It was soon clear where Cutter was headed. So clear that when he turned to head up the hill, Brett wasn’t even surprised. It didn’t matter, he told himself. They weren’t there. Sloan wasn’t there. Even the media had dwindled away, their focus now on the political fallout. Surely he could run past the damned empty house without losing it.
Refusing to admit he couldn’t, he picked up the pace. Going up the hill, he challenged himself not to slow, putting every bit of his concentration into holding steady, working hard to draw in enough oxygen to do it. It was tough, but he did it. Maybe adding that extra mile did it, he thought as he reached the turn at the top. It hadn’t done what he’d hoped, helped him sleep better at night, but maybe it had upped his condition a little. Maybe yet another mile would—
Sloan’s car was in the driveway.
He slowed. Stopped. Stared.
Cutter was already racing up onto the big covered porch. As if he’d known she was back. Brett remembered his odd behavior, the staring out the window this morning. The window that, as the crow flew, faced this direction.
Cutter started to bark. Loudly. Jolted out of his shock, Brett winced; it was early for a Saturday. This was not going to be appreciated by the neighbors.
“Damn it,” he muttered, and started to run.
The door opened. Sloan stepped out and crouched beside Cutter, trying to quiet him. He stubbornly continued to bark. She straightened as Brett reached the porch steps. Brett knew she couldn’t really have gotten more beautiful in less than a week, but he would have sworn she had.
Cutter finally quieted. “I’m sorry,” Brett said, sounding stiff even to himself. “We’ve been going a different way, but this morning he got away from me and was dead set on coming this way. I don’t know why he was barking. He never does that.”
And you never babble. So shut up.
He did. He just stood there, staring at her, trying not to think. Sloan said nothing. What was there to say? he wondered.
I can’t do this, Brett.
Hadn’t that been clear enough? He should be glad, shouldn’t he? Hadn’t he sworn never to walk this path again? Never to give fate such a deadly weapon to use against him?
So walk away. She’s doing what’s best for both of you. Honor that.
“Come on, dog,” he said. “Leave her in peace.”
Cutter looked from him to Sloan. But the only move he made was to take two quick steps to stand behind her. Hiding? That didn’t seem like the nervy dog at all. Wanting Brett to come get him? And thus end up within inches of the one woman he would throw away all that hard-earned wisdom for?
And then it hit him. He wasn’t hiding. Or luring, at least not completely.
He was planted squarely in front of the door, cutting off her retreat.
“Cutter.” The dog just looked at him. He let out a compressed breath, closed his eyes for an instant, reaching deep down for steadiness. “Excuse me,” he said politely. “I’ll get him out of your way.”
He started up the steps. Cutter made a low sound, not a growl or a snarl but more a rumbling of warning.
“I think he just said, ‘The hell you will.’”
Brett stopped. Her voice had that low, husky note that drove him wild. And he could smell her, that sweet, clean scent that was soap, shampoo and Sloan. His body reacted fiercely, quickly, and he wondered where the hell he’d gotten the idea he could be this close to her again and stand to walk away.
“Sloan,” he breathed, unable to help himself.
“Brett, I—”
She lurched forward against his chest. Instinctively he caught her.
“You rat!” she exclaimed, and he let go, stung. He took a step back. Started to turn, ready to head down the steps, to get away. Realized that somehow Cutter had moved without him realizing, had gotten behind him. Cutting off his retreat.
“I meant him,” Sloan said rather urgently. “He pushed me.”
“Sorry,” he said again, hating that he sounded as if he hadn’t yet recovered from the push up the hill. “I know I’m all sweaty.”
“I like you sweaty.”
Her gaze darted away, as if she’d only realized after she’d said it just how that sounded. It did nothing to cool him down.
“I thought you didn’t like me at all.”
“Don’t be stupid.” She sounded exasperated now. “Sometimes you are such a guy.”
“Guilty,” he admitted.
A heavy sigh from Cutter made them both look at the dog. With an air so resigned it would have been comical had Brett been in a better mood, he nudged Sloan gently a step to her right. Then he walked over and nudged Brett in the same direction. Less gently, he noticed. And then he repeated the process. Herding them toward the porch bench.
“I guess we’re supposed to sit down,” she said.
Cutter woofed, sharply.
She gave in, went the rest of the way and sat down. Satisfied with her action, the dog turned to Brett. Feeling more than a little manipulated and fairly certain he wouldn’t get past the dog without a fight, he followed. He sat at the other end of the bench, giving Sloan as much space as there was. Cutter plopped down on the porch between them, close enough that neither could move without having to get past him.
“I wonder just how far he’d go to get his way,” he muttered.
“I’ve seen those fangs. They’re pretty persuasive when he wants them to be.”
“So Emmet found out.”
“Yes. I heard they found the body of the witness.”
He nodded. “He made a deal to take the death penalty off the table. Told them where he’d buried her. And admitted he’d buried Evans. Stopped short of saying he’d killed him, though.”
“So he’s turning on his boss?”
Brett nodded again. “His version is Evans’s death was as much accident as anything when they tried to scare him into dropping out. After they buried him, Ogilvie and Mead made a devil’s bargain. Mead was to stay put as administrator and make sure that property was never touched in return for Ogilvie’s help later, when he launched his own political career. And he sucked Franklin in on it.”
“With the house and who knows what else,” Sloan said.
“Yes. They never wanted to move the body. They were afraid of getting caught. That’s why all the stalling with the water leak and the fictitious land study. Besides, Mead wanted to handle it personally so he could tell Ogilvie it was dealt with.”
“To show he was ready to be moved up?”
“Exactly. Bad guys often trip over their own ego.” He studied her for a moment. She could take it, he thought. “But then Emmet realized you were involved.”
“Me?”
“He didn’t know it was you until Mead let your name slip that day. He and Ogilvie both knew you would never give up. And that you were too high profile to kill. So they knew they had to do it.”
“So Emmet really was there to move the body.” She let out an audible breath. “And he came then because they thought we were in Seattle.”
He nodded. “We really did just get in his way. But the whole house of cards is coming down now.”
“Good.”
“How are your aunt and uncle?”
“Good. Uncle Chuck is feeling better. He wants to get home and into the garden. They’ll be coming back tomorrow. I just came early to open up the house.”
“Oh. Well. Good.”
She nodded. And for a moment the silence just hung there like a dark cloud heavy with rain.
“Sloan—”
“Brett—”
When she stopped as they spoke simultaneously, he jumped in to cut off her starting again, before she said anything irrevocable.
“I’ll quit,” he said abruptly.
“What?”
/> “If the problem is my job, I’ll quit.”
She stared at him. “You can’t quit.”
“I can. I’ll find something else. Foxworth maybe.”
“But you’re a cop. To the bone.”
He turned, faced her. “I love you. To the bone.”
If he’d wished for the vow immediately returned, he didn’t get it. She colored, and he held his breath, hoping she wasn’t about to tell him it had all been a mistake, that she hadn’t meant it, that she’d just been off balance, that she could never love anyone after Jason.
It was another moment before she spoke. “After that day, all I could think of was how easily it could have gone a different way, that it could have been you that was hurt, or killed. I kept seeing that blood, and it was like it was happening all over again.”
“Sloan—”
She shook her head and he lapsed into silence as she went on. “I told myself I just couldn’t do it, couldn’t take that risk again. But no matter what I told myself, I couldn’t change one basic thing.”
“What?”
“I love you, Brett Dunbar. As you are. Who you are.”
He nearly gasped with relief. This time when he reached for her, he didn’t care about anything except that she was in his arms again, that she had come willingly, even eagerly. She leaned against him, and he held her tighter.
“It took some time to work through it all,” she said as she pulled her knees up to get closer. “Some time and some wise advice from my family. They made me realize that I fell in love with you because of who you are, not in spite of it. Aunt Connie said I would always be attracted to heroes. You’re proof of that.”
He told himself to thank Connie for the compliment. If he saw her again. Which he was almost afraid to believe. “But you said you couldn’t live with my job.”
“And it still scares me. I don’t ever want to go through that again. But Connie also said I can’t change what draws me, so I can live with it or live without it. And that living without it would be such a waste.”
She took a deep breath. He didn’t know what to say, was afraid to say anything. After a moment she went on.
“So I finally realized that there’s something that scares me even more than what you do. And that’s looking at my life ahead without you in it.”
He was almost afraid to believe it. “Jason,” he said.
“He will always be in my heart. And I will always fight for his brothers in arms.” She leaned back to look up at him. “If I can live with your job, can you live with that?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll help, if I ever can. He deserves no less.”
“And that’s another reason I love you,” she said.
Brett nearly laughed when Cutter echoed his long, contented sigh. And then he kissed her. Gently at first, but it caught fire with the ease of banked embers coming back to life. If he hadn’t had to stop to catch his breath, he thought he could have happily gone on forever.
“Brett?”
“Mmm.”
“I just realized.”
“What?”
“You’ve never seen my bedroom.”
He went still. “No, I haven’t.”
“Would you like to?”
Cutter didn’t have to herd them this time.
Epilogue
“So let me get this straight,” Hayley Foxworth said, staring at Rafe. “We leave for a month and Dunbar takes down about half the county and the governor?”
“And does it with the help of Sloan Burke? The Sloan Burke?” Quinn added.
“And this guy,” Rafe said, nodding toward where Hayley was tugging gently on Cutter’s right ear. The dog sighed happily, clearly overjoyed to have his first people home. “But yeah, that sounds about right. Oh, and we’re building a house.”
Quinn blinked. Hayley laughed. “We are?”
“Well, Drew is. For the Days. I already cleared it with Charlie. And we may be paying some college tuition, too.”
Quinn laughed.
“Always glad to contribute to education,” Hayley said breezily, secretly delighted at this evidence of how wholeheartedly Rafe had taken to the Foxworth mission.
“It’s for a friend of Brett’s,” Rafe explained. “And an investment for us. His daughter may be the help Ty needs.”
“Good enough. So I gather the dogsitting went well?” Quinn asked.
“You could say that.” Rafe’s voice took on an undertone that made Hayley stop laughing and focus on him. “Brett’s got his own bark now.”
Hayley laughed. “Guess that makes him officially one of us.”
Rafe said, in that same tone, “And he and Sloan, they’re...together.”
“You mean together together?” she asked, brows rising.
“Damn,” Quinn said, staring at Cutter. “He did it again.”
Rafe nodded. “And it’s good for Brett,” he said, clearly anticipating Hayley’s first question. “Really good. And for her. You’ll see when you see them together.”
“Well, well,” Quinn said.
“I told you someday he’d find someone who’d lift that darkness,” Hayley said, feeling like clapping her hands in happiness for her friend. She caught the glint of her wedding ring. She moved her little finger to touch it, savoring the feel of it and letting what it symbolized fill her up once more.
“Apparently it took someone who’d lived in darkness herself,” Rafe said softly.
Hayley’s glee faded a little, although she kept the smile on her face. You, too, my dear friend. Someday.
She dug her fingers into Cutter’s thick coat. The dog sighed contentedly. She bent over him and whispered in that right ear. “Work on that, will you, my lad?”
Cutter whuffed softly in return.
Hayley chose to think of it as “Mission accepted.”
She had no doubt this one would take a while, but she had utter faith in the uncannily clever dog that had changed her own life and the lives of so many others. But for now, she thought, she would take him outside with one of his beloved tennis balls and let him be just a dog for a while.
He could go back to saving lives and hearts later.
* * * * *
And if you loved this novel, you’ll enjoy these other
suspenseful stories from Justine Davis:
OPERATION UNLEASHED
OPERATION BLIND DATE
OPERATION REUNION
OPERATION MIDNIGHT
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SPECIAL EXCERPT FROM
When a masked intruder appears in her son’s window, Nicolette Kendall needs help from guarded cowboy Lucas Taylor. But even as his guarded heart begins to crack, they must unravel secrets to save her child...
Read on for a sneak peek of A REAL COWBOY, the first book in the COWBOYS OF HOLIDAY RANCH series by New York Times bestselling author Carla Cassidy, coming March 2015 from Harlequin Romantic Suspense.
He stepped outside and looked around. “What are you doing out here all by yourself in the dark?”
“You told my son that cowboys only bathe once a week, and now Sammy won’t get into the bathtub.”
By the light of the room spilling out where they stood, she saw his amusement curve his lips upward. “Is that a fact?” he replied. “Sounds like a personal problem to me.”
“It’s all your fault,” she said, at the same time trying not to notice the wonder of his broad shoulders, the slim hips that wore his jeans so well.
He raised a dark eyebrow. “The way I see it, you started it.”
This time the heat that filled her cheeks was a new wave of pure embarrassment. “Look, I’m sorry. When I told my son those things, I’d never really met a cowboy before. The only cowboy I’ve ever even seen in my entire life is the naked singing cowboy in Times Square. I now have a little boy who refuses to take a bath. Can you please come back to the house with me and tell him differently?”
Amusement once again danced in his eyes as he gave her a smile that made her feel just a little bit breathless. “Basically you’ve come to say you’re sorry about your preconceived notions about cowboys, because I think it would be nice if you apologized before asking for my help about anything.”
“You’re right. I am sorry,” she replied, wondering if he wanted her to get down on her knees before him and grovel, as well.
“Okay then, let’s go.” He pulled the door of his unit closed behind him and fell into step next to her.
“A naked singing cowboy…and you New Yorkers think we’re strange.” He laughed, a low, deep rumble that she found far too pleasant.
She realized at that moment that she wasn’t afraid of cows or horses, that she wasn’t worried about falling into the mud or getting her hands dirty.
The real danger came from the attraction she felt for the man who walked next to her, a man whose laughter warmed her and who smelled like spring wind and leather.
Operation Power Play Page 25
