All Due Respect

by Vicki Hinze

  “Do you have a calling card?”

  “Not with me.” She couldn’t say it was an emergency. Karl could have a scanner and intercept the call. He had to be Jeff’s “mean” man. But why involve Jeff? Julia stared out at the street, at the cars passing by. So far, so good. “I can give you whatever information you need, just let me place this call. Please.” Julia reeled off her number.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am.” The operator paused a moment. “Could you verify your home number, please?”

  Julia repeated the number. Checked the street. A gangly kid was walking his dog; a woman was pumping gas into her station wagon.

  “This number belongs to a man.”

  Seth had put the phone in his name. “Seth. Holt. Dr. Seth Holt.”

  “Do you have Dr. Holt’s permission to make the call?”

  “No, I don’t, but—”

  “Sorry, ma’am.” The operator hung up.

  Fuming, Julia let her head loll back. You can’t afford more tension.

  Okay. Okay. She’d just call Seth collect, then.

  She dialed the number. When the operator came on the line, she said, “Collect, please. From Dr. Julia Warner.”

  He answered on the second ring. “Holt.”

  The operator got authorization for the charge, then hung up, and suddenly it all became too much. Julia slumped against the cinder-block wall. “Seth, I need help.”

  “Where are you?” Worry and fear filled his voice.

  She sniffled. “At a gas station on the corner of Sandy Hill and Old Murphy Road. Can you come get me?”

  “Where’s your car?”

  Decision time. Did she tell him the truth, or lie? “Please, just come get me.” She swallowed hard. “Hurry, Seth. I—I’m in trouble.”

  “Five minutes.” He hung up the phone.

  She set the receiver back on the hook, then stepped back, deeper into the shadows, and watched the cars come and go from the store, praying not to see her own. “Hurry, Seth,” she whispered, folding her good arm over her chest against the damp night air and the fear. “Please, hurry.”

  Hoping Karl was searching in the opposite direction, toward the vault, she again lifted the receiver. She had to try to warn Camden. Dialing the operator, she placed the call.

  Camden answered. “Yeah, hello.”

  “Will you accept a collect call from Dr. Julia Warner?”

  Surprise tinged his voice. “Yeah.”

  “Thank you, sir. Go ahead, ma’am.”

  Julia swallowed hard. “Mr. Camden, I’m sorry to have to phone collect, but I had to warn you that Jeff may be in danger.”

  “What kind of danger?”

  God, but this was hard for Julia to say aloud. Until now, she never had. Not once. “My ex-husband is trying to force me back into the marriage. If I don’t agree, he’s threatened to hurt Jeff.”

  “A crazy married to a crazy.” Camden guffawed. “I’m sure he’s bluffing, Dr. Hyde.”

  Julia gritted her teeth, bore the barb. Where was Camden’s concern? His fear for his son’s safety? “This man doesn’t bluff.” For Jeff’s sake, she had to convince him. “He’s already violated a restraining order.”

  “I see.”

  Hardly. He sounded haughty, and not at all convinced. What more could she do? “Please take this seriously and keep a close watch on Jeff. You have no idea what this man is capable of doing.” Her voice went thick. “I’m afraid for Jeff, Mr. Camden.” She was terrified for all of them—Jeff, Seth, and herself.

  “Okay, Dr. Hyde. Thanks for calling.”

  Dr. Hyde. He hadn’t heard a word she’d said. “Mr. Camden, don’t blow this off. I’m telling you, the man is dangerous.”

  “I heard you.”

  “Please tell Jeff . . . to be careful.”

  “Sure thing.” He muttered something she didn’t catch, then hung up the phone.

  The dial tone droned in her ear. Julia slammed the receiver onto its hook. Stupid bastard. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  He wouldn’t tell Jeff. Wouldn’t do anything except gloat because she was having domestic difficulties. He was accustomed to domestic difficulties. Hell, he’d perpetrated them in his own family.

  The wind whipped her hair into her eyes. Smoothing it back, she brushed against her jaw and winced. It was already sore. Angry, resentful, scared stiff, she looked around the corner of the building to the street. Still no sign. By now, Karl had to realize she had avoided going to the lab or to Seth’s house. “Damn it, Seth. Hurry!”

  Seth swerved into the gas station and slammed on the brakes. A truck and two cars outside—neither was Julia’s. He shoved the gearshift into park and got out of the Lexus.

  Julia ran toward him from around the corner. Mud and bits of grass clung to her blue skirt and white blouse—the clothes she had worn to work that day. She stepped into the light. Wet and barefoot? No, she had on stockings. They looked like shredded wheat. “What happened to you?”

  She ran around to the passenger’s side of the car. “Were you followed?”

  “No.” He stood beside the car.

  “Get in, Seth. Please.”

  She slammed her door shut, reached for her safety belt.

  Seth got back in the car, noticed her left arm lay crooked and limp, braced against her side. “Julia, I’m not moving this car until you tell me what’s going—” He stopped suddenly, his eyes narrowed, and his voice elevated. “Where did you get that bruise?”

  “Don’t yell at me.” She buried her face in her right hand. “Just go. Please. I’ll explain in a minute, just get me away from here.”

  Seth popped the gearshift into drive and took off, automatically checking his rearview mirror to make sure he wasn’t being followed. “I want to know what happened to your face, Julia.”

  “I got mugged.” She wrenched around to look behind them. “He took my car.”

  “Did you call the police?” Seth braked for a stop sign.

  Julia darted her gaze side to side, front to back. “I couldn’t.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  Tell him, Julia.

  Put him in more danger? Explain once loving and marrying a man capable of Karl Hyde’s atrocities? She had believed him, for God’s sake. What kind of woman did that make her? Seth had placed his future in her hands. His faith, his financial security, and his credibility. She couldn’t tell him this. Not until she proved herself to him.

  “What if it was one of Benedetto’s loyalists?” She held the door’s armrest in a death grip. “I can’t explain that to civilians.”

  Seth frowned at the dash lights. A lie. Reasonable, rational, but from her body language and shaky voice, a lie. Why lie about this? And why worry that a mugger would follow her?

  “I’ll report it to Matthew.” She sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re turning left. Why are you turning left?”

  “My house is left. I’m taking you home. You’re going to take a shower and get warm and dry. I’m going to make you a cup of hot tea. And then we’re going to have a long talk, Julia, and you’re going to tell me what the hell is going on.”

  “We can’t go to your house.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we need someplace safe to talk. It’s likely I’m not the only target. It’s . . . highly probable he’s also coming after you.”

  Seth pulled into a driveway, made a U-turn, and headed away from town. She knew who was after her.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I have a cabin on a lake not far from here. We can talk there.”

  “Does anyone in the lab know you own it?”

  “Linda.” So this was work-related, not personal. Confused as hell, he punched down on the gas pedal. “I haven’t mentioned it to anyone else.”

  Julia fell silent.

  Weed-infested ditches hugged the sides of the two-lane road. Its shoulders were soft, and loose grains of sand spun up and hit the car’s undercarriage.

  Soon, the lights from town shone beh
ind them, and Julia looked over at him. “Seth?”

  “Mmm?”

  “I didn’t hit you with the hammer. And I didn’t lock you in the transporter. I swear it.”

  How did he answer that? “Okay.”

  “No, it’s not just okay.” She reached over with her right hand and clasped his arm. “I need for you to believe me. At first, I wasn’t sure about throwing the hammer. I was fuzzy, and I thought maybe I had panicked, but now I know I didn’t do it.”

  Strangely enough, Seth believed her, despite Security’s certainty that she was the only person not on the Security staff in the building at the time he had been locked in the transporter. Without evidence, and with her badge missing, Matthew had agreed it improbable. He and Colonel Mason had backed Seth, which was the only reason either of them still had a security clearance. “I believe you, Julia.”

  She let out a little moan. “Thank you.”

  They rode on through the night in silence. Seth glanced over to see if she had dozed off, but she hadn’t. She stared straight ahead, blanking out. This time, he didn’t disturb her. She had been mugged again, and she hadn’t dissolved into tears. He would just as soon she stayed collected.

  “Seth?”

  “Yes?” He checked his speed and then his mirrors.

  “I know it’s an imposition, but I need another favor. A big one.”

  Her voice sounded strange. Gravelly and strained, as if the words themselves choked her. “What do you want, Julia?”

  “I—I need for you to teach me how to defend myself.” She stiffened, but she didn’t look his way. “I need to learn how to kill a man.”

  Stunned, Seth looked over. Her jaw was set, no rapid blinking. She was dead serious. “Matthew suggested you learn to shoot a thirty-eight.” He opened the door for her to tell him if her attacker was free. “I can teach you.”

  “I would appreciate it very much,” she said, leaving the door shut. She swallowed hard and then cleared her throat. “But I also need to be able to . . . do it . . . without a gun.”

  Do it? She nearly strangled on saying it. How could she do it? “Okay. I can teach you some hand-to-hand combat techniques.”

  “Thank you.”

  “We’ll call Matthew from the cabin and work on it this weekend.” It was Friday. “We can cover a lot of ground by Sunday night, provided you work at it.”

  “I will.” She nodded, lending weight to her claim, and sent him a shattered look. “I’m tired of being a victim.”

  Because there were no words he could give her to take the anguish out of that remark, Seth clasped her hand, gave it a gentle squeeze, and then held on, resting their linked hands on his thigh.

  There were no locks on the doors.

  Julia stared at the knob, panic seizing her stomach. How could a man own a cabin on a lake that he only visited occasionally and not have locks on the damn doors? Karl was free, after her—and probably after Seth and Jeff—and there were no locks on the damn doors?

  “Take a look around and get familiar.” Seth closed the door behind him.

  Rather than argue, she did it. The cabin was rustic. Two bedrooms, living room paneled in rough-hewn wood, one bath, and a decent kitchen with a back door. There was no lock on it, either.

  God help her, they were sitting ducks.

  Seth shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on a wall rack next to several baseball caps. One was red with the BAMA insignia, reminding her of Jeff. She hadn’t known Seth was a fan, too.

  “Why don’t you take a shower and warm up? I’ll scrounge up some clothes for you.”

  Not even a twist-turn lock on the knob, for God’s sake. Or one of those sliding bolts with a chain. Nothing.

  “Julia?” Seth stared at her.

  “Shower. Yes, I’m going.” She walked to the bath. It was small. One window. No lock on its door, either. Good grief, Seth was a trusting soul. He shouldn’t be. He really shouldn’t be, and she was going to have to tell him why.

  God, but she hated it. With every atom in her body, she hated it. She stripped out of her clothes, dumped what was left of her hose in the trash, and got into the shower. The hot water sluicing over her shoulder took some of the cramping out of her arm. She was thankful for that, particularly since she didn’t have her medication with her. But unless God was napping, she shouldn’t need it. She had made it this far without it. No small miracle, that.

  She snatched up the soap and rubbed down her chest, her shoulders and thighs, working up a fresh-smelling lather. During the ride, she had forced herself to calm down and think. Karl would never leave her alone. She had no choice but to accept it. The therapist had said abusers often back off when faced down. Julia had serious doubts about Karl Hyde fitting that profile, but if she could face him down without all of her old fears chewing her up, if she could—just once, damn it—get mad instead of scared, then maybe, just maybe, she would not be paralyzed by fear. Maybe she could force him out of her life.

  She had to try. For herself, for Seth, and for Jeff.

  Karl couldn’t hurt Jeff. He couldn’t hurt either of them. She would never forgive herself, and she would never be able to live with the guilt. Guilt about Uncle Lou already filled her every crevice. She couldn’t hold any more.

  Karl Hyde will never back down and leave you alone, Julia. So what are you going to do? Murder the man?

  Her stomach flipped over. She lifted her face to the shower nozzle, let the water beat against her cheeks, protecting her bruised jaw from a direct hit with her cupped hand. Could she murder Karl?

  After all he had done to her, the answer to that should be simple. And yet the idea of taking a human life—any human life, even his—repulsed her. It violated everything she believed.

  So you’ll let him hurt Jeff and Seth, just like he hurt Uncle Lou.

  Her chest went tight. She suspected, she didn’t know for certain, that Karl had killed her uncle by rigging the brakes on his car. But Uncle Lou had been a fanatic about keeping his car in top condition. He would have noticed any signs of the brakes wearing or becoming sluggish. Karl had to have cut the lines. The police said no, but she had proof that they took care of their own. True, not typically in something as serious as murder. But all it would have taken was one cop who owed Karl a debt. Either way, Karl was capable of killing. She knew he was capable of killing.

  The question is, are you capable of killing him?

  A rap sounded on the bathroom door. “Julia, are you okay?”

  She shook, slinging water off her face. “I’m fine, Seth. Be out in a minute.”

  “I’m putting some clothes right outside the door.”

  “Thanks.” God, how could she be weighing the merits of murdering a man and still sound so normal?

  Twisted. Because of what Karl had done to her, she’d become twisted.

  Resenting that, she rinsed away the soap, toweled off, and then dressed in a pair of jeans three sizes too big and a worn-out black Saints football team T-shirt. At the mirror above the sink, she finger-combed her hair. Seeing the bruise on her jaw infuriated her, and she met her own eyes in the mirror. Sometimes a woman could be pushed too hard and too far.

  “If I have to, yes,” she told her reflection. “To stop him, I’ll kill him.”

  “Julia?” Seth tapped at the door again. “Tea’s ready.”

  “Be right there.” She held her stare into her own eyes in the mirror. She had to tell Seth about Karl, but she didn’t have to tell him now. She couldn’t tell him now. She was already too stressed. She’d trigger a migraine and muscle spasms, and she didn’t have her medication.

  Coward.

  Damn right. Damn right. It takes a sick woman to marry a bastard like Karl Hyde. Sick or pitiful.

  Or protected and innocent of knowing people like Karl exist. Be fair, Julia. You were not sick or pitiful. Just innocent.

  Even if that were true, what woman could pull such filthy skeletons out of her closet and parade them before a man who mattered—whether o
r not he should. Seth already doubted her. She cared for him, and he didn’t yet know she was divorced.

  You don’t trust him to understand? Knowing what he went through with his mother? Ridiculous.

  It wasn’t ridiculous. That was different. He had been a helpless child. She had been a grown woman, supposedly one with a good mind and common sense. Children can’t choose their parents, but she had chosen her husband.

  Julia, he deceived you. Seth will understand deceit.

  What if he didn’t understand? No, she couldn’t tell him now. After she calmed down. Then she’d tell him. When she felt strong enough to handle his reaction, either way.

  Seth put the gun in the middle of the scarred-oak kitchen table, between Julia’s teacup and his coffee mug.

  She saw it, flinched, stiffened, and then sat down, staring at it.

  Seth let her drink half her tea before saying a word. When she had, he spoke softly, knowing the risks he was running in prying, yet determined to take them. “What happened to your face?”

  She lifted her hand and covered the bruise with her fingertips. “He hit me.”

  Seth clenched his fists under the table. “Who?”

  “The guy who took my car.”

  Not the mugger, or the carjacker, but the guy. She knew him, all right. “While you were in the shower, I phoned Matthew. He’s calling back to talk with you in a few minutes.”

  She shifted on her seat, but Seth couldn’t tell if she was relieved or worried. “He’s also contacting the Grace Police Department. I asked why, but he refused to explain. My guess is he’s going to request that they keep an eye on Jeff. Does that conclusion sound reasonable to you?”

  “Yes, it does.” Her cup wobbled. She grasped it with both hands to steady it.

  Definitely all connected. Seth tested the water. “Matthew’s calling back for a physical description of your mugger. Any details you can give him might tie the guy to Benedetto. Maybe he’s a loyalist.”

  She stared down at the table. Her face had been pink from the hot shower, but now it deepened to red. She definitely knew him. Could be professional or personal but, either way, Julia was hiding the truth. And she was intentionally hiding it from him. Why?