All Due Respect (37 page)

“I sent the veep.” His voice dropped a notch. “If this fails, I’m taking personal responsibility. I’ll be with my people.”

“But sir, the Vice President—”

“The truth is, Dr. Holt, I couldn’t live with this.” He paused, then added, “Is your sensor going to work?”

“I wish I could say for certain, but the truth is I don’t know. I never had the funds to field-test the system.”

“I understand. At the moment, I can’t tell you how much I regret slicing the DoD budget to the bone.”

Didn’t they all regret it? “Yes, sir.”

“How is it supposed to work?”

“It’s supposed to determine what type of warhead we’re dealing with and let us alter the in-flight trajectory.”

“I must be confused.”

“Sir?”

“It was my understanding that even with Home Base, any trajectory alteration would detonate the Rogue.”

“The sensor tricks the Rogue into thinking its magnetic energy field hasn’t been altered. It’s the alteration that det onates the Rogue. As long as the Rogue thinks its field is stable, we can change the trajectory.”

“And you can do this without a major power source?”

“I had to, sir. The power source exists, but current arms treaties prohibit us from using it.”

“I see.” The President cleared his throat. “Either way, Dr. Holt, thank you for your personal efforts.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

The dial tone buzzed in Seth’s ear. He passed the phone back to Colonel Kane.

Cracker yelled out. “We’ve got the sensor tap!”

Seth scrambled to a computer, went through the paces, trying to determine the type of warhead. “Julia,” he shouted.

“Right here.” She appeared at his side.

“Run down the target codes.”

She sat down at the nearest computer, and got busy.

Lieutenant Swede began the countdown, “Five minutes until impact.”

Seth needed more time. Not much, just a little more time.

“Four minutes until impact.”

Damn it, where was the data? Where—the firewall. “Cracker, give me the double-firewall-bypass code!”

“You’ll leave the system wide open to hackers.”

“If I don’t get around the son of a bitch, we won’t have any living hackers.”

“2143839 Bravo Zulu 273.”

Seth keyed in the code.

“Two minutes until impact.”

Seth scanned the screen, then double-checked. “No evidence that it’s biological, chemical, or nuclear.”

A collective sigh filled the room.

Julia worked frantically, reprogramming the Rogue’s trajectory, sending it into the cleared shipping lane in the Atlantic. “I got it!”

“The Rogue is eastbound,” Lieutenant Swede announced. “It’s made the turn and is now over the Atlantic.”

War whoops echoed through the command center.

“Mac? Is he all right?” Linda asked Lieutenant Swede.

Swede held up a finger, paused a long second, and then grinned ear to ear. “He’s returning to base, ma’am.”

Linda let out a shuddery sigh and swiped at a tear no one was meant to see.

Everyone looked relieved. Everyone except Julia and Seth. Their gazes met and held.

“Swede?” Seth didn’t look away. “Give me a distance.”

“Sir, eighty-seven kilometers offshore—and less than two minutes until impact.”

Colonel Kane picked up on the tension, stared at Seth. “Is that enough time?”

“It’s going to be close. The Rogue travels at roughly 8.33 kilometers a minute. The coast could take a direct hit within the damage zone.”

The command center went silent. Intensity returned. Tension thickened the air and settled wall to wall like heavy fog.

Lieutenant Swede spoke up. “Thirty seconds until impact.”

Seth swallowed hard, clasped Julia’s hand.

“Twenty seconds.”

His breath catching in his throat, he stared at the screen.

“I love you, Seth,” Julia whispered.

She didn’t look at him, and he didn’t look at her. “I love you, too.” Five years, he’d waited to hear those words from her. Wasn’t Fate wicked to withhold them until now?

“Four seconds.” Swede’s voice wavered. “Three. Two. One. Impact.”

The blip on the screen flashed.

In silence, everyone watched, knowing they were witnessing massive destruction.

Seth cleared his throat. “Swede, distance?”

He looked at Seth, his eyes shiny, and smiled. “One hundred seven kilometers, sir.”

Julia tugged at her right earlobe. Seth tugged back, and she let out a little squeal, then swept him into a hug. “You’re brilliant.”

“I’m relieved.” Seth smiled. “And brilliant.”

“Damn modest, too.” Julia laughed hard and deep. “But I’ll forgive you, this once.”

Seth looped his arms around her waist, smiled down at her. “In that case, I have some news for you.”

“What?”

“We’ve got temporary custody of Jeff.”

Her heart leapt. “We do? How—”

“Matthew arranged it through the staff judge advocate’s office and the same civilian attorneys who worked your restraining order.”

“That’s wonderful news.” She smiled from the heart out, knowing he hadn’t told her earlier in case things didn’t go well.

“We’ll file the petition for adoption as soon as things settle down.”

“After you marry me, right?”

“Right.”

Kane held the red-line phone to his chest and answered a second one. “Benedetto’s out of the picture.”

More giddy laughter and victory shouts flooded the center. But something spiked a warning in Julia. It was then code of honor and ethics, nagging at her again. She softened her voice, so it didn’t carry. “Colonel Kane?” When he looked at her, she went on. “Benedetto’s dead, isn’t he?”

Kane nodded. “Drug overdose.”

“But loyalists don’t do those kinds of drugs.”

“His prescription,” the colonel clarified. “He wiped out a bottleful.”

“The guy’s got everything in the world, and he opts to O. D.” Matthew shook his head. “Well, Julia, I’d say that proves my point. Are you ready to admit it?”

“Admit what?”

His eyes twinkled. “That our side’s got the right stuff.”

Julia looked at Linda, talking via headset to Mac, who

was about to land the F-16. “Two West loyalists don’t have a thing on us.”

“Damn right.” Matthew smiled.

“Damn right.” Seth looped an arm around her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go see our boy.”

Julia fell into step beside him. “About this marriage thing.”

He stopped in the center of the hall and stared at her. “What about it?”

“There’s a condition.”

Seth frowned. “I’ll never hurt you, Julia.”

“That’s a given.” She squeezed his side. “But it’s not my condition.”

“What?”

“I want locks on the windows and doors.” Before he could protest, she added, “It’s not safe, Seth. Anyone could just walk in off the street.”

“Okay. For you and Jeff, I’ll do it. But no locks that require keys from inside the house. I just can’t do that.”

The scars of abuse ran deep for both of them. They would for Jeff, too. But as hard as those challenges had been, Julia conceded, they deserved respect. They had given her, Seth, and Jeff insights into each other that those who had never experienced abuse could never understand. Together, they could heal.

She slid into the Lexus beside Seth. Together, they had healed, enough to take the ultimate risk. To lowe again. Without healing, there could be no self-love much less lowe for another, and there was a lot of love between them. Which proved that living without love had been an insult to life.

She sat back on the seat, watched Seth get in behind the wheel and crank the engine. In searching for Jeff, in watching that screen and envisioning Benedetto and Morse’s penchants for death and destruction—and in daring to risk loving again after the abuse—they had both come, to fully appreciate the value of life.

And they chose to live, giving life and love all due respect.

JEFF’S still having trouble sleeping inside.” Seth cast a worried look across the kitchen table at Julia.

“It’s the combination of darkness and being buried.” She understood completely. “But it’s getting a little chilly to be sleeping outside.”

“We’ve been tiptoeing around him, Julia.” Seth poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table, across from her.

“He’s been in a fragile state.”

“And our tiptoeing makes him think he still is.”

“Good point.” Julia sipped from her cup of tea. “Well, Dr. Seth, what do we do?”

“We need to make Uncle Lou’s spaghetti,” Seth said. “I think it’d do us all good.”

Lips pursed, Julia stared at Seth, reasoned through his suggestion. While she would never know for sure whether or not Karl had caused her uncle’s accident, she knew well the legacy Uncle Lou had left her. Normalcy. The peace, security, and serenity that comes with the common, everyday, average; the comfort, calm, and acceptance of unconditional love. She wanted that for Jeff, and for Seth. Until now, neither of them had known it. She had lived it, and then had lost it for a while. But, together, they could all live it from here on out. “Yeah.” She smiled at Seth. “We need to make Uncle Lou’s spaghetti.”

Ten minutes later, Jeff stood on a chair pulled near the stove, a dishtowel tucked into the neck opening of his shirt to protect it from sauce splatters. Seth stood behind him, guiding his hand, stirring with the big metal spoon. “Would I lie to my best buddy?”

“She bakes the meatballs?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Her uncle Lou was a real Italian, and that’s how he taught her to do it. You gotta respect family and traditions, Jeff. They’re nothing to sneeze at.”

“I don’t think we had any traditions.”

“We didn’t, either,” Seth said, an odd catch in his voice. “But Dr. Julia’s a nut about them. We’ll both have a million of them now.”

“We get her traditions?”

“Sure.” Seth licked at a splatter of sauce clinging to his thumb. “She’s our family.”

Jeff grinned. “They can’t change anything, can they? I mean, we’re married and I’m adopted forever, right?”

“Forever,” Seth promised. “Maybe longer.”

Jeff cocked his head.

“Hey,‘you know how Dr. Julia is. Can you imagine her ever letting you not be adopted?”

“She is a worrywart.” Jeff looked relieved about that.

“Yep, she sure is.”

Julia debated on who had the biggest smile, Jeff or Seth. Or maybe her. Finally, life felt good and right. As perfect as it should be … almost.

She stepped back behind the bar, out of Jeff and Seth’s line of sight from the stove, and then called out, “Stir the sauce, Jeff.”

“I got it,” Jeff yelled, then whispered. “Worrywart.”

Seth’s laughter filled the kitchen.

God, how she loved Seth’s laughter. Filled with hope, Julia smiled, snitched a gumdrop from a candy dish, and popped it into her mouth. She had survived. One breath at a time. Now, she would flourish. They would all flourish. Finally, she had love and laughter in her home, and her son in her kitchen with her husband, carrying on tradition …

stirring Uncle Lou’s sauce.