Operation Alpha Page 4

  “How did you end up there?”

  “Long story.”

  She studied him silently for a moment. And he realized sunglasses didn’t matter when you could actually feel someone’s gaze on you.

  “Unpleasant story?” she finally asked.

  “Could have been.”

  He was dodging, he knew it. How he’d come to Foxworth wasn’t something he dwelt on often. And then it struck him that this might be the perfect way to get that distance he wanted between them. Because he could already tell Ria Connelly was generally a straight-arrow sort, had probably never been in trouble in her life. If he told her the truth, she’d put the distance there herself.

  If he told the full truth, she’d probably get up, walk away and never look back.

  But then the whole case would be compromised. He’d be letting Foxworth down and, worse, Emily, which he had a feeling Quinn would not forget soon.

  The sunglasses didn’t mask at all that she was staring at him now. It was as if her steady gaze had some sort of tangible energy, and he could feel it flowing toward him.

  “Not into mutual sharing, huh?” She said it lightly, but he had a feeling there was a sting in it anyway. “Dr. Halvorson may ask, you know. She’s very thorough. Besides, once you’re there Quinn thinks it will speed things up with Dylan if he thinks we’re friends. And a friend would know that.”

  He let out a breath. Went for the digest version. “I’m good with computers. Good enough to get into some trouble. I was on a wrong path. Quinn gave me a chance to go another way.”

  There was more to it than that, so much more, but he couldn’t go there now. He had a job to do, Foxworth had trusted him with it and he would get it done.

  “And you took it.”

  “Quinn is...very convincing.”

  And the thought of being locked up was pretty persuasive, too.

  “He seems like a very solid guy.”

  “He is. Like a rock. I owe him—” he had to unexpectedly stop, swallow, before he could finish “—everything.”

  She smiled at him then, a soft, warm kind of smile that, like her stare, he felt in an almost physical way. “Obviously you justified his faith. You should be proud.”

  Well, that wasn’t the result he’d intended. “I was sitting in lockup, looking at serious jail time,” he pointed out. “I’m just grateful.”

  “Which also takes a certain amount of grace and class, Liam Burnett. Whether you admit it or not, it wasn’t all Quinn.”

  He nearly gaped at her. How had she turned that around? He tells her he nearly went to jail—in fact, he had for a couple of days before Quinn had stepped in—and she’s complimenting him?

  “You must be a heck of a teacher,” he said with a rueful quirk of his mouth.

  “I’m good,” she said easily. “Very good.”

  She said it with a quiet, humble sort of confidence, the kind that had nothing to prove. And he found himself smiling at her.

  “I believe that.”

  “I assume you hacked somebody?” she asked. “Who? Or what?”

  Again the possibilities raced through his mind. He could tell her about the time he hacked school systems, to tweak the grades of student customers who paid him according to what grade they wanted. Or later when he’d rigged a contest’s random draw to win. Or more, all strictly for personal benefit. The ones he wasn’t proud of.

  Or he could tell her about the ones that had made Quinn think he might fit at Foxworth. When he’d screwed with the records of his hometown’s biggest bully and the guy had ended up on a community service road crew, taking bullying from guys much bigger and tougher than him. Or the county guy who kept harassing his parents over a property line, despite their irrefutable proof he was wrong. Or the bank that happened to be run by the county guy’s brother-in-law and had started giving his folks grief.

  But the last answer was the one that explained everything, so, with a wry expression and raised brows, he gave it to her.

  “At one point... Foxworth.”

  She blinked. Reached up and pulled off her sunglasses as if to stare at him more incredulously.

  “You hacked Foxworth?”

  He nodded. “I didn’t believe anybody would really do what they do—fight for people in the right, big or small, and do it for only the promise of help in turn down the line.” His mouth curved into a smile as he remembered his own disbelief. “But they do,” he added softly.

  “Let me get this right...you hacked Foxworth, and Quinn hired you?”

  “Crazy, huh?”

  “Or very, very smart,” she said. “His gamble obviously paid off.”

  “But it’ll never be paid back.” He grinned. “My folks think he walks on water. They were sure I was headed straight to hell. I was the black sheep of the family, no doubt.”

  “Siblings?”

  “Two of each. Couple of successful corporate types, an oil exec and a doctor.”

  “So you really were the problem child.”

  “That I was.”

  “They must be relieved.”

  “They are. And I’m sorry I gave them so much trouble. They’re good, good people. It wasn’t their fault. Sometimes, if you’re good at something, it can get you in trouble. You follow the path because it’s easy for you, and sometimes you’re in over your head before you realize it.”

  He realized then that he’d been sitting here sharing his life story with her, easily, without even thinking about it. How had she managed that? She’d given him one tiny bit of her own history, and suddenly he was pouring his own out by the bucket? When what he’d meant to do was get that distance between them?

  “I’m surprised that Dylan didn’t pour his soul out to you on request,” he said with a grimace.

  “I can have that effect,” she said with a laugh. “It’s my honest face.”

  Yeah, your face is honest. Among other things. Like beautiful. Fascinating.

  Trouble.

  “I only wish Dylan would,” she went on. “I’m worried about him.”

  Time to get down to business, Liam thought. Quickly he updated her on what they’d learned, which wasn’t much more than he’d gleaned that first day. Quinn had advised him to leave it there for now, until he got a feel for things after he met Dylan. His assessment, Quinn had said, would determine if they picked up the pace.

  “Tell me more about him,” he said then. “The more I know, the better chance I have of getting through. And maybe, more important, of not having him shut down on me.”

  She looked thoughtful. “You’re bringing the dog, right? That will help.”

  He nodded. “Cutter’s mine for the operation. Already have his go bag in my truck.”

  Her eyes widened. “The dog has a go bag?”

  He gave her a crooked grin. “He’s one of the team. And, believe me, it won’t seem strange once you get to know him.”

  “What’s strange was how he greeted Emily, as though they were friends already.”

  “I noticed that. And like I said, once you get to know him, you’ll find out I’ve been right about him all along.”

  “Right about him?”

  “I’ve been telling them since he got here that he’s not a dog. He’s a smart alien in a dog suit.”

  She laughed, and that made him feel much better than it should have.

  It was going to be a long weekend.

  Chapter 6

  He’d underestimated.

  This might turn out to be the longest weekend of his life, Liam thought as he sat on a bench at Cove Academy the next day. Even longer than the weekend he’d spent in juvie, trying to stay alive. It wasn’t that it didn’t go well jobwise; it did. Ria helped stir up memories of what it was like to be that age, and between them th
ey decided he should go in less as a formal instructor and more as a guy who put his skills to actual use, willing to share. Although the idea of teaching a bunch of kids, instead of dealing with just one, was intimidating. They had progressed to that topic on this sunny Sunday afternoon as they sat, her large black bag between them. He didn’t know whether to be thankful or frustrated at the barrier.

  “I’m no expert in any one of the usual arts. I’ve just developed a style that works for me that is a combination of a lot of them,” he warned her.

  “But you had to learn at least parts of them all to do that, didn’t you?”

  “True.”

  “Then let your approach to them be the same...that you’re going to show them bits of each so they can get an idea if there’s one they’d like to pursue.”

  He considered that, and it seemed reasonable. But, then, most things she said did. “And hope Dylan bites.”

  “Yes.”

  If the boy didn’t, Liam wasn’t sure what he’d do. He’d just have to deal with that if it happened. And, in the meantime, get through the rest of today. At least once he really started on the case, he might only see her now and then, instead of for hours at a time, as they’d done yesterday and now today.

  With not much sleep in-between.

  Cutter, lying at their feet, lifted his head. And Liam thought of how, a couple of hours into that tossing and turning night, the dog had hopped up on the bed beside him, given a little whine and a lick to his ear and settled in. Whether it was because of the comfortable familiarity of a dog, or that talent Cutter had for soothing restless souls, Liam had finally gone to sleep for a couple of hours.

  Why he was so restless in the first place was something he’d deal with later.

  Or not at all, he thought wryly as he looked around again.

  Ria had suggested they have today’s meeting at the school so he could get familiar with the grounds. The place had once been a small farm of sorts, and the big farmhouse and various buildings had been converted into classrooms, labs, a library, several study rooms, a theater, a small coop that apparently still served as one for a few chickens and the barn that was now the gym where he’d be working.

  “This is quite a place,” he’d said when they’d first arrived, looking around at the campus carved out of a thick grove of evergreens.

  “I think it’s lovely. Peaceful. Conducive to learning.”

  And again Liam caught himself thinking that if he’d ever had a teacher who looked like her, he might have paid a lot more attention. Since he’d sworn off thoughts like that—apparently unsuccessfully—his tone had been a bit snarky. “Spoken like a born teacher.”

  “I am, I hope” was all she’d said. And thus had begun day two of this longest weekend.

  If it wasn’t for Cutter, bless that hound, Liam wouldn’t have made it. But, as he had last night, the dog seemed to sense when he was too near the edge and then did something. Anything. Demand a break, more often to play than for a call of nature. Chase a bird, a ball if Liam would throw it, or simply start a rather manic game of tag. He included Ria in the tag, which made it both easier—it was difficult to think of anything but fun when you were playing with a dog who seemed to be working overtime to make you laugh—and harder, because she did laugh, delightedly, and it was the best thing he’d heard in years.

  “He is quite a personality,” she said now, after the current mad chase ended with Cutter finally stopping for a drink of water from a spigot Liam turned on for him. They sat on a different bench in a shady spot while Cutter plopped down before them, panting but clearly happy.

  “He is. He’s downright scary sometimes. But he’s also a valuable member of Foxworth,” he said.

  “I imagine he gets people to talk to you. Like, hopefully, Dylan.”

  “He does. But it’s more than that. He brings us at least half our cases.”

  She looked from him to the dog and then back. “He what?”

  Liam explained as best he could with examples, ending by asking, “Remember when he sat in front of you and Emily and looked at Quinn?”

  “Yes.”

  “He was giving him The Look.”

  She smiled but in a puzzled way. “You say that like it’s capitalized.”

  “To us, it is. It’s his ‘fix it’ look. Means there’s a problem that needs fixing and Foxworth can do it.”

  Again she glanced from him to the dog and back. “That’s...”

  “Yeah. It is. But it’s true.”

  She looked at Cutter with even more interest now. “He’s Hayley’s dog?”

  “Started out that way. But he’s Quinn’s now, too. We knew that when he got his own bark.”

  “His own bark?”

  She was laughing again, but it was clearly in delight, not disbelief. She only stopped when Cutter got to his feet. The dog stretched and then started walking toward the woods next to the building that housed the library.

  “Do you need to go with him?” she asked.

  Liam shook his head as he opened the envelope of flyers Hayley had printed up for him last night, announcing his workshop. “He’ll let me know.”

  “He is...amazing.”

  “He’s a different sort of critter, that’s for sure.”

  She tilted her head as she looked at him then. “Is your accent still off-limits?”

  His mind shot back to that moment when he’d both misinterpreted and overreacted to her comment on his drawl. Maybe he’d known even then how she was going to tangle him up. But he wasn’t going to make that too-obvious mistake again.

  “Texas,” he confirmed neutrally.

  “Your family is still there?”

  “Most of them, yes.”

  “I have a cousin in San Antonio. He has a restaurant on the River Walk. He—”

  She broke off as Cutter, from the corner of the library, let out a sharp, two-note bark.

  “And there’s my call,” Liam said, lifting his head.

  “That’s your bark?”

  “Yep.”

  “Amazing,” she repeated and got up with him.

  “Maybe you should stay here until I find out what he’s onto.”

  “I hardly think anything’s going to happen here.”

  “The roads are paved with dead critters who didn’t think anything was going to happen.”

  “Well, thanks for that visual,” she said, her tone dry. “If some murderer is lurking in the woods, wouldn’t I be safer with you and Cutter than standing here alone?”

  “I was thinking more about bears and mountain lions.” But, he thought, it was interesting that her first thought was a human threat.

  “Oh. We haven’t seen any for a long time. Coyotes, yes.”

  “With that barn full of coyote bait, I’m not surprised.”

  “Another charming visual.” She sounded a little peeved now. “Are you always so graphic?”

  “Realistic,” he retorted.

  “Then maybe I won’t tell you how I feel about orcas.”

  “I can probably guess.”

  “I love them,” she admitted. “They’re so beautiful, and I love that they play. They have a cohesive family unit, aunts will take care of calves if the mother dies. It’s remarkable.”

  Again spoken like a teacher. “And they’re killing machines, don’t forget that. They call them killer whales for a reason.”

  “That, too. Very efficient.”

  She seemed unbothered this time, and he guessed she’d come to terms with that aspect of the striking black-and-white creatures. And he wondered if she’d set him up for that, just to show him she wasn’t naïve about the realities of nature.

  The bark came again, more insistent this time. But not warning, he thought. Cutter just wanted him over there;
he wasn’t sounding an alarm to come armed and ready to fight.

  He started toward the sound. Ria followed. Of course. He’d just have to trust that if it was a threat, he and Cutter could handle it. Which wouldn’t even be a question if it was only him. But Ria threw everything off balance.

  In more ways than one.

  He shoved the thought out of his mind as he rounded the corner of the building. Trusting Cutter, he didn’t take unusual care, but he was alert and ready just the same.

  The scene that greeted them was anything but threatening.

  Cutter was lolling in front of someone seated on the ground. The dog was clearly reveling in enthusiastic petting and scratching. His tail was wagging energetically. There was definitely no threat here.

  “Dylan,” Ria breathed, so close Liam could feel the brush of it against his ear. He wondered if the shiver that went through him was visible to her, even as he confirmed the teenager’s identity from the photos he’d seen.

  “He’s smiling,” Ria said, sounding pleasantly surprised. “I hadn’t realized how long it’s been since I’ve seen him smile.”

  “Step one accomplished, then,” he said quietly. And she smiled at him, as if her annoyance at him had been erased by a simple smile from a troubled boy. Which told him even more about her.

  Dylan looked up then, still smiling at the dog. But when he saw them, the smile froze and then vanished as the boy went still. Too still.

  “Here we go,” Liam muttered and started forward.

  “Gently,” Ria suggested, right behind him.

  He gave her a sideways look but quickly returned his focus to Dylan Oakley. “Hey,” he called out as they got closer, “sorry. He sort of wandered. Hope he’s not bothering you.”

  Dylan seemed to relax a little. “No, he’s not. He’s great.”

  “He’s a good, smart dog.”

  “His name’s Cutter?” the boy asked, indicating the tag on his collar.

  Cutter woofed. Liam grinned. “He likes to answer that one himself.”

  “Cool.” For a moment the smile came back. And Liam noted it didn’t vanish again when Dylan shifted his gaze to Ria. So there was trust here, just not enough.