Page 74 of Operation Rescue
Even if last night hadn’t meant what he hoped it had.
Chapter 37
“Dad, that was so slick, the way you just kicked that gun right out of his hand!”
“Thanks,” Blaine said, “but that’s not what you should be thinking about right now.”
Erin had come out of the bathroom at the separate living quarters at the Foxworth building just in time to hear that exchange. Her pulse was still elevated. The fear had abated the moment she realized her son was safely in his father’s arms, but the adrenaline from the whole operation was taking a while to ebb. That was one reason they’d come back here instead of to the house. Neutral ground, Rafe had called it.
And she understood what Ethan had meant. That moment when Blaine had grabbed Ethan and in the same smooth, powerful movement punted that gun right out of the older kid’s hand had been…beautiful. Almost dance-like in grace, and martial arts in power.
She hesitated there in the doorway for a moment. Back out there, as she’d taken to calling it, her son had been so shaken he’d let her fuss over him, as if he felt like a child again instead of the angry, rebellious youth who had vanished. But she had known even then it wouldn’t last, that once he got over the fear, the reason he’d run would still be there. And the excitement of the ride back in the helicopter seemed to have done that.
She felt a nudge at her leg, and looked down at Cutter. She’d been surprised when the dog had refused to leave with Rafe when he’d gone back over to the Foxworth office across the courtyard to do the “drudge work” as he’d called it, which she assumed meant paperwork. She was more than amazed when Rafe told them he’d handle the details, the kid with the gun and the others. He’d run interference, and what he couldn’t handle the Foxworth name would. There would be fallout, but they’d help with that, too.
And when his—well, Foxworth’s—dog had sat at Ethan’s feet and refused to move, Rafe had simply looked at them and said, “Peacekeeper. Work it out,” and gone on his way.
Ethan himself had seemed a bit boggled at the change in demeanor of the animal, from fierce, well-trained attacker to what seemed to be a soft, fluffy house pet who wanted his ears scratched. And she had a feeling the dog’s presence, as he leaned into the boy while he sat in one of the armchairs, had a lot to do with her son’s calm as she came back into the living room.
This was a nice place, she thought. Maybe built as a guesthouse at the same time the main building had been constructed. It had the same look and feel. There were two bedrooms with a connected bathroom between, and a small but fully equipped kitchen in the front corner.
Blaine was in that kitchen, readying the meal they’d picked up on the way here from a local Mexican restaurant Rafe said Walker had recommended. Rafe had taken his with him, saying this was going to take a while. She could only imagine, what with Ethan stealing things from stores, an underage teenager with a handgun, and who knew what the details were on those younger kids whom Rafe had, after a phone call with Walker, safely turned over to the local CPS.
But Ethan was safe now, and whatever fallout there was, they would deal with it. Somehow.
Blaine called them to the table and set down what was an indeed luscious-smelling spread of burritos, tacos, rice and beans, all of which Ethan loved. And Blaine had remembered.
Ethan waited standing until she had taken a seat at the rectangular table near the windows out to the courtyard. She’d like to think it was gentlemanly conduct, but she knew it was much more likely he just wanted to be sure he was as far away from her as possible. That he’d let her fuss over him when he’d been shaken and scared didn’t mean he’d forgotten or forgiven.
Ethan didn’t sit until Blaine had, and as she’d expected he sat as far from her as he could get and still be next to his dad.
She ate a couple of bites of the admittedly delicious meal before saying to Blaine, “We owe Rafe so much.”
Before Blaine could respond Ethan said, in the belligerent tone she’d gotten used to hearing from him, “Dad’s the one who did it. He flew there, confronted the guy, faced him down without even a gun, just Cutter here.”
The dog had been plopped on the floor just watching, but at Ethan’s words—or perhaps the sound and tone of his voice—his head came up. She saw his ears twitch at the mention of his name.
Blaine set down the tortilla-wrapped yumminess he’d been about to take a bite of. “We only found you at all because of help from Rafe’s colleague here at this office, which he arranged. I flew out there in a helicopter Rafe got for us. Tracked you only with Cutter’s help, which he also provided. And that shot that distracted your badly chosen friend was taken by one of the best and most well-known snipers in Marine Corps history.”
Ethan was staring at him, cheeks flushed slightly. And Erin was remembering how Blaine’s innate sense of fairness and never stealing credit he hadn’t earned—now even with his own son—had been one of the reasons she loved him so much. And that was why she didn’t mention that Rafe wouldn’t even be around to help if it hadn’t been for Blaine.
“Wow,” Ethan finally muttered. “I…didn’t know.”
“You assumed some things?”
“I guess so.”
“Eat,” Blaine instructed. “And then we’re going to have a…briefing. About making assumptions and other things.”
Ethan blinked. Leave it to Blaine, she thought, to come up with a word other than talk or discussion, a word that wouldn’t send Ethan running for cover to avoid it.
But when the time came and they were all gathered in the living room around the gas fire Blaine was turning on against the chill of November even here, she realized she was the one who wanted to head for cover. Ethan had taken that armchair again, and she wondered if it was because he wanted to be alone there, or just didn’t want to sit on the same couch she was on.
She smothered a sigh.For once, it really is all about you.
And then Blaine startled her by coming over and sitting, not just on the couch with her, but so close they were touching. A united front. And it hit her with a blast warmer than the flames now burning on the hearth, just how much she’d missed this. The simple act of just being together. On the same side.
But were they?
