Justine Davis - Operation Alpha

Liam had caught up with the dog now, and Emily turned and politely gestured the other person with her forward. “This is Ms. Connelly. She teaches at my school.”

Quinn had only a moment to take in the petite brunette, but he was used to making quick assessments. Dressed in tan jeans and a loose white shirt that had a shine to it, she didn’t look that much older than Emily. But he’d learned not to judge age just by looks; Liam looked years younger than he was. He was also smart and tough, and he had become someone Quinn would trust with his life.

“Ria, please,” the woman said, holding out a hand. Quinn shook it. She had a steady grip, but her hand felt delicate in his.

“Liam Burnett, our tracker and resident tech guy,” he said with a nod in the direction of the man who was quickly yanking his T-shirt back over his head. After, Quinn noted, a moment of stock-still staring at the woman who had arrived with Emily. He had recovered quickly, but Quinn was certain he’d seen it.

“Hi,” Liam said with a nod to them both, “I’d shake hands, but I’ve been throwing his grubby baseball.”

The woman laughed. And Liam seemed to stop breathing. “Not a tennis ball?” she asked.

“He likes those,” Quinn explained, “but he loves the baseball. It’s heavier, goes farther. And it was a gift from my wife’s brother.”

“Doesn’t it hurt his teeth?” Emily asked.

“He knows the difference, knows not to try and catch this one in midair.”

Emily smiled at the dog. “So he’s smart and beautiful.”

“He’s Cutter,” Quinn said simply. “Although judging by his greeting, I’m not sure he needs to be introduced to you. He’s acting like he’s known you all along.”

“I thought he was just friendly,” Emily said, sounding pleased as she stroked the dog’s head. Cutter leaned into her as if she were long-lost family.

“He’s not like that with complete strangers, at least not right away. It’s almost like he knows.”

“Knows?” Emily asked.

“How important you are to us.”

The girl blushed.

“You’re the locket girl,” Liam said suddenly.

Emily looked surprised. “You know about me?”

“We all do,” Liam said with a warm smile. “You’re still Quinn’s favorite case. He says you’re why they made Foxworth official.”

“But you’ve done so many things, big things, much more important than finding my locket,” she said.

“No,” Quinn said gently. “Nothing’s been more important than that. Bigger maybe, louder, but not more important.”

Emily glanced at her teacher. Ria Connelly smiled, and nodded. “As advertised,” she said.

Quinn lifted a brow. “I’ve been telling her about Foxworth,” Emily said. “I think she thought I was exaggerating.”

And why, Quinn wondered, would she be telling one of her teachers about us?

In the moment he thought it, Cutter shifted. He moved over to Ria and glanced up at her, wagging his tail. Clearly both of their visitors were more than accepted—they were welcome. Already. The woman smiled and immediately bent to him, quickly finding that spot behind his right ear that he loved having scratched. The dog blissfully tilted his head into her fingers, but after a moment, as if at some unseen signal the animal suddenly eyed both women intently. And then he turned and, in front of both of them, sat facing Quinn.

And gave him The Look.

Well, well.

“Come in,” Quinn said. “Hayley will want to meet you.”

The girl smiled even wider. “I want to meet her, too. I’m sorry I couldn’t come to the wedding.”

“We understood. A chance to go to Australia doesn’t come along every day.”

“No. Oh, and my folks said to say hello.”

“How are they?”

“They’re good.” Emily looked at him steadily for a moment before adding, “And I love them very much. I’m very lucky to have them, that they chose me.”

Quinn felt the last bit of concern he’d always carried about that fade away. The Hardings were wonderful people, but he’d always worried if the devastated child who had lost first her father, and then the mother she had been so close to, would be able to really adjust. It was a credit to them that she’d gone from withdrawn child to an obviously bright, outgoing teenager.

He smiled at both women—for the ten-year-old he remembered had certainly become that—as he gestured them inside. Cutter and his ball-thrower followed, and Quinn noted with interest that Liam’s gaze was once more on the woman accompanying the teenager.

“Hayley’s got lemonade out on the patio. Let’s join her.” Quinn put a gentle hand on Emily’s shoulder as he added, “And then you can tell us what you need us for.”

The girl looked up at him, clearly startled that he’d guessed this wasn’t just a social call. “I’ll explain later,” he said as Cutter escorted the women inside.

Quinn held back a moment. “Might want to work on that nonexistent poker face of yours,” he whispered to Liam.

Liam grimaced. Quinn grinned.

“Don’t blame you,” he said. And he didn’t. Ria Connelly had the same kind of attractiveness Hayley did, the quiet kind that wasn’t glamorous or flashy but lasted forever.

But he also knew—because Hayley often pointed it out—that Liam was rather determinedly uninvolved, watching with amusement as first Quinn, then fellow Foxworth colleague Teague Johnson, followed by their friend Detective Brett Dunbar and finally Hayley’s long-lost brother Walker had joined the ranks of the attached, thanks in large part to the uncannily clever and apparently matchmaking Cutter. And that didn’t even include the couples he’d brought together on their cases.

Quinn had even overheard him warning the dog once. Don’t you be turning those eyes on me, hound. I’ve tried that, and it always ends badly.

Quinn knew the bare bones of Liam’s story, what could be gleaned from dry, emotionless reports of facts and what he’d had to know before taking him on at Foxworth but not much more. Someday he was going to get all of it out of the guy, Quinn thought as he shut the door behind them. Or more likely Hayley would; she had them all confiding in her. Well, except Rafe, but he didn’t confide in anyone.

In the meantime, it was clear Emily had a problem she thought they could solve. Or perhaps it was Ria. Or both, he thought, remembering how the dog had sat in front of both of them. Cutter hadn’t been wrong yet. Which he was going to have to explain yet again, he thought as he led them out to the patio to join his wife.

Life with a dog who kept forgetting he was just a dog was very interesting.

Chapter 2

Cleaned up and cooled down now, Liam Burnett stood in the bathroom and stared at his own rueful expression in the mirror. He ran a hand over his hair. He’d been letting it grow out a bit from his usual buzz cut. He hated haircuts and usually just did it himself, short enough he didn’t have to worry about it for a while. But now he laughingly admitted it was fun, because he went to Teague’s fiancée Laney’s dog grooming shop and she did it with her variable-length clippers, shorter on the sides, a little longer on top. He liked her, and it was fun telling people he got his hair cut at a dog groomer’s.

Teague had gotten really lucky, he thought. Laney was the real deal. And good for him. The frequent sparring partner who helped Liam stay sharp was a good guy. The ex-marine with the easy grin deserved to be happy. Former marine, Liam corrected. Both Teague and Rafe had sternly told him there was no such thing as an ex-marine.

And what do you deserve, exactly?

He answered his own question. Not that.

He thought of the group out on the patio. The girl with the locket, who had started Quinn Foxworth on the path that had led him to the Foxworth Foundation. It was the story they had each heard when they’d joined up, to illustrate that it wasn’t the size of the case that determined what they took on, or the importance of the person. To Foxworth, helping a ten-year-old girl devastated by the loss of a single memento was just as important as taking down a crooked politician.