Page 42 of Operation Rescue
Rafe looked at her again. “You’re a Foxworth client now. You’ve got the full power of the Foxworth Foundation behind you.”
A sound came from the workstation where the video call from St. Louis had come in.
“Speaking of power,” Rafe said, his mouth quirking slightly. He leaned forward and pulled open a drawer beneath the coffee table in front of them. He grabbed a remote control from inside and aimed it at the flat-screen. It came alive, an image immediately appearing on the screen.
Blaine wasn’t one who followed such things as famous lawyers, and the man on the screen didn’t look quite like he had in the days when the media had so adored him for his gorgeous looks, dramatic presence and his brilliance in the courtroom. But Blaine still immediately recognized the world-famous Gavin de Marco, if only because he’d recently seen that photograph on the wall here.
The man was less…polished now, his hair a bit longer, a little stubble on his jaw. And there was no sign of the custom-tailored suits that had made him look as expensive as he no doubt was. Instead he had on what looked like a long-sleeved Henley-style shirt, as dark as his eyes appeared on the screen.
He also looked a lot less wound up than he had, back in the days not so very long ago. Just as Rafe did. And Blaine couldn’t help wondering if going to work for the Foxworth Foundation had the same effect on everyone. If it did, he envied them all.
Rafe performed quick introductions. Blaine felt a little edgy when the legendary attorney fastened his gaze on him. “I understand we have you to thank for Rafe’s life.”
Feeling a bit awkward as he always did, but even more so now that he had called in that debt, Blaine said simply, as he usually did, “Right place, right time.”
“And the right man,” de Marco said. Then he shifted his gaze to Erin. “You’ve got the best on your side now. They’ll find your boy. I’m just here to talk to you about what happens then. What might arise if there are any legal ramifications.”
“You mean if he’s broken any laws?” Erin asked. “He’s already—”
She stopped abruptly as Blaine tensed. Should they not tell the man that they already knew he’d stolen at least one thing?
“Anything you tell me,” de Marco said, clearly not having missed a thing, “is subject to attorney-client privilege.”
“I don’t care if he’s in legal trouble, as long as he’s home safe,” Erin said flatly.
Blaine nodded in agreement. Inwardly, he was recovering from the little shock that had gone through him when Erin had instantly sensed his concern and stopped midsentence. It had been like the old days, when they’d been so in tune people joked that they could read each other’s minds.
So they told the man everything they could think of, and answered all the questions he asked. Blaine figured the guy was probably pretty adept at hearing what they didn’t say as well. You didn’t reach the heights Gavin de Marco had without being able to read people.
The man on the screen nodded. “All right. I’ve already spoken to Marcus Rockwell, and he’s agreed to help. He served in the Navy himself, and does a lot of work with active and former service members, so he gets it. And if it comes to proceedings, I’ll be there.”
“That oughta do it,” Rafe said, giving the man on the screen a rather crooked smile.
“Might as well use all that fame for something good,” de Marco said.
“As you often have,” Rafe agreed.
“Thanks to Foxworth.” There was such satisfaction in his voice Blaine felt that tug of envy again. “Keep in touch. Oh, and Rafe?” de Marco said with a grin, “Charlie wants to know if you’d mind a red house.”
Blaine saw Rafe pull back slightly, and saw a look that was probably as close to fear as the man ever got. After a moment he grimaced and said, “I’m guessing ‘I don’t care’ isn’t the right answer here.”
“Good call,” de Marco said. “I’d say ‘Depends on the inside,’ would be better.”
“Thanks,” Rafe muttered. De Marco was laughing as the image on the screen clicked off. Rafe glanced over at them. “Time was he could have charged a grand for that one sentence of advice.”
“Given the two options, I’d say it would be worth it,” Erin said, and Blaine was glad to see she was smiling. “That is, assuming Charlie is your lady.”
“Yeah,” he said, and that half smile was back. Then, with a clearly self-directed eye roll he added, “The financial brains behind the whole foundation. Charlaine Foxworth.”
They both drew back in unison. Blaine figured he was gaping, because the last name hadn’t come up before.
“Foxworth?” Erin asked.
“The boss’s sister.”
“Well, that must keep things interesting,” Blaine said, smothering a laugh.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Rafe replied, but he said it with the look of a man totally in love. A look Blaine had once worn.
