Operation Homecoming

“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.