left?”
“Here? Just one.” His mouth curved upward. “But if you needed an army, Rafe would be a good start.”
“So he’s all spit and polish?”
Brett laughed. “Hardly. He left all that behind years ago when he left the Marine Corps. He’s a tough one to figure, though. Don’t know where he’d be if not for Foxworth. He believes in what they do. And he respects Quinn, when I don’t think he respects many anymore.”
“I know that feeling,” she said, her tone a bit sour.
She wasn’t sure what she had expected after that, but the tall, rangy man who stepped out of the warehouse that sat just beyond the plain green three-story building wasn’t it. He was wearing jeans and a long-sleeve pullover, and his dark hair was a bit long. Even as she thought it, he shoved it back with one hand.
Cutter had taken off the moment Brett had opened the door for him, barking an odd combination of long and short barks as he headed for the man. In the few steps the man took before he stopped to greet the dog, she noticed a slight limp, as if his left leg was a little stiff.
Cutter danced around him, spinning, woofing happily, looking more goofy than she would have thought the rather imperious dog ever could. Clearly this Rafe held a special place in the dog’s life. After a moment a small smile curved his mouth and the dog settled, as if that smile had been his goal.
They were only a few feet away when the man finally glanced up at them. He nodded at Brett, then shifted his gaze to her. For a moment he simply looked. Brett stayed oddly silent as the other man came to stand in front of her. She was about to introduce herself when he moved, straightening up as if he was snapping to attention. Slowly, he raised his right hand to his forehead.
Saluting. He was saluting her. Color flooded her face.
“It’s an honor, Mrs. Burke.”
I don’t think he respects many anymore.
Brett’s words echoed in her head. It would not do to brush this off by saying it wasn’t necessary. Not with this kind of man.
“I... Thank you,” she finally managed. Usually she wasn’t easily flustered, but she hadn’t anticipated this. “I should be thanking you. For your service.”
“When you stood for one of us, you stood for all of us,” he said softly.
“I only did what Jason would have wanted.”
“With as much courage as he showed trying to save his men.”
“I wasn’t under fire.”
“Weren’t you?” Brett said, speaking for the first time since they’d gotten out of the car.
Rafe shifted his gaze to Brett and, after a moment, nodded. “Truth. And by some who’d as soon shoot you in the back.”
She couldn’t argue that. She’d been cornered, bullied, and they’d tried to intimidate her so many times she had come to expect it before it was over. She was convinced the stress of it had brought on her uncle’s heart attack, since he’d been there with her every step of the way after the first time she’d been isolated in a back room by a bully threatening her with public humiliation or worse, much worse, if she didn’t back off and quit talking about how his boss had refused to help her.
The rain picked up, changing the moment, and they headed for the green building. There were no markings, so when Brett had told her Foxworth didn’t advertise, he’d apparently meant not even a sign with their name.
“You guys really do go incognito,” she said. “How do people find you?”
“Word of mouth, mostly. Or,” Rafe added with a glance at Brett, “from friends who know what we do.” He stopped walking, turned to face her straight on despite the increasing rain. “We would have helped you, for instance.”
“I could have used some help keeping some of those thugs off my back,” she said.
Brett said something under his breath, something she thought might have been “Bastards.” The fervency of it warmed her.
And then she was distracted by Cutter, who had trotted up to the door of the building and
“Here? Just one.” His mouth curved upward. “But if you needed an army, Rafe would be a good start.”
“So he’s all spit and polish?”
Brett laughed. “Hardly. He left all that behind years ago when he left the Marine Corps. He’s a tough one to figure, though. Don’t know where he’d be if not for Foxworth. He believes in what they do. And he respects Quinn, when I don’t think he respects many anymore.”
“I know that feeling,” she said, her tone a bit sour.
She wasn’t sure what she had expected after that, but the tall, rangy man who stepped out of the warehouse that sat just beyond the plain green three-story building wasn’t it. He was wearing jeans and a long-sleeve pullover, and his dark hair was a bit long. Even as she thought it, he shoved it back with one hand.
Cutter had taken off the moment Brett had opened the door for him, barking an odd combination of long and short barks as he headed for the man. In the few steps the man took before he stopped to greet the dog, she noticed a slight limp, as if his left leg was a little stiff.
Cutter danced around him, spinning, woofing happily, looking more goofy than she would have thought the rather imperious dog ever could. Clearly this Rafe held a special place in the dog’s life. After a moment a small smile curved his mouth and the dog settled, as if that smile had been his goal.
They were only a few feet away when the man finally glanced up at them. He nodded at Brett, then shifted his gaze to her. For a moment he simply looked. Brett stayed oddly silent as the other man came to stand in front of her. She was about to introduce herself when he moved, straightening up as if he was snapping to attention. Slowly, he raised his right hand to his forehead.
Saluting. He was saluting her. Color flooded her face.
“It’s an honor, Mrs. Burke.”
I don’t think he respects many anymore.
Brett’s words echoed in her head. It would not do to brush this off by saying it wasn’t necessary. Not with this kind of man.
“I... Thank you,” she finally managed. Usually she wasn’t easily flustered, but she hadn’t anticipated this. “I should be thanking you. For your service.”
“When you stood for one of us, you stood for all of us,” he said softly.
“I only did what Jason would have wanted.”
“With as much courage as he showed trying to save his men.”
“I wasn’t under fire.”
“Weren’t you?” Brett said, speaking for the first time since they’d gotten out of the car.
Rafe shifted his gaze to Brett and, after a moment, nodded. “Truth. And by some who’d as soon shoot you in the back.”
She couldn’t argue that. She’d been cornered, bullied, and they’d tried to intimidate her so many times she had come to expect it before it was over. She was convinced the stress of it had brought on her uncle’s heart attack, since he’d been there with her every step of the way after the first time she’d been isolated in a back room by a bully threatening her with public humiliation or worse, much worse, if she didn’t back off and quit talking about how his boss had refused to help her.
The rain picked up, changing the moment, and they headed for the green building. There were no markings, so when Brett had told her Foxworth didn’t advertise, he’d apparently meant not even a sign with their name.
“You guys really do go incognito,” she said. “How do people find you?”
“Word of mouth, mostly. Or,” Rafe added with a glance at Brett, “from friends who know what we do.” He stopped walking, turned to face her straight on despite the increasing rain. “We would have helped you, for instance.”
“I could have used some help keeping some of those thugs off my back,” she said.
Brett said something under his breath, something she thought might have been “Bastards.” The fervency of it warmed her.
And then she was distracted by Cutter, who had trotted up to the door of the building and
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