Operation Power Play Read Free

Something that set them apart. In this man’s case, as in her husband’s, it wasn’t bluster or swagger, just a quiet strength that required no bragging and a straight, level gaze that told you whatever the job was, he would get it done.
    And yet the dog at her feet was apparently the one in charge at the moment.
    “I should have known he was only letting me pretend I’m in charge.”
    She laughed, both at the man’s wry tone and that he had chosen the words she had just thought. “At least you realize.”
    “I should have sooner. He’s got quite the reputation, this one.”
    “For?”
    “Finding trouble. And demanding his people fix it.”
    She started to laugh again, but something in his expression told her he was serious. “Detective Dunbar, why do I think you don’t mean typical dog trouble, like finding holes in fences or the cat next door to chase?”
    He seemed to hesitate, as if he wasn’t certain he should tell her, before he said, “Brett, please. And no. Last one was a kid with a messed-up family. Before that it was a kidnapping. Then a cold case, a long-lost brother. And those are just the ones I know about.”
    She stared at him. “Must really take away from their day job.”
    “That is their day job.”
    She drew back slightly. “You mean that’s actually what they do?”
    He nodded. “They help people. People who have nowhere else to turn.”
    “What are they, a charity?”
    “Might as well be. They don’t take any payment except the goodwill—and willingness to help them help someone else later—of the people they take on. They did it before Cutter came along, but now it’s all they can do to keep up with what he finds for them. He’s got a...sense about things. It’s hard to explain.”
    “So he finds people who need help, and your friends, they follow his lead?”
    He looked as if he half expected her to laugh. “It sounds crazy, I know.”
    “Which part?”
    She hadn’t meant it to sound sour, but it did. She saw it register in the slightest narrowing of his eyes. She didn’t elucidate—she wasn’t about to explain to a total stranger that while she could believe the dog would help people, she wasn’t so sure about people helping people. Not anymore.
    She glanced back at the dog. “Well, I can see I wasn’t according you the proper respect. I thought you were just a pretty face.”
    Cutter’s tail wagged as if he’d understood. He got to his feet then and crossed the distance between them. Coming not to her but to Aunt Connie, nudging her hand with his nose.
    Connie, who had been watching all this with interest—and, Sloan noted, without saying a word, which was unlike her—responded by petting the dog’s head. “You are a beautiful boy,” she cooed to him.
    The dog stayed still for a moment. Then he turned around and sat once more, now facing his running partner. And gave him that look again.
    It was odd, she thought. She’d seen intense dogs before. Jason’s best friend in the service had been a canine handler, and his partner, Eddie, had been a bomb-seeking machine. And she’d seen police dogs and the agility competitors that held events in the park a few blocks away.
    But this dog was different. The intensity was no less, but the focus was different. She couldn’t explain it herself; she could only feel it, so no wonder he didn’t even try.
    She looked back at the man then. She’d always enjoyed the sight when she’d seen him running. That part of her might be dead and buried with Jason, but she could still appreciate a good-looking man, and Brett Dunbar was definitely that. She liked his tall, lean build, found the touch of gray at his temples attractive. She had little patience for unlined youth these days. Or sunny, carefree attitudes. She’d lost her affection for naïveté long ago, in the halls of Washington, DC.
    And the impression in his gray eyes of dark things seen was all too familiar.
    He sighed. Audibly. He looked at Connie, then the dog,