Page 1 of Operation Rescue
Chapter 1
“Ineed some time off.”
Quinn Foxworth blinked. Even his dog, Cutter, looked up at Rafe Crawford as if puzzled. Rafe, asking for time off? Would wonders never cease? Would the changes in the man ever stop?
The head of the Foxworth Foundation studied his usually reticent employee and trophy-winning sniper. The man who usually had to be flat out ordered to take a break, who seemed to be always working on something, be it a Foxworth case or keeping all the equipment they had—including their two aircraft, the helo and the Piper Mirage—working.
Of course, what had once been usual for Rafe seemed to have been blown to bits once he and Quinn’s sister Charlie had torn down the wall Rafe had built between them. He’d had his reasons, Quinn knew, but the years of obvious tension between his sister and this man he respected, admired, even loved, had been wearing. Sparks—of all kinds—had flown whenever the two of them were in the same room together.
And still did, now that they’d worked things out and put their personal relationship back together. Rafe still managed to get everything done, but he was—on stern orders—taking time for him and Charlie to get settled, once she’d decided she’d be staying here at Foxworth Northwest instead of going back to headquarters in St. Louis.
It wasn’t until his wife, Hayley, spoke that Quinn realized he’d been surprised into not even answering Rafe.
“Anything we can help with?” Hayley asked, very gently.
Belatedly Quinn realized she—as usual—had sensed something that he hadn’t.
“I…don’t know. Yet. But I need to be down south for a while.”
Quinn snapped into prep mode, finally. “How far south? Do I need to call some friends in Mexico?”
Tuned in now, Quinn saw the flicker of surprise in Rafe’s expression. Even after all this time, the man was still startled at genuine offers to help.
“You don’t even know what it’s about,” Rafe said quietly.
“I don’t need to. If you need Foxworth help, you’ve got it.”
“Or if you need personal help, you’ve got it,” Hayley added.
A soft but emphatic woof seemed to underline those last three words as Cutter gave his opinion on the matter.
Rafe took in a deep, visible breath, as if he needed to steady himself. “It’s someone I owe,” he said, his voice a little rough. Cutter heard it, got up and went to him, sitting down nearly on his feet. He leaned in hard, Quinn could tell by the way Rafe had to shift his feet to take the weight.
“Somebody called in a marker?” Quinn asked.
“Yeah,” Rafe muttered, lowering his gaze to the dog before he added, “The biggest one of all.”
Without knowing anything else, Quinn knew what that meant. And for him, it was the only thing he needed to know, except how to help.
Rafe bent slightly, ran a hand over the dog’s dark head. Quinn knew quite well the steadying effect that had on a person, so he simply waited. And after a moment Rafe looked up and met his gaze.
“He’s the helicopter pilot who saved my life.”
Quinn’s eyes widened. He knew that Rafe had saved Quinn’s own Ranger team from near-certain death by picking off one by one the insurgents who had them pinned down—from a distance that still boggled Quinn’s mind. Later Rafe had been injured while saving yet another team, a serious leg wound that he carried evidence of to this day with a twisted scar and a slight limp.
Quinn hadn’t found this out until the next time they were at the Forward Operating Base, and he’d asked about the sniper who’d bailed them out. He’d learned that Rafe’s situation had been so bad he’d had to be casevaced out—a casualty evacuation using the closest possible aircraft—under fire, and that the nearest option had been a SuperCobra attack helicopter whose pilot never hesitated to go get him, even flying solo in an aircraft that normally had a two-person crew.
“Whatever you need, you’ve got it,” Quinn said.
He knew perfectly well that this was a “blood oath” kind of obligation, one Rafe would hold inviolate. As would he himself. He wondered briefly how Charlie was going to take this. Things were a bit new for them still. She knew now, from the experience that had brought them back together, exactly what Rafe did for Foxworth, and how well he did it. So now she might as well learn, as she’d had to with him, just how far they would go to pay this kind of debt.
Cutter woofed again, on his feet now, pressed against Rafe’s leg—the wounded one, oddly—as if he were permanently attached.
“And there’s your first volunteer,” Hayley said with a wide smile.
Rafe looked down at the dog, a smile on his face. And Quinn realized that was something they never would have seen before, either. A trace, maybe, but never the open smile he gave the dog now. And that had to be thanks to the mending of fences between him and Charlie as well. He and Hayley had taken to calling the rapprochement “The Great Reconciliation,” in both amusement and relief.
“Thanks, buddy,” Rafe said softly, stroking the dog’s head again. “You just might come in handy.” He looked up at his boss. “If you can spare him.”
