All Due Respect

by Vicki Hinze

  The only hope he could latch onto was something she had said at this very cabin. “Victim no more.”

  Determination and conviction could carry a person a long way in accomplishing missions deemed impossible. But those facing those impossible missions usually had undergone extensive training that honed their instinctive reactions. With only a weekend of training under her belt, Julia simply didn’t possess those skills. And she had sustained injuries that imposed physical limitations on her that others confronting these challenges just didn’t possess.

  Would her resolve, determination, and persistence be enough to save her life and Jeff’s?

  The pills made the world a less scary, shitty place; gave him more, control and focus. Anthony stretched out on the sofa in his office, soothed by the smell of the leather and its soft, buttery feel.

  “Mr. Benedetto?” Roger stepped near. “Are you awake?”

  Why couldn’t Roger just leave him alone and let him enjoy a few more moments respite before the pills weren’t numbing him anymore? “Yes.”

  “Your friend from Grayton just phoned. He’s still waiting for the launching sequence.”

  “Why doesn’t he have it?”

  “Dr. Holt hasn’t yet approved it.”

  Anthony lowered his arm from over his eyes. “Tell that bastard to get us operational, or I’ll pluck his heart out.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Tell him we’re out of time.” Sitting up, he shouted. “Do you hear me, Roger? We’re out of time.”

  Knowing that better than Mr. Benedetto, Roger walked to the desk, opened the top drawer, pulled out the prescription bottle, and then returned to the sofa. “I heard you fine, sir.” He shook three pills into his hand. “Your mother asked me to remind you not to forget to take these.”

  Anthony downed the pills without water.

  Uncivilized. Uncouth. Roger put the bottle back in the desk, turned out the light, and closed the office door. Anthony Benedetto’s days were numbered.

  And Daisy Benedetto didn’t seem so wise, not anymore.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lights glowed amber inside the cabin.

  Julia cut the engine and stared through the windshield, searching the windows, hoping for a glimpse of Jeff.

  Nothing.

  Something moved in the darkness. Squinting, she saw Karl, dressed all in black and standing alone in the grass, just in front of the cabin’s front porch. The light at his back silhouetted him; he looked huge. And she felt small. Small and helpless.

  Memories of Destin and the attack, the pain, every threat he had made rushed in on her, carrying all her old fears. She wanted to ease her hand inside her purse, grip the gun, but she couldn’t do it. He would notice her hand being stuffed inside her purse, and only God knew what that could mean to Jeff.

  You have to face him, Julia. You have to back him down.

  She left the car, slid her purse strap over her shoulder, and stopped about twenty feet in front of Karl. The fear was strong. Bitter, and as strong as her resolve.

  Dear God, she didn’t want to kill anyone. She knew how to kill. But to actually do it? To actually, in cold blood, commit murder? No, she didn’t want to commit cold-blooded murder. Not even against Karl.

  When does it end, Seth? Does it ever end?

  When you choose to make it end. You have to decide how much power you give the fear . . .

  “Where’s Jeff?” Her insides shook. She lifted to the balls of her feet, attempting to prepare for anything. Karl always had attacked her from behind, but if pushed and in a pinch . . .

  “He’s in a safe place.” Moonlight caught the metal on Karl’s gun and glinted.

  With him, how could anything or anyone, anywhere, be safe? No way. But obviously he believed what he was saying. She had to reason with him.

  Reason? With Karl Hyde? Don’t be ridiculous, Julia.

  She had to try. For her own peace of mind. If she ended up having to kill him, then she was going to have to live with it. She wanted—no, needed—to know she had explored every possible alternative.

  Fear lumped in her stomach. She pressed the flat of her left arm against it. “Karl, how can you justify kidnapping a child?”

  “Camden suggested it.”

  Once, Julia had believed that. So had Seth, Matthew, and Colonel Kane. Hell, the entire Intel community had believed it. But they had all been victims of Karl’s propaganda, his psychological warfare. And they had all been wrong.

  Camden and Karl were abusers. Their strength came from terrorizing those weaker. Just as Karl didn’t want her dead, Camden didn’t want Jeff dead. He’d have no one left to torment. “You’re lying.”

  “Watch it, sugar.” Karl stepped closer. “I’m about out of patience with you.”

  “Benedetto told you to get Jeff—to get to me.”

  He guffawed, but there was an uneasy flicker in his voice. “Benedetto doesn’t mess with families. You ought to know that. What? Your Intel assholes can get you out of a women’s shelter but now they’re slipping on you?”

  She was on the right track. She felt it down to the marrow of her bones. “Benedetto got you out of jail. He bought you out. That’s messing with families.”

  “That’s reuniting a family. It’s different.”

  So it had been Benedetto himself and not Morse who had brought Karl into this. “No, it’s not different. It’s Benedetto getting desperate.” Seth’s words ran through her mind. Desperate men commit desperate acts. “He’s a terrorist on a power trip, hell-bent on proving he can protect his people. But why are you letting him use you? Don’t you understand that millions of people—including you—could die?” Seth and Jeff and she could also die. Seth, without knowing she loved him. Regret twisted in her stomach, churned, and, not for the first time, she wished she had told him. “Millions will die, Karl. It’ll be your fault.”

  “My fault?” Anger flattened his mouth to a grim slash. He rushed her, grabbed her left arm, got into her face. “Whatever happens is your fault, you ungrateful bitch.” He expelled a sharp breath. “You made the bomb, and you made me what I am.”

  “Oh, no.” She jerked away. “I haven’t done anything to you. You’ve beaten, attacked, stalked, and tormented me. Once, I bought into your lies. I didn’t know any better then, but I do now. No more, Karl. You’re responsible for what you do.”

  He turned toward the light. His eyes brimmed with hatred. “You’re pissing me off, sugar. Maybe you’d just better give me what I came for before I have to remind you why pissing me off’s a bad thing for you to do.”

  Julia stepped back. “You’re getting nothing from me until I get Jeff.”

  He lunged at her, swung at her purse. It thudded to the ground, out of reach. She maneuvered, resisting his weight, blocked with her arm and kicked, connecting with his lower abdomen. Expelling air, Karl flew backward and landed on the ground with a dull “Umph.”

  Julia scrambled to her feet. She had caught him off guard once, but that wouldn’t happen again. Where was her damn purse? She needed her gun.

  You won’t shoot him.

  I will if I have to.

  You won’t.

  Shut the hell up!

  Karl clipped her left shoulder, sent her sprawling. She tried every move—every single move Seth had taught her about attacking a man’s most vulnerable points, and a few of her own. But nothing worked. Karl was too strong. And her purse was too far away.

  He grabbed her by the neck in a chokehold and jerked her to her feet. Her stomach hurt from his punch, her shoulder felt as if someone were driving nails through it. And the top of her head threatened to blow off. Where the hell was Seth?

  Karl dragged her toward the porch. “I want the disks, Julia.”

  “Not until I get Jeff.”

  He flung her to the ground. Grabbed her purse from a weedy clump of dirt and dumped its contents on the ground. “Where are they?”

  “Where’s Jeff?” Come on, Seth. I know you’re out there.
Intercede, for God’s sake—before the bastard kills me.

  But Seth didn’t come. No one came. She prayed hard, and still no one came—except for the ghosts of her old fears. They arrived in force, bombarding her. Terrifying her.

  Dear God, help me. I can’t fight them and him, too. I . . . can’t.

  Run, Julia. Run.

  I can’t leave Jeff!

  He can’t hurt either of you without the disks.

  He couldn’t. Something had gone wrong for Seth. But any delay she could wrangle would give him and the team more time to move in.

  Karl dug through the purse. “A gun, Julia?” He laughed. “This has to be a joke.”

  At the moment, it seemed to be a bad one.

  On his knees in the dirt, rifling through her things, he examined the gun and tucked it into the waistband of his black slacks. “I’m going to ask you one more time, sugar. Then I’m going to beat the hell out of you. Where are the goddamn disks?”

  Julia ran. She ran blindly, skirting the edge of the cabin, heading toward its back.

  A man stepped out, tripped her. She fell spinning, rolled in the sandy dirt, and crashed a hip against the metal trash can.

  A gun fired, and a bullet whizzed past her head.

  “Hey!” a man called out. “What the hell are you doing, Karl?” As he came closer, dry leaves crunched under his shoes. “It’s me.”

  Camden. Dear God, Camden had tripped her. He too wore all black, and, buried in shadows, she’d had no idea he was there until she had heard his voice.

  Karl rounded the corner, his own gun drawn and aimed at her.

  “Hey, this wasn’t in the plan.” Camden’s voice rattled. “You said no one got hurt.”

  “And you believed him?” Good grief. Even Camden couldn’t be that dense.

  “No one got hurt. That is what you said, Karl,” Camden insisted.

  Karl cursed. “Cowards with no guts really piss me off. Especially stupid ones.” He lifted the gun, aimed at Camden, and fired.

  The impact of the bullet drove the man back, against the outer cabin wall. He crumpled to the ground. Dead.

  Dead.

  Julia couldn’t move. Fear paralyzed her. She needed to run, to get away. Good God, Karl had just killed Camden! But she hadn’t seen Jeff—she had to find Jeff—and her damn arms and legs wouldn’t work. Nothing would move. Why wouldn’t anything move?

  Karl sighed. “Benedetto isn’t gonna like this.”

  He wouldn’t. In fact, it could toss him over the proverbial edge and, over the edge, his desperation would manifest in concrete action. Hostile, criminal, deadly, concrete action.

  Something flashed in an arc over her head. It cracked against her skull, and pain exploded from her temple to her nape. Before she could lift a hand, she was out.

  Scrape. Swish. Thump.

  Hearing the sounds, Julia came to and opened her eyes. She was in a metal coffin, about four feet below ground. Karl stood outside the hole, a shovel in his hand. It scraped the sandy dirt, swished as he dropped it over her, and thumped when it hit bottom.

  “You’re burying me alive?” Her heart thudding hard against her chest wall, she shook dirt from her face and felt something strange at her nose.

  “I wouldn’t mess around with that,” Karl said. “It’s oxygen. You’ve got twelve hours’ worth, sugar.”

  He couldn’t do this. She needed Jeff. He needed the disks. She felt for them, but the disks were gone.

  Don’t panic, Julia. You can’t panic. You need to stay calm. To find Jeff and get him out of here.

  “If the info is good, I’ll be back for you. If not, then you’ll die of oxygen deprivation—just like your favorite little student.”

  Every muscle in her body clenched at once. Ice-cold fear crippled her, freezing her where she lay. He’d buried Jeff? The son of a bitch had buried that baby? “Karl, no! Tell me you didn’t. Tell me you haven’t hurt that child.”

  “Buried. Not yet dead, but buried.”

  “You can’t do this!”

  But even as the protest left her mouth, another shovel full of dirt fell over her body, and another. She clutched at the edge of the coffin, tried to pull herself out. She had to find Jeff. God, he had to be terrified. What if he panicked and pulled out the nosepiece to his oxygen? What if he bumped the oxygen bottle and shut it down? What if . . . ?

  Oh, God, she had to get out of here. She struggled to grasp the ledge, but it was slick with sand and moist earth. Her fingers gripped and slid.

  “Stop it!” Karl hit her hand with the back of the shovel.

  Her knuckles stung. She cried out in pain. “Karl, do this to me, but not to Jeff. He’s—he’s just a little boy.”

  “You love him.”

  The implication that she loved Jeff and didn’t love Karl wasn’t lost on her. “Please, Karl. I’ve asked you for few things. Now I’m begging you. Don’t hurt Jeff. Please don’t hurt Jeff. Please!”

  “Too late.” He dropped another shovelful of dirt. This one on her head.

  Shaking off the dirt, her hand still stinging, she dared to again reach for the edge. She had to get to Jeff. Had to save herself so she could save him.

  I’m scared of the dark, Dr. Julia.

  She heard Jeff’s voice inside her head; a conversation they’d had just after his mother had died.

  Bad stuff happens in the dark. People hurt you then. I don’t like the dark. I don’t like hurting.

  Nightmares. She and Jeff both suffered nightmares. Only this nightmare wasn’t a dream. They were both awake. And yet her instincts warned it would be the worst nightmare of all.

  Her fingers still throbbing, she again stretched, struggled to grab hold, and locked onto the edge of the metal coffin. Pulling hard, she sprang to a squat.

  Karl dropped the shovel. “Damn it, Julia.” He clutched at her shoulders, shook her, and then shoved.

  She fell. Cracked her head against the edge of the coffin. Pain shot through her skull. She ignored it and tried harder, fighting him, determined to survive, to get out of here, to get to Jeff.

  One more time, she got her feet under her and scrambled toward the far side of the hole, away from Karl.

  He grabbed her hair, jerked, and she lost her footing. His fist collided with her jaw, and she crumpled, falling back into the coffin, seeing stars. Her head fogged. She shook it, trying to clear it, trying to get rid of the spots dancing before her eyes. They got thicker . . . and thicker. Blind rage infused her. She couldn’t give in, couldn’t give up. Her left arm useless, she curled on her side and shoved herself up.

  Karl kicked the lid.

  She saw it falling, tried to block it with her left arm, but it crashed down over her.

  The lid slammed shut.

  Pitch-black darkness surrounded her.

  He had won. Once again, she was helpless. And hopeless. Once again, she had failed to protect herself from him.

  Resignation, resentment, regret, and self-ridicule spread and seeped through her every cell.

  The dirt spattered atop the coffin, and each pinging sound brought her a step closer to death.

  She’d failed. Again. This time, herself and, God help her, Jeff.

  “I’m so sorry, honey.” Tears filmed her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  You have to decide how much power you give the fear . . .

  Seth was right. She had to choose.

  And she chose to fight.

  She hit the top of the coffin, pummeling it with her fists, crunched and shoved at the lid with her feet. The weight of the dirt was too heavy. She scooted, shifted, and finally turned on her stomach and then tried shoving against the lid with her back.

  It cracked open.

  Dirt poured in. She kept going, hoping it didn’t bury her.

  You might die, Julia.

  She might. But, by God, this time she would die fighting.

  Victim no more.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “We’ve got an in.”

 
Seth turned from dismantling a timing device’s detonator to Colonel Kane. “Where?”

  “West.” Kane held up a finger, then spoke into his lip mike, conversing with the team. “No. Do not approach. Repeat, do not approach.” He shoved the mike away from his lips. “Hyde’s leaving the cabin.”

  Seth swiped at the sweat rolling down the side of his face. “What about Julia and Jeff?”

  “They’re not with him. We’re picking up one heat source in the car—Karl.”

  Matthew walked over. Brittle leaves and twigs crunched under his boots. “Seth, prepare yourself. Paddy’s reported hearing gunfire. Two shots.”

  Julia and Jeff? Seth’s heart slammed into his throat. “Let’s move in.”

  They couldn’t be dead.

  They couldn’t be. Seth’s nerves stretched tight, threatening to snap. Never before on a mission had he hung on to control by such a thin sliver. But never before had Julia and Jeff been involved.

  Julia. The woman he had silently loved for five years. The woman he had only kissed and never had made love with, or slept next to, or had Christmas dinner with. He’d never even brought her flowers or told her he loved her. No. No, she couldn’t be dead. She couldn’t.

  And Jeff. He had promised to help Jeff, the kid mentally tortured, emotionally and physically abused, who dared to love, knowing the costs. Who loved through the fear. He loved Seth, damn it. No, Jeff couldn’t be dead.

  They couldn’t be dead. He’d lost his mother, paid for it all his life. He couldn’t lose Julia and Jeff, too. Not them, too.

  “Colonel Kane,” one of the team shouted out. “Over here, sir.”

  Seth sprinted across the front of the cabin toward the voice. He had heard that specific pitch before, recognized it, but never before had he hated it as much as now. It signaled his worst fear being realized. A body had been found.

  Kane squatted low to the ground. Above his head, Seth saw blood splatters on the side of the cabin and stopped cold. Seeing the blood had seemingly rooted his feet to the ground.