All Due Respect (22 page)

Clearly relieved, she slumped in her chair, propped her feet on the rung of the chair to her left, and she seemed more at ease than he had seen her look all day.

His patience would pay off. Soon she would answer all

his questions and—unless his gut instincts were way off, which they rarely were—she would tell him a lot more than he expected.

She walked to the stove and refilled her teacup. “More coffee?”

His pulse rate quickened. How could a woman look so sexy wearing baggy jeans and an oversized T-shirt? He liked her being here. Liked her in his kitchen, in his clothes. In his life. “No, thanks.”

She smiled and returned to the table. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Seth couldn’t think. Damn it, no woman had ever taken his thoughts right out of his head. He mentally shook himself, ordering his libido into a deep freeze and his logic front and center. Guns. Safe handling of guns. That’s right.

He began briefing her on handling and maintaining firearms, and then specifically on the .38’s capability. When she had a firm grasp, he moved on to the things a holder should never do. “And lastly,” he said. “Never pull a gun on anyone you don’t intend to kill.”

Julia nodded, attentive and alert, but from the frown creasing the skin between her brows, a question lingered in her mind.

“What?” Seth asked.

She looked up from the gun on the table to Seth. “I was just thinking that I need to buy a bigger purse. If I try to pull it out of the one I use now, it could get stuck.”

If she had been car jacked, hadn’t she had her purse with her? She hadn’t had her purse when he had picked her up from the service station, and it seemed unlikely she would drive without at least her wallet. But she hadn’t had that, either. So why was she worrying about a gun getting stuck in a purse that had been stolen?

More and more it appeared she hadn’t been car jacked She hadn’t gotten muddy and wet and covered with grass taking a single punch, and she didn’t move as if she were sore from tangling with the man.

Seth shoved his questions aside and considered giving her a lecture on carrying a concealed weapon—including

informing her that she would need a permit to carry—but then decided against it. She had been mugged and injured twice. More seriously the first time, but still, twice. He could stomach paying a fine for her carrying without a permit a lot easier than he could stomach the possibility of a third mugging. “Shoot through it.”

Her eyes widened. “Through my handbag?”

Seth nodded. “Stick your hand down inside, aim, and fire. No lost time, and the bullet will penetrate the leather.”

“It’ll also blow a hole in my purse.”

“Julia, if you’re firing the gun, you’re firing it to blow a hole through a human being. Comparatively speaking, ruining a purse doesn’t matter much.”

She lowered her gaze to the table. “No, I suppose not.”

“Don’t you want to call Karl?” Seth asked, opening the proverbial door one more time. “Tell him where you are so he doesn’t worry?”

“No.”

Seth waited, but she didn’t elaborate. Telling, that. Only one reason she wouldn’t want to call Karl. He already knew. He knew because he was the sorry son of a bitch who had done this to her.

It was time for the truth. “Julia, don’t you think it’s time—”

The phone rang.

Frustrated, Seth slid back his chair. Its legs scraped against the wooden floor. At the wall, he lifted the receiver. “Holt.”

Grateful he hadn’t gotten to finish his question, Julia stared at the gun and took in three deep breaths. Just the sight of it made her queasy. She didn’t have to like it, but she did have to learn to use the gun. And she’d better learn to use it well. Karl was a trained professional, and he would definitely use one on-her. Or on Jeff. Or on Seth.

“Yeah, she’s okay,” Seth said into the phone. “A bruised jaw, but—” He paused, listened, and his expression turned grim. “I understand. I’ll get her.” He turned to Julia and held out the receiver. “Matthew.”

Julia walked over and took the phone. “Hello.”

“You doing all right?”

“I look like a squirrel with nuts stuffed in my cheek and I’m mad as hell but, yeah, I’m all right.”

“Karl?”

“Yes.” She stared at Seth.

“He found the apartment?”

“Sure did.” She forced herself to smile to hide some of the anger she felt about that. The system sure had failed her. Justice was indeed an illusion. She was the victim, and yet she was the one in prison. It didn’t have walls, but that only made it the worst kind of prison. She lived with the illusion of freedom, and nowhere felt safe.

“Julia,” Matthew said. “You’re going to have to tell Seth. He needs to know. Karl will confront him. You have to know that. Seth should be prepared.”

“I know.” She turned her back to Seth, squeezed her eyes shut.

“He’ll understand.”

“Really?” She stared at a knothole on the paneled wall, wishing she could shrink down and crawl inside it.

“Give the man some credit. You know what he’s like.”

She did. The problem was, he didn’t have a clue what she was like, or who she really was.

Hearing only line static, Matthew sighed. “He matters to you.”

Did he really expect her to answer that? She didn’t want to acknowledge it to herself, much less to anyone else.

“Would it help to know you matter to him, too?”

Don’t believe it. Don’t.

She managed a whisper. “It’s different.”

“I don’t think it is.”

Hope flickered inside her. She tried to snuff it out. Hope leads to disappointment, to rude awakenings, to pain. Do you want to feel more pain? “It’s different,” she insisted, grating out the words.

“It’s not,” Matthew insisted. “Seth hounded me for three years, trying to find out where you were.”

“That’s not an asset.” She nudged the angle where the wall and floor met the tips of her bare toes.

“It should be.”

“I don’t see how.” Hounded sounded a lot like stalked. She’d had a gutful of that, thank you very much.

“Maybe I can help explain. I’ve known Seth a long time. We worked Special Forces together on more rough-ass missions than I care to recall. He’s a good man, Julia. You can trust him.”

Seth had been Special Forces before going civilian? She should be surprised, she supposed, but she wasn’t. He was highly skilled, capable on so many fronts. Still, he doubted her and she had doubted him. Before she had left his New Orleans lab, she felt she could trust him. She hadn’t taken anyone into her confidence but, back then, her trusting someone else had been an option. Now, she wondered if she would ever again be able to trust anyone—including herself. She had blanked out after the hammer incident and hadn’t been certain whether or not she had hit him.

“Look, Julia.” Matthew softened his voice. “After what happened, I know trusting anyone has to be hard for you. But—”

“I understand.” She did. It was Matthew who didn’t have a clue. She glanced back at Seth, who was sitting at the table, listening avidly and pretending to be stone-deaf.

“Learn what he teaches you,” Matthew said. “.Work at it, Julia.”

He was telling her something important. Silently cursing because the cabin didn’t have a secure-line phone, she improvised. “I know he’ll be back.”

“Yeah, he will.” Matthew’s disgust carried through the phone line. “You’d better give me a current description.”

Was he helping her cover from Seth? Or did Matthew really need one? She reeled off a quick physical description of Karl, knowing Matthew had more he could tell her but couldn’t speak freely. “Is Jeff okay?”

“Fine. Grace PD is keeping an eye on him.”

“With his father’s consent?”

“Unfortunately, no. Camden doesn’t want his privacy invaded, so the cops are forced to hang back. But they’re as close as they can legally get, Julia.”

“Thank you.” The tightness in her chest eased. “Can someone talk directly to Jeff? I don’t want him frightened, but he needs to be on his guard.”

“I’ve taken care of that.”

Not at all surprising. “I wish we could get Jeff out of there and take him somewhere safe.”

“Without Camden’s permission or a court order, we can’t, and we don’t have sufficient grounds for a court order. I just got off the phone with his case worker not ten minutes ago.”

“So Grace’s police observation is an informal thing, then?” Oh, she didn’t like this. Not at all.

“Yes, but don’t worry. They take cases of kids being threatened as personally as we do. I logged Jeff in as a Bravo-One.”

“What is that?”

“One of our own kids under threat,” Matthew explained. “Same priority as any other kid, but our agents pull duty and as many extra volunteer hours as they can and still stay upright.” Matthew paused. “Funny. They do that on non Bravo One designations, too. I guess we just do it to signal each other that it’s family under attack.”

“I appreciate it.”

“We can’t do anything personally until Grace calls us in, but we’re on alert and ready to move.”

“You explained everything to his case worker? I mean, they know this is child endangerment, right?”

“They know,” Matthew confirmed. “Talk to Seth, Julia. Tell him the truth. All of it.”

Her fingers tightened on the receiver. “I’m not sure I can do that.”

“You’d better try,” Matthew said. “Otherwise, you’re leaving him wide open to a surprise attack. My guess is he’s up to the challenge but, if it isn’t necessary, letting him get blindsided so you can keep your secrets isn’t right.”

Seth stared at her from the table. She couldn’t say what she wanted to say, so she said nothing.

“Julia, not knowing could get him killed.”

And she’d have to live with his blood on her hands. She clamped her jaw shut. “Don’t you think I know that?”

“You’d better know and believe it because it’s fact.”

She clutched at her chest with her free arm. It felt as tight as if someone had clamped metal bands around it. “Trust me, Matthew. I have no illusions. Not anymore.”

“He’s armed.”

Karl. Armed. Her mouth turned dust-dry. An armed man who had nothing left to lose. “How do you know that?”

“Grace spotted him leaving Camden’s earlier today.”

“Jeff!”

“He was at school. He never saw Karl.”

But he would be back. That’s what Matthew had been trying to tell her. Karl would be back—for Jeff.

“Don’t worry. Grace’s got him covered,” Matthew said. “Worry about Seth. Right now, you’re hanging him out to dry—blindfolded.”

The image sickened her. She had been left vulnerable to attack. How could she do it to anyone else, much less to Seth?

Just how much is your pride worth, Julia? Is it worth Seth’s life?

It wasn’t. Her heart felt squeezed. Nothing was worth that. Not her pride. Not her own life.

ANTHONY Benedetto stood on the green on the thirteenth hole at Fair Oaks Country Club, eyeing a shot that was going to be a bitch to make. Hearing a golf cart heading his way, he turned and saw Roger approaching. What was wrong now?

Roger pulled to a stop. “Sorry to interrupt, sir.” “No problem.” He was having a lousy game, anyway. “There’s a complication.” Roger crawled out of the cart. “The new loyalist from Starke is causing some unhealthy challenges for the woman scientist.”

Starke. The home of Florida State Prison, and the former residence of his newest recruit in this venture. Damn it. Complications were exactly what Anthony had hoped to avoid. “What kind of complications?”

“Ones preventing her from focusing on her work and sidetracking Dr. Holt from finalizing the launching sequence.”

“I’ll handle it.” Anthony put his club back into the bag on his cart. “And run a complete profile on her. I’m especially interested in anything that could convince her to commit treason.”

“Yes, sir.” Roger rubbed his brow, clearly worried. “Mr. Benedetto, are you planning to launch the Rogue?”

He laughed. “No, Roger. Having it gives us detente. Using it would force retaliation. That would not be in our best interests.”

“No, sir.”

Anthony eyed the golf ball, the hole, and debated between putters. Choosing his favorite, he got into position. He should be offended by Roger’s question, but Anthony wasn’t. The man wasn’t questioning his authority, only wanting a fix on the coalition’s official position. And he would know soon, when the transaction had been completed on the sale of the Home Base technology to Two West’s Eastern associate.

The United States would be helpless.

Smiling, Anthony swung the putter.

JULIA hated the gun.

She hated the feel of it in her hand. Squeezing its trigger, and its recoil jarring her to the bone. She hated the smell of it when it fired, the sound of its bullet exploding. She hated everything about it. Every single thing. But most of all, she hated not hating the images in her mind of the bullets whizzing past the cans Seth had set up on the fence posts and exploding in Karl Hyde’s chest.

In a clearing between the cabin and the lake, she and Seth had been practicing shooting for hours. The best she could say was that she no longer feared the gun. Now, she respected it.

Tipping her head against the chill wind, she reloaded the .38, pulling bullets from the third box. Two empty boxes lay in the dirt near her feet. When she had stopped missing the cans and had started hitting them, she had felt a shameful sense of elation. And with each target she hit, she whispered a victory chant inside her mind. Victim no more.

She fired the gun rapidly six times. Knocked four cans off the fence, and winged two.

Seth stepped to her side. “Much better.”

“You were right.” She lowered the barrel of the gun, aiming toward the ground, then turned toward him. “Not jerking the trigger is the key.”

He finger-combed his hair back from his face. The damp

wind reddened his cheeks. “You’re a quick study.”

“Not really.” She looked back at the cans and imagined Karl facing her down, his gun aimed at her forehead, hammer cocked and ready to fire. “I’m motivated.”

Seth took the gun, showed her how to clean it, and then passed it back to her.

She slid it inside a brown pouch. “What next?”