The Covert Element (38 page)

"Anything else?"

"Nope. I think that’s it. As of this moment, I’m no longer going
to go running around with Bull and Gunner on hair-brained
adventures and crime-solving escapades."

Beth waited a long moment before speaking.

"If you’re done with your pity party, maybe we can talk about
why all of that is a bad idea."

I was taken aback by her response.

"I’m not pitying myself. I’m trying to save this family from
despair, aggravation and mortal danger. Don’t you want that?"

"Listen to yourself. Did you hear what you just said? You’ve got
the word ‘hero’ carved so deeply in your brain that you think you’re
being heroic by offering to stop doing what you love to do. On top of
that, you honestly believe that by giving up one of your favorite
activities, you are actually . . . somehow . . . saving our family.

"Well, I’ll tell you what . . . our family does not need saving.
And you are not being our hero by promising to lead a boring life. I
know I speak for our daughters as well when I say, we’re not afraid
of you . . . or of what you do. You have a unique gift for productive
nosiness."

Beth allowed a small smile.

"Let’s suppose that you had decided to leave security at the
Nuclear Plant for someone else to take care of. Would that have
protected our family? Or placed us in even greater danger."

I imagined that she was right on this one point.

"And even your involvement in this international drug cartel
fiasco . . . . Who do you think would have stopped the bombing of
the Bellechester Elevator, together with God knows how many
innocent deaths?"

"Bull would’ve probably figured it out without me."

"You think so? Who asked you to help out with Fuentes in the
first place?"

"Bull."

"Do you think Bull is the kind of guy who likes to carry around
extra men as baggage? If he thought he could deal with Fuentes and
the drug problem himself, he would have."

Again, I had to agree.

"The fact that Bull sought out your help means that he
needed
your help.
Capiche?
"

My head was hanging.

"But that doesn’t negate the dangerous spot I put you in. The
cartel almost grabbed you up here at the house before you could
escape."

"Almost. But they didn’t, did they. Why? Because you gave me
enough warning and I had the knowledge and skills to escape. We
each did what we do best.

"Listen . . . . I
almost
have a head-on collision every time I
drive on a two-lane road. But I don’t, do I? Because I’m a good
driver. Do I risk that the other drivers might screw up and kill me
anyway? You bet I do. Every single day.

"Now, if I’m willing to take my life into my hands on a daily
basis to get a loaf of bread or a gallon of milk – trusting only in the
driving abilities of strangers – why wouldn’t I trust you . . . the most
capable, cautious, caring, prepared man I know of, or have ever
heard of . . . to do the thing he does the absolute best? Catching bad
guys. To make the world better. Safer. To be the hero that you are,
at least to me."

I was getting choked up. I kept my head down.

"Why wouldn’t I trust you . . . why wouldn’t I
need
you to do
those things?"

I remained silent.

"I know you feel bad about the cartel almost catching me . . .
and probably about not taking my advice to go to Gunner in the first
place. But we are two different people, with different abilities and
perspectives. Just because we disagree doesn’t mean I think you’re
wrong and I’m right. It means we disagree. That’s it.

"If you start trying to do what’s best for me and I do the same
for you, neither of us will be using our God-given talents to best
serve our family, let alone our country.

"I don’t need you to protect me from you!

"I need you to use your gifts – your incredible talents – to do
what’s best for us and for everybody. You know how to do what you
do better than anybody. I need you to
just do it
.

"Does any of this make sense to you?"

Head still down.

"I suppose."

"Are we done with the pity party? Or do I need to slap you?"

"You know how I love a good slapping."

My head was still down. Somehow, Beth saw my smile anyway.
Before I could duck, she slapped the side of my head, hard.

"Ouch. What’d you do that for?"

Beth was laughing.

"Sorry. Your gut wasn’t easily reachable with your head down.
And you
did
say you wanted to be slapped."

I lunged on top of Beth and started tickling her sides. She was
giggling and squealing as she pushed on my chest.

After a bit, I stopped tickling and she calmed down. Her smile
still lit up the room.

"Okay. You’ve got a deal. I’ll fight the bad guys and you do the
cooking."

Without warning, Beth curled her legs upward and launched
me sideways off the bed. She really is quite good at self-defense.

I lay on the floor pretending to be injured.

Beth picked up her book and began reading.

"You can come back to bed when you’ve come to your senses."

I stopped faking and crawled back into my side of the bed.

"I don’t remember ‘sense’ being in that list of my qualities you
mentioned just now."

"Don’t worry," she said without looking away from her book.
"I’ve got plenty of sense for both of us."

She reached across and patted my belly.

"You do, indeed, Doll. You do, indeed."