by foiling three different bomb plots.”

  “Oh, my God,” Hayley breathed.

  “It had to be. For Walker, it had to be something that big,” Amy whispered.

  “Twice we offered to pull him out when they began to suspect him, but he refused, because he knew they were readying more attacks. He stuck it out, once barely managing to stay alive. He gave us what we needed, we pulled him out and this week we finally moved to take down the cell in six different places. You may have heard about that.”

  Quinn swore under his breath.

  “Yes,” Cabrero agreed.

  Amy sucked in an audible breath. She remembered people, even Becca, buzzing about that story at the office. Walker had done this? Pride rose in her like sunrise, bright, brilliant and forever warm. She glanced at Hayley, saw an echo of her own welling emotions in her friend’s face. She’d already accepted—at first without even realizing it—that whatever the reason was, it had to be good enough. Because it was Walker. He’d had to do what he did. At eighteen, and five years ago.

  She’d just never expected anything like this.

  She’d known she would forgive him. But she’d never expected that she would owe him an apology.

  And she would give it. Gladly. She suspected Hayley would, too.

  “This civilian paid a high price for his courage. He witnessed some things...some awful things, that we couldn’t let him do anything about without blowing everything.”

  The nightmares, Amy thought. Her stomach knotted at the thought of what he’d been through.

  “And we did some things to keep his identity hidden that we weren’t happy about. Including swearing him to complete secrecy. I gather from your inquiry he’s kept that oath.”

  “Yes,” Quinn said again.

  “I’m not surprised.” For the first time, the man smiled. “We tried to recruit this civilian afterward. He said no, he had fences to try and mend at home. He doubted there was much hope, but he had to try.”

  Amy felt tears sting her eyes, then overflow. She glanced at Hayley, and saw her blinking rapidly against the same onslaught.

  “One more thing you should know. It was our doing that he was out of touch. We kept him isolated, severing all communication except through us. It was, I’m afraid, necessary.”

  “You sent those occasional texts?” Hayley asked.

  Amy glanced at her friend again; she hadn’t thought of that.

  Cabrero nodded. “And we—I am sorry, given the circumstances, that they were so...detached. He never knew what was happening with you. We were afraid it would distract him and jeopardize both the operation and his life.” He grimaced, waggled his jaw. “I’m still sore where he punched me when he found out.”

  Amy looked at Quinn, remembering the way he had greeted Walker in that first moment. Quinn looked suitably rueful.

  “Again, I apologize on behalf of the entire Bureau. We all regret that aspect, because we all came to admire and respect him, but this truly was a much-bigger-picture kind of situation.”

  “Thousands of lives,” Amy said softly.

  “Yes. Without doubt.” He glanced over his shoulder at something or someone, and Hayley sensed they’d gotten all they were going to get. He looked back. “He’s a remarkable man, Mrs. Foxworth. His country owes him a debt of gratitude, and he deserves all the forgiveness you can manage, and then some.”

  “He has it,” Hayley promised. Then, with a glance at Amy, she added, “And much more.”

  When the screen had gone dark, Hayley looked at her husband. He was watching her, the slightest touch of wariness in his gaze.

  “Worth it?” he asked.

  She looked at Amy with a lifted brow.

  “Oh, yes,” Amy said fervently.

  “Thank you,” Hayley said softly to her husband.<
br />
  “Double from me,” Amy said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I feel the sudden need to go kiss someone, even if he’s not awake yet.”

  Epilogue

  “I feel so bad for having suspected Mr. Rockwell for even a moment,” Amy said.

  “You know, his extra attention was really because he noticed you were on edge. He was concerned about you,” Quinn said.

  “That makes me feel both better and worse.” Walker reached over and squeezed her hand. That was definitely better.

  “Alex and I made sure he knew you were the only one of us who just couldn’t believe he was crooked,” Quinn said. “He appreciated it. I’m sure he’ll tell you himself.”

  Amy felt a rush of relief.

  “That reminds me,” Quinn added. “I meant to tell you—he called Alex, after you showed him the video.”

  Amy’s brows rose. “He did?”

  “He wanted a meeting. He was going to confront him about it, and the witness tampering. Give him a chance to come clean. Said he always looked at him as a colleague, not competition. He seemed pretty relieved that it had all been a setup.”

  Amy smiled. Her boss was everything she’d thought he was and more, and she was going to make it up to him for even imagining he could be involved. “I’m glad. After Becca, he could use some good news.”

  She’d managed to say calmly the name of the woman she’d once called friend, the woman who had used her and everyone else to build a network not of friends but of people she might be able to use on her pathway to power. Who had had no qualms about setting up an innocent man. And who, Amy had belatedly realized, she had inadvertently tipped off with her question about Dante Soren.

  And for that calm she thanked Walker. He was the one who had urged her to let it out, validated her every feeling about the betrayal and then held her as she had sighed over her poor judgment in one case, and her validation in the other.

  He’d been out of the hospital a week now, and had promised Amy he was feeling decent most of the time. He’d proved it true last night, the first time since he’d been shot that she’d allowed herself to give in to her fierce need for him. Mindful of his still-healing injury, she’d taken the lead, until the final wild moments when neither of them could think of care or caution.

  He’d slept for ten hours, nightmare free. And told her just before his sister and her husband arrived to check on him that, all things considered, he’d never felt better.

  That thought took her back to the day he’d awakened in the hospital, when she’d told him what they’d learned from Agent Cabrero. And been surprised at how quietly he took it.

  “That you know as much of the truth as you can,” he’d said, “doesn’t mean nearly as much to me as the fact that you trusted it existed before. Trusted me.”

  “You’re a hero, Walker Cole. Some part of me knew that all along, I think.”

  He’d talked to her then, of the days spent living on the edge, the times he thought he’d been found out, the times he wanted out so badly he considered just running. Of the days he’d spent sickened by what drove these people, yet having to live among them. Of days of having to constantly remind himself of why he was doing it, of the innocent lives that might be—and eventually were—saved.

  “It got better after they stopped the first bombing,” he’d told her, “and I knew I’d done some good. But it was never easy.”

  He was no hero, he insisted. He was just a guy who had tried to do the right thing for his country.

  “Did the right thing,” Amy had corrected softly.

  She glanced at him now. He looked so much better, but it was still going to take some time for her to get that image of him in that hospital bed out of her mind.

  “You were right, by the way,” she said. “About Leda Limited.”

  His brow furrowed. “I was?”

  “The swan part. Becca lived in the Cygnus Towers. And their logo is a swan.” She could see him working it out. “Leda and Zeus,” he said.

  “Yes. I should have seen that. I had it right in front of me, that day we saw Alan outside the bistro and I noticed his parking sticker was the same as Becca’s. But I didn’t make the connection.”

  “She was your friend—how could you?” Walker said quietly.

  Warmed, Amy squeezed his hand in thanks.

  Quinn looked at Walker then. “You feeling up to talking?”

  Walker looked back at his brother-in-law for a silent moment. Amy knew he’d come to admire Quinn—even more so when he’d finally seen the wedding video, seen how he had looked at Hayley as she had come down the aisle toward him—but he hadn’t quite adjusted to the shift in Quinn’s opinion, or that Amy assured him it had begun well before they’d talked to Cabrero.

  “About what?” he asked, still somewhat warily.

  “Are you done wandering?”

  Walker looked at her. Held her gaze steadily. “Yes.” Then he looked back at Quinn. “I was done when...”

  Quinn nodded in understanding. “Good. I need someone I trust to get Foxworth up and running here.”

  Walker blinked. Amy smiled; she’d known this was coming. Hayley had told her.

  “And?” Walker asked, clearly not assuming anything.

  “I don’t mind keeping it in the family, if they’re qualified.”

  It took him a couple of tries to actually speak. “You think I am qualified?”

  “You’re tough, you’re smart and you can learn. That and belief in what we do is all I ask. Well, that and loyalty, and you’ve already proven that. On a large scale.”

  “I don’t want charity,” Walker said, his tone a bit sour.

  “When you get to know him better,” Hayley said, “you’ll realize Quinn doesn’t give anyone anything. They earn it. You earned it long before that night.”

  Still, Walker hesitated. Then Cutter, who had been lounging on the thick blanket Amy had folded up for him near the sliding door so he could look out, got up and walked over to him. The dog sat at his feet, rested his chin on his knee. Walker looked down at him, and even as Amy watched, his expression smoothed out. She smiled again—she’d been smiling a lot lately—because she knew exactly what he was feeling. The Cutter Effect, she and Hayley had dubbed it.

  He lifted his gaze to his brother-in-law. “I do like what you do.”

  “We’ll get you up to speed on everything you need.”

  “Why do I feel as if I’m about to step onto the biggest roller coaster in the world?”

  Hayley laughed. “You’ll love it, bro, I promise.”

  Amy saw what flared in his eyes when his sister used the old nickname, saw the love, the hope, the relief. And now that she knew what he’d gone through, not only during the past five years but the past five weeks, knowing they’d despised him based on what they knew, and unable to tell them the only thing that could change their minds, she was even more amazed.

  But he’d kept his word. No matter the cost, he’d kept to the oath they’d sworn him to.

  Walker always would.

  After Hayley and Quinn had packed up Cutter to head back to the new office—they were going to stay awhile and help Walker get started, and to give Hayley and Walker time to heal their relationship—Amy went to curl up beside him on the couch.

  “Do you know why I really always moved on? Even after I finished Dad’s list?” Walker asked.

  She shifted her gaze from the bouquet of daffodils he’d brought her. She’d been delighted, as much that he’d remembered they were her favorite as for the flowers themselves. “You got bored?”

  “No. It was because I’d learned all I wanted to know about it. That’s when I knew it was time to move on.” He reached out, cupped her face in his hands. “I will never, in a hundred lifetimes, know all I want to know about you, Amy Cla
rk.”

  She didn’t miss the inference. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  “You won’t have to.”

  There was rock-solid certainty in his voice, in his expression, in his eyes. He meant it. Every word, every emotion, every promise.

  And then he kissed her, putting everything that had been in his words, his look, his voice, into it. It was as hot and alluring as ever, but it was also that promise, and he made sure her body and heart knew it. He was home at last, with forgiveness, understanding and the future he’d never dared hope for. And for the first time he began to feel it had all been worth it.

  Much later, as they lay sated and lazy in her bed, he reached out and caught a lock of her hair between his fingers. The tattoo was at the edge of his vision. He wondered if it could be altered to say her name. He’d have to look into that.

  “I think we should go shopping,” he said.

  She blinked. “For what?”

  He grinned. “That’s one of the things I love about you. You need a reason to go shopping.”

  She smiled back. He was finding it easier every time, to say things like that. And it went deeper every time.

  “For phones,” he said. “I need a new one, and I hear you can get a good deal if you share a plan.”

  He knew she’d remember his words. “A good deal on a pair of phones translates into a permanent relationship...”

  Her smile widened. “You’re sure about that?”

  Instead of answering, he went on. “And after that, I think we should go to the animal shelter. I’m going to miss that rascal Cutter. So we need a dog of our own.”

  He heard her breath catch. She knew what that meant. It wasn’t quite having a kid, but it was close. “Yes,” she said quickly, because she was afraid in another second she wouldn’t be able to speak at all. “Yes, we do.”

  “And later,” he said. “we’ll talk about the rest of our lives.”

  “Yes,” she said. “To everything.”