Justine Davis - Operation Alpha

“That’s sweet,” she said.

“And he’s saved us all, at one time or another. If we’re smart enough to listen to him.”

The dog gave a soft whuff, as if reminding Liam they should listen to him all the time. Ria couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “He’s really quite expressive, isn’t he?”

“He gets his point across,” he agreed, but he seemed to be avoiding looking at her now. She wondered if he was regretting having said so much, although to her it didn’t seem as if he’d given away much that was personal.

Cutter whuffed again, this time as he rose up to put his front paws on the school bulletin board. He nosed at another flyer, a slick one for a new restaurant in the picturesque little town on the bay at the bottom of the hill. Ria hadn’t been there yet, but she’d heard from various students that they had some seriously good burgers and an outrageous selection of fries with various toppings that made a meal in themselves and were cheap enough to tempt students with sometimes strapped finances.

She heard a faint sound, realized that, as Liam had looked at the menu that had Cutter’s attention, his stomach had growled.

“Skip breakfast?” she asked with a smile.

“And lunch,” he muttered.

“I’ve heard they’re good.” She kept her tone neutral, nonsuggestive. His stomach made a more insistent sound. He gave her a quick flick of a glance.

“You haven’t been there?”

“Not yet.”

She wondered, for a brief moment that annoyingly made her hold her breath, if he was going to ask her to go with him. She’d happily forego the insulated bag full of fruit and yogurt in the school fridge if he did.

He didn’t.

In that moment Cutter turned, sat and stared up at Liam with what Ria could only describe as a disgusted look. Liam seemed to purposely ignore the animal, and he muttered something under his breath that sounded like “Don’t even try, hound.”

And abruptly he excused himself, with just enough politeness to keep it from being rude.

Just.

She watched him go, watched the dog follow with obvious reluctance and wondered what on earth had just happened here.

Chapter 8

“He doesn’t look like much of a fighter.”

“Doesn’t look like a teacher, either.”

“Hey, he’s got a dog. Maybe he’s blind. That would be cool, like a superhero.”

“Maybe he’s got the dog because he’s gutless.”

Liam listened without looking, since he’d already noted and mentally cataloged the trio of boys when they’d come in. They didn’t join the other dozen or so who’d shown up but kept to themselves in a little knot near the door. There were always at least three, he thought. The ringleader and a couple of sycophants. And there was little doubt that the boy who had spoken first and last was the ringleader. He was the biggest of them and wore the most scornful expression.

He was also the one Cutter was watching like an errant sheep.

And Liam noticed many of the other kids who’d gathered around the mats on the floor were keeping a wary eye on the trio. Including Dylan, who was standing toward the back but appeared more intent than any of them.

“Great,” he heard a boy mutter, looking at the biggest of the three. “Just what we need—Alan screwing things up.”

Purposely Liam turned his back on the threesome. It went against his instincts, but the gym had several mirrors in one corner, near what he guessed was a bar for dance students to use, and he positioned himself so he could watch the three easily without looking directly at them. Otherwise he ignored them, and he saw the leader’s expression change; he obviously wasn’t used to being ignored.

“Hi, everyone. My name’s Liam Burnett. Thanks for turning up and saving me from reading War and Peace.”

He got a few chuckles, and all of the ones in front of him smiled. He noted Emily’s absence. The girl had said she wasn’t going to come because she was afraid she’d give him away somehow and Dylan would shy away.

“Y’all know why you’re here,” he began. He heard the snicker from behind him, no doubt at the drawl he’d purposely let through. “Well, most of you, anyway. Some don’t have even a clue.”

The titter that went through the group had a nervous edge to it. He kept his back turned but saw the trio, the big guy in the lead, start moving toward him. He watched the reflection, assessing. Alan was big, yes. Nearly his own height. And bulky. Probably outweighed him by at least twenty pounds. But it wasn’t muscle, Liam noted, seeing the softness around the middle and in the arms beneath the T-shirt from a local bar. Wondered if the kid counted on his sheer size to intimidate. Wondered if he expected people to think he was old enough to hang out in that dive bar his shirt advertised. Or clever enough to bluff his way in.

And wondered what Alan was doing here at Cove at all. From what Ria had told him about the school and its academic standards, he seemed an unlikely fit. But maybe his folks were rich and bought his way in; money did talk, after all.

And maybe he’s really a genius under all that bluster.

Liam nearly grinned at his own thought. Quinn had taught him much about making assumptions.

“I gotta figure,” he said to the group, “since this isn’t getting you out of class, that you want to be here. Question is, why?”

“Because it’s cool?” one of the boys in front suggested.

Liam grinned at him. “It is that.”

Another laugh from the group.

“You going to teach girls, too?”

Liam looked at the girl who stood up front, looking at him rather challengingly. In that moment he was glad he’d helped Quinn to train Hayley and Teague’s Laney. They’d taught him as much as he’d taught them.

“Absolutely,” he said. “With the right mind-set, girls can get more out of it than anyone.”

She looked surprised. “You’re just saying that.”

“Nope. In fact, you have an advantage. If you’re attacked, it’s usually by someone who thinks you’re weak, and if you know how, you can use that assumption against them. You usually are smaller. You can use the size disparity even more. There’s an entire discipline, Brazilian jiujitsu, that specializes in just that.”

Her attitude changed visibly, from one of challenge to interest. In fact, she looked downright intrigued. He counted it as a small victory.

“I’m not an expert in any one of the disciplines,” he said. “What I am good at is picking what works for me. And that’s why I’m here, to help you pick.”

“If you’re not an expert, why should we listen to you?”

“What I’m also good at,” Liam said without acknowledging the bully’s presence with even a glance, “is assessing an opponent. The way they carry themselves, like a true fighter or just a big ol’ thug who doesn’t have a clue about fighting someone who knows how to fight back.”

A murmur went through the group. They got that he was talking specifically about the boy coming up behind him.

“And,” Liam continued, “I’m good at assessing the real level of the threat. If it’s someone who can hold their own, or someone clueless I could take down with a sneeze.”

This time they laughed. He supposed he shouldn’t egg the kid on like that, but he really didn’t like bullies. He’d been on the short end of that experience too often, when he was this age.

In the mirror he saw the boy’s hands curl into fists. A glance at Alan’s face showed he wasn’t quite sure he was being insulted, which was also Liam’s intent. Liam wondered if Alan was foolish enough to rush him, to attack someone there to teach defense against just that, and in front of the whole group. He almost hoped he was.