Operation Homecoming. Justine Davis

I can’t.”

      His father’s words slammed back into his mind, forgotten until now. He’d promised with all the sincerity of his twelve-year-old heart.

      And you broke that one, too. For the sake of people you’ve never even met and never will? Nice priorities, Cole.

      Then he was inside, and what he saw was enough to push the memory out of his mind, for now at least.

      To his surprise, the ground level of the utilitarian—and conspicuously unmarked, he’d noticed—green building was furnished like a home. The room was large, the great-room effect emphasized by wood flooring, and a fireplace against one long wall. In front of that, around a large, low table, was arranged a leather sofa and a couple of chairs atop a patterned rug. Above the mantel was a flat screen, dark now. Back in one corner was what appeared to be a full bath. In the other corner, a small kitchen area with an island.

      Two men were there, and Cutter dashed over to them. He greeted the taller of the two men first, a lean, almost lanky guy with a firm jaw stubbled slightly with a dark beard. As he bent to acknowledge the dog, Walker saw his dark hair was nearly as long as his own was now, and nearly as unruly.

      Cutter leaned into him and, oddly, he thought he heard the man say softly to the animal, “It’s okay today, dog,” as he scratched a spot behind the dog’s right ear.

      Cutter then turned to the other man, a muscular guy with a buzz cut who appeared quite a bit younger, who crouched down to the dog’s eye level.

      “Hey, buddy,” he crooned, “how ya doing?” As he went for that same spot behind the ear, Walker wondered if that would work for him even as he cataloged the man as, judging from the trace of a drawl, “that cute Texas boy” Amy had mentioned. Texas, anyway, he was no judge of cute.

      Except maybe Amy. But she wasn’t cute, not really. She was too serious for cute. But attractive? Oh, yeah. That had happened.

      “Rafe, Liam, you remember my dearest, best friend Amy Clark, from the wedding?” Hayley asked. Walker cataloged the names and faces instinctively.

      “Of course,” the taller man who had to be Rafe said. “Welcome back.”

      “Who could forget you?” the younger one asked rather blatantly. Walker saw the dark-haired man’s eyes roll slightly, but affectionately, while Amy herself merely laughed.

      “Anyone,” she said, “but I’m glad you didn’t. It’s good to see you both again.”

      With another woman who looked like this one, Walker would have thought the charming, self-effacing demeanor an act. But with Amy he knew it was likely for real, born of years when being overlooked had been a rare blessing.

      “So,” Rafe said as he took a sip from the coffee cup he held and shifted his gaze to Walker, “the prodigal brother returns.”

      Walker realized he was being studied, and from the man’s expression, not favorably.

      “Not exactly,” Walker said drily. “He got a warmer welcome.”

      The man lifted a dark eyebrow. “Figure you deserve one?”

      Okay, so no punches pulled there. “No. But your boss already decked me, so I’d appreciate it if you’d restrain.”

      The younger man straightened and looked at him consideringly. “I thought he looked a mite satisfied when he came in this morning.” Liam’s gaze flicked to Hayley. “More than usual, I mean.”

      “Liam Burnett, you brat,” Hayley said, clearly joking but with a tinge of pink in her cheeks. “Where is he anyway?”

      “Upstairs on the phone with Teague,” Rafe said.

      Hayley seemed to hone in quickly on that. “Any news?”

      “He’s onto something, yeah,” Liam answered. “I think he needed to know how far Quinn wants him to go.”

      Hayley’s gaze shifted to Rafe. “You okay with that? You did the heavy lifting on this, after all.”

      Rafe gave her a one-shoulder shrug. “As long as payment is extracted, I don’t care who the tool is.”

      “As long as it’s Foxworth,” Liam added.

      “Assumed,” Rafe agreed.

      Walker glanced at Amy, who seemed as in the dark as he was. Yet something about their manner kept him from asking. He doubted he would get an answer, anyway, although Amy might. Nobody here was going to trust him.

      And from their point of view, they were right, he told himself. Being Hayley’s brother wasn’t going to win him points here. Being the brother who had abandoned her was more likely to make him a pariah. It was obvious they all liked and respected her, counted her as one of them. And he was glad of that. Even if she never forgave him, he was glad of that.

      Cutter’s head came up, and he trotted briskly toward the stairs. A moment later Walker heard footsteps coming down. Quinn appeared, tucking a phone into his pocket. He seemed to pause for a split second when he spotted Walker. Maybe he’ll just throw me out, he thought.

      Hayley went to him and gave him a hug. The big man’s arm went around her protectively. And as far as Walker could see, the only person here Quinn would think she needed protecting from was him.

      But Quinn didn’t linger on him. He looked at Hayley. “So?”

      “Yes, we have an inquiry, at the least.”

      Walker frowned. He didn’t like that whatever Amy had wanted to discuss with Hayley, it was enough to get Quinn and his foundation involved. He didn’t like the idea that her problem was that serious.

      Quinn looked at Amy. “Your boss?”

      She looked hesitant, even reluctant.

      “Might be just as likely we can exonerate him,” Quinn said. “We always try, if someone’s not certain.”

      Her expression cleared. “Oh. Yes. I’d much prefer that.”

      Quinn nodded, then looked at Rafe and Liam. “This is sort of a family thing, if you two have other things to do.”

      “Hey!” Liam protested. “We’re family!”

      “Unless,” Rafe put in quietly, “Amy would prefer it.”

      Liam subsided at that, looking a bit embarrassed.

      “It’s just that there isn’t much,” Amy said. “I’m not sure it’s worth your time.”

      “Liam was right. Family,” Rafe said, “isn’t just blood.”

      The man’s gaze flicked to Walker, and Walker read the look as clearly as if the man had spoken. And blood isn’t always family.

      No, there was no welcome for the prodigal brother here. No open arms, no homecoming celebration.

      Just the silent suggestion that he shouldn’t have come home at all.

Chapter 8

      “I’m not at all sure there’s anything to this,” Amy said.

      Quinn smiled at her. “Only one way to find out.”

      “But I don’t want you to...mobilize Foxworth when maybe I’m just being... I mean, I’ve always thought my boss was a good guy, and...”

      “And he may be,” Quinn said. “Look, Amy, we’re here, we’re not busy at the moment, so let us put your mind at ease if nothing else.”

      “But if he finds out I’m poking around, I could lose my job. They’re not that thick on the ground these days.”

      “That’s why you let us do it. If we find anything, he’ll never connect you to the search. And you can call