“Ms. Connelly,” Dylan said with a nod.
“Hi, Dylan. This is my friend Liam. Liam Burnett. And you’ve already met his dog.”
As if on cue, Cutter leaned in and gave the boy a swipe with his tongue. Dylan’s smile widened. It was holding. Which made Liam hopeful.
“What are you doing here on a sunny Sunday afternoon?”
The boy looked instantly wary. “I forgot a book,” he said, gesturing at the backpack beside him. It was larger than most he’d seen schoolkids carrying and Liam wondered if it was because Cove textbooks were bigger or if maybe Dylan had more in there than most. Ready to run was the phrase that popped into his mind, and he filed it away as a possibility.
“No e-reader?” Liam asked lightly. “Save your back?”
The boy seemed to relax slightly. “They believe in dead-tree versions.”
“The learning process is different,” Ria said. “Especially note taking. Running it through the brain and out through writing seems to make it stick better.”
Dylan didn’t dispute her, Liam noticed. The boy merely shrugged.
“Speaking of learning,” she said, “Liam’s going to be holding some workshops here the next couple of weeks, after classes.”
He supposed that was a good way to put it. Better than teaching, which might put him in a don’t-talk-to category in the boy’s mind. She’d clearly realized that.
“Workshops?” He shifted his gaze to Liam. “You’re a teacher?”
Liam laughed. “Boy, would my old man laugh his butt off to hear that. No, I’m just a guy who knows some stuff.”
He thought he saw something flicker in the boy’s eyes when he mentioned his father, but it vanished so quickly he couldn’t be sure. “What stuff?”
He was about to just say “martial arts” when Ria touched his arm. He wasn’t sure what she meant—or why it sent another shiver through him—but he let her take the lead. She knew the kid, after all.
“A few students have shown an interest in learning about martial arts. Liam’s going to be helping them choose which one they might like best.”
He saw what she’d done. If he’d answered as he’d been going to, it might have had Dylan thinking this was aimed specifically at him. Which it was. But she’d diluted it, said there were others, so now he couldn’t be sure. But that didn’t stop Dylan from regarding Liam suspiciously.
“You some kind of expert?”
Liam shook his head. “Like I said, just a guy who knows some stuff and has put it into use now and then. Enough about most of the disciplines to show the differences.”
“So you don’t, like, have your own dojo, or whatever it is?”
“No. I’m nowhere near that level. What I’ve got is a crazy combination of a lot of different styles.”
Dylan considered that. “You mean like MMA?”
Liam laughed. “Only in that I use what works for me. I’m not into fighting for fighting’s sake. I’m into staying alive and undamaged.”
He was sure of what he saw in the boy’s eyes then. And it made his jaw tighten. Because it was pure, unadulterated hope.
Chapter 7
Ria wondered if Liam had seen it, that look in Dylan’s eyes. Was he that perceptive? He’d certainly taken her cue easily enough. Which said something, that he didn’t feel he had to lead every step of the conversation. Of course, given the electric snap that had nearly singed her fingers when she’d touched him, she’d learned something about herself, too. She apparently had a weakness for cute, former bad-boy Texans who still had a hint of a drawl.
But now she needed to focus on Dylan. That look had convinced her more than anything that Emily had been right. And oddly, so did Cutter’s reaction, which was to lean into the boy as if putting himself between Dylan and the world. Yes, he needed help. But he’d reacted so strongly to the words staying alive and undamaged that her entire assessment shifted. It didn’t seem to her now that Dylan was worried about the inner threat, the kind that led to self-harm or worse, but an exterior one. Was he in some other kind of trouble?
“You should come by.” Liam’s tone hit just the right casual note. “Meet up in the gym lobby. I’m not into public embarrassment, either, so after I explain the plan, we’ll talk one at a time, go through some things.”
Again Dylan reacted but with simple interest this time. Or appreciation about the privacy. That was a good call on Liam’s part, she thought.
“Just talk?” Dylan asked.
“At first. Maybe do a couple of basic exercises or I’ll show some examples of stuff at the foundation of the discipline, so people get a feel for if they’ll like it or hate it.”
He flashed that grin and, despite having seen it before, Ria nearly gasped. His easy smile had punch enough, but that sudden grin was lethal.
“Guess I’d better bring a book,” he said, nodding toward Dylan’s backpack, “in case nobody shows up.”
For the first time Dylan smiled. “They’ll show up.”
“Maybe help spread the word? I’d hate to be sitting there by myself tomorrow afternoon, reading my truck maintenance manual or something.”
“I could loan you a copy of War and Peace,” Ria suggested, encouraged by Dylan’s continuing smile.
This time Dylan actually laughed at Liam’s exaggeratedly horrified expression.
“Try it,” Dylan suggested. “Ms. Connelly can make even that really interesting.”
Ria was moved by the simple compliment. “Thank you, Dylan. You did quite well in that section.”
The boy looked pleased in turn. He nodded toward the flyers Liam held. “Maybe I could help, post some of those around?”
“That would be great,” Liam said, separating out several. “Just anywhere people pass by a lot.”
“Well,” Ria said after Dylan, with a final pat for Cutter, had gone off with flyers in hand, “that went well.”
“Seemed to,” Liam agreed.
“I think he’ll show up. Then you can get some one-on-one time with him.”
He nodded. “There’s something going on with him, for sure. Question is, is it more than just being a teenager?”
“What you saw at the end there, the smile, the laugh? That’s what he was like all the time, before.”
“Happy kid.”
“Mostly.” She sighed. “Dylan was usually the peacemaker. He could talk kids out of fighting or crack a joke that would have them laughing instead.”
An odd little smile turned up just one corner of his mouth, and Ria wondered if perhaps he’d been like Dylan, at that age. Before he’d gotten into trouble. She was more curious about that now than ever. She wanted to know what had sent him down that bad path he’d mentioned,
“We’ll see what I find out tomorrow.”
He rose and began to walk, the rest of the flyers in hand, pausing here and there to put one up as she pointed out likely spots where the most kids would see them.
“You don’t mind dealing with other kids, just to get to Dylan?” she asked when he’d posted one outside the science lab.
He shrugged. “I’ll be nervous, but it’ll be good practice for me. We had a slow summer—which is good news, considering what we do—and I kind of slacked off.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask what a busy summer would be.”
He grinned. And again her stomach took that tumble. “Let’s see...last summer we had a decade-old missing-person case and what turned into a hostage situation. Then a kidnapping. That was before the whole ‘take down the state government’ thing.”
She’d known some of this, from Emily, but the scope of what Foxworth did was boggling. But she couldn’t help smiling back at his grin. “Foxworth must really be something.”
“We are. Champion of lost causes, people in the right and t
he truth.”
He said it laughingly but with pride, as well. A well-deserved pride, from what she’d seen and heard so far.
“Sounds like a great job.”
“Saved my life,” Liam said, and there was nothing but sincerity in his voice then.
“But...kidnappings and hostages? That sounds dangerous.”
“We’re trained for that—Quinn sees to it—although I needed more than the others. They’re mostly ex-military and I was just a borderline computer geek who happened to like to track and hunt.”
“Seems there’d be some overlap there.”
The grin again. Good grief, stomach, settle down, she ordered as she posted a final flyer on a board outside the library, where regular school notices were always placed.
“Some. Quinn took care of the gaps, although I felt a bit out of place at first. But Quinn made me see we all have our specialties.”
“Like computers and tracking?”
He nodded. “Quinn’s the decision guy, obviously. Hayley provides the insight into motivation and subtext. She’s amazing with people. Teague’s a pilot and tactician of sorts. Rafe...” His voice trailed off, and the slightest of furrows creased his brow. “Well, Rafe is Rafe.”
Whoever Rafe was, Liam was worried about him, she thought. But he was clearly not inclined to go into it now, because he went on quickly.
“And Cutter, of course. He’s the one who bonds us all together. He belongs to all of us, as much as any one dog can.”
“That’s sweet,” she said.
“And he’s saved us all, at one time or another. If we’re smart enough to listen to him.”
The dog gave a soft whuff, as if reminding Liam they should listen to him all the time. Ria couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “He’s really quite expressive, isn’t he?”
“He gets his point across,” he agreed, but he seemed to be avoiding looking at her now. She wondered if he was regretting having said so much, although to her it didn’t seem as if he’d given away much that was personal.
Cutter whuffed again, this time as he rose up to put his front paws on the school bulletin board. He nosed at another flyer, a slick one for a new restaurant in the picturesque little town on the bay at the bottom of the hill. Ria hadn’t been there yet, but she’d heard from various students that they had some seriously good burgers and an outrageous selection of fries with various toppings that made a meal in themselves and were cheap enough to tempt students with sometimes strapped finances.
She heard a faint sound, realized that, as Liam had looked at the menu that had Cutter’s attention, his stomach had growled.
“Skip breakfast?” she asked with a smile.
“And lunch,” he muttered.
“I’ve heard they’re good.” She kept her tone neutral, nonsuggestive. His stomach made a more insistent sound. He gave her a quick flick of a glance.
“You haven’t been there?”
“Not yet.”
She wondered, for a brief moment that annoyingly made her hold her breath, if he was going to ask her to go with him. She’d happily forego the insulated bag full of fruit and yogurt in the school fridge if he did.
He didn’t.
In that moment Cutter turned, sat and stared up at Liam with what Ria could only describe as a disgusted look. Liam seemed to purposely ignore the animal, and he muttered something under his breath that sounded like “Don’t even try, hound.”
And abruptly he excused himself, with just enough politeness to keep it from being rude.
Just.
She watched him go, watched the dog follow with obvious reluctance and wondered what on earth had just happened here.
Chapter 8
“He doesn’t look like much of a fighter.”
“Doesn’t look like a teacher, either.”
“Hey, he’s got a dog. Maybe he’s blind. That would be cool, like a superhero.”
“Maybe he’s got the dog because he’s gutless.”
Liam listened without looking, since he’d already noted and mentally cataloged the trio of boys when they’d come in. They didn’t join the other dozen or so who’d shown up but kept to themselves in a little knot near the door. There were always at least three, he thought. The ringleader and a couple of sycophants. And there was little doubt that the boy who had spoken first and last was the ringleader. He was the biggest of them and wore the most scornful expression.
He was also the one Cutter was watching like an errant sheep.
And Liam noticed many of the other kids who’d gathered around the mats on the floor were keeping a wary eye on the trio. Including Dylan, who was standing toward the back but appeared more intent than any of them.
“Great,” he heard a boy mutter, looking at the biggest of the three. “Just what we need—Alan screwing things up.”
Purposely Liam turned his back on the threesome. It went against his instincts, but the gym had several mirrors in one corner, near what he guessed was a bar for dance students to use, and he positioned himself so he could watch the three easily without looking directly at them. Otherwise he ignored them, and he saw the leader’s expression change; he obviously wasn’t used to being ignored.
“Hi, everyone. My name’s Liam Burnett. Thanks for turning up and saving me from reading War and Peace.”
He got a few chuckles, and all of the ones in front of him smiled. He noted Emily’s absence. The girl had said she wasn’t going to come because she was afraid she’d give him away somehow and Dylan would shy away.
“Y’all know why you’re here,” he began. He heard the snicker from behind him, no doubt at the drawl he’d purposely let through. “Well, most of you, anyway. Some don’t have even a clue.”
The titter that went through the group had a nervous edge to it. He kept his back turned but saw the trio, the big guy in the lead, start moving toward him. He watched the reflection, assessing. Alan was big, yes. Nearly his own height. And bulky. Probably outweighed him by at least twenty pounds. But it wasn’t muscle, Liam noted, seeing the softness around the middle and in the arms beneath the T-shirt from a local bar. Wondered if the kid counted on his sheer size to intimidate. Wondered if he expected people to think he was old enough to hang out in that dive bar his shirt advertised. Or clever enough to bluff his way in.
And wondered what Alan was doing here at Cove at all. From what Ria had told him about the school and its academic standards, he seemed an unlikely fit. But maybe his folks were rich and bought his way in; money did talk, after all.
And maybe he’s really a genius under all that bluster.
Liam nearly grinned at his own thought. Quinn had taught him much about making assumptions.
“I gotta figure,” he said to the group, “since this isn’t getting you out of class, that you want to be here. Question is, why?”
“Because it’s cool?” one of the boys in front suggested.
Liam grinned at him. “It is that.”
Another laugh from the group.
“You going to teach girls, too?”
Liam looked at the girl who stood up front, looking at him rather challengingly. In that moment he was glad he’d helped Quinn to train Hayley and Teague’s Laney. They’d taught him as much as he’d taught them.
“Absolutely,” he said. “With the right mind-set, girls can get more out of it than anyone.”
She looked surprised. “You’re just saying that.”
“Nope. In fact, you have an advantage. If you’re attacked, it’s usually by someone who thinks you’re weak, and if you know how, you can use that assumption against them. You usually are smaller. You can use the size disparity even more. There’s an entire discipline, Brazilian jiujitsu, that specializes in just that.”
Her attitude changed visibly, from one of
challenge to interest. In fact, she looked downright intrigued. He counted it as a small victory.
“I’m not an expert in any one of the disciplines,” he said. “What I am good at is picking what works for me. And that’s why I’m here, to help you pick.”
“If you’re not an expert, why should we listen to you?”
“What I’m also good at,” Liam said without acknowledging the bully’s presence with even a glance, “is assessing an opponent. The way they carry themselves, like a true fighter or just a big ol’ thug who doesn’t have a clue about fighting someone who knows how to fight back.”
A murmur went through the group. They got that he was talking specifically about the boy coming up behind him.
“And,” Liam continued, “I’m good at assessing the real level of the threat. If it’s someone who can hold their own, or someone clueless I could take down with a sneeze.”
This time they laughed. He supposed he shouldn’t egg the kid on like that, but he really didn’t like bullies. He’d been on the short end of that experience too often, when he was this age.
In the mirror he saw the boy’s hands curl into fists. A glance at Alan’s face showed he wasn’t quite sure he was being insulted, which was also Liam’s intent. Liam wondered if Alan was foolish enough to rush him, to attack someone there to teach defense against just that, and in front of the whole group. He almost hoped he was.
He doubted Foxworth would appreciate getting sued by some irate parent over the bruising of their not-so-little boy. Unless, of course, Alan started it. In front of multiple witnesses.
“Most bullies are more scared than anything,” he said, keeping Alan’s reflection in the line of his peripheral vision as he stepped onto the mat. “Except for maybe that clueless thing.”
Again, laughter. Liam could almost feel the big kid’s rage.
“Go ahead, give it a shot,” he said, without turning.
Alan stopped dead. Liam shoved his hands into his jeans’ front pockets. Stood casually, as if he were completely unaware. “You’ve got the drop on me, right? From behind. And you’re a big guy. No way you can lose.”
Operation Alpha Page 5
