Page 33 of Operation Protector
My daughter needs to be proud of her father, not ashamed because all he can do is pound nails.
Liz’s words, which he had only later realized was her last-ditch effort to get him to change his mind, his life, echoed in his head now. He was glad when Liam came downstairs to rejoin them.
“All righty, I’ve got my background into the system, in case your ex or her kin get nosy.”
Colby never would have thought of that, but realized he should have, because he knew Liz made a habit of investigating anyone and everyone she had even a passing interaction with. She’d told him she was always looking for talent, but now that he knew the truth he had the feeling she was also looking for dirt.
“Let’s get this show on the road,” Liam said. “You ready?”
Colby nodded.
“Remember who I am?”
“The kid I took on as an apprentice.”
“Yep. Just another dumb carpenter.”
Colby’s mouth twisted. “She’s the dumb one, if she buys that.”
Liam’s tone became suddenly very serious. “If she bought it about you, she’s worse than dumb.” Then a grin flashed. “Heard you were trading Sun Tzu quotes with the boss.”
“I…yeah, sort of.”
“I don’t know much about the man, but one of the boss’s favorites really rang my chimes. About defeatability and undefeatability.”
“‘Undefeatablility lies with ourselves. Defeatability lies with the enemy.’”
“Yeah, that one,” Liam said. “You oughta keep that one in mind. We’re in the right, Colby. That’s our strength and power. And it makes them defeatable.”
Somehow hearing that from this guy—who had no other reason to help than that “we’re in the right” belief—made that burgeoning hope grow even larger.
Chapter 15
It was very strange, Ali thought, to be sitting here at the Foxworth headquarters, watching the camera feed on the big flat-screen and hearing the words spoken through an earpiece, while the scene was actually happening live right next door to her house.
It was also fascinating. The Foxworth man, Liam, had dressed the part, at least what was probably the part in Liz Hollen’s mind. A worn, rather ragged shirt and a pair of equally worn khaki cargo-style pants. Hung in a loop sewn into the side seam of the right leg he had what Quinn told her was a nail puller. It looked to her like it could be a rather effective weapon if necessary. He also had a utility knife in one pocket, which could serve the same purpose if you didn’t mind getting up close and personal. Yet they were logical things a carpenter would have handy.
As for Colby, he looked…nice. Really nice. As he probably normally would try for when he came to pick up Grace for their precious hours together. Clean, new-looking jeans and a lighter blue long-sleeved Henley, with a flannel-lined jacket half-zipped against the chill. Oddly, she found herself fixated on how he moved, how he walked up to his ex’s front door in long, graceful strides, although he’d probably be embarrassed by the word graceful.
They had just driven up the Hollen driveway in an older pickup truck that also fit the image, a vehicle Quinn explained they kept on hand for just such situations. The excuse they weregoing to use was that Colby’s car had broken down and Liam had offered the ride.
And as she sat watching and listening with the Foxworths, she was a little amazed at how accurately they had pegged her neighbor. Colby had told them she always had Irene, the woman she called her child minder and housekeeper, answer the door, so she could keep him waiting on the porch.
“Have you even set foot inside that place?” Ali had asked when they’d been planning.
“One,” Colby had answered dryly.
“One-foot distance, or one foot?” she asked, smiling despite herself.
“About both. She threatened to call the cops if I went any farther.”
“Lovely.”
“I didn’t mind. Place is as cold as a winter storm in the Cascades. Not like your place.”
She’d been glad Hayley had interrupted them at that point, so she didn’t react and speak out of the sillily warm feeling his words had given her.
So now she sat watching, rather nervously, what Quinn had called the first phase of the operation. Cutter padded over and sat beside her. Ziggy was quietly snoozing in the bigger dog’s bed, worn out from all the playing the two dogs had done this morning. She automatically reached out to stroke the dark fur on his head, and felt again that odd sense of calm. And remembered how the dog had raced ahead when she, Hayley and Ziggy had arrived, how she had laughed when he’d raised up and batted at the large, square handicap door switch, opening it for them.
