All Due Respect (34 page)

“Keep me posted, Matthew. I’ve got some more work to do before I check out of here.” Seth hung up the phone and went back to his simulator studies, hoping to hell he had gotten the technology right because, from all indications, he wasn’t going to have much time to make any adjustments before he needed the system to be operational.

With Benedetto crumbling, Seth might have no time at all.

ANTHONY had a hangover. He’d never had a hangover before, and he wasn’t finding the experience pleasant. His

head hurt, his eyes ached, and his stomach felt queasy. It was the drugs.

After hearing his mother and Roger discussing the council electing a new chairman, he had quit the pills. Cold turkey. God, but he’d been sick. Now, he was just hung over. Maybe if he took just one, he would feel well enough to do what he had to do.

He couldn’t wait much longer.

Opening his desk drawer, he pulled out the bottle and took out one oblong pill. Kind of pink. He popped it into the back of his throat and dry-swallowed.

Within a few minutes, he began to feel better. Not good, but better. It was time to deal with their friend from Grayton. Except for an obligatory progress-report briefing at the base, he had been in the Two West lab nearly around the clock. That the United States DoD was paying him sick leave while the man was here, working in his lab, amused Anthony in ways little else these days could.

Elise had threatened to leave him and file for divorce.

His daughter hid from his sight.

His mother called him a disgrace to his father’s memory.

Anthony looked at his father’s photo. They were all wrong, of course, and he was about to show them just how wrong. Them and that mouthy bastard, Jason Franklin. Anthony dialed their lab.

Finally, their friend from Grayton answered. He sounded harassed and irritable. “Yes, what is it?”

Anthony was irritable himself. “I need to see you in my office immediately.”

“That’s not possible. Not now. I’m at a crucial point—”

“Make it possible,” Anthony insisted. “We need a Plan B. Plan A’s been blown to hell and back.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“You’ll be even sorrier if your ass is parked in Leavenworth for forty years.”

“I’m on my way.”

Anthony hung up the phone. Plan B was drastic. But he was desperate. Everything was fading away. He didn’t

know how to be anything other than the chairman of Two West Freedom Coalition. He had prepared for this role his entire life, and he was losing it.

Plan B would bring it all back. Stronger and better.

He gave his father’s photo a wink. “Stronger and better.”

POKER?” Julia pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at the receiver.

“Yeah, but it’s okay,” Jeff quickly assured her. “We’re playing for throat sticks, so Colonel Kane says it ain’t illegal.”

“Isn’t illegal.”

“That’s what I just said.”

Julia grabbed a dishtowel and swiped at water droplets puddling on the rim of Seth’s kitchen sink. She had been cleaning for hours and the place still looked as if a tornado had hit it. “What do you mean, throat sticks?”

“The things the doctor shoves down your throat before you get the sucker.”

“Ah.” Tongue depressors. Julia smiled. “So are you okay there?”

“Yeah. But I’m ready to go outside.”

Julia stopped wiping and leaned against the cabinets, stared sightlessly out the window at the sunshine. “I know.” Being buried in darkness with nothing but fear for company created a powerful yearning for open spaces, light, and fresh air. “It won’t be long.”

“Dr. Seth told me.” Jeff asked uneasily, “Dr. Julia?”

The worry in his voice pulled hard at her heartstrings. He needed now what he had needed since his mother’s death. He needed peace. And come hell or high water, when

this Benedetto/Karl Hyde matter was resolved, Jeff was going to get it. She and Seth would see to it. “What, honey?”

“Do you think my dad’s burning in hell’?”

That question she hadn’t expected. But Jeff’s distress came through loud and clear. He was mourning, and worried. “What do you think?”

“I dunno.”

“Remember your talk with Dr. Seth about your mom, honey, and then tell me what you think.”

Jeff paused a long moment, working through his thoughts and feelings. “I think, even if you do something very bad, God still loves you,” Jeff said. “So I don’t think Dad’s burning. I think he’s maybe in detention.”

Detention. Julia smiled. “You could be right.”

“Yeah.” Jeff’s tone lightened. “He’s just getting yelled at for what he did. God’ll let Dad go to heaven after he gets it.”

“After he gets what, Jeff?”

“That he did bad things.”

Camden had to know what he did was wrong and yet she had heard him herself., “He didn’t know anyone would be hurt, Jeff. I heard him tell the mean man so.”

“Is that when Dad got shotted?”

“Shot,” she automatically corrected him. “Yes, it is. He didn’t want anyone hurt.” Camden had to realize there was a chance of it, though. But Jeff didn’t need to hear that, or to be forced to deal with it, too. Not now. Maybe never.

“What if he did want someone hurt?”

Camden had said something to Jeff. She propped her hand on her hip, the dishtowel dangling against her side. “Do you think he did?”

“Yeah, but he probably didn’t really mean it.”

“You mean, he only thought he meant it when he said it, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, I think God would take that into consideration. We all say things we don’t mean at times.”

“Yeah, and He loves us no matter what.” Jeff sounded relieved. “I’m sure he’s just in detention.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Me, too.”

“I gotta go. Colonel Kane says it’s time for me to deal. I don’t much like it. The cards are slick and they fall all over the place, but we can’t go outside to play football.”

Smiling into the receiver, Julia ripped a paper towel from the holder, mounted under the cabinet, then swiped at the stovetop, marveling at Jeff. Here she was still a bundle of nerves, skittish about every creak and bump, and he was together enough to play cards and wanting to play football. “When everything’s okay, Travis can come over and play ball with you. You be good, okay?”

“I will.” He paused, then whispered, “I love you, Dr. Julia.”

He didn’t want the guys to hear. “I love you, too.”

She cradled the receiver on the wall, then tossed the paper towel into the trash. The bag was nearly overflowing. And it smelled.

Wrinkling her nose, she pulled the bag from the bin, tied its top, and then headed to the back door. Moving the chair blocking it, she clasped the knob and hesitated. Seth didn’t have locks on the doors here, either. Apprehensive, her stomach knotted. Karl was still on the loose. Being watched and tracked, but loose. Still out there, and still coming after her.

Matthew’s profilers insisted Karl had buried her and that signaled he was through with her. But Julia knew better, and she knew Karl Hyde far too well to be duped into believing that he had buried and then forgotten her. Not him. He didn’t want a pound of flesh. He wanted every pound of her flesh and her blood and bones. And he wouldn’t stop until he got all he wanted any more than he would have buried her and not gone back. He had gone back—if only to gloat over her body. And from all the activity, he had to know she was no longer in her intended grave.

He could be outside Seth’s house right now.

She looked through the window, but saw only the unmarked car parked two doors down. Matthew’s men. She spotted them, and Karl would, too. And with his training, he would know how to get around them.

Obviously, Matthew still felt she was at risk. Otherwise, why would he waste the manpower of having her guarded? Morse was hardly capable of coming after her himself. Oh, he had motive. Definitely, he had motive. But if he got caught, he would lose Slicer Industries and be arrested. Foolish move, and he was not a foolish man.

Karl and Morse are being watched, their every move monitored. So why are you terrified to go outside to put a bag of trash in the can ? Damn it, Julia, you can’t live your life fearing everything. You can’t give anyone that kind of power over you.

Julia grimaced at the door, glanced back over her shoulder to the bar. Her purse lay atop it. A new .38 was in it, loaded, and ready for use. Matthew’s OSI agents were watching the house. Others were watching Morse and Karl. There were no signs or sounds of trouble outside. She was safe.

She cranked the knob, walked across the patio to the concrete pad upon which the trash can sat, and then lifted the lid and dropped in the bag.

Something scraped the concrete behind her. Before she could react, Karl jumped her from behind, grabbed her left arm, jerked, and twisted it behind her back, shoving it up toward her shoulder blade.

Blinding pain seared her. Julia saw stars. Her stomach heaved, and she broke into a cold sweat. In her mind she screamed, but the sound leaving her throat barely registered as a whimper.

“You blew it, sugar.” Karl pulled her arm up higher.

Wrenching spasms racked through her shoulder, bolted down to her fingertips. Her left arm was useless.

Compensate. Use your feet and legs, Julia. Use your feet and legs!

Seth’s voice. Yes. Yes. Victim no more.

She twisted into Karl, shoved, and kicked, aiming for his groin. Her foot connected with his body. He stumbled backward, bent double, clutching himself, groaning, and cursing her.

Julia ran for the door. Grabbed a chair and tried to wedge it under the knob.

Karl’s reddened face appeared in the door’s glass panel. He twisted the knob and shoved with his shoulder.

Julia slid backward. Her spine collided with the corner of the bar. Pain streaked through her back, down her arms and legs. She saw her purse. The gun.

She didn’t want to kill anybody.

It’s kill or be killed, Julia. Choose.

Snatching at her purse, she fumbled for the gun. If she could fire it, then Matthew’s men would hear the shot. She didn’t have to kill Karl, only to fire the gun. If she could get the damn thing out of her purse!

The wooden door slammed back against the wall and cracked, hanging loose on its lower hinge. Karl bulldozed through, coming at her.

Terrified, she fumbled, dropped the bag onto the floor, and she dove for it. Karl got there first. The pain in her arm and shoulder doubled, blinding her. Knowing she couldn’t use her feet—he’d be expecting that now—she rammed into him. He barely moved, but he dropped her purse.

In a tangle of arms and legs, they thrashed on the floor. His cursing roared in her ears. The spasms in her arm and shoulder tightened, remaining constant, compounding and inching up her neck. She had to do something. Now. Or he’d kill her. She scrambled, screamed, and this time, there was sound. Shrill and earsplitting, it pierced her pain, and startled Karl.

She got the bag, the gun, and it slid easily from her purse. She dropped the handbag. Its contents spilled, and a tube of lipstick rolled across the floor. Change spilled from her wallet and clanged dully against the tile.

Julia whipped around, aimed for Karl’s chest, and watched the fight drain out of his face.

“What? The little girl’s gonna shoot me?” He grunted.

“Don’t come any closer.” Shaking, running on sheer adrenaline, she gained her feet, took her two-handed aim.

Surprise flickered through Karl’s eyes.

Victim no more.

“So he’s taught you how to shoot, eh?” Karl taunted her, but he didn’t move.

He was afraid of her. Karl Hyde was actually afraid of her. The truth hit her suddenly, settled over her slowly. “I’m good at it, too.”

“Knowing how to pull a trigger doesn’t mean you’ve got the guts to kill a man.”

“It doesn’t take guts to kill you, Karl. You’d better pray to God that I have the courage to let you live.” She met his gaze, swearing she would rather die than to be his victim one more time. She’d rather face anything than that. Anything. “I wouldn’t bet a nickel on it myself. I look at you, and I see a bastard who tried to feel like a strong man by beating up on me. I see a bully with no discipline or self-control. A weak shell of a human being with no honor and no respect. I see you for what you really are, and every time I see you, I remember what you did to me. I relive every single slap, punch, and kick, Karl. You have no idea what that’s like, do you? No idea how much it hurts or how angry it makes you.” She swallowed the thickness from her throat. “Trust me”—she cocked back the hammer—“I can kill you. My fear is in letting you live.”

Sweat beaded on Karl’s forehead, above his upper lip, and fear seeped into his eyes.

“That’s right.” She didn’t dare relax. Didn’t dare to show him that her knees felt like water and her arm cramped so badly she swore it was about to fall off. “I’m not afraid of you anymore. I’ll never be afraid of you again.”

She inched back, against the counter. “It’s a big decision—whether or not to shoot you. I should. My hell would

end instantly. If I don’t shoot you, then you could nag me the rest of my life. God knows, you’ve tried often enough to kill me.”

He lifted a hand. “It wasn’t personal, Julia.”

“The hell it wasn’t. Who do you think you buried in that grave?” She guffawed, glared at him. “You kidnapped and nearly killed a precious little boy you didn’t even know just to get back at me, and you dare to tell me it’s not personal?” Seeing red, she raised the gun, clamped her jaw. “I should kill you for that. For what you did to Jeff.”

You’re losing it, honey. Seth’s voice. Calm down. He’s looking for an opening to attack you. If you shoot him, shoot to kill.

What would Jeff think of that?

“Okay, okay. I lied.” Karl huffed. “Don’t blow a gasket.”

Death or jail. Do what you have to do to stay safe and let go of what he did to you, Julia. He’s taken everything from you once. Don’t give him any more. It’s our turn. Yours, mine, and Jeff’s.

She tipped the barrel ceilingward and pulled the trigger three times in quick succession. Karl instinctively hit the ground, clutching at his chest.