All Due Respect (15 page)

“Okay, but you gotta promise me you won’t leave her. Promise?”

“Why?”

“Travis said it was the best pass I ever throwed.”

Seth frowned. “Is your dad back?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Are they going to try to hurt Dr. Julia tonight?”

“I think so.”

Julia wiped her hands on a dishcloth and motioned for the phone. Seth held up a finger, telling her to wait a second. “Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll be here.”

“Okay.”

“Dr. Julia’s trying to grab the phone. Geez, I think she misses you or something.” He smiled at her frown. “I’m going to give it to her before she takes it, okay?”

“Okay.” Jeff giggled, then turned serious. “I love you.”

Seth’s heartstrings tugged. “Me, too, buddy.” He passed Julia the receiver.

They talked about school, Travis, football, and Julia asked the boy a half-dozen times if he was really all right. In his mind, Seth could hear Jeff mumbling, “Worrywart.”

When Julia hung up the phone, her eyes were glossy and overly bright. “I miss him.”

“I know you do.” Seth looped an arm around her shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze. He hoped she didn’t start crying. It killed him a little every time she cried, especially since hearing about her attack. “Can I ask you something?”

“Certainly.” The stove’s timer buzzed. She moved away, pulled on an oven mitt, grabbed tongs from the drawer, and then got busy flipping the meatballs.

The smell of them had his stomach growling. “You’ve had me scratching my head a little lately.”

She closed the oven door and then pulled off the mitt. It had green ivy leaves printed on it. “How’s that?”

“You seem calm and normal, but I know you can’t be.”

Julia looked away, rubbed at her left arm, shoulder to elbow. “I learned from the incident that you can do whatever you have to do, Seth.” She set the tongs down on the spoon rest. It too had been imprinted with green ivy. “I told you about the headaches and muscle spasms. If I get upset, then they get raunchy. They last for hours, sometimes days. The more upset I am, the worse they are.”

“So you’ve learned to bury your emotions.” That he could understand. Hell, he’d become a master at burying his before leaving grade school. He leaned against the counter. His abuse and her attack. Different catalysts, different circumstances, same reactions. “Can I ask one more question?”

Tension tugged at her expression, and her mouth flattened to a slash. “I suppose.”

He wanted to know how Karl fit into all this. Why he not only tolerated the threats but considered Julia paranoid when she recorded up to five calls a week from the jerk

who had attacked her. Karl did fit; Seth sensed it. But her armor looked ready to crack, and she was already rubbing her arm. “Never mind,” Seth said. “It can wait.”

Clearly relieved, she melted butter, minced garlic, and prepared thick slices of French bread, then sprinkled them with parsley. “Why don’t you put the meatballs in the sauce?”

Half an hour later, they sat down to eat and talk turned to Benedetto and the Rogue, and then to Marcus and Dempsey Morse. If Benedetto “had a mole, then odds ranked high he was one of the two of them. But which one?

Julia twirled spaghetti on her fork. “I know Marcus seems obvious because of his temperament, but you can’t accuse a man of treason for having a bad attitude.”

“Last I checked, that wasn’t a crime.”

“And I know Dempsey Morse seems like a good man and he’s very bright, but something about him just doesn’t sit right with me.”

Seth took a bite, chewed and savored, and then swallowed. “Uncle Lou gets an A for the sauce’. Damn good.”

Julia laughed. “He’d throw it in the trash.”

“Why?”

“Because good sauce must cook all day, Seth.” She affected a lousy rendition of an Italian accent. “The blending of the flavors cannot be rushed.”

“Tastes great to me.”

She wrinkled her nose. “It’ll be better tomorrow.”

“But eating it today makes you feel better.”

Surprise flickered in her eyes. “Yes.”

Her admission pleased him. So much that he suffered an overwhelming urge to kiss her. Instead, he cleared his throat, dabbed at his chin with his napkin, and turned the topic. “If you’ve got a gut feeling about Dempsey Morse, then let’s take a look at him as a suspect.”

Julia tipped her fork tines in Seth’s direction. “Four marriages and four divorces. He seems unable to sustain relationships.”

“Hard to do when you’re always at work. And he is,”

Seth countered. “He’s a major stockholder in Slicer Industries. They’ve invested a bundle in Home Base. If it fails, Morse loses his financial ass and his job.”

“Morse isn’t a foolish man, Seth.” Julia took a sip of juice. “If he were, he would never have gotten this far.”

“So we agree. He isn’t going to jeopardize his money or his backside.”

“Maybe he has an alternate plan.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Julia thumbed the rim of her glass. “Is Morse patriotic?”

“I don’t know.” Seth shrugged. “He’s dedicated to his job, and considering his job is defending the U.S., I’d say he probably is.”

“But you don’t know.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I’m trying to see if he’s self-sustained or if he depends on others. He doesn’t personally. His failed marriages prove that. But sometimes people depend on multitudes rather than just one person. Does he love only his job and his money, or does he love others, too? Does he do this job because he loves his country and wants to protect the people in it, or just because building missiles under government contracts pays well and the sense of power pops his personal bubble?”

In Seth’s mind, a lightbulb clicked on. Benedetto’s loyalists’ to-the-death dedication. “I don’t think Morse is patriotic enough to die for his ideals, but I could be wrong.”

“I don’t think you are. It’s his eyes.”

“What’s wrong with them?”

Julia set down her glass. “They’re empty.”

“Huh!”’

“You sound like Jeff.” She smiled. “I like that about you.”

Now Seth was really lost and sucking dust. “What?”

Their gazes locked across the tabletop. She started to cup her hand over his, pulled back, and then clearly forced herself to do it. Her warm fingers shook. “I like your hon

esty. I like it that you’re not stuffy, and you don’t always have to be right, or to have all the answers. I like how much you care about Jeff, and the way you reach out to others, like Linda and me. I like … you.”

His heart pounded against his chest wall. “Thank you.”

Too serious suddenly, she broke the tension with a barb. “And I especially like the way you wear your sauce.” Her lips twisting into a smirk, she got up to refill her glass at the fridge. “It looks good on you.”

He glanced down at his white shirtfront, saw the sauce splatters, and groaned. “Terrific.” It would stain. Big-time. He shoved back his chair, and went to the kitchen.

Julia was reaching into the fridge. He stretched over her to grab a paper towel. As he stretched, she straightened, and his arm collided with the back of her neck.

She screamed, “Don’t hurt me!”

Seth jerked back, saw her drop to a crouch between the fridge and its open door and bury her head to her chest, protecting it with her uplifted arms.

“Julia?” He spoke softly.

She looked up at him, wild-eyed, her breathing heavy and labored. Only once before had Seth seen that much fear in a woman’s eyes. Once before, one woman, the night she had died. His throat went thick. “Julia?”

She didn’t look away, didn’t move, just stared through him. The attack. Memories of the attack had latched on to her.

Seth slid down to the floor, lifted his arms slowly toward her. “Julia, it’s okay. Come here,” he said. “Come here, honey. I’d never hurt you. Never. You’re safe.”

She blinked hard, then blinked again.

“You’re safe, Julia.” He reached a little closer. “Come here.”

“Seth.” She scrambled into his arms, clutched at his shirt, doing her damnedest to crawl inside him. “Seth.”

“It’s okay.” He curled his arms around her, smoothed her blouse over her back, and whispered soft, soothing words against her hair. “It’s okay. Shh, I’ve got you now.”

She let out a little whimper, and then sat quietly for long minutes, just holding on.

When her heart stopped pounding so hard he could feel it against his chest and her breathing quieted, he asked, “Are you okay?”

“No.” She sighed. “When does it end, Seth? Does it ever end?”

He wasn’t sure exactly what had triggered her memory of the attack. Could have been”a similar sound, a similar scent, or the bump of his arm against her neck. Almost anything could be a trigger. He had come at her from behind, but her attacker hadn’t. If the man had pulled her through the car window, then he’d come at her from the side. Still, she could have reacted to just the surprise of not knowing someone was that close and getting bumped. Regardless, in his gut, Seth knew the right response to her questions. He lived with triggers, too. “It ends, honey.” He brushed at her damp cheeks with his thumbs. “When you choose to make it end, and not a minute before. You have to decide how much power you give the fear. That’s the only way.”

She leaned her head against his chest. “It’s hard.”

“Yes, it is.” Hard couldn’t begin to describe it. “But you’ve got what you need to get through it.”

“What?”

He lifted her chin with a fingertip, looked deeply into her eyes. “Courage.”

She blinked, then rubbed her nose against his chin. “I trust you, Seth.”

He well knew that trust was the hardest thing in the world for a victim to give. Ten times harder than love. “I trust you, too.”

For long minutes, he just held her. Then, she sucked in a sharp breath that had her breasts flattening against his chest. “I’m okay now.” She touched her forehead to Seth’s lips. “Actually, I’m embarrassed.”

“No.” He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. “Not with me, Julia,” he whispered. “Never with me.”

Tears filled her eyes. She leaned toward him, and Seth met her halfway, placed a gentle kiss to her lips.

She’s married. Hurting. Vulnerable. One day, she ‘II hate you for this.

Wrong. Worse. She’d hate herself. He pulled back. “Honey, I don’t think you really want to do this.”

Julia stared at him, at his eyes, his nose, his mouth. “I can’t believe it, either, but I do. I really, really do.” Slowly, deliberately, she circled his neck with a hand to his nape, and kissed him again. Longer. Deeper.

And, God forgive him, he kissed her back.

When she pulled away, she looked as surprised as he felt. “I won’t apologize for that,” she said. “I probably should, but I won’t.”

Neither would he. It was everything Seth had always imagined kissing her would be, and more. “I liked it, Julia.” Inside he groaned, wishing someone would shoot him. He sounded like a kid just hitting puberty. Worse, he felt like one.

“Oh, God.” Her chin quivered. “Me, too.”

Did she think that was good or bad? He couldn’t tell.

A metallic clang sounded in the backyard.

Julia scrambled to her feet, jerked open a drawer near the sink, and pulled out a hammer.

“Calm down.” Seth took the tool and set it on the tile countertop. “It’s probably just a dog, or maybe a raccoon after the trash. I have to strap down the lid to keep them out of it.” He said it, and hoped he was right. But Jeff’s warning echoed through Seth’s mind.

Julia edged toward the hammer, but didn’t lift it. She stared at the glass door leading to the patio. “Don’t go out there, Seth. I know what Jeff said.” Her voice was pitched high and tinny. “I know about tonight.”

“He didn’t say anything definitive, and I’m not going to let you stand there scared stiff,” Seth insisted. “I’ll check it out and then you can relax.” He reached for the slider’s handle.

“Seth, don’t open that damn door!” she shouted, then groaned and grasped her left arm.

The spasms had started. “Honey, don’t do this. You’ll get sick.”

“Sick?” Her gaze remained locked on the door. “No, I can’t get sick. I can’t…”

“No, you can’t,” he said. “I’ll be right back. You’re okay. Just stay here.”

She nodded, clutching at her arm, her teeth gritted against the painful spasms. Still, she inched her fingers across the counter to the hammer, then clasped it in a death

grip—

If holding it made her feel safer, then fine. Seth opened the door and looked outside. Light from the kitchen window spilled out in a strip over the patio and then narrowed into a swatch over the lawn. He saw no one. Heard nothing.

He stepped outside. Checked to the left, to the corner of the building. Nothing. Then he turned right, crossed the yard of the apartment next door. All silent. All still. At the far corner, he paused to check the strip of lawn between Julia’s building and the one next door. Nothing except a row of five-foot-high azaleas. He walked around. No one hiding behind them, or—he gave them a shake—between their leafy branches. He frowned. No dogs, raccoons, or cats, either. Nothing.

Something had made the noise.

He headed back, turned the corner to the backyard. The light flooding the grass from the kitchen window and the slider door snuffed out. Julia’s scream shattered the pitch black silence.

His heart pumping hard, Seth ran. Something cracked against his skull. His knees gave out, and he collapsed on the dew-damp grass.

The lights came back on, and in the stream, he saw a crack from Julia’s open door. “Are you all right, Seth?”

“Yeah. You?” Ś “No. No, I’m not all right.”

Squinting, rubbing at his head, he saw her, standing just

outside the slider door on the patio. Her chest was heaving. But it wasn’t pain or fear burning in her eyes.

It was anger.

“You didn’t lock the front door.” Rigid, she held her hands fisted at her sides. “Why didn’t you lock the damn door, Seth? I specifically asked you to lock the damn door.”

He rubbed his head. Already a goose egg had lifted and his pulse still throbbed at his temples. “What happened with the lights?”

“I don’t know. I heard someone on the stairs, so I went to see who it was. He must have come in the front door— you didn’t lock it. The next thing I knew, a man was running toward me and out the back door. I thought—”