Operation Homecoming. Justine Davis
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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.
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