by Lisa Childs
How much could this anonymous person know? Did the emailer know about all the gifts, the secret hotel visits and the faux business expenses?
Just last weekend they had spent two days together at a luxury hotel upstate, ultimately paid for by taxpayer dollars.
Four minutes…he had four minutes left to make a decision. He should have contacted his brother when he’d received the email. But what could he have done to help? What could anyone do?
Three minutes. A rivulet of sweat rolled down the center of his back while his fingers poised over his computer keyboard. It was too late to call for a press conference. But it wasn’t too late for him to type something up on social media…confess to the affair and to the misuse of public funds.
If he didn’t do that innocent people would die. Jesus, what kind of a choice was this? What kind of a monster asked someone to make such a decision.
The back of his throat closed up again. He didn’t want to be responsible for anyone dying. He blew out several short breaths in an effort to calm himself.
Two minutes to go. Surely it was a hoax. It had to be some sort of an outrageous bluff. How could he take this seriously? More sweat dampened him as the acrid scent of his fear wafted in the air. His fingers trembled with indecision.
One minute…oh, God, what should he do? Was this real? Would something bad really happen?
Thirty seconds. His phone dinged with a text message. Quickly he grabbed it up and stared at the text.
Ticktock.
A sharp pain shot through his chest. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be…could it? The grandfather clock ticked off the seconds.
Five.
Four. His fingers hovered over his keyboard.
Three.
Two. Oh God. He hesitated. It was too late to type something now.
One.
As the clock began to chime, a ding indicated another text message.
With dread he looked at it.
Boom.
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TOUGH JUSTICE: COUNTDOWN
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OPERATION ALPHA by Justine Davis
Copyright © 2017 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Operation Alpha
by Justine Davis
Chapter 1
“Hi, Mr. Foxworth.”
Quinn Foxworth looked at the blonde, sweet-faced teenager standing in the doorway of the Foxworth northwest headquarters. She wasn’t alone, but he focused on her because she looked familiar. He couldn’t quite place her; yet she obviously knew him.
Before he could speak, his dog, Cutter, trotted around the far corner of the building. Foxworth tracker Liam Burnett was at his heels, giving a playful swipe at the dog’s plumed tail. Liam had volunteered for fetch duty this afternoon, and while summer might have ended, it was still warm enough that he’d worked up a sweat. Cutter, however, showed no sign he’d even had a workout.
The instant the dog caught sight—or scent—of the newcomers, his head came up and he broke into a run. He came to a halt at the girl’s feet, sat politely and gave her a tongue-lolling, old-friend sort of greeting. The girl tilted her head to look at him, smiling widely. His tail began to wag happily, again as if this were a long-lost friend.
And suddenly Quinn knew.
“Emily?” he asked, startled.
She turned her gaze back to him. “I didn’t think you’d recognize me.”
“It took a moment. It’s been—”
“Six years. I know.” She reached up and touched the locket that was on a gold chain around her neck. “I still wear it every day.”
Quinn smiled. “Good,” he said quietly to the girl—young woman now—who had been the inspiration for starting the Foxworth Foundation. They had kept in touch by phone and email, but he hadn’t seen her in person since the day Emily Parker and her adoptive parents had come to once more thank him for recovering the precious piece of jewelry that had been all she had from her dead mother. The change in her from age ten to sixteen was astonishing.
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 d
ay.”
“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.
Copyright © 2017 by Janice Davis Smith
ISBN-13: 9781488016325
Nanny Bodyguard
Copyright © 2017 by Lisa Childs
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