Page 71 of Operation Rescue
So for now, they would stay back, out of sight. Rafe would stay with her, but ready to make whatever move was necessary, while they hoped that the surprise of seeing his father would put Ethan off-balance enough that, if nothing else, Blaine could grab him and run.
“Here,” Rafe said, digging into a side pocket of the pack and then holding out what looked like an earbud. “Keep this in so I can relay any larger view changes, and can hear how it’s going on your end. It’s on VOX, so just talk.”
“Vox?” asked Erin.
“Voice-activated,” Blaine answered as he seated the tiny device in his right ear. Rafe did a test count that came through clearly, and he nodded. Then he quietly called Cutter back to them. The dog obeyed, although he immediately turned back to face that scent as Rafe handed Blaine the leash he’d had stuffed in a pocket. Blaine clipped it onto the dog’s collar, amazed at how the animal looked at him as if in acknowledgement of who was now in control.
“He’s downright scary,” Blaine muttered.
“Yep,” Rafe agreed cheerfully. “But he knows what the leash means and he’ll look to you for orders. And,” he added, “he knows what it means if you let him off it.”
“That he’s in charge?” Erin asked. “You trust him that much?”
“Everyone at Foxworth has trusted this guy with their life, at one time or another. So have our clients. So far he’s batting a thousand.”
“Good enough for me,” Blaine said, reaching down to stroke the dog’s head. When he saw Erin watching, as if she completely understood the comfort just touching the dog gave, he asked her quietly, “A pat for luck?”
“Yes,” she said, reaching down to stroke the exact same spot Blaine had. Cutter gave them one of those steady, intense looks he was so good at. And Blaine had the strangest feeling it was something along the lines of “We’ll work on you when this is done.”
Lord, he was losing his mind, putting such thoughts into the mind—although an admittedly very clever mind—of a dog.
“Ready?” Rafe asked. He nodded, straightened and took the leash into his left hand. “You sure about no weapon?”
Blaine nodded. He could shoot, had been trained, but this was different. Nothing was clear-cut here, and his son was involved.
“One-on-one isn’t really my ballpark. I don’t want anything they could grab while I’m focused on Ethan.” His mouth quirked upward. “I’m counting on one of the best Marine snipers in history to handle that, if necessary. And to keep Erin safe.”
“We’ll get it done,” Rafe promised.
And that they would, Blaine vowed. One way or another.
Ethan was coming home.
Chapter 36
If you’d asked him two weeks ago if a dog could be taught to understand the concept of undercover, Blaine would have laughed. But when Rafe bent down and whispered something that sounded like “casual” to the dog, and the hyperalert stance vanished and he seemed to shift into an ordinary creature that could be any family pet, he wasn’t laughing.
“He’ll be the biggest doofus around if necessary. But he’ll never lose focus. He knows Ethan’s the goal.”
To keep any attention away from the rise where Rafe would be waiting, he headed back down and to the faint trail where they’d been before. And then he put on the most casual, out-for-a-day’s-hike-with-the-dog demeanor he could manage, although he doubted it was nearly as good as the dog’s.
It took several minutes to work their way down to the cluster of oak trees. Ethan was still inside the tent—he knew Rafe would have updated him if not—while the other two were fussing with something near the tent flap, the older kid with the gun yelling something at the youngest one, “stupid” being the only word Blaine could make out.
He worked his way through the brush to where, when he emerged, he would be as close as possible to the tent, and also for the startle factor. Cutter, as usual, seemed to understand and pretty much ignored the branches that caught at his fur and neatly dodged another small group of prickly pears.
He let Cutter lead, keeping his gaze fastened on the leader, who was standing in front of the tent almost protectively now. All while trying to present as just a guy out walking his dog.
“Hey,” he called out with all the fake friendliness he could muster. “Nice day.”
The leader spun around, clearly jolted.
Hurt my boy and you’ll feel a real jolt.
Then the guy’s gaze fastened on Cutter, and Blaine could see the wariness come into his eyes. Cutter hid the more aggressive looks of his kin beneath a fluffier coat, but the intensity was still there to those who looked.
And maybe those who knew they should be looking.
“What are you doing here?” the leader asked, in a tough-guy tone Blaine thought—and hoped he was right—was a little put on. As if he were speaking as the guy he wanted to be, but wasn’t necessarily there yet.
