Operation Homecoming
“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.