He rested his cheek on her hair, inhaling the mix of strawberry shampoo, fresh night air and Julia. "I flew today for Patrick so he could be proud of his father, so he could hold onto those hero's medals from a father he would never know."
Zach clutched her to him, his fingers digging deeper into her arms than he intended, but he couldn't make himself be gentle. He couldn't make himself let go when he could feel her slipping away. "Julia, I did it for you."
She lifted her head from his shoulder, her bottom lip quivering. "Oh you big, dense man.
I don't need another dead hero. I need you. Alive."
Searching her eyes, he finally understood the full implications of her anger. She'd made it clear she was furious with him for keeping her out of the equation, but he hadn't thought beyond that.
Her anger and pain were all for him. She wasn't hurt because Lance's memory might have been dishonored. Knowing would have upset her over the past months, but not in any devastating way. Dead was dead as far as Julia was concerned.
She'd been afraid for him, Zach.
And even in her fear she hadn't shied away from that runway as Pam had. It hadn't been a champagne-showered homecoming, but Julia had been there waiting for him.
In a flash of her tear-tinged green eyes, Zach saw everything he and Julia could have had together. He saw everything he'd thrown away.
From his desk, a muffled ringing sounded. From Julia's purse. A phone.
In increments, Zach's world widened beyond the woman in his lap. Julia stood, sweeping her jean skirt back in place.
He grabbed her wrist. The minute she answered that phone, he knew the moment and any chance to work through this would be lost. He would lose her. "Let it ring."
She squeezed his hand. "I can't. It could be one of the children."
Damn, where was his mind that he could have forgotten that? Zach adjusted his clothes, zipping his flight suit while Julia grabbed the cell phone from her purse.
"Hello?" She tucked the phone under her chin as she re-tied her skirt. Her face blanched.
Zach's hand paused in straightening his flight scarf.
"We'll start looking." Her hands hurried to tug her sweater down. "Call us on the cell phone if you hear anything."
Julia disconnected. Concern and shock strained her face, launching Zach's every parental instinct on full alert. She touched his chest, just a small comforting gesture that had him ready to bolt out of his skin with uneasiness. Which kid?
"That was Pam. Shelby's missing. She left a note saying she and John have run off together."
Zach spun away, spitting out a curse. His whole damned world was crashing down around his ears at once. "I'll take you home before I head out to find her."
He just prayed he could track Shelby before she threw away her life.
Julia tucked around him in front of the door. "You're never going to get it, are you?"
Impatience pumped through him. "Later, Julia, and I do mean later. Now isn't the time for us to finish this."
"Stop and listen." Tender comforter long gone, Julia jabbed a finger in the middle of his chest. "I'm not the wilting flower type. I don't need you to protect me. I don't want you to shove me behind you when things go—"
Her teeth gritted back a frustrated shout. "Forget it. You're right. This isn't the time.
There may never be enough time to make you understand. We have to look for Shelby.
And I do mean we, Colonel. Now get moving. We have to find your daughter before she proves she's as thickheaded as her father."
* * *
Zach shifted gears on his motorcycle and shot up the asphalt shoulder to avoid the jam-up of rush hour. Julia had insisted the bike would be faster and easier to navigate through traffic, well worth the slight delay it had taken to stop by the house for her to change and for him to fire up the Harley. If—when—they found Shelby, he would decide how to get her home. For now, speed was essential. Time equated miles of distance between him and his child.
Julia's arms locked around him, Zach whipped down another exit ramp, tearing through the parking lot of a cheap hotel, the twentieth in forty-two minutes. He cruised past the small square pool with a tarp stretched over it for winter. A lone umbrella table listed to the side.