Operation Homecoming Page 13

She brushed off his thanks. “I wouldn’t let anybody suffer like that.”

  She straightened and walked back to her room without another word.

  He didn’t even try to go back to sleep. He knew it was pointless; his mind wouldn’t let him, fearing it would only start again. After a few minutes of staring into the dark, he finally got up, dressed and went outside. He doubted the strange surroundings would be enough of a distraction, but it was worth a try.

  Hard to believe how he had once had the world in front of him, and a loving family standing beside him. And he’d left it all behind. But he knew to this day that life-altering decision had been the only one he could live with, the only thing that got him through the pain of losing his father, the man he’d loved and respected above all others.

  He knew Hayley hadn’t really understood, but she’d been so young when he’d left. And he’d come back to visit often in those early days—birthdays, holidays...

  And then five years ago he’d stumbled into chaos. And doing the right thing about it had cost him everything. Even things he didn’t know he’d had. Or wanted.

  Like Amy.

  The realization of that truth hit him hard and low. He sank down to sit on the rim of the dry fountain. He wished it was running—maybe the sound of running water would calm his frenetic thoughts.

  Amy. He wanted Amy.

  How the hell that had happened didn’t matter. Not when it was obvious she wanted nothing to do with him. The girlhood crush had long ago been seared to ash. And he didn’t kid himself that she’d pulled him out of the depths of that nightmare because she cared. She’d have done the same for anyone. Probably even the dog. In fact, if it came to it, she’d probably wake Cutter up first.

  He stood abruptly. If he’d learned nothing else in his life, he’d learned you didn’t always get what you wanted. And he knew damned well he wasn’t going to get this, any more than he’d gotten his father back, or the chance to see his mother again.

  And he couldn’t help wondering if, had he known, truly known, what this was going to do to his life, what it was going to cost him, he ever would have made that second life-altering decision. No matter what the stakes.

  He supposed that doubt was what made him shake his head in disbelief when those guys in the suits called him a hero.

  Chapter 19

  “Either I’m paranoid or he’s watching me. Closely.”

  “More than usual?” Walker asked.

  Amy nodded, taking the glass of flavored water he handed her. She appreciated the gesture; she was tired, and not cut out for this cloak-and-dagger stuff. “He’s never been one to hover, but this week he’s asking questions. Often.”

  “Personal things?”

  “Just if I’m all right.”

  “If he’s asking if you’re all right,” Walker said, “he’s noticed something that made him think you might not be.”

  She wanted to ignore him, but what he’d said made sense, just like the other times that he’d weighed in on what was going on.

  “I never claimed to be any good at sneaking around,” she said defensively.

  “It wasn’t a criticism,” he said, his tone weary. “You’re not a trained operative. No one would expect you to be able to cover perfectly.”

  The wording caught her attention, and she gave him a sideways look. Was she revising her assumptions? Was that why she was finding it harder each day to hang on to her anger? Or was it just the remnants of that silly crush? On the outside, after all, he hadn’t changed, except perhaps to become even better-looking. He still had that easy charm, that dimpled smile and that endearing way of making you feel as if every bit of his attention was on you.

  A memory flashed through her mind, of the first time she’d ever seen him. She’d been coming to their house after school for a few days at Hayley’s invitation. She’d been wary, but Hayley’s mother had welcomed her, and she’d felt more warmth from this woman she’d just met than she’d ever felt at home. Her eight-year-old heart had ached with the sweetness of it, without her really understanding why, other than the realization that not everyone’s home and family was like hers—loud, unpleasant and chaotic.

  She’d been sipping happily at the hot chocolate Hayley’s mother had made them, still marveling at the woman’s kindness, when the slamming of the front door made her jump. The mug went flying, hot chocolate splashing all over, until it hit the tile floor and shattered. She was so terrified she barely felt the heat; in her house, this would earn her an hour-long screaming session and days of verbal retribution. But she’d been more upset that she would now be banned from this refuge she’d only just found.

  But Hayley’s mother was soothing her, seeming more worried that she’d been scalded than anything. And then a boy had run in, skidding to a halt just inside the kitchen, staring at the mess.

  Walker had been twelve then. She’d barely had time to realize he must be Hayley’s brother before Mrs. Cole turned on him.

  “Walker Cole, what have I told you about slamming that door?”

  The boy looked sheepish. “Um...not to?”

  “You made Amy jump,” Hayley accused him with a glare.

  He looked at her then for the first time. That had been the first time she’d noticed his eyes, those gold-flecked green eyes with the dark rim around the iris, eyes that were striking now, and would be devastating when he grew up. They were fastened on her, noting the wet chocolate stain on her shirt.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “And?” his mother prompted, gesturing at the puddle and mug fragments on the floor.

  Walker had sighed. “I’ll clean it up.”

  “You certainly will. And you’ll replace that mug out of your allowance.”

  Another sigh. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He’d set about the task with determination if not enthusiasm. And his mother made no move toward him, didn’t even try to hit him, and she wondered if he was going to escape physical punishment. Or maybe that was their father’s job.

  “Mom, can we clean Amy’s shirt? She’ll get in big trouble if she goes home like that.”

  Even now Amy felt a burst of warmth at the memory of Hayley’s worry. She hadn’t told her a lot about what things were like at home, but somehow her friend seemed to guess at what she hadn’t said. And her mother had instantly taken over, ushering them to Hayley’s room to find something for her to wear while she handled washing and drying her clothes.

  She’d been still nearly shaking with relief and amazement at how different it was here when Walker had stuck his head through Hayley’s doorway.

  “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She’d stared at him, speechless. The first apology had been surprise enough, but his mother had been standing there. This was on his own, and was all the more sincere for it.

  That was the moment when she’d first fallen for him. And she’d loved him with all the devotion of her childish heart, wishing, dreaming, until the day he’d gone away. Even then it had lingered for a while, until her practical brain and her hard-won acceptance of what was had made her put away the fantasy.

  And she wasn’t about to succumb to that fantasy again.

  With an effort, she looked away and went back to the matter at hand. “I’m wondering if maybe he’s not just keeping a closer eye on what I’m doing, working on. Maybe hoping to catch me looking at things I shouldn’t.”

  “You think he knows someone saw those files, but not who?” Walker asked.

  She sighed. “I don’t know. Besides the partners, I’m the only one who has the secure system password.”

  “I talked to Quinn. Ty’s looking into that list of names you gave us, but it’s taking time to do it under the radar.”

  “I’m going to feel really stupid if this turns out to be nothin
g,” Amy said. “Wasting all this time and Foxworth resources.”

  “I may not know Quinn well, but I know he won’t think it wasted if it puts your mind at ease,” Walker said.

  He was right. She knew that. And realized that she had somehow come to the conclusion that while Walker wasn’t the voluble kid she remembered, when he did speak, it was usually worth hearing.

  “My sister,” Walker murmured later as they watched Hayley and Quinn play a crazy sort of tag with Cutter outside on the grass, “did well.”

  She doubted that was meant for her ears, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from adding, “As did Quinn.”

  “That,” Walker said without looking at her, “goes without saying. Hayley’s the best.”

  “Yes. She is.”

  He glanced at her then. Looking for a sign that that had been a jab? She met his gaze evenly, for this time there hadn’t been a trace of that even in her mind, only appreciation for her dearest friend.

  After a moment, a trace of a smile curved his mouth. And nearly took her breath away. Every alarm she had went off in her head in warning.

  Cutter suddenly changed course midromp, picked something up from the grass and trotted toward them. He had the new baseball Walker had bought him in his mouth now and, tail wagging and ears up, he offered it to him. Obviously the dog had decided he was all right. If the baseball had been a bribe, it had worked.

  Still reeling from the unexpected reaction to that smile, she grimaced as much at herself as at him. “Funny. Hayley says he’s an excellent judge of character.”

  For an instant that pain flashed in his eyes again. But when he spoke, his voice was quiet. “So he’s wrong about me and Hayley’s wrong about him?”

  She hadn’t thought of it in quite that way, but she saw his point. “Maybe your DNA is throwing him off.”

  To her surprise, he let out a wry chuckle. “Maybe,” he said, and let it go.

  He looked back at the dog. “I was worried at first that the baseball might be too hard on his teeth, but he seems to realize the difference. He handles it differently than the tennis ball, anyway. No midair catches, he lets it hit and roll.”

  She liked that he’d thought of that. “Smart dog.”

  He took the ball the dog offered and walked out onto the grass. Hayley and Quinn seemed content to let him take over after their energetic game of doggy tag.

  “He remembered who gave him that?” Amy asked.

  “Or he knows who played baseball,” Hayley said with a smile.

  And then Walker started throwing the ball for the eager animal, and she was flooded with memories once more. She’d become a passionate fan of the sport because of him, never missing a game he was in, learning all about it so she could at least talk to him about something without fumbling and stammering. Her young heart had thrilled to watching him, just the way he moved, the way he stared down the batters, the power behind the fastball that had major league scouts hovering even then.

  “Don’t stay mad at him on my account,” Hayley said softly.

  She gave her friend a sideways look. That was like Hayley. Generous. Forgiving. “Maybe it’s on mine,” she said, looking back at him, but she couldn’t seem to summon up the anger to make the words bite.

  It really wasn’t fair. He hadn’t gotten any less graceful. Or powerful. And when he threw the ball hard enough to bounce it off the adobe-look wall surrounding the yard, and Cutter practically bent himself double to turn back to get it on the rebound, she found herself laughing and cheering along with Hayley. For the dog, of course.

  It had all seemed so...normal, she thought the next morning as she settled in at her desk. Like some sort of family on just a regular evening, playing with the dog, laughing together.

  But it wasn’t, and the sooner she got that silly idea out of her head, the better.

  And yet her mind kept drifting back to it the moment her guard was down. Walker had been already up this morning when she’d come out for coffee, and Quinn had been on the phone. She’d wondered if it had been something about her situation, but Walker shook his head as if he’d guessed she’d be wondering.

  “It’s about this place and staffing it, I think.”

  “Oh.” Then almost as an afterthought, she added a polite, “Thanks.”

  “Don’t hurt yourself,” he’d said wryly.

  She once more pulled herself out of the memories and made herself focus on her job. She had case law to research and write up for the Marcourt case, the Douglas family trust to work on and some loose threads from other things to finish off. More than enough to keep her occupied, if she could just keep her mind in the groove. And she would, she told herself firmly.

  She had the draft of the trust papers done by late morning and sent them to print. She liked to go over things in hard copy, since she caught mistakes she read right past on a computer screen. Then she got up to walk over to the printer across the office; it wouldn’t start until she was there and keyed in her ID code, another layer of security and confidentiality Caden and Rockwell insisted on.

  When she was done, corrections made and entered, it was lunchtime. She fed the printed pages into the crosscut shredder, emailed the finished document and, when that was done, signed off her computer and locked it down.

  As she headed toward the elevator she ran into Becca just arriving, but her friend was with a client so their greeting was kept to merely a nod and smile in passing. As Amy rode the elevator down to the parking garage under the building she dug out her car keys, mentally planning her tasks to get as much as possible done in the time she had. And somewhere she had to find time to at least get an estimate on getting her car’s fender repaired; she didn’t like driving around with that big scrape on it.

  When the doors slid open she found herself unexpectedly face-to-face with her boss. And he did not look happy. But then, his resting face was rather stern anyway.

  “Amy,” he said, seeming to collect himself. “Off to lunch?”

  “Errands, I’m afraid.”

  “Take your time, then. My afternoon appointment is canceled, so I’m going to go up and close out, then head home and catch up on some reading.”

  She hadn’t expected that. “Oh. All right. The Douglas trust file is in your in-box.”

  He smiled. He really did have a nice smile when he bothered to use it. “Ever efficient, aren’t you? I’d be lost without you.”

  For a moment after the elevator doors closed she just stood there. Fought with her imagination, wondering if he’d said that, made that compliment, because he’d been contemplating doing without her. Because she’d been snooping where she didn’t belong. There hadn’t seemed to be any underlying meaning in his tone, but that video of him in the courtroom had proved he was more than capable of concealing his thoughts and intentions.

  The sound of voices pulled her out of her reverie. Two, it sounded like, both male. Harsh, but quiet, as if they were trying to keep their voices down. She glanced that way, saw two men in the shadows of the far corner of the garage. If sound didn’t carry so well in here, she would never have seen them, never even known they were there.

  She couldn’t hear their words, not well enough to understand, but she could tell they were arguing. Or rather, one of the men was desperately trying to explain something, and the other was having none of it. She hastened toward her car, hoping that realizing they weren’t alone might calm things, and wanting out of here quickly if it didn’t.

  She was halfway there when it escalated. She heard an odd thump, risked a quick glance.

  Her heart kicked into overdrive. One of the men was up against the side of a dark van, the other, taller one had a forearm jammed against his throat. The thump, she realized with a little shock, had been his head slamming against the wall.

  The aggressor’s voice was even fierc
er now. Any louder and it was going to be impossible for her to pretend she hadn’t heard them. Even if it only was every third or fourth word.

  “...dare...me? I have...in my pocket...you...”

  She couldn’t make out the words in between. She was tempted to hightail it back to the elevator and go back inside, but the two men might hear her. And the elevator was likely still up on her floor.

  Then she realized if they hadn’t seen her yet, the beep as she unlocked the door was going to draw their attention. This was the parking garage of her own office, yes, but it was also Los Angeles, and things happened.

  She risked another glance. Her breath caught. The taller man had something in his hand, something he was holding to the other man’s throat. And that something glinted metal in the dim light of the corner of the underground garage. A knife? A gun?

  Forget the lock release button. She covered the last few steps to her car as quietly and quickly as she could. It took her a moment of fumbling to get the key in the lock, so used was she to using the more convenient button on her key.

  She heard the sound of footsteps, running. She made herself focus on getting the door open so she could get in and get it locked again. Her mind was racing, remembering what Hayley’s father had said once that a car was a deadly weapon. Could she do it? Could she use it that way?

  She felt the key turn. Then froze, uselessly, as the other man walked out of the shadows. Toward her.

  He stopped, looked her up and down so thoroughly she felt a shiver go through her. He was handsome, in a slick kind of way, tall, slim, dark blond hair gelled straight back, but the overdone three gold rings and the almost-shiny suit destroyed the look for her.

  “Hey, sweet thing,” he said. When she shot him a wary glance, he laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Now, don’t be frowning at a man, make him feel disrespected.”

  “I’m leaving,” she stated firmly.

  She yanked her car door open and got inside, slamming it shut and locking it immediately. To her relief, he made no attempt to stop her. The man laughed again, and this time it did sound amused, even through the closed window.