Point of No Return Read online

  He nodded.

  “Ramsey and Saunders aren’t saying anything to DoD because they’re involved in another investigation?”

  He nodded.

  “You want me to get a read on them during the family visits.” She paused and gathered iron-clad control on her emotions. “I’ll do the same with the brother in Tennessee.” She didn’t dare say his name. “See why he’s hiding.”

  “Good idea.”

  Honey settled back in the chair and patted a stray strand of hair into place.

  Moore reached beside him and lifted an aluminum briefcase to the desk. “Now that we’ve gotten the official BS out of the way . . .” He opened it, revealing an iPad and laptop with two burn phones nestled inside. “All info you’ll need is here.” He removed the laptop and iPad and powered them on.

  “The usual security setup?” she said.

  “Yes.” He pushed the devices across his desk.

  Honey pressed a key. “Password?”

  He handed her a three-by-five card. On it he’d written the address of her Cairo apartment. “You can change it, of course.”

  Silently she stroked the keys. He sighed and powered on his own computer.

  “New password set at 10:52,” she said.

  “10:52 new password time logged to security,” he said.

  “What do I have on here?” Honey asked.

  “All of Global’s past and present employees. Contracts, areas of operation, jobs, as complete as we can be.”

  Honey rubbed her temple. “This is a lot to get through by Tuesday.”

  “I’ll come by your place and we can go over it—”

  “No!” It came out sharper than she intended. “Thank you. I want to go over these with fresh eyes. I don’t want your views contaminating my thoughts.” She didn’t want him in her home and she didn’t want him anywhere near her while she sorted out how Jack fit into this and how their relationship affected her investigation. They had a simple arrangement. In their line of work, relationships were hard to maintain and relatively short. Workplace hookups were doomed the moment they began. Dating civilians required lying about your job, where you were when away, even making up fictional families. It created emotional remoteness that killed relationships. Not to mention how worrying about slipping up in the throes of sex or the disorientation of the afterglow could take the fun out of things. She and Jack knew what the other did from the get-go. In the time they carved out to be together, there were no questions. No talk of the past or the future. Only a free, heady feeling of living in the moment, enjoying each other and uncomplicated sex. She learned more in the few lines of his bio than she’d ever known. Now, knowing so little about him and how he would react to her involvement deeply complicated their simple arrangement.

  She took a pastry, examining it a long time, and placed it on a napkin. “Does Bristol have my information? Know what I look like?”

  “Your packet will be emailed this afternoon. No photo, name listed as Major H. K. Thornton, no gender. I doubt he will even open it on a Friday afternoon. It’s a stretch but—”

  “No.” She shook her head slowly. “I agree. Long weekend. He may not even be there today. What about notifying the brother in Tennessee? I don’t want to surprise a spook.”

  “I’ll get a message to the family he should expect a visit from an investigator.”

  “Then I’ve been assigned to the investigation team?”

  “Final names will come out next week.”

  Moore was a talented liar but not talented enough to get it past her. He knew who would be assigned. “I see.” She used her warm, sweet, Southern debutant voice, giving him a smile that was anything but warm and sweet. Honey closed the laptop. “What’s the iPad for?”

  “The review and report forms for Global. You used one before?”

  “Yes.” She swallowed a snarky remark and powered on the device. “The password is the same as the laptop?” He nodded. When it glowed to life she changed the password, put it in the case next to the laptop and reset the lock code. She stood, gathering up her jacket. “Anything else?” She retrieved her uniform from the chair.

  “Yes.” He came around the desk and she allowed him to help her into the jacket. “Keep that temper of yours in check. I don’t want you reaching out and touching anyone and blowing this.”

  She dipped her head, brushed her sleeves and tugged on the jacket hem until she was sure her uniform was perfect. Her eyes remained downcast for a long moment. She locked her gaze on his face. “I have no intention of blowing it, sir,” she said quietly.

  “Honey.” He stepped closer. She stiffened and shook her head. He stopped.

  “General Moore, whatever your reason for giving me this detail, I truly appreciate the opportunity. Be very clear. That. Is. As. Far. As. It. Goes.”

  He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. She left without another word or looking back.

  Chapter 4

  Jack O’Brien stood in his niece’s room. The seven-year-old slept curled around her favorite stuffed toy, Blue Bear. The princess night light provided enough glow for him to note changes she’d made since the last time he’d visited. More books, a new drafting table, with her tiny martial arts uniform draped over it, and were those . . . He walked to the table and picked up tiny pink boxing gloves.

  “Don’t wake her,” his mother, Clare, whispered from the doorway. He held up an arm and nodded. He didn’t want to wake the child. Each time Ali saw him her eyes sparked for an instant then grew sad, realizing he wasn’t her father. It damn near broke his heart to see her like that. He’d let his hair go long and grown a beard so the child wouldn’t see her father in him. His mother sighed deeply and he listened to her soft footfalls grow fainter in the hall and finally go down the stairs.

  He crouched beside the bed and moved back the dark curls resting on Ali’s forehead and took in her sweet little-girl scent. She stirred and rolled to her back. He held his breath and didn’t dare move. She rubbed one eye and squinted at him with the other. “Daddy?” Her voice delivered a bolt of hurt.

  “No, it’s not Daddy.” His body heaved with a sigh. “It’s Uncle.” Why hadn’t he left well enough alone?

  From her spot at the end of the bed, Ali’s rottweiler, Sasha, lifted her head and gave a disapproving snort. Ali stretched out her arms and wiggled her fingers. Her way of asking for hugs. He leaned, gathered her up and sat on the bed holding her in his lap. She snuggled against his chest. Her little fingers rose to his beard, danced there for a moment, then dropped to her lap. Sasha crawled nearer, touching her massive head to his thigh.

  “Uncle,” she said through a yawn, “you smell like my daddy.”

  He said nothing as he gently rocked her, fighting back hot tears.

  “I miss Mommy and Daddy,” she said through a yawn.

  He rested his lips on the top of her head and whispered, “I miss them too, Peanut. I miss them too.” How had this tiny creature captured his heart by simply being? The moment Lee thrust the dimpled, smiling infant into his arms he was hooked. Now, she was his. He was her guardian, to forever protect. It was his responsibility to see she was happy and became . . . became what she wanted to be. Jack rocked her until her breathing told him she was asleep again. He tucked her and Blue Bear in under the pink coverlet, kissed the tip of a finger and touched it to her cheek. “Love you, baby girl.”

  The big dog sighed, resuming her guard position, and Jack scratched her behind an ear. “Take care of her.”

  Sasha snorted as if saying, “Back at ya.”

  Jack retreated into the hall, leaned against the wall and took out his cell to once again listen to his brother’s last message.

  “Hey, man,” his brother’s voice filled his head. “Ali can’t wait to see you. She has some new tae kwon do moves she wants to show you.”

  “After four lessons she thinks she’s an expert,” Becca said in the background. “Better be ready to be taken down.”

  Lee laughed. “
Later, bro.”

  Later they were dead. A home invasion gone bad. Bullshit, they’d been slaughtered. If his plane hadn’t been late he would have been there. If his mother hadn’t taken Ali and the monster dog for the afternoon. If she hadn’t been delayed in bringing Ali home by a washing machine delivery . . . Jack rubbed his forehead then raked his hands through his long hair. A lot of fucking ifs.

  At first he thought he was the target, that they’d mistaken Lee for him. Becca was collateral damage. Then he learned the daughters of two military officers were taken. The officers had a connection to a company Becca was set to review. There are no coincidences. He called in favors and obtained the use of a satellite a few hours a day to search for proof in an off-the-books investigation. With abso-fucking-lutely no results.

  He blew out a long breath and headed downstairs to spend some quality mom-and-son time. In the kitchen over coffee he got the inevitable be careful lecture and gave it back, cautioning her to be extra vigilant. Clare O’Brien was an old hand at being careful. Her brother was a career agent. She was widow to one. Married thirty years. A rarity in the business. Mother to two sons who followed their father’s career path. She often said she was an agent by default. Ali was safe with her, but still he worried.

  He kissed his mom good-bye, drove Becca’s Passat to his storage unit and parked it inside. The unit was his safety net. He kept weapons there, Canadian, UK, French, and Turkish passports. Ten thousand in U.S. dollars. An equal amount in euros and the Hong Kong dollar. The unit wasn’t far from Dulles and a quick getaway. Tonight, getting to the airport was a problem. He didn’t even try to get a cab to come out here at four in the morning. Even if one did come, a good look at his long hair, beard, and work clothes and they’d be gone. He lifted his pack and began the hike to the airport. Twenty minutes later, he was proven wrong. A cruising cab stopped and asked him if he wanted a ride. Sometimes the world managed to amaze him. He climbed in, and after twenty minutes of listening to the driver complain about his wife, he was at the USAir curbside check-in. The inside counter wasn’t open yet and he waited another fifteen minutes for the guy to show. Jack gave him a twenty to boot up the system early.

  Jack pulled his ball cap low, keeping his face concealed from airport cameras, eyes sweeping the area looking for unknowns on his leisurely stroll to the men’s room. He was the only occupant and took time to improve his image. A red Nationals cap and sports jacket took the edge off the jeans and work boots. With his beard combed and reasonably tamed and his hair in a ponytail he looked like a rough tradesman and good enough to avoid a cavity search. At least he wouldn’t send little kids screaming and pregnant women into labor. He cleared through TSA, dropped into an uncomfortable seat, retied his boots, then slid to a slouch, stretching out his legs and hoping to catch some sleep while waiting to board. Within seconds a man sat next to him and opened a newspaper. Four hundred fucking empty seats and the guy had to sit next to him. Jack’s gaze tracked from white running shoes to khaki pants to an orange Hawaiian print shirt so bright it could probably be seen from orbit, and a boonie hat pulled low on his head.

  “Morning, Jack,” the familiar gravelly voice said.

  Neuberger. The agent glanced at him casually. Jack stayed slumped in the seat. “What do you want?” he said, irritated the man had approached him in a place with cameras and dressed the way he was.

  Neuberger tilted in his direction. “Nice to see you too.” He paused and straightened, still looking ahead through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the graying dawn. “If that is you under all that fur.”

  “How did you know I’d be here?” He’d used an alternate identity.

  “Come on, Jack. You get all those gizmos to dig around”—he glanced up—“and in return, you get to be surveilled.”

  Yes, he knew only too well his comings and goings were monitored and the NSA satellite access he used was in turn used to keep tabs on him. He ran a hand over his beard. “I repeat, what do you want, Alan?”

  “I came in peace, as a friend.” He raised a hand with fingers parted between the middle and ring finger in a Vulcan salute. “I don’t want a thing except for you to live long and prosper.” He picked up a black nylon backpack from the seat next to him and placed it on the floor between them. “Lee and Becca’s notes. Becca’s personal info and as much as I could get on her duty reports for the last three years.”

  The alphabet agencies had taken everything when they swept the home. Weeks ago, he’d asked Neuberger’s help in getting personal items returned. He knew computer files were lost forever. He wanted their papers. His brother had a phenomenal memory and rarely wrote anything down. Becca, on the other hand, was an obsessive note maker. He was sure he’d find some link, some connection there. “Thanks.” He didn’t know how Neuberger had pulled it off and he didn’t care. He sat up and maneuvered the bag under his seat, feeling suddenly energized.

  “There are rumors you’ve overstepped your bounds,” Neuberger said. “Questions are being asked.”

  O’Brien swiveled his head side to side, looking around for other passengers. There was only one man, rows away. “They dropped the ball on this. If they hadn’t, I wouldn’t be forced into doing this myself.” His temper built. “Or are they afraid I’ll show them up?”

  “When you left the agency you pissed some people off and scared others,” Neuberger said in an even tone.

  O’Brien crossed his arms and leaned back in the seat. He didn’t care how many people he pissed off, he would find who did this with or without their help.

  “Man, some shitty things have happened to you that shoved you off track. It’s time to quit the fucking mercenary and wild-man-of-the-hills act and get back where you belong. Langley. Let us help you.”

  He would love to be able to trust Neuberger and the agency. He knew not to trust anyone. They all lied or told a version of the truth they felt necessary. “For all I know this was Langley’s work. A botched job to take me out because, as you put it, they’re worried about who I work for.”

  Neuberger sighed. “It wasn’t us. It wasn’t MTAC. I hope you find something in those notes. None of us could.”

  Jack didn’t look at the agent. He cracked his knuckles and briefly wondered how the man had gotten into the passengers-only area with a bag.

  “DoD is sending someone to question you.”

  “Yeah. I know. I was notified.”

  Neuberger’s eyebrows came together to form a unibrow. “Notified?”

  “Nothing big. Reached out through my mom. Asked to meet. See if I remember anything before they close the file on Becca. Told them the cabin. Figured if they weren’t serious, they wouldn’t show. I can handle some DoD pencil pusher.”

  “Not a pencil pusher. A seasoned intelligence officer, who’ll be speaking with Ramsey and Saunders too. Someone may be on to what you’re doing.”

  “I said, I’ll handle it.”

  Neuberger stood. “Clean up, Jack. Come back where you should be and stop putting your friends’ jobs in jeopardy by helping you.”

  Jack glared up at him.

  “One other thing. The intelligence officer is a woman. A Marine Major H. K. Thornton.” He nudged the bag with his shoe. “Watch yourself. She’s more than she seems. Could be a honey trap.” Neuberger strolled away.

  Geesus. Honey? Jack leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and burying his face in his hands.

  Chapter 5

  Honey gave her name and code to the armed security at the entrance to the gated community where her sister Theresa lived. The man raised the bar blocking the way to exclusive estate homes. It reminded Honey of remote border crossings between third world countries and was just as ineffective. The difference here was if someone crashed the first line of security, they’d be stopped by a second, far more sophisticated setup twenty-five feet up the road. Literally. The gate guard would raise spike strips guaranteed to shred any type of tires. The second heavy metal gate would not open and a security contingent
hidden in a structure to the right would disable the occupants of the vehicle.

  The development’s wealthy, high-profile residents needed and could afford the arsenal of security. Some residents even had small cottages on their ten-acre properties to house live-in personal bodyguards. Her sister had no such setup. They did hire security when necessary. She doubted tonight would be one of those times. When her bossy older sibling insisted she come, she said it would be an informal party. She’d been instructed to arrive in her socialite persona, leaving all things Marine Corps at home.

  It should be an interesting evening. For one thing, Theresa didn’t know the meaning of informal and Honey had a suspicion dear sis was up to something. But she wasn’t going to smack the olive branch out of her hand and tonight she would be on her best behavior. She’d spent an admittedly relaxing day at the spa getting a full treatment. Hair, facial, mani-pedi. Tonight, going with informal, her hair was down, and even with the trim it fell past her shoulders. She dressed simply. Black slub-neck blouse, skinny pants and little heels with pointy toes. Turquoise jewelry. She parked the roadster in the driveway and sat a moment staring at the huge three-story mansion her sister shared with a world-renowned philanthropist doctor and their daughter.

  Every window was illuminated. Plantation shutters on windows facing the street blocked the goings-on to the prying eyes of neighbors. But then, residents of this neighborhood were too polite to pry. Honey released the steering wheel and took a deep breath. She and her sister had never been particularly close; different mothers and the twelve-year age difference put them at a disadvantage from the beginning. Big sis’s constant meddling in her life had finished them off. Honey stepped out of the car. It would take more than a party to mend bridges between them. But they had to start someplace, and truth be told she was looking forward to the evening.

  Honey was five steps from her car when a man came from the shadows. “Stop,” he ordered, blocking her advance. “You can’t park there.” Dressed in a dark suit, he definitely wasn’t a parking valet. Definitely security.