In the next Cutter’s Code romance, a hero with a secret returns home…and goes into rescuer mode…

AWOL in times of family tragedy, Walker Cole doesn’t expect a warm welcome home. Nor does he expect to see Amy Clark—his sister’s nerdy friend who had a mad teen crush on him—now a smart, sexy woman.

Though Walker knows he’s caused Amy pain and hatred, his own pain is worse. He can never tell the truth about his hellish years away. But when Amy’s paralegal work endangers her, Walker jumps at the chance to guard her irresistible body and prove himself worthy of trust and forgiveness. Even Cutter, the Foxworth dog with a nose for trouble, has his back when trouble explodes!

“I want you,” Walker said bluntly. “More than I’ve ever wanted anything or anyone. So if your answer is ‘go to hell,’ say it now.”

Amy’s expression changed again. Became even softer somehow. And she reached out to cup his cheek.

“But you’re already in hell,” she said quietly, almost sadly.

What was this? She felt sorry for him? That was the last, the very last, thing he wanted from her. Especially now.

“Pity, Amy?”

“No. A hundred times no.” She drew in a deep breath, then looked up at him steadily. “Just need. Want. And impatience.”

She slid her hand down along his arm, took his hand. Her fingers, warm, slender and strong, curled around his. She turned, clearly headed for the bedroom. Fool that he was, he resisted.

“Be sure, Amy. Because I can’t promise to be polite, or even gentle.”

“I don’t want polite, or need gentle. I want you,” she said. “I’ve always, always wanted you, Walker Cole. Even when I thought I hated you.”

* * *

Be sure to check out the rest of the books

in this miniseries—Cutter’s Code: A clever

and mysterious canine helps a group of

secret operatives crack the case.

* * *

Dear Reader,

If you’ve been reading the Cutter’s Code series, and have perhaps also read these letters in previous books, you’ll know I’ve mentioned my fascination with brothers, the brother bond and how it’s different from others. In Operation Reunion I explored a brother/sister relationship, in Operation Unleashed it was brother/brother. So I thought I was done with that, at least for a while. Now it was a best friend that had me fascinated, an awkward, rather nerdy child who had bloomed into an amazing woman I was really starting to like. But I had to come up with a hero who deserved her. And then one day a reader wrote me a note saying in essence, “Hey, you forgot a brother!”

And indeed I had. Walker Cole had been mentioned in passing a couple of times as Hayley’s “walkabout” brother, but I hadn’t really delved into where he’d been or why. Because I had no idea. Well, now I do, and wow, what a time he’s been through! He had to work very hard for his happy ending—and his heroine—but he’s learned the hard way how to be tough enough.

It was a long journey for both characters in this story. Nearly a lifetime, in fact. I hope you enjoy their story.

Happy reading!

Justine

Operation

Homecoming

Justine Davis

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JUSTINE DAVIS lives on Puget Sound in Washington State, watching big ships and the occasional submarine go by and sharing the neighborhood with assorted wildlife, including a pair of bald eagles, deer, a bear or two and a tailless raccoon. In the few hours when she’s not planning, plotting or writing her next book, her favorite things are photography, knitting her way through a huge yarn stash and driving her restored 1967 Corvette roadster—top down, of course.

Connect with Justine at her website, justinedavis.com, at twitter.com/justine_d_davis, or on Facebook at facebook.com/justinedaredavis.

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Lucky

August 2000–October 2011

Lucky was the first dog my kids picked out, a pound puppy who became our 90lb baby and wanted to be a lap dog. A gentle giant, a white and black lab mix who looked like a huge Dalmatian, but who hid behind the chair whenever he saw a camera. He liked to be combed, and he guarded and took care of our rabbits. The rabbits got out of the hutch somehow and we found him and the rabbits lying next to each other under the shade tree. He loved our two Poms and played happily with Fang (my son’s cat). He was brave, but his feet wouldn’t stay still unless he really thought you needed protection, then he would stand between you and it. What we thought was an infection and old age turned out to be cancer. There was nothing to do that wouldn’t make him miserable, and we had to say goodbye. It was a shock, and we still miss him. Our Poms still won’t eat out of his bowl. He will always have a special place in my heart. He was a good dog.

LuDena Radford

This is the latest in a series of dedications from readers who have shared the pain of the loss of a beloved dog. For more details, check Justine’s blog at justinedavis.com.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Amy Clark slipped her glasses back on as she reached the baggage claim carousel. It was cool and rainy here in Seattle in mid-April, but LA had been having an early heat wave so she welcomed the change. She welcomed even more being away from everything else she’d left behind. Already the burden of her problem felt lighter.

Even after years away, this misty green place still felt like home.

It felt safe.

With your luck, you’ll end up back here soon, running home because the big, bad city was too ugly, too nasty for you.

She wasn’t ready to admit that it was both those things yet. She’d worked hard and loved her job as a paralegal. She wasn’t ready to give up on the dream. Even if it seemed on the edge of turning into a nightmare.

Which reminded her, she was going to have to get her car fixed when she got home. How stupid to have scraped it up like that trying to escape that van that hadn’t really been following her anyway. It just happened to be going the same direction, hundreds of people headed for the airport and the surrounding area every day. She was just on edge, her imagination in overdrive. She—

“Hey, stranger!”

She whirled, a huge grin spreading across her face as she saw her best friend. Hayley Cole—Foxworth, she corrected, still not quite used to the change—looked as she always did, vibrant, her green eyes sparkling. Their hug was worthy of two people who had been friends since the second grade.

The baggage carousel came alive, began to move. Hayley looked at it warily.

“I’m getting better,” Amy said with a laugh. “A whole three-day weekend with only one bag and a carry-on.”

“And a purse the size of Alaska,” Hayley retorted.

“Well, yes. Because you never know.”

“It’s not really leaving home if you bring most of home with you,” Hayley said, right on cue. They both laughed at the old, familiar exchange.

Amy spotted her suitcase and grabbed it as it circled past. It was heavy, but not impossible, and they were soon headed to the parking structure. She was glad she’d put on her jacket, but still welcomed the chill in the air.

“Hot in LA, huh?” Hayley asked.

“In more ways than one,” Amy said, a bit of the grimness she’d pushed aside creeping back into her voice. But she didn’t want to go into it now, so she diverted. “Are the daffs up?”

“All over,” Hayley answered. “Mr. Elkhart planted some new ones last fall, some interesting colors.”

“I’m a traditionalist—I love the yellow ones.” A bouquet of daffodils was one of the most cheerful sights she could imagine.

“I know, you always did. We can...”

Hayley broke off, laughing. They’d reached her car, and a second later Amy was laughing, too. For sitting in the driver’s seat, looking at them with a pleased expression, was Hayley’s dog, Cutter.

“I left him in the back,” Hayley said.

“Is he going to drive?” she asked with a grin.

“Wouldn’t surprise me. At all.”

Amy laughed at Hayley’s serious tone as her friend hit the unlock button and the compact SUV chirped obligingly. She opened the driver’s door. Cutter jumped out at their feet. He was as beautiful as Amy remembered with his black head and shoulders and russet-brown body. He greeted Hayley with a swipe of pink tongue. To Amy’s surprise, she herself got a more effusive greeting, a plumy tail-wagging, nudging sort of dance that made her smile. She set down her voluminous purse to greet him properly.

“Well, hello again, Cutter.”

He gave a short yip, and she bent to pet him. The moment she stroked his dark head she felt an odd sensation of relief, as if suddenly she knew it would all work out, it would all be all right. All the fears seemed to not vanish but at least recede.

In that instant, the welcoming dance stopped. The dog leaned into her, staring up into her face. Something in the intense gaze, or in those gold-flecked dark eyes, was mesmerizing, and she couldn’t seem to look away.

And then he moved. He turned, sat down at Amy’s feet and looked up at Hayley. And Hayley, oddly, stopped midmotion as she was putting her own purse in the car. Her eyes flicked from the dog to Amy.

“Uh-oh,” Hayley said.

“What?”

“Are you all right?”

Amy hadn’t expected that. At least, not so soon. “Fine,” she said. And health-wise, it was true. Otherwise, not so much. But she needed to work up to discussing that. “I may need your help loading this up, though,” she said, gesturing at the large blue suitcase.

“Hmm.” Hayley sounded doubtful, but she seemed to accept the answer. She looked back at the dog. “I got it, boy. I promise.”

Cutter gave a low, soft whuff and a movement of his head that looked startlingly like a nod. Amy had no idea what was going on. She’d never had a dog, so she was a neophyte.

Within a few minutes they were out of the airport and onto the freeway. Amy knew it would be only natural for Hayley to ask how things were going at work and she wasn’t ready for that, so she turned it around.

“How are things at the Foxworth Foundation?”

“Quiet,” Hayley said. Then she glanced toward the back of the SUV where Cutter was now settled in quietly. “At least, they have been. It’s been nice to have a break.”

“Especially since your last case was so huge. Talk about taking on the big guys!” Amy knew the Foxworth Foundation had only one goal, to help those in the right who couldn’t fight alone any longer. The size of the case didn’t matter, but sometimes it got both large and complicated.

Hayley laughed. “Hey, we weren’t even here. That was Cutter and Brett Dunbar, with a little help from Rafe. And things are already getting fixed.”

Amy studied her friend for a moment. Hayley had been through some rough times—the death of her father when she was twelve, more recently the long, slow battle with her mother’s terminal cancer. And of course there was Walker, that black-sheep miscreant. Hayley was far too generous when it came to her thoughtless, selfish, coldhearted brother. All she ever said about the guy who had walked out after their family tragedy, who had later left her alone to deal with their mother, was that everyone had to handle grief in their own way.

She supposed she might be inclined to a little more generosity herself if she hadn’t had such a crush on him when she was a kid, Amy thought. She’d adored Walker Cole, and although she was just his little sister’s friend, he’d always been kind. And then he’d shattered all her illusions. She tried not to remember her foolishness.

“You’re sure Quinn won’t mind me being here? I mean, you have only been married three months.”

Hayley laughed. “He’s glad you could come. He even said it was too bad you couldn’t stay for the month.”

“I couldn’t, anyway. I have our big office anniversary party in a couple of weeks,” she said, “but remind me to thank him for that.”

“He knows what you mean to me,” Hayley said quietly. “He knows you were there for me every time life kicked me in the teeth. You never let me down.”

Unlike your idiot brother, who left you alone to deal.

She stopped herself before she could go down that path. Thinking of Walker Cole was not going to help matters. Because then she would start thinking about how nice he’d once been to her, how he tolerated her silly crush, which would make her think of how just spotting him had sent her heart racing, how she’d learned everything she could about baseball because he played it. Then she’d graduate to his crooked grin, thick, unruly hair and those amazing hazel eyes that were a golden green rimmed with a darker shade, so different from his sister’s meadow green. She knew it was a trick of melanin and light scattering, had even looked it up once, but that didn’t detract from the beauty of them.

And here she was, thinking about him.

She shook off the odd mood, determined to enjoy this visit as much as she could, despite the reason for it. And despite her fear that her life was going to blow up.

“What are you frowning about?”

“Was I?”

“Yes. Let me guess, you’re still mad at Walker?” That was the problem with best friends; they saw things others might miss.

“After what he did? Of course I am. On top of everything else, missing your wedding without even a word except that stupid text message?”

For the first time a hint of disappointment showed on Hayley’s face. “Yes. He did. And I’m not sure Quinn will forgive him for that very soon.”

“I think I’d like to see the day they finally meet, if they ever do,” Amy said, thinking with a rather grim satisfaction of the powerful—and intimidating—Quinn Foxworth taking Walker Cole apart piece by piece.

“You wouldn’t hate him so much if you hadn’t loved him first,” Hayley said.

“Schoolgirl infatuation,” Amy said, even as she realized ruefully how close her friend’s words were to her own earlier thought. “Believe me, I’m angry enough on your behalf alone.”

This was true, but she also knew that she had loved him, with all the strength of her teenage heart. She’d loved his laugh, she’d loved the way he teasingly winked at her and she would never, ever forget the time he had come to her defense when she’d been cornered by a trio of nerd-baiting mean-girl types. He’d already been tall at seventeen, and a star athlete, and that he had bothered to step in and chase off the three—who happened to idolize him, the star pitcher on the high school baseball team—had thrilled her down to her thirteen-year-old soul. It had also insulated her somewhat from further attack. Word had gotten out that she was under the protection of Walker Cole, and while she was sure the nasty comments and thoughts continued, she was never backed into a corner again.

And then it had all fallen apart. His father died and a year later he was gone, the college scholarship abandoned along with his mother and his little sister. The mother and little sister Amy had always thought he loved.

Just goes to prove you’re a lousy judge of men. If you ever needed more proof.

She shook her head sharply. This was not the time to dwell on her miserable dating track record. Not when she’d made a much more serious misjudgment than just dating the wrong men.

And this one could at the least upend, at the worst ruin her life forever.

At least, she hoped that was the worst.

Chapter 2

“You want to tell me what’s really wrong?” Hayley finally asked when they were parked in line for the big ferry that would take them across the sound. “Because Cutter says something is.”

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 unexpected 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.

Pain dug at him, burrowing deep. He’d thought himself prepared for this, but he’d been wrong. Very wrong.

He looked at Hayley, made himself face her even knowing she couldn’t miss the wetness in his eyes. The initial shock was ebbing and she held his gaze, her expression unreadable even to him, who had once been able to read her so well. He knew there was every chance he might never earn her forgiveness, that he may have lost his sister forever.

Along with his mother. For an instant the house seemed empty despite their presence. She had always so filled this home she and his father had built together.

“Why did you stay?” he asked, barely aware of saying it aloud.

“This is home,” Hayley said, her voice tight. “I feel closer to her here. Not that you’d understand. Running away is more your style.”

He winced. As far as she knew, she was right. Once, his first instinct would have been to get away from the constant reminders, as it had been when his father had died.

“That was before I realized there is no getting away from some things,” he said quietly.

For an instant something shifted in her gaze, as if she’d sensed the pain behind the words. Whether it mattered to her or not, he couldn’t tell. His sister had ever been kindhearted, but even the kindest heart could only take so much desertion.

Her expression went cool again, and he had to look away. He glanced around. This was Hayley’s home now, and their mother’s taste and Hayley’s had never been the same, Mom being more the floral print and ruffle type and Hayley not. Or maybe it was Quinn’s influence. But he liked the look of the blues and greens, the solids and stripes, even as it saddened him to no longer see that huge, ugly sofa on the far wall, with the big orange flowers that had always looked kind of alien to him. But mom’s big chair was still in the corner, and...

There was someone else here.

He stared at the woman, who seemed familiar. Not a neighbor, he thought. Must be a friend of Hayley’s; they looked about the same age. Tall, with beautiful blue eyes behind stylish red-framed glasses, long waves of shiny auburn hair, a turned-up nose and, he assessed, a great shape. Just enough curves, and those jeans and sweater hugged every one of them. And her mouth...the way she was biting her lip as she looked at him...

He felt a kick of interest. Quashed it swiftly. Not just out of habit, as something he hadn’t dared risk in a long time, but with Hayley already angry at him that was hardly the way to go ten seconds through the door.

“Hi, I’m Hayley’s nominee for worst brother in the world,” he said wryly to the woman. “And I think I’ll win.”

“Walker,” she said, her voice oddly tense.

His brow furrowed at her use of his name. She knew who he was? She had been staring at him rather intensely for a stranger. Belatedly, he realized what else had been in her tone. She didn’t just know him, she expected him to know her.

“I’m sorry, I...”

“You don’t even recognize me, do you?”

He tried to judge if there was hurt, or maybe anger, in her tone. Everybody else here was ticked at him, why not this one? When he caught himself assessing threat, trying to decide what answer would turn the situation the right way, he had to rather fiercely remind himself he wasn’t in that hole anymore.

“I... You look familiar,” he said, feeling a bit helpless, a sensation he didn’t care for; he’d been there too often. But he wasn’t there anymore, he told himself again. And here, it wasn’t likely to get him killed.

Unless he pissed Quinn off enough and he went for that pistol he’d seen on the table just inside the door. He had no doubts the man could and would use it if necessary. He’d come to know a bit about that kind of steel in a man.

“She has changed a bit since you last saw her,” Hayley said. “But I would think you’d still recognize your little shadow.”

That quickly, an image flashed through his mind. A girl, at least six inches shorter than this one, unnaturally quiet, with unruly, bright, almost-orange hair in a clasp at the back of her neck, and big, heavy glasses that masked her eyes.

“Amy?” He knew he sounded astonished, but who wouldn’t be? Who would ever have expected this dazzling creature to emerge from that shy child who tried so desperately not to be noticed? What had happened to the orange hair and the huge glasses she’d hidden behind? “Quiet little Amy?”

“Not so little anymore.”

“I can...see that.” He barely managed not to let his gaze slide over those rich curves. Damn, what was wrong with him?

He was off balance, that was all. He’d known this was going to be difficult, even painful if his sister reacted as she had every right to, with anger and rejection. But he hadn’t expected, of all people, the girl who had been so infatuated with him in high school to be here. The girl who had, on occasion, trailed him like a clumsy but loving puppy. The girl he’d tolerated because she was his little sister’s best friend and he didn’t have much choice. The girl he remembered as studious, reliable, responsible and a few other things that were, at the time, the most boring attributes he could think of.

The girl whose innocent adoration, to his own considerable shock, had floated into his mind at odd moments over the years as the last purely sweet thing that had happened in his life.

“Did you expect nothing would change?” Amy asked, an edge in her voice.

“No, I...”

“Everything’s changed,” Hayley said, and he couldn’t miss the undertone that had come into her voice; he’d grown up with her and he knew when she was on the verge of breaking. The sound ripped at him. “And you never cared.”

“Hayley, no, I...” he began, but before he could get out another word his sister had turned and disappeared into the kitchen. Quinn gave him a hard look, then followed.

“I never got the chance to really thank you,” Amy said, snapping his head back around.

He blinked. “Thank me?”

For the life of him he couldn’t think of one thing any of the three people in this house would want to thank him for. That he’d had no choice, and worse, couldn’t explain, didn’t matter in the long run. He’d shattered the one tie in his life he still valued. He doubted from the moment he’d been free to come home that it could be repaired, but he had to try. That he was feeling a bit battered at the moment didn’t change that.

“For saving me from those nerd-hunters my first week of high school.”

It took him a moment; it seemed so long ago. But then the memory was there—a small, quiet figure with the too-vivid hair backed into a corner, tears on her cheeks as she stared at the ground rather than the trio of girls who were jeering at her. He’d groaned inwardly when he realized it was Hayley’s friend, but he’d waded in anyway, telling them to back off. And stay backed off, this girl at least.

She had just stared at him with that awestruck look that was so embarrassing. And, admit it, secretly flattering, he thought now. If he’d known she’d turn out like this, maybe he wouldn’t have been so embarrassed by her tween-age devotion.

And a few months later it was all gone. Everything had changed.

He shook off the old weights. “You’re welcome,” he said.

“I’m glad I got this chance,” she said sweetly. “Now I never have to speak to your irresponsible, cruel, heartless ass again.”

She turned on her heel—giving him what normally would have been a pleasant view of a curved backside—and headed for the stairway. He stared, a bit confused by the sudden shift.

“Ouch,” he muttered, feeling nearly as walloped as when Quinn had decked him. Still, this overt hostility was better than the pain in Hayley’s voice.

Amy looked back over her shoulder, clearly having heard him. “You expected a warm welcome? After you abandoned your mom and my best friend, your own sister, to deal with the aftermath of your father’s death while you went gallivanting around the country on some teenage quest, with only a call or a note and a visit maybe twice a year?”

“I waited until I graduated high school,” he protested. “She understood. And Mom. They told me to go, that they’d be okay.”

“You left them still grieving! You think that they didn’t beg you to stay makes it right? When have you ever done what was truly right, Walker Cole?”

At least once. And it may well have cost me everything.

But Amy wasn’t nearly done yet.

“She had to deal with the long horror of your mother’s cancer alone, you don’t even come home for your own mother’s funeral and you entirely skip Hayley’s wedding, with nothing but a few stupid texts? And then turn up three months later as if you’re just late to the dentist, and you have the nerve to be surprised that I’m angry?”

Quiet little Amy Clark had definitely grown teeth. Yet he couldn’t help being glad of it, because it was for Hayley. It seemed he’d forgotten something on that list of her attributes. Loyal. Fiercely, completely loyal. And unchanging. People like Amy never changed.

And in an ever-changing world, perhaps he hadn’t valued that enough.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re right. About everything. All of it.”

“Yes,” she said flatly. “I am. And I’m leaving before I slug you myself.”

She vanished up the stairs, and Walker Cole chalked up yet another casualty to the chaos his life had become five years ago.

They’d told him the price would be high.

He hadn’t expected it to be everything.

Chapter 4

By the time she closed the guest room door behind her, Amy was shaking. She hadn’t realized quite how much anger she’d been harboring all these years.

It was mostly for Hayley’s sake, and if she was honest, it was in part because Hayley herself didn’t seem angry enough. She never had.

“I don’t hate my brother. He’s just...Walker. Aptly named.”

“That’s okay, I hate him enough for both of us.”

How many times had they had that exchange?

She wondered if Hayley was saying the same thing to her husband right now. She was doubly glad Quinn was here, both because he’d done what she would have liked to do in decking Walker, and because he was probably the best comfort Hayley could have just now.

If she didn’t love Hayley so much she might have envied her that kind of support. Because now here she herself was, under the same roof with her adolescent crush. The perfect name for it, since he was the one who had crushed her heart. And who had come perilously close to being the last straw that destroyed any faith she ever had in the male of the species. No matter how many times she reminded herself that not all men were utterly irresponsible like her father and Walker, it was sometimes a hard belief to hang on to.

At least Walker wasn’t a drunk, she thought as she made herself finish her unpacking. Or maybe he was. He did look a bit haggard, and while all the good looks were still there, his eyes looked different. Still beautiful, with unfairly long and thick lashes, but more world-weary somehow. And that thick, espresso-brown hair needed a trim. She didn’t mind longer hair, if it at least looked intentional. This looked like he’d just neglected it.

Or like her father’s had, when the money for haircuts had gone for booze instead. And caused nights filled with furious arguments between her parents. That was part of the reason she’d escaped so often to the warm haven of Hayley’s home. Both Hayley’s parents had looked out for her, and she’d found in them the steady caring and consistency that had been so lacking in her own life. When Christopher Cole had been killed by, horribly, a drunk driver while on duty as a police officer, and then Nancy had died just over two years ago, Amy had grieved fiercely right alongside her friend.

She closed the closet door rather sharply. She hated that Walker was able to unsettle her so after all this time. That she was wasting so much time and thought on him. He didn’t deserve even the anger she’d vented on him downstairs. In fact, she was a bit embarrassed about her rant. She’d hoped, if she ever laid eyes on him again, to be cool and unaffected. In fact, she’d hoped she might be able to react just as he had, puzzled, not quite able to place him. Although she’d have to pretend it; there was no way on earth she would ever forget him, no matter what he’d done. Or not done.

“When have you ever done what was truly right, Walker Cole?”

Her own words rang in her head. She stopped in her tracks.

...done what was truly right...

She sat abruptly on the edge of the bed.

“Girl, you need to listen to your own rant,” she muttered under her breath.

For hadn’t she been wrestling with that very problem in those moments before Walker had arrived to blast it all right out of her mind? Wasn’t the question that had driven her here in the first place how to do what was right, or whether to even try at all?

You have no right to criticize him if you’re not willing to do it yourself.

As for Walker’s annoying presence disrupting everything, she would just have to do what she’d always told herself she’d do if she ever encountered him again.

Ignore him.

* * *

Walker had had some sleepless nights before, far too many of them in the past five years, but this was a doozy. He’d gotten through some of them then by telling himself he’d sleep when it was over—or when he was dead, which could well have come first—but now it was over, at least as far as he was concerned, and here he was. Still watching the seconds tick by in the dark.

He grimaced into the darkness of the living room, where he’d crashed on the couch. His old room was a home office now, not that he would have asked to sleep in it anyway. This was crazy. He was as wide-awake as he’d been when his life hung in the balance. When a single wrong word or step could have meant giving himself away to men who would kill him without a millisecond’s hesitation.

Then again, didn’t his life hang in the balance now? The rest of it, anyway? Having quiet, shy little—well, not so much any of those anymore—Amy Clark chew him out in front of Hayley and her new, intimidating husband was bad enough, but what if Hayley couldn’t ever forgive him? What if he truly had lost the only family he had left because he’d done the unforgivable? He hadn’t let himself think of that possibility in his drive to get here, but after this reception he knew he had to.

He didn’t kid himself by saying he’d make it up to her. There was no making up for what he’d missed, what he’d left his sister alone to deal with. Amy was right about that. And the only thing that could possibly ameliorate it was something he couldn’t give her.

It was barely light out when he finally gave up and staggered into the kitchen. But Quinn was up and, thank God, he had coffee on.

“You look like hell,” Quinn said, sounding rather cheerful about it.

“Feel worse,” he said, eyeing the coffeepot.

Quinn noticed. “Everything’s where it always was.”

“But this isn’t my home anymore.”

He was a little startled at the bleak sound of his own voice, although after last night he supposed he shouldn’t be.

“You’re the one who left,” Quinn pointed out flatly.

For a moment, Walker studied this man his sister had chosen. He knew little about him. Nothing, actually, other than his name.

“I thought I’d let you know I’m getting married. In January. His name is Quinn. I love him the way Mom loved Dad. You’d be welcome, but I won’t expect you.”

That had been the entirety of the message. And the bitterest part of it was that of all the messages she’d left, that was the best one. Much better than “Mom has cancer. It looks bad. You need to come home.”

He rubbed his fingers over the sore spot on his jaw. Quinn watched him, and Walker didn’t think he was mistaken in thinking there was a certain satisfaction in his gaze. “You pack a hell of a punch.”

“You deserved it.”

“Yes.”

“Still do.”

“Yes.”

Quinn lifted a brow, as if surprised at his lack of argument.

“You may find this hard to believe, but I’m really glad Hayley found someone who loves her enough to...do that to someone who hurt her.”

Quinn’s expression changed then, his brow furrowing just slightly, as if he hadn’t expected that. “And I’ll do it again, if need be. You’ve put her through hell. I won’t let you add to it. She needs time to figure out how she feels about you, and I intend to see that she gets it.”

Walker had no doubt the man meant it. He adored Hayley. And vice versa. It fairly rippled off them both. And last night he’d made it clear he wasn’t going to leave Walker alone with his wife and give him the chance to hurt her all over again.

“What is it you do?” he asked, wondering if Hayley had somehow ended up with a cop. He wouldn’t have thought that possible, given what had happened to their father, but then he wouldn’t have thought the turn his life had taken possible, either.

“Family business,” Quinn said. “You?”

He winced inwardly. “Currently unemployed.”

“That why you’re here? Looking for a free roof?”

Anger kicked through him. “You pushing for me to return your welcome?”

“You could try,” Quinn said, clearly unconcerned.

You might be surprised, Walker thought. He’d learned a bit since he’d left here.

But then he realized that he couldn’t very well be glad Hayley had found a man who loved her enough to take down anyone who hurt her, and then expect him to act any other way, given what he knew. Or thought he knew.

“I never meant to hurt her,” he said softly.

“Good intentions are meaningless. Especially when you cause that kind of pain.”

“Yes. But they’re all I’ve got.”

He took another sip of his coffee as he looked at Walker.

“You’re her brother, so she decides what happens. If she wants you here, then you stay. If she wants you gone, then you go. But I warn you, either way, if you...”

He held up a hand. “I get it.” He eyed the man who was now his brother-in-law warily. There was something about him that screamed he did not make idle threats. He reminded him, not in looks but in manner, of Tobias Cabrero, the guy who had turned his life upside down when all Walker had been trying to do was be a good citizen. “Let me guess. Ex-fed?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Walker took in his bearing, his calm manner, the air of command and competence. He hadn’t been there himself, but he knew enough of them to recognize the type.

“Ex-military,” he said, and this time it wasn’t a question.

“You’re smarter than you’ve acted.”

Well, there was a double-edged compliment, Walker thought wryly.

“Did I smell coffee?”

Walker froze as the female voice came from behind him. Amy.

“You did.” Quinn sounded much more welcoming. The man reached up and opened a cabinet door, taking out a mug and handing it to her. More than he’d gotten, but then she was a lot more welcome than he was. Amy walked past him without a glance, took the mug.

“Thank you,” she said as she filled it from the glass pot.

Quinn nodded, finished his own coffee, rinsed out the mug and stuck it in the dishwasher. Then he looked at Amy, and Walker would swear he was stifling a grin. “I’m off to work. Over to you,” he said to her, and without another glance at Walker, he walked out of the kitchen.

Amy frowned after him, clearly puzzled by his words.

“I think,” Walker said drily, “that meant he liked the way you chewed on me last night, and is hoping you’ll take up where he left off.”

Her expression cleared. “Oh. Well. I could do that.”

He sighed. For a moment he just looked at her. The glasses were blue today, matching her top, and it made her eyes look even more blue. And the rich, russet color of her hair was a far cry from the carrot-top she’d always been teased about. “I’m sure you could,” he said finally.

And he was. For there was no denying that while little Amy Clark had grown up, she’d lost none of her intelligence, principles or fierce loyalty.

Which meant that, in her view, he was probably one step this side of the devil.

And he couldn’t tell her that she was wrong, that there were much worse devils out there. And he knew some of them personally.

Chapter 5

Walker heard the steps approaching, but couldn’t pull his gaze away from the framed photograph on the hallway wall. Then he sensed it was Hayley, and was afraid to look at her, anyway. After the scene in the kitchen he’d managed to avoid more encounters until now, needing time to gear up for the rest of what was likely to be another unpleasant day.

And then he’d noticed this picture, of him and Mom the day after he’d pitched his first no-hitter, him in uniform, her looking proud, happy...and very much alive. The image had once hung in his mother’s corner above the chair where she so often sat, sewing, knitting or any of the other things she always kept busy with.

Had kept busy. Had. As in never would again.

He blinked rapidly, but it wasn’t enough and he had to swipe at his eyes.

“You kept this,” he said, still without looking at his sister. His voice sounded strange even to him, thick with the tears he was fighting.

“Yes.”

“Why, when you’re so angry with me?”

“She loved you.”

He turned to face her then. It seemed the least he could do.

“Hayley,” he began, but his throat tightened too much for more words, and he could only shake his head.

“There was a time” she said, sounding as if her throat was nearly as tight as his, “when you showing up would have been the answer to many prayers. When it would have eased my pain, soothed my aching heart.”

She was killing him. And he deserved it.

“I...” He stopped when she waved a hand that was none too steady.

“You being here now has made me remember all over again how much I needed you when she got sick. How much she needed you.”

He tightened his jaw against a new wave of pain. But he held her gaze, didn’t fight it. Looking at his sister, the one who’d lived through every day of it alone, he didn’t feel he had the right to dodge one ounce of it now.

“Hayley, please, let me...”

“I need some time, Walker. Time to absorb, figure out how I feel.”

He sucked in a long breath. He had no right to demand more of her. No right to demand anything. He nodded. “I’ll wait.”

“You might want to do it elsewhere. Amy will be out in a moment. We’re going for a walk.”

He grimaced, thought of several things to say to that, discarded all of them. “Enjoy,” he said, figuring that was safe enough.

“Doubtful.” Concern flickered in her eyes. “She has a problem to deal with. It’s why she’s here from LA.”

He frowned. Amy had a problem big enough to warrant coming over a thousand miles?

None of his business, he told himself. And took his sister’s advice and vacated the hallway.

* * *

“Don’t you think it’s time you told me?”

Amy looked at Hayley as they walked up the long driveway. Cutter was trotting along beside them, occasionally pausing for a sniff of something, but never letting them get too far ahead of him.

“You have enough on your plate with your brother,” Amy said, thinking of what Hayley had told her of their encounter in the hallway.

They reached the road at the end of the drive. Cutter’s demeanor changed, she noticed. Instead of racing around, checking all corners of the yard, once they hit the road he was at their side, as if he completely understood walking along a roadway, even here where traffic was very light, was a different matter.

“Just because Walker shows up out of the blue without a word doesn’t mean I’m going to drop everything,” Hayley answered. “Especially when it’s you. Now quit dodging.”

Amy sighed. When she wanted to be, Hayley could be tough as nails. Probably a good thing when dealing with a man the likes of Quinn.

“I’m not sure it’s anything, really.”

“But it bothers you.”

“It’s just a...tiny niggle.”

“You said it was your boss.”

“Yes. It’s something I found, by accident, when I was pulling up a file he had me working on. I wasn’t snooping or anything.”

“I never would have thought you were.”

Amy stopped as they reached the corner. For a long moment she stood just looking at the house there, the two-story shaded by huge evergreens, and the big yard on two sides. It looked so different now, tidy and well-kept by the current owners, painted a cheerful blue with white trim.

“Do you know what my mother used to say was the best part of living on a corner?” She was barely aware, as the memories stirred, that she’d said the words out loud.

“What?” Hayley asked.

“That when Dad came home drunk he had a fifty-fifty chance of not parking the car in somebody else’s yard.”

For a moment Hayley didn’t speak, and the words seemed to echo in Amy’s head. And although Hayley had long ago told her she would go insane if she let every mention of a drunk driver bother her, Amy still said, “Sorry.”

Hayley shook her head. “I wasn’t thinking about that. I was thinking about the hell your life was, compared to mine.”

Amy turned to stare at her. “Your father died.”

“Yes. But while I had him, he was wonderful. Loving, kind, supportive, always there for me. You never had that.”

Cutter had come back when they stopped, and now he was standing in front of her, in fact leaning against her legs. The furry warmth of him was again comforting. And it seemed to crystallize her thinking, as well. Amy stroked Cutter’s head as she looked at the house again, then back at this woman who had so often been her lifeline.

“What I knew of real fathering came from yours,” she said quietly. “He always put up with me hanging around. He laughed with me, not at me. He hugged me, gave me advice, fixed my bike.”

“That was Dad,” Hayley agreed.

“I used to...wish he was mine, too.” Amy sighed. “But you know that.”

“Yes.” For a long moment Hayley looked at her, then smiled gently. “So did he.”

Amy didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or grateful.

“You know, he kept a close eye on you. If there had been the slightest sign of physical abuse from your father, if he’d even seen so much as a bruise, he would have had you out of there in an instant.”

Amy blinked. “What?”

“He had it all figured out. He knew who in CPS he’d talk to, someone he had good rapport with. And which judge, if they needed one. He wanted it all mapped out in case he had to move in a hurry.”

“I...I never knew that.” Her heart ached for the loss of a man who had cared even more than she knew.

“Mom told me one day when I needed distraction, when she was sick. She’d asked how you were, and that got us started.”

“My father was never that at least. Abusive, I mean.” She grimaced. “Just silly, and pretty much useless. And he only argued with my mother.”

“No wonder you hated going home.”

“I so often wished I could just stay at your house.”

Hayley looked at her consideringly. “They talked about that, too, Mom and Dad. That if he had to pull you out, if maybe you could live with us.”

Amy stared at her. “I never knew that, either.”

“Neither did I. They didn’t tell me back then. They were afraid I’d get my heart set on it.”

“And if you’d told me back then, I would have gone crazy, wishing for it to happen.” She looked back at the house once more. “And I hope the people that live here now are happy. It was a nice house once, and now it looks like it is again.”

Determinedly, she shoved the past aside. She didn’t let it define her. “Your father told me once that bad examples could sometimes teach you as much as good ones,” she said as they resumed their walk.

Hayley laughed. “That was Dad. He told Walker the same thing when his buddy Joe got in trouble for shoplifting.”

Amy looked at her friend. It was, she told herself, past time that she thought about Hayley’s situation rather than her own silly emotions. She was merely dealing with the reappearance of a schoolgirl crush. Hayley was dealing with something much more painful.

“I can’t imagine how you must feel, him showing up like this.”

Hayley grimaced. “It was a shock.”

“I hope you told him off last night.”

Hayley grinned then. “Actually, you did that quite nicely. I didn’t have to add a thing. I think ‘What she said’ was about the extent of it.”

“I was...angry.”

“And I love you for it. I think he was more stunned that quiet, shy Amy launched on him than if I had. Well, that and Quinn decking him before they’d ever even met.”

Amy smiled at that. “He had it coming.”

“He did.” Her voice softened. “And he knows it. He’s not a cruel guy, Amy.”

“Sometimes thoughtless, insensitive and selfish amount to the same thing.”

“Yes. But he’s still my brother.”

“So you forgive him?”

Hayley grimaced. “I didn’t say that.”

Amy was glad to hear that, given she thought what Walker had done—or not done—unforgivable. But she didn’t say that as they crossed the street at the stop sign and headed toward the water. The street they were on now dead-ended at an overlook, where some community-minded citizen had built a bench where people could sit and watch the passing marine traffic in the sound.

“And even if I did,” Hayley added, “Quinn hasn’t. I was afraid to leave them alone last night.”

“Too bad. I would have liked to have seen that,” Amy said drily.

Hayley laughed. “I had to...lure him away. Much more fun, I promise.”

Amy smiled. “I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to see you so happy. I’d love your husband for that alone.”

Now that they were farther away from Walker’s unsettling presence, she felt calmer. Although she wasn’t convinced that wasn’t in part due to the dog, who seemed glued to her side just now. And when they sat on the bench he sat beside her, again putting his chin on her knee in that way he had.

“Your dog is very sweet.”

Hayley laughed. “He is many things, and sweet is often one of them. And,” she added with a pointed look, “he is very perceptive, especially when something’s bothering someone.”

Amy sighed.

“Out with it, girlfriend,” Hayley ordered.

“We shouldn’t do this now. It can wait. You need to have it out with your brother. And you haven’t seen him in so long.”

“Let’s see,” Hayley said with exaggerated thoughtfulness, “drop everything to deal with someone who left to wander the country years ago, couldn’t be bothered to show up or even call when his own mother died and then skipped his only living relative’s wedding...or help the one person who has ever and always been there. Tough call.”

Any smiled suddenly. “I love you, too, you know.”

“I do.”

“If I hadn’t had you and your family for an example, I would have been seriously screwed up.”

“And instead you’re my wonderfully sane, beautiful best friend. So what did you find on your boss’s computer?”

She sighed. “Two things. Neither one alone is anything odd, but together...” She took a breath. She’d come here to do this, hadn’t she? She plunged ahead at last. “First thing, a month ago, was in his encrypted, password-protected files, where the file I needed was. A document creating a fictional corporation offshore, in the Virgin Islands. Which in itself isn’t that odd—we do that all the time for various reasons. What was odd was that he had it hidden like that.”

“It’s not usually?”

“No. There’s no reason it should be. It’s a routine kind of thing that he handles all the time. And I actually only know what it was because the file I needed was next on the list and I clicked on the wrong one by accident.”

“What was the second thing?”

“I found it just last week. A record of a bank account, also in the Virgin Islands, opened in the same fictitious business name, in the same week the filing was finalized. It started issuing checks immediately to another business name in LA.”

Hayley leaned back against the back of the bench. For a moment she was silent, then she asked, “What exactly are you thinking?”

“After I saw the bank statement, I did a little checking. That business that the checks were going to? As far as I can tell, with what research I was able to do...isn’t a business.”

“What?”

“They don’t do anything. They don’t make anything, they don’t sell anything, not even advice or information. They don’t have a website or even a business listing anywhere. There’s no public information on them anywhere that I could find. Even their snail mail address is just a mail drop, one of those rent-a-box places.”

“Odd,” Hayley agreed.

Amy let out a compressed breath. “I know it’s not much, and I didn’t dare risk copying the file so I don’t have any proof, although proof of what I don’t even know. It may be nothing, it may be completely legitimate, but...”

Hayley was silent for a moment when she finally trailed off. Long enough that Amy wondered if she was thinking her friend had turned into some kind of conspiracy theorist. She couldn’t blame her; now that she’d said it out loud it sounded very thin. There was more, but it was even more ephemeral. She had no proof at all to validate her feelings of being watched and followed, and was convinced it was only what she’d found that had brought them on.

And then she stood up. Slowly, Amy rose in turn. And Cutter, who had been plopped at her feet, happily sniffing the various breezes that wafted by, got up and looked at both of them.

“Come on,” Hayley said.

“Where?”

“I think it’s time to introduce you to the full wonder that is Foxworth.”

Chapter 6

He hadn’t gotten the prodigal son’s welcome home, but he hadn’t expected that. But then, he hadn’t expected that uppercut from his new brother-in-law, either. But it could have been worse. He could have used that gun.

Walker rubbed at his now-shaven jaw. He’d waited until now, when Hayley and Amy had gone for their walk, to use the guest bathroom. He poked at the sore spot, wondering what it would be like to get in a knock-down, drag-out fight with Quinn Foxworth.

It wouldn’t be pretty.

But then, none of this was pretty. And Quinn had been no angrier at him than he himself had been when he’d finally surfaced from his five-year nightmare and found that the life he’d left behind didn’t exist anymore. When he’d learned what they’d withheld from him so he wouldn’t be “distracted,” he’d been angrier than he’d ever been in his life, except for the day his father had been killed.

So you left home angry, and you came back angry. Great.

But what was he supposed to feel when all they’d had to say was that they couldn’t compromise the mission?

Oh, by the way, there were a couple of things we couldn’t tell you, because we couldn’t risk compromising the mission. Your mother’s dead and your sister got married. Here’s your phone with the messages.

Admittedly, it hadn’t been quite that blunt or cold, but it might as well have been. He should have suspected when they’d made him hand over his old pay-as-you-go cell phone, saying it was for his own safety. He’d learned that lesson now, that anytime the government started talking about taking things away for your own safety was the time to be wary.

At least they’d kept the phone active, ancient though it now was in technological terms. Although he doubted it was for his benefit, given that they’d used it to send short, meaningless texts to his sister, maintaining the fiction that he was still wandering. And they hadn’t deleted anything, which at first had made him laugh wryly at the scruples.

And then had come the painful jolt of listening to Hayley’s strained voice telling him of their mother’s illness nearly five years after the fact. And later of her death, two years too late.

They’d paid him a nice chunk, enough to keep him going for quite a while. And bought his ticket home. Cabrero—who threatened to flatten anyone who used the hated nickname Toby—had even taken him to the airport after the long debriefing, but Walker thought that was mostly so he could pound home the warning one more time.

“I’ll check in on you now and then. But you can’t tell anyone anything. You know that, don’t you? We’re close to making our move, and if you let even one thing slip, it could jeopardize operations all over the country.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“That means not even your sister. Especially not her. It could put her in danger.”

When he stepped out of the bathroom in only his jeans, that sister was walking down the hall. She looked him up and down. For an instant he saw her gaze snag on his left arm. The tattoo, he thought. He needed to do something about that. Cabrero had told him they could have it removed, but he’d been in too much of a hurry to wait around to have it done. At least Hayley wasn’t likely to recognize it for what it was—the symbol of belonging to a group of men who were brutal beyond anything he’d ever imagined.

All she said was, “I should send you to our friend Laney. She’s groomed sheepdogs before.”

Apparently her request for time didn’t mean she wasn’t going to speak to him at all, and he was thankful for that.

“I know I need a haircut. I was...in a hurry.”

For a moment she just looked at him.

He sighed. “Go ahead. Say it.”

“Say what?”

“That I’m way too late to be in a hurry. I know that.”

Her green eyes, so like their father’s, seemed to zero in on his face. “There is one thing I would like to ask.”

He hadn’t wanted to have this conversation standing here in the hallway, but he had the feeling dodging it now would do even more damage than he’d already done.

“Ask.”

“Why?”

He’d thought of little else on the flight here, what he could tell her. Everything involved a lie of some sort. He didn’t want to lie to her. He never had, had never felt he had to, because Hayley always understood. But now he did have to, or say nothing.

“There’s a reason. A good one,” he finally said. His mouth tightened before he added, his voice rough, “And I can’t tell you what it is.”

“Ever?”

“Maybe.”

For a long moment his sister just looked at him. Then, “All right.”

But the way she walked past him to head downstairs told him that she was far from accepting his absence through what had to be both the worst and best moments of her life. Moments she’d gone through without him, the brother who should have been with her every step of the way.

“Well, that was just a beautiful explanation and apology.”

He spun around, saw Amy standing in the guest room doorway. Her arms were crossed in front of her, her mouth—when had her mouth gotten so luscious?—quirked with an emotion that looked unsettlingly like disgust.

“‘I can’t tell you what it is’? Really? She’s supposed to just accept that?”

“She knows I wouldn’t lie to her.”

“No, you just abandon her and—oh, never mind. This is pointless. You are who you are.” She gave him a look then that made his stomach knot. “Whatever happened to that boy, Walker? The one who rescued me that day, the one who would have stood with and for his sister through anything?”

His mouth twisted. “Life happened. Death happened.”

“It happened to Hayley, too. She didn’t run away.”

“Is that what you think I—never mind. You’re right. This is pointless.”

He couldn’t take this, the way she was looking at him. He turned around and followed his sister downstairs.

* * *

Amy shook off her upset at the truly pointless conversation, grabbed up her jacket and her big purse and headed down to the living room. Hayley was by the door, tucking her phone into a pocket of her much smaller purse. Walker was standing a couple of feet away. Maybe he thought she’d finally punch him herself, and so was keeping out of arm’s reach.

As Amy came in, Hayley was speaking to her brother.

“We’re going over to Foxworth,” she said. “Would you like to come along?”

Her tone was polite, composed and almost impersonal, as if he were just a casual guest, and the answer didn’t really matter to her. No, Hayley wasn’t as accepting as she’d first thought.

And right now, she stood there wishing the fact that he was still wearing only a pair of low-slung jeans didn’t unsettle her so.

Amy doubted he even knew what Foxworth was, other than apparently that family business Quinn had mentioned this morning in the kitchen. She doubted he knew just how much she’d heard. What she had heard had done nothing to change her opinion on either man. Quinn was everything she could have wished for her friend, and Walker was just what she’d been afraid he was.

When Walker decided to go along, she wasn’t happy about it. She doubted he wanted to know more about the work that had become a passionate calling for his sister. He was more likely already bored at being home, she thought sourly.

At least he got in the backseat, she thought, so she could ignore him more easily. And the shirt he’d put on helped, although the image of his bare chest and ridged stomach stubbornly stayed in her mind. He hadn’t gone soft in those years, she thought. He still looked like the star athlete he’d been, the holder of the state high school record for no-hitters pitched.

Well, minus the odd, squiggly line tattoo she’d noticed on his arm.

Cutter, now in the wayback, apparently still hadn’t decided about Walker. It was as if the dog somehow knew he was connected to his beloved Hayley, but also knew he’d hurt her. Amy wondered if he didn’t like him, but held it back because of that connection. And then laughed at herself for crediting the canine with human emotions and decisions.

She focused on where they were going.

“Foxworth really helps with such small problems?”

Hayley smiled. “Foxworth may have helped to practically take down a government—in our absence, mind you—but one of Quinn’s favorite cases was finding a little girl’s lost locket, the only thing she had left from her mother.”

Amy smiled back at that. “He was probably thinking of you and your mother.” And only a little bit of that was aimed at the silent passenger in the back.

“His own, too,” Hayley said softly. “He was a lot younger when he lost her. Just a child.”

Hayley had told her of Quinn’s parents, killed in the terrorist bombing over in Scotland, and how that event had led years later to the starting of the Foxworth Foundation.

As they passed the blackened spot, Walker asked about the missing house. As Hayley told the story of how she and Quinn had met, black helicopter and all, Amy smiled. Hayley was so clearly—and rightfully—proud of what Foxworth did. Foxworth helped people who were losing battles even though they were in the right and had nowhere else to turn. It warmed Amy all over again. And she realized suddenly that this feeling, this passion, this certainty that what you were doing was not just right but necessary, and incredibly important, was what was missing from her own life.

And yet, that feeling was exactly what she had hoped to find in her work. She thought she had found it. Her boss was—she’d thought—a good guy at heart. Kind of old-school, tough, a bit brusque, but fair. But now she wondered. Was afraid he wasn’t who she’d thought he was.

Just as Walker hadn’t been, she added as he reacted to his sister’s tale of danger and a midnight kidnapping.

“Damn it, Hayley, you could have been killed,” Walker said.

“Quinn wouldn’t let that happen.”

“No man’s infallible.”

“He’s pretty darn close,” Hayley said cheerfully, and Amy liked how she refused to let her brother’s supposed concern now, when it was far too late, matter. “And of course Cutter would never let that happen, either.”

On his name the dog let out a sharp yip, and Amy had the satisfaction of seeing Walker’s head snap around.

“He go with you everywhere?” Walker asked.

“Pretty much,” Hayley said.

“He’s a loyal sort,” Amy said.

She didn’t realize until she’d spoken the words that they could be interpreted as a jab at Walker. But he didn’t react, and she risked turning her head enough to where she could see him out of the corner of her eye. He was looking over the backseat at Cutter, who was staring back at him. But from that angle she could see his jaw was tight, set.

“He’s also an excellent judge of character,” Hayley said, and Amy gave her friend a startled look, wondering if she was taking a shot at Walker, as well. It was hard to interpret the timing of that comment as anything else. And another glance back at Walker told her he knew it.

But he didn’t protest. He said merely, “So I should be glad he hasn’t torn my throat out, is that it?”

“Oh, I don’t think he’s made up his mind yet,” Hayley said, her tone still cheerful as they reached the turnoff for Foxworth. Having visited it several times helping with the wedding, it was familiar to Amy.

“This was the perfect setting,” she said as they drove down the winding drive through the trees. “You were lucky you had such a gorgeous day for the wedding,” she said.

“We were. Winter’s not usually so cooperative around here.”

“And Cutter did his job as ring-bearer perfectly.”

“He did, didn’t you, my sweet boy?”

Cutter made a sound that was half bark, half whine, amazingly like “Yes,” in sound and “Of course” in tone.

“And you couldn’t have scripted the eagles’ flight any better. That was so amazing.”

“It was gasp-worthy, wasn’t it?”

“Nothing like having a soaring stamp of approval from our national symbol in front of everyone,” Amy said with a laugh. “Quite the salute.”

Walker said nothing. But when she glanced once more as she got out of the car, Amy noticed his right hand was clenched atop his knee. And his knuckles were white with the pressure as they talked about the wedding he’d missed.

Good, she thought. And didn’t feel the least vindictive for it.

Chapter 7

Well, wasn’t that just a pleasant drive?

Walker had never been so grateful that a trip was over. He told himself neither woman had been sniping at him, that Hayley and Amy were quite naturally talking about the wedding because it had been held here and because that’s what women did.

It didn’t make him feel any better. Nor did looking out at the meadow beyond the anonymous, three-story green building, and trying to picture what it must have looked like set up for the ceremony. He’d seen the photograph of Hayley and Quinn on the table in the living room, and the others along the stairway wall when he’d gone up to take a shower. Something about every one of them had jabbed at him—how beautiful Hayley had been, the way Quinn looked at her as if she were the treasure at the end of the rainbow and the number of people there he didn’t know, yet another part of his sister’s life he had no place in.

And how amazing Amy had looked in the royal blue dress that had skimmed every curve and set her hair off like quiet fire. She’d worn those blue glasses, matching the dress, and he wondered if she’d bought them for that reason. And how many pairs she had. Little Amy had come a long way. Despite the difficulties of her childhood, she’d made a success of herself. In the end, she’d done a heck of a lot better at it than he had.

That it wasn’t entirely his fault didn’t matter much at this point.

The dog, who had been on his feet from the moment they’d turned off the road, was antsy now that they’d come to a halt. Hayley hit the button that raised the back liftgate on the SUV and the dog was out before Walker even had his door open. He watched as the animal trotted toward the door of the building.

A quick glance around showed that the dark blue SUV he’d seen Quinn leave in was parked a few feet down. At the very end of the gravel drive sat an older, rather nondescript silver coupe, like thousands of others on the road. A few yards closer, in between the coupe and Quinn’s vehicle, sat an older, dark gray pickup.

“Liam’s here,” Hayley said.

“He’s that cute Texas boy, right?” Amy said.

“That would be Liam,” Hayley said with a grin.

Cute Texas boy? Walker wondered.

And then he was completely distracted by the sight of his sister’s dog raising up on his hind legs and batting at something near the door. It was, he realized, an automatic door opener, like a handicapped entrance. He wondered if they had regular visitors who needed it, or if they’d put the thing in just for the dog.

The door swung open, and Cutter vanished inside in a rush.

“He’s in a hurry,” Amy said.

“He’s never quite happy if Quinn and I aren’t together.”

Amy laughed, and it was a light, airy thing that made him feel as if a feather had brushed his ear. “And neither are you and Quinn.”

Hayley grinned. “Nope.”

He should be happy for her, Walker thought. And he was happy for her. It was himself he was feeling ridiculously sorry for. He’d known this would be tough; he just hadn’t expected it to be this tough. He thought he even preferred his sister’s anger to this nonchalance, as if he were barely there, or didn’t matter to her at all.

What did you expect?

He reminded himself that he’d been here less than twenty-four hours, and it was a bit early to be giving up. He tried to put himself in her shoes, or better, in Quinn’s. If he loved somebody as much as Quinn obviously loved Hayley, and he came face-to-face with someone who had hurt her so badly, what would he do?

I have no idea. I’ve never loved anyone like that.

He caught the door just as it was about to close behind Amy. For a moment he found himself standing stock-still, watching as she walked into the building. From behind, she looked...amazing. Snug jeans and that blue sweater that had a white tribal sort of design around the bottom edge at the hip. It seemed to emphasize her shape, that sexy curve, the taut backside. The red-brown hair fell halfway down her back in smooth waves, unlike the wild orange curls he remembered. The coloring that had drawn so much unwanted attention to her.

The freckles, he thought suddenly. They, too, had smoothed out, or perhaps she just stayed out of the sun enough that they had faded. He remembered that summer Amy had gone with them on a trip to the coast. He’d been maybe twelve, so Hayley—and Amy—would have been about eight. She’d gotten so sunburned it had been pitiful. But she’d learned her lesson and made sure it hadn’t happened next time.

That was also the trip when he’d first learned of her life. He’d been amazed—and more than a little annoyed—that she exclaimed with wonder over the simplest things. “You really wouldn’t mind?” was the phrase he heard most often from her when his parents acquiesced to something as simple as having another hot dog. It was his father who had finally taken him on a long walk down the beach and explained about her life at home and what a jerk he was being.

“Now that you understand, I’m going to trust you to look out for her when I can’t.”

His father’s words slammed back into his mind, forgotten until now. He’d promised with all the sincerity of his twelve-year-old heart.

And you broke that one, too. For the sake of people you’ve never even met and never will? Nice priorities, Cole.

Then he was inside, and what he saw was enough to push the memory out of his mind, for now at least.

To his surprise, the ground level of the utilitarian—and conspicuously unmarked, he’d noticed—green building was furnished like a home. The room was large, the great-room effect emphasized by wood flooring, and a fireplace against one long wall. In front of that, around a large, low table, was arranged a leather sofa and a couple of chairs atop a patterned rug. Above the mantel was a flat screen, dark now. Back in one corner was what appeared to be a full bath. In the other corner, a small kitchen area with an island.

Two men were there, and Cutter dashed over to them. He greeted the taller of the two men first, a lean, almost lanky guy with a firm jaw stubbled slightly with a dark beard. As he bent to acknowledge the dog, Walker saw his dark hair was nearly as long as his own was now, and nearly as unruly.

Cutter leaned into him and, oddly, he thought he heard the man say softly to the animal, “It’s okay today, dog,” as he scratched a spot behind the dog’s right ear.

Cutter then turned to the other man, a muscular guy with a buzz cut who appeared quite a bit younger, who crouched down to the dog’s eye level.

“Hey, buddy,” he crooned, “how ya doing?” As he went for that same spot behind the ear, Walker wondered if that would work for him even as he cataloged the man as, judging from the trace of a drawl, “that cute Texas boy” Amy had mentioned. Texas, anyway, he was no judge of cute.

Except maybe Amy. But she wasn’t cute, not really. She was too serious for cute. But attractive? Oh, yeah. That had happened.

“Rafe, Liam, you remember my dearest, best friend Amy Clark, from the wedding?” Hayley asked. Walker cataloged the names and faces instinctively.

“Of course,” the taller man who had to be Rafe said. “Welcome back.”

“Who could forget you?” the younger one asked rather blatantly. Walker saw the dark-haired man’s eyes roll slightly, but affectionately, while Amy herself merely laughed.

“Anyone,” she said, “but I’m glad you didn’t. It’s good to see you both again.”

With another woman who looked like this one, Walker would have thought the charming, self-effacing demeanor an act. But with Amy he knew it was likely for real, born of years when being overlooked had been a rare blessing.

“So,” Rafe said as he took a sip from the coffee cup he held and shifted his gaze to Walker, “the prodigal brother returns.”

Walker realized he was being studied, and from the man’s expression, not favorably.

“Not exactly,” Walker said drily. “He got a warmer welcome.”

The man lifted a dark eyebrow. “Figure you deserve one?”

Okay, so no punches pulled there. “No. But your boss already decked me, so I’d appreciate it if you’d restrain.”

The younger man straightened and looked at him consideringly. “I thought he looked a mite satisfied when he came in this morning.” Liam’s gaze flicked to Hayley. “More than usual, I mean.”

“Liam Burnett, you brat,” Hayley said, clearly joking but with a tinge of pink in her cheeks. “Where is he anyway?”

“Upstairs on the phone with Teague,” Rafe said.

Hayley seemed to hone in quickly on that. “Any news?”

“He’s onto something, yeah,” Liam answered. “I think he needed to know how far Quinn wants him to go.”

Hayley’s gaze shifted to Rafe. “You okay with that? You did the heavy lifting on this, after all.”

Rafe gave her a one-shoulder shrug. “As long as payment is extracted, I don’t care who the tool is.”

“As long as it’s Foxworth,” Liam added.

“Assumed,” Rafe agreed.

Walker glanced at Amy, who seemed as in the dark as he was. Yet something about their manner kept him from asking. He doubted he would get an answer, anyway, although Amy might. Nobody here was going to trust him.

And from their point of view, they were right, he told himself. Being Hayley’s brother wasn’t going to win him points here. Being the brother who had abandoned her was more likely to make him a pariah. It was obvious they all liked and respected her, counted her as one of them. And he was glad of that. Even if she never forgave him, he was glad of that.

Cutter’s head came up, and he trotted briskly toward the stairs. A moment later Walker heard footsteps coming down. Quinn appeared, tucking a phone into his pocket. He seemed to pause for a split second when he spotted Walker. Maybe he’ll just throw me out, he thought.

Hayley went to him and gave him a hug. The big man’s arm went around her protectively. And as far as Walker could see, the only person here Quinn would think she needed protecting from was him.

But Quinn didn’t linger on him. He looked at Hayley. “So?”

“Yes, we have an inquiry, at the least.”

Walker frowned. He didn’t like that whatever Amy had wanted to discuss with Hayley, it was enough to get Quinn and his foundation involved. He didn’t like the idea that her problem was that serious.

Quinn looked at Amy. “Your boss?”

She looked hesitant, even reluctant.

“Might be just as likely we can exonerate him,” Quinn said. “We always try, if someone’s not certain.”

Her expression cleared. “Oh. Yes. I’d much prefer that.”

Quinn nodded, then looked at Rafe and Liam. “This is sort of a family thing, if you two have other things to do.”

“Hey!” Liam protested. “We’re family!”

“Unless,” Rafe put in quietly, “Amy would prefer it.”

Liam subsided at that, looking a bit embarrassed.

“It’s just that there isn’t much,” Amy said. “I’m not sure it’s worth your time.”

“Liam was right. Family,” Rafe said, “isn’t just blood.”

The man’s gaze flicked to Walker, and Walker read the look as clearly as if the man had spoken. And blood isn’t always family.

No, there was no welcome for the prodigal brother here. No open arms, no homecoming celebration.

Just the silent suggestion that he shouldn’t have come home at all.

Chapter 8

“I’m not at all sure there’s anything to this,” Amy said.

Quinn smiled at her. “Only one way to find out.”

“But I don’t want you to...mobilize Foxworth when maybe I’m just being... I mean, I’ve always thought my boss was a good guy, and...”

“And he may be,” Quinn said. “Look, Amy, we’re here, we’re not busy at the moment, so let us put your mind at ease if nothing else.”

“But if he finds out I’m poking around, I could lose my job. They’re not that thick on the ground these days.”

“That’s why you let us do it. If we find anything, he’ll never connect you to the search. And you can call it off at any time, if you really want to.”

She looked out the expansive windows of the upstairs meeting room. They took up nearly the whole wall, and looked out over the meadow. The meadow where just three months ago Hayley and this man had taken the pledge she knew in her heart would carry them forever together. Still in the throes of winter then, it was now dotted with splashes of color, wildflowers and a stand of daffodils here and there. She wondered if they were naturalized, or if Hayley had planted them in that artful way. It had been such a beautiful day, as if winter itself had blessed their union by holding back for the ceremony.

She’d come to accept that some people—herself apparently included—just didn’t have that kind of luck when it came to love. Of course, Hayley had risked her life to win in that game, a situation where she knew she herself would have been a crumpled mass of jelly. But Hayley had always been braver than she.

She managed not to glance at the man who was standing beside the window, looking out toward the evergreens and the big maple where, Hayley had told her, the eagles who had made that amazing salute often perched. He’d shaved, at least. And he was still lean, strong, with that easy grace to his movements that had always entranced her.

And before her mind could career down that unwanted path, she pulled herself back to the matter at hand. Quinn was waiting, probably wondering why on earth his brilliant, decisive wife put up with such a fool for a friend. Or assuming she’d been pondering her decision, and not wasting her thoughts and his time on his scapegrace brother-in-law.

“All right,” she said finally.

Quinn nodded, as if she had answered when he’d first asked. He opened a drawer in the big table and took out a legal pad and a pen.

“Give us everything you remember from the documents. Names, dates, addresses, anything. Writing it will help you clarify it in your mind.”

“All right,” she said again.

“There’s only one more thing you need to decide before we dig in here,” Quinn said.

“What?”

He looked at Walker, who had turned back from the window. “Do you want him here?”

Amy thought she saw a wince flicker across his face. And for an instant she felt a pang of sympathy. But then the memories flooded back. No, no sympathy here, she told herself firmly.

“I’m not sure it matters,” she said, looking back at Quinn. “After all, he’ll be gone again soon, I’m sure.”

The wince was definite then.

“I’ll just go...play with the dog or something,” he said.

“I’m still not sure he’s decided about you yet,” Hayley put in.

“Then I’ll go tell him I’m grateful for the benefit of the doubt.”

His voice had an edge this time, and that irritated Amy even more. What benefit of the doubt did he think he’d earned?

“You do that,” she said.

“Hoping he’ll go for my throat?”

“He’s a smart dog.”

Amy watched him go. She turned back to see Hayley smiling at her. “I’m glad you’re here to say everything I’m not saying to him.”

Amy smiled back, her mood suddenly lightened. “Better it’s me. My bridge with him is a lot less important than yours. And I’ll happily burn it down.”

“Personally,” Quinn drawled out, “I wouldn’t want to go up against either one of you.”

Amy’s smile widened. She was truly starting to like him for more than the simple fact that he loved her best friend.

“Now,” Quinn said, his tone brisk, “let’s get this started. Then we’ll turn it over to Ty. If there’s anything to find, he’ll find it.”

With the feeling she’d started the proverbial snowball down the mountain, Amy picked up the pen and started to write.

* * *

“At least you don’t appear inclined to chew on me,” Walker said to the dog as he brought back the tennis ball yet again. He took it and gave this throw his all, since he was well warmed by now. It sailed across the meadow toward the trees, but the dog caught up with it easily.

“I need a baseball,” he muttered as he watched the dog start back. He could throw it farther, make him work harder.

Cutter stopped suddenly, his head turned toward the Foxworth building. He seemed so intent Walker looked himself, wondering what had caught the dog’s attention. Nothing had changed that he could see.

Correction, he thought as he turned back in time to see the dog move again. Limping. Now you’ve hurt Hayley’s dog. Just great.

He ran out to meet the dog, hesitated, but then knelt to look at the right front paw he seemed to be favoring. He couldn’t see anything, no visible injury, but he supposed Cutter could have strained something in his energetic pursuit of that fuzzy yellow sphere.

It didn’t seem so bad that the animal couldn’t walk at all, which was a relief since he wasn’t sure the dog would take kindly to being carried by a man he wasn’t too sure about, anyway. But Hayley wasn’t going to be happy. With a sigh he wondered if she’d blame him for this, although he wasn’t sure what he could have done to stop it other than not indulge the dog at all, when it was clear he played like this often.

He walked beside Cutter as he half hopped his way to the back door, his right paw never touching the ground. Maybe she wouldn’t be so mad if he paid the vet bill, he thought as he pulled the door open and followed the dog inside. Maybe if he...

The limp vanished. The moment the door swung closed behind them, that right paw came down and the dog walked forward as if it had never happened.

What the hell...?

Cutter looked back over his shoulder as if to be sure Walker was following. He gave a low woof that, added to the body language, sounded for all the world like “Come on.” Feeling a bit like one of the sheep he supposed the dog’s brethren herded, he obeyed. The dog scrambled up the stairs at a pace that made Walker think he’d been played beautifully.

He hesitated, knowing the gathering he’d been pointedly excused from was still going on, but he also couldn’t deny he wanted to know what was bothering Amy so much she called this meeting. So he followed the dog.

Cutter stopped in front of the three occupants of the room. Once he’d made eye contact with all of them, he looked back at Walker, almost pointedly. Feeling the gaze of the others, Walker thought about explaining, but since he had no idea how, stayed silent. Then the dog came back to him, walked behind him and nudged his legs as if to urge him forward.

“Well,” Quinn said, “it seems he’s decided you need to be in the loop.”

Walker blinked. Stared at the dog, who now crossed the room to a large, cushy dog bed beneath the big windows, and curled up on it with an air of satisfaction. Then he looked back at Quinn, who didn’t look overjoyed, but didn’t move to throw him out, either. Hayley looked thoughtful, while Amy didn’t look at him at all.

Thanks, dog, he thought. He didn’t have a clue what had been in that canine mind, but he’d take the result. He couldn’t do anything if he wasn’t even allowed on the field. And Cutter had fixed that.

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