Operation Hero's Watch. Justine Davis

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      The dog moved then. Reached out with one leg to paw at Jace’s arm. But he kept looking at the man Jace presumed was his owner. If one ever really owned an animal like this.

      “Great,” the man muttered. “You do realize I’m the only one around right now, right?”

      Jace wondered what he was supposed to say to that, but then realized the man had been talking once more to the dog. The dog, who let out an odd little whuff of sound that sounded crazily like, “So?”

      The man sighed. Pulled the car over to the side of the road, which made Jace even warier; given the lack of traffic, they could have sat there for an hour before another car came by.

      Then he turned in the driver’s seat to hold out a hand to Jace. “Rafe Crawford. And this pain in the...neck is Cutter.”

      “I gathered,” Jace said, shaking the offered hand, noting the strength that was obvious but not expressed with any declarative squeeze. This guy had nothing to prove. “The tag.”

      “Yeah.”

      He waited, and belatedly Jace realized what for. “Uh... Jace Cahill.”

      The man named Rafe nodded. “So,” he said, sounding like a man resigned to an inevitability he wasn’t looking forward to, “are you heading to or from?”

      “To or from...what?”

      “Whatever your problem is.”

      * * *

      The first thing Cassidy Grant saw when she opened the door was the dog. He was a pretty thing, thick black fur over his head and shoulders changing to a reddish brown over his back and hindquarters. Thick, warm and rich looking. But she barely noticed that, for the animal was staring at her intently with dark, amber-flecked eyes. Not malevolently, just...staring. Sitting very politely, but staring.

      “Hi, Cassie.”

      The quiet words, in a low, rough-edged voice, snapped her gaze upward to the man who had stepped up to stand beside the dog. Her breath caught. Only then did she see how thoroughly she had convinced herself he wouldn’t show. And he didn’t look like the boy from down the street she remembered; his hair was just as dark but longer, his clothes a little ragged and his face unshaven. He was carrying a backpack that looked a bit worse for wear, as was the heavy jacket.

      But she couldn’t mistake those vivid blue eyes, or that jaw, or that mouth. And even if she could, there was the little scar below his left eye. The scar she had given him the day he’d caught her jumping off the roof when she was eight. Nearly twenty years ago now.

      “Jace.”

      “Sorry it took me so long.”

      She tried to shake off her shock. He seemed to notice—but then, hadn’t he always?—and frowned. “I...didn’t expect you at all.”

      The frown deepened. “But you called.”

      “You didn’t answer.”

      “I...gave that phone to my mom. She played me your message.”

      His mom? Cassidy remembered the tiny, sweet woman from when they had lived down the street. Before they’d broken her foolish heart by moving away.

      “How is your mom?” she asked, feeling suddenly derailed by the niceties of civility.

      “Fine, now,” he said, and there was satisfaction in his tone.

      Now? She hadn’t been? She was about to ask when the dog nudged her. “You brought your dog? He’s beautiful.”

      “He’s not mine. He just... I’ll explain that later.” Then, like the Jace she remembered, he cut to the heart of it. “What’s wrong? You...weren’t real clear on the voice mail. And when I tried to call back—”

      “I... My phone died.” Which was true. What she didn’t say—yet—was that she’d let it die, after turning off any locating function she could think of, because her mind was full of ideas about how the GPS and other things she didn’t even know about would lead right to her. Silly, but...

      “What is it? Your message... You sounded scared.”

      “I was.”

      She saw him take in a deep breath before he asked for a third time, although softly now, “What’s wrong, Cassie?”

      That did it. He was the only one she’d ever allowed the nickname. She’d liked when he’d used it, because it was something only between the two of them. Even her family didn’t use it. It was Jace’s alone, and that had made it, in her teenage brain, something...intimate. But now it smashed through her walls, and for a moment the fear surfaced.

      Jace reacted instantly. He reached out to steady her. As he always had. Even the dog noticed; she heard the soft whine. And the animal was pressing against her knees. Between them she felt oddly steadied, as if an earthquake had stopped.

      “I brought help,” Jace said.

      “Is he a guard dog?”

      “Do you need one?” His voice was suddenly sharper.

      “I...feel like it.”

      “Then you’ve got one. Three, actually.”

      “Three?”

      He looked behind him. And for the first time she realized the dog wasn’t his only company. A man came out of the trees on the north side of the house. A stranger. Tall, lean, dark haired and intimidating in a way she couldn’t quite put words to. He was walking past the older silver coupe parked in the driveway behind her own SUV. Walking with a very slight limp Cassidy didn’t think she’d even have noticed had she not been at the perfect angle.

      “Jace, I don’t—”

      “He works for a place that specializes in helping people with trouble. At least let’s talk, all right?”

      It was ridiculous. True, she’d called on an impulse she’d regretted, but she had called him. And to her amazement, here he was. So now she was resisting even letting him in the door?

      The dog whined again, and she looked down at him. Those dark, gold-flecked eyes were fastened on her. He nudged her, as if asking for attention. Automatically she reached down to pet him. The feel of the silky dark fur on his head was oddly soothing. He kept looking at her, as if trying to tell her it would be all right.

      She nearly laughed at herself, putting human thoughts in a dog’s head. She’d known some clever dogs who had a knack for reading human emotion, but that was a bit much. Still, it steadied her to the point where she realized that she was leaving the person she’d called for help literally standing out in the cold.

      “I’m sorry,” she said as the other man reached the porch, “come in. I’ll put coffee on—it’s cold out there.”

      The moment they stepped inside and she got a closer look at the man who had been driving the car, she almost wished she hadn’t. Those eyes weren’t just intimidating, she guessed they СКАЧАТЬ