Page 72 of Operation Rescue
Blaine gave him a rather wide-eyed look. “Walking my dog in a public park,” he said, trying his best to sound puzzled by the question.
“This is pretty far out.”
“Off the beaten path, yes,” he answered, still doing his best to sound like an innocent bystander. At the same time he was watching as one of the younger kids opened the tent flap behind the leader. “But that’s what the dog likes.”
The guy asked, both looking and sounding suspicious, “How’d you get here?”
“Flew, actually. Maybe you heard us, a few minutes ago? Or maybe you didn’t, that helicopter’s pretty quiet.”
Rafe’s voice snapped in his ear. “Ethan heard you. He’s headed out.”
Even as Rafe finished the warning, Ethan appeared in the tent’s opening. Blaine had, when he’d been the most down about it all, wondered if his own son would even recognize him when he saw him. Three months—three and a half now—wasn’t long in his life, but it was a lot longer in a fourteen-year-old’s.
That doubt was vanquished the instant their gazes locked. Ethan’s eyes widened.
Three things happened simultaneously. Cutter yipped. Ethan yelped, “Dad!”
And the leader pulled that pistol from his belt.
“Dad? This guy’s your father?” he snapped.
He aimed the pistol at Blaine. Cutter let out a low sound, not quite a growl but menacing nonetheless. The leader shifted the weapon to the dog, but he was still looking at Blaine. He obviously didn’t know where to focus, so Blaine decided to further distract him. Anything to keep that weapon pointed anywhere but at Ethan. Even if it was at him. He could see now it was a 9mm, matching the ammo box they’d found. So unless the kid hit him smack in the head or heart, he could take one and keep moving. Long enough for Rafe to take his shot, anyway.
“Now that you know who I am,” he said, “who are you?”
“None of your business.” He turned the weapon on Ethan, who looked terrified now. And that look steeled Blaine in a way nothing, not even combat, ever had.
“What should I call you, then? Boss, maybe?”
He didn’t think he was wrong about the slight shift in the kid’s expression. He’d liked that.
“Yeah,” the leader drawled, “you can call me that.”
“Okay, Boss. Enjoy the title while you have it.”
The rather shaggy brows lowered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“They won’t let you in, you know,” he said, his tone conversational now. “Not after you couldn’t even get that cash register open.”
Shock flashed across the guy’s face, wiping out any trace of satisfaction. “How the hell do you know—” He cut himself off and shifted the weapon to Ethan again. “You’ve been talking to him?”
Whoa.He hadn’t expected that mind leap.
“Careful, he’s panicking,” Rafe’s voice said in his ear.
Just as the assessment came Blaine saw, as if he’d read it in the kid’s face, that he was indeed panicking. And he was going to bolt. In the same moment, the kid in the baseball cap grabbed Ethan’s arm and ran, half dragging him along with him farther into the brush beyond the tent.
Cutter let out a snarl and a sharp bark. Blaine moved after them instantly, although the brush slowed him down because of the simple difference in his size and the kids’.
“I’ll be right behind you, with him in the scope,” Rafe assured him in his ear.
“Good,” Blaine muttered, the first thing he’d said directly to the man backing him up.
“Say ‘follow’ and cut him loose.” Blaine knew Rafe meant Cutter. But he hesitated. The dog had never met Ethan, could he really—
As if he’d read his doubts Rafe said, “He’ll know. Trust him.” Blaine bent down and unclipped the leash. Cutter darted ahead. “He won’t attack unless you say so.”
I’ll try not to get him shot.
