Quinn Foxworth looked at the blonde, sweet-faced teenager standing in the doorway of the Foxworth northwest headquarters. She wasn’t alone, but he focused on her because she looked familiar. He couldn’t quite place her; yet she obviously knew him.

Before he could speak, his dog, Cutter, trotted around the far corner of the building. Foxworth tracker Liam Burnett was at his heels, giving a playful swipe at the dog’s plumed tail. Liam had volunteered for fetch duty this afternoon, and while summer might have ended, it was still warm enough that he’d worked up a sweat. Cutter, however, showed no sign he’d even had a workout.

The instant the dog caught sight—or scent—of the newcomers, his head came up and he broke into a run. He came to a halt at the girl’s feet, sat politely and gave her a tongue-lolling, old-friend sort of greeting. The girl tilted her head to look at him, smiling widely. His tail began to wag happily, again as if this were a long-lost friend.

And suddenly Quinn knew.

“Emily?” he asked, startled.

She turned her gaze back to him. “I didn’t think you’d recognize me.”

“It took a moment. It’s been—”

“Six years. I know.” She reached up and touched the locket that was on a gold chain around her neck. “I still wear it every day.”

Quinn smiled. “Good,” he said quietly to the girl—young woman now—who had been the inspiration for starting the Foxworth Foundation. They had kept in touch by phone and email, but he hadn’t seen her in person since the day Emily Parker and her adoptive parents had come to once more thank him for recovering the precious piece of jewelry that had been all she had from her dead mother. The change in her from age ten to sixteen was astonishing.

Liam had caught up with the dog now, and Emily turned and politely gestured the other person with her forward. “This is Ms. Connelly. She teaches at my school.”

Quinn had only a moment to take in the petite brunette, but he was used to making quick assessments. Dressed in tan jeans and a loose white shirt that had a shine to it, she didn’t look that much older than Emily. But he’d learned not to judge age just by looks; Liam looked years younger than he was. He was also smart and tough, and he had become someone Quinn would trust with his life.

“Ria, please,” the woman said, holding out a hand. Quinn shook it. She had a steady grip, but her hand felt delicate in his.

“Liam Burnett, our tracker and resident tech guy,” he said with a nod in the direction of the man who was quickly yanking his T-shirt back over his head. After, Quinn noted, a moment of stock-still staring at the woman who had arrived with Emily. He had recovered quickly, but Quinn was certain he’d seen it.

“Hi,” Liam said with a nod to them both, “I’d shake hands, but I’ve been throwing his grubby baseball.”

The woman laughed. And Liam seemed to stop breathing. “Not a tennis ball?” she asked.

“He likes those,” Quinn explained, “but he loves the baseball. It’s heavier, goes farther. And it was a gift from my wife’s brother.”

“Doesn’t it hurt

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