Could it get any worse? Zach never lost control.
She called upon every seasoned diplomatic skill honed from living in the commune for years. She knew well how to defuse tensions of people from all walks of life confined in small spaces.
Julia rested a light hand on his arm. "Put John down and let's talk."
"Back up, Julia." Muscles flexed under her touch.
"You know I can't do that." Time to set aside her own needs and deal with the mess at hand before Zach irreparably damaged his relationship with his daughter. "You may want to hurt John now—''
"Damn straight," he barked, his chest pumping with primitive rage. His flight suit strained against his back with each labored breath.
"It won't solve anything." What a turnaround. Now she would be the one to halt a scene guaranteed to bring the police. She didn't always manage her own temper, but she knew countless techniques for coping with other people's. Time to put every one of those techniques to work. "The desk clerk will call the cops if you keep this up. Stop. Think."
Traffic growled past in waves while she waited. Tension hummed through the room, more palpable than the gusting from the ancient heater. The air filled with Shelby's sniffles, echoed with ragged breathing, from her, Zach, John.
John's eyes flickered with ill-disguised fear. His baggy clothes hung from his body like multiple sweatshirts and jeans on a hanger. A pulse throbbed in Zach's neck.
She didn't recognize this man, but suspected those who'd followed him into war would.
"Fighting won't solve anything here, Zach. Let's hear what they have to say. You can even shout all you want." Desperation clawed at emotions already raw. "This isn't like you. Please, just put him down."
Zach's fingers flexed, then relaxed as he lowered John. Julia allowed a sigh of relief to shudder through her for one self-indulgent second before she stiffened her shoulders and resolve.
"Okay, everybody listen up. We need ground rules here. No one talks without permission." She pointed to Shelby before shifting her gaze to John. "Everyone gets a chance to be heard." She saved the last for Zach. "And no one gets physical.
Understand?"
A car swooshed by in the disgruntled silence.
"Good." Julia nodded. "I'll take that as a yes."
The teen backed, flicking a strand of hair from his face. "Sir, I know it looks bad, but nothing happened."
Zach loomed forward a step. "Can't you come up with something better than that?"
"Zach," she warned, her arm shooting between them. It sounded like a stretch to her too, but no need to toss gasoline on the fire. "They do have some clothes on. We probably arrived just in time."
What would have happened if she hadn't insisted on searching with him? Horror nipped at her. She saw one last chance to help Zach and his daughters, a way to heal the rifts in their family. "Shelby? What's going on, hon?"
"John's telling the truth. We didn't do anything." The silver stud in her brow winked above a defiant glare. "But I wanted to. He's the one who stopped."
Zach's brows slammed down into an even darker scowl.
Whoosh. Direct hit of kerosene on those embers.
"Okay, Shelby, you win." Julia charged past Zach into the hotel room, forcing the teens to back deeper inside.
Putting distance between them and Zach.
Confusion momentarily replaced defiance on Shelby's pale face. "What?"
"You win." Julia pinned her with a give-no-quarter stare. "You hurt your dad. Isn't that what this is all about? Hurting him?"
Shelby tugged the hem of her overlong jersey, her brown eyes gleaming with a battlefield fervor she'd no doubt inherited from her father. "You're all ganging up on me." She swung an accusing finger toward John. "First him telling me I'm not ready for sex. Now you telling me what I'm thinking too. I'm so tired of everybody deciding my life for me."
Zach stepped further into the room, his eyes hardening as they scanned the rumpled bedspread, then shifted back to Shelby. "Nothing happened?"
John skimmed a finger inside the neck of his sweatshirt. "No, sir."