Hulk Peter David (best motivational novels txt) 📖

In the end, though, did it really matter? Whichever way the information train was running, both her father and her former boyfriend were riding in the same car.

“You’ve been spying on me. Of course.” By this point in her life, she had no idea why she was even surprised.

“Betty, listen,” Ross said, obviously not paying the least bit of attention to Betty’s visible unhappiness about the situation. Well, that was pretty typical of him, wasn’t it? Steamroll right over her concerns. Betty put the menu down and started glancing around quite plainly, looking for the exit, and then her father reached over and put a hand on her forearm. She couldn’t tell if he was doing it out of paternal feeling, or because he wanted to make damned sure she stayed where she was.

“We’ve turned up some surprising things,” Ross told her. “This Krenzler you work with, you know who he really is? How much do you actually know about him?”

The question caught Betty completely off guard, but she made sure not to show it. His words were alarming, though. If there was one thing her father had, it was access to all manner of top-secret information. It wasn’t as if Ross were saying that Bruce wasn’t good enough for her, or why couldn’t Betty be dating an army man. His phrasing couldn’t have been more clear: He’d learned something about Bruce, something that concerned him to such a degree that he’d felt the need to contact Betty and talk to her directly, one-on-one. That alone was sufficient to underscore the seriousness of whatever it was.

Or perhaps there was something else at work here. Ross was, after all, still working closely with Talbot. As ludicrous as it sounded, this might be some sort of team effort to kill whatever interest she might have in Bruce and steer her back to someone of whom her father approved.

Cautiously, she said, “I think the question is: What is it that you know about him?”

Ross leaned back and cleared his throat. “Well, right now, I’m not at liberty to—”

She should have known. She really should have known. Tossing out some all-purpose, vague aspersions—just how stupid did her father think she was? Overlapping his words, she said, “Not at liberty to disclose that to me. Right.” She was filled with disgust for him and anger for herself, because she had been sucker enough to let herself be pulled in. How easily duped had they believed her to be? And how dumb had she been to go along with it this far? “You know, I was really hoping, hoping that this time you honestly wanted to see me again to—”

Ross started to respond, but Betty didn’t wait. Instead she pushed her chair back. “Why do I bother?”

“You’ve got this all wrong, Betty,” Ross said.

She had to give him credit. He was maintaining the facade of the concerned father for far longer than she’d thought he would. With one eyebrow cocked, she asked, “Do I?”

“Yes. I did want to see you. I’m genuinely concerned for you,” said Ross.

For a heartbeat, she hesitated. There was something in his voice, something in the way he was looking at her . . .

Then the medals on his jacket flashed at her, as if going out of their way to remind her who he was, and who she was. Science and the military had been at odds with each other for ages, and this was simply the latest skirmish in that ongoing battle. It was the oldest strategy in the world: divide and conquer. Either Talbot had been feeding her father lies about Bruce to serve his own purposes—and she could just guess what those were—or her father had some other priorities in mind involving her, or Bruce, or the project, or . . . or who knew what?

It bothered the hell out of her that she couldn’t trust her own father, but that was the simple, hard truth of it. And whose fault was that? No. No, she wasn’t going to feel guilty about it. She simply wasn’t.

She got up to leave just as the waiter returned to take their order.

“I wish I could believe you,” said Betty, trying to mask the sadness in her eyes, and then she turned on her heel and left without looking back.

She retrieved her car, drove as fast as she could until she was clear of the base, and then pulled over to the side of the road, turned off the headlights, and started to sob. She hated feeling the way she did. Here she’d dared to hope that her encounter with her father would lead to something positive. Perhaps the start of a whole second life to their relationship. Instead all that had been stirred up, like flakes in a snow globe, was paranoia and resentment.

And yet . . .

And yet . . .

Her father’s words nagged at her. What if—what if he hadn’t just been trying to drive a wedge of distrust between her and Bruce, for whatever reason? What if he was actually trying to help her, and her own suspiciousness was precluding his attempt?

She stared at her own cell phone, as if it were something that was out to catch her or trick her somehow. Then, ever so reluctantly, she picked it up and dialed Bruce’s phone number at the lab. It never occurred to her that he would be anywhere else. She could envision him there, working until all hours. After all, he had something brand-new to explore: himself.

The phone rang several times and then his machine kicked in. “Please leave a message” was all it said in Bruce’s clipped tone.

For a heartbeat she considered just hanging up without leaving a message, but her father’s words preyed on her mind.

“Bruce, you there?” she asked, hoping that perhaps he was monitoring the call. No response. His answering machine was voice responsive, and if she stopped talking, it would shut off, so she took a deep breath and continued.

“I saw my