Point of No Return

by Rita Henuber

  Chapter 15

  Jack came up the steps on the lake side of the cabin and stopped to examine the door he’d kicked swaying in the evening breeze. He worked it, freeing the remaining hinge, and set the frame on the ground. Inside, he found Honey sitting quietly. Without a word, he stripped away his sweaty shirt, picked up the towel he’d dropped earlier and went to the sink. He worked the pump handle a half dozen times before sticking his head under the water flow. “I thought you’d be gone,” he said, scrubbing a towel over his hair and beard.

  “My job. There are a few questions. If I don’t get answers . . .” She shrugged. “You know how it works. They’ll send someone else.”

  He rubbed his ears and said nothing.

  She stood. “I wanted to get a few things straight, about why I’m here. About us.”

  He said nothing.

  She shook her head and straightened. “I couldn’t leave without apologizing. I didn’t mean to imply you . . . I’m sorry for what you and your family are going through. I meant what I said. I’ve told no one about us.”

  Hell. He hadn’t expected an apology. He’d expected she’d be long gone. And he did know how it worked. If he sent her away, he’d lose his chance to find out what she knew. The thought of her working him and suggesting he had anything to do with Lee’s death made him so freaking mad he couldn’t think straight. Keeping her here was the right move. After he’d showed his ass, she might not stay even if he begged. He gave her a hard look. His bosses had sent women, honey traps, to test him twice before. If she was the honey trap Neuberger warned him about, she’d stay no matter what he said or did. Damn. It was a major mind fuck to think of her like this.

  “I understand you want me out.” She paused, looking at the sofa, then her gaze went outside to a rapidly setting sun. “If you’ll answer a few questions, I’ll be out of here. It’s getting dark fast and that road is funky in the day.”

  In the fading light she looked . . . He turned away and pinched his eyes shut. Now was not the time to think about the past or with his little head. He rubbed the towel slowly across his chest then let it fall. “It does get dark fast and the road is a bitch in the dark. Stay the night. You can have the sofa.”

  “Thank you. If you’re not comfortable with me inside, I can stay in the car.”

  “Sofa’s fine. I’m not that big of an asshole.”

  She gave him a nod and a sad smile that sent a fiery pain into his chest. Crap. He was that big of an asshole. Talking to her like she was a stranger who’d wandered in instead of someone he’d spent hours making love to was not easy. He needed a beer to keep his mouth occupied before he said something else dumb. On the way to the fridge he caught sight of a pot steaming on the stove and lifted the lid. “Huh.” Rice. He clapped the lid back.

  “That rice is ready,” she said. “I put the fish in the fridge.”

  He snagged a beer, swallowed a good third of it, then brought out the iron skillet with the filets. He tossed in a stick of butter, sprinkled seasonings and banged the pan on the stove. He wasn’t much of a cook. What he fixed suited him. He glanced around the cabin. He wasn’t much on keeping the place clean either. He used his forearm to sweep an area clear on the table, then went back to the stove to tend the sizzling fish.

  “Come on and get what you want.” He opened a cabinet and pointed to the blue-green plastic dishes that had been in the cabin since he could remember and stood aside so she could serve herself. And serve herself she did. She took half the rice and fish. He’d never seen a woman eat as much as Honey and make no excuses about it. During one of their meets, she’d ordered two room-service dinners for herself and eaten every bite of both.

  He scraped what was left onto his plate, snagged a couple of beers and went to join her. “Don’t wait for me,” he said, watching her put a forkful of fish in her mouth.

  She briefly closed her eyes and chewed slowly. “This is excellent.”

  He settled in across from her. The last rays of the sun dropping behind the Tennessee hills filled the room, giving her a golden glow. She took on the softness of the woman he knew. He gave in to memories. The crazy places they’d met. Images of her laughing, naked under him, over him, flooded his brain. He thought they’d been good together. Avoiding being sucked in by the past was no easy thing. Jeesus, he had to get on task.

  Like a human TSA scanner, he examined Major H. K. Thornton, intelligence officer, trying to get a read. Her blue eyes were like ice on a car windshield in winter, clear and cold. She was quiet. Expressionless. An unknown. The fact she could hide away the part of her he knew was unsettling. He turned his attention to the food. The rice was perfect, not chewy like his efforts. He didn’t even know she could cook.

  “The rice is good. Thought you said you didn’t know how to use a wood stove.”

  “Thank you.” Her smile reached her icy eyes and for a moment he thought they’d warm. “You said you didn’t need any help unless I was an expert on a wood stove. I’m no expert.”

  “Yeah.” He remembered she was literal. He guzzled the rest of his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. In the last few days he’d learned she was good. Knew how to play the game they were in and was on a promotion fast track. Something he’d half-consciously considered bloomed fully in his brain. Was she using their arrangement as a way to pick his brain and help her promotion along? He didn’t like the idea he was that wrong about her. About them. He watched her tongue swipe a fleck of fish from her upper lip. Fu . . . ck. A shiver ran through him at the memory of the pleasure her tongue and lips had given him. The fork slipped from his fingers, clattering against the plastic plate.

  Honey looked up.

  He was getting aroused. “Fuck.” This time he said it out loud.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” He retrieved his fork. “Forgot something. I’ll get it tomorrow.” He went back to eating.

  “I was hungry,” she said fifteen minutes later, dropping her paper towel napkin on the plate.

  “I remember that as a normal condition for you,” he said. “And before you ask, I don’t have any ice cream.” She loved ice cream. Perhaps getting familiar would draw her out. Shit. She didn’t even smile. He pushed to his feet and snagged his plate, taking it the counter. Honey came to stand beside him.

  “Scrape the plates,” he said before she could ask and moved to put distance between them. “I’ll wash.” He’d left a metal bucket of water on the stove to heat and transferred it to the sink, squeezing in a good amount of detergent.

  Honey brought out the plastic bucket from under the sink. “Scrap in here?”

  He nodded.

  “Can I get the glasses from around the room?”

  He looked around. The place looked like he was a beginning hoarder. “Might as well. The bottles go in the bin on the porch.” He dropped the dishes into the bucket.

  Time for some truth or lies. “When did you find out I was involved in this?” he said as she handed him the glasses.

  “A week ago.”

  Quick and to the point. Truth.

  “What did they tell you about me?”

  “You were up here possibly doing an off-the-books investigation into your brother and sister-in-law’s murder. I received no explanation of how you were accomplishing that.”

  Another truth.

  “What about me? What kind of a file on me did they produce?”

  She stopped, fingers of both hands wrapped around the necks of empties. “It was nothing. Half a page. Your name. Date of birth. No picture. Declared you’d been an operative for an unnamed agency. Now a contractor. There’s probably more info on your driver’s license.”

  His internal lie detector went wonky. Partial truth?

  She took in a long breath. Her chest rose and then fell as she let it and maybe a lie out.

  “I was given your brother’s file first.” She paused. “You look very much alike. I thought it was you who’d died.” Her voice faltered slightly.
/>   Truth with emotion.

  “I had no idea you were a part of this until then. I was able to put together more info about you from Lee’s file.”

  “Such as?” He’d have to get Lee’s folder scrubbed.

  “Son of a career agent.” She went outside and dropped the bottles in the bin and he followed. “There’s barely eleven months’ difference in your ages. It’s reasonable to think you were close in more than age.”

  He sat in one of the wicker chairs and put his feet up on the railing. “We were close.” He tipped the chair back on two legs and clasped his hands behind his head.

  “Jack.” He said nothing. Didn’t even look her way. She sat on the top step. Whatever she was going to say, she changed her mind.

  “It’s nice here. Are you doing the repair work alone?”

  “Not doing any of it. Lee and Becca were. They wanted to fix it and come here as a family.”

  • • •

  Ten minutes of listening to night sounds was all Honey could take and she broke the silence. “I want to help you figure out who is behind this and why.”

  “Sure you do. It’ll score a lot of points. Get a star on your collar a lot faster.”

  That stung but she pushed on. “I get you don’t trust me. I had moments of doubt myself.” She swallowed. This was fucking weird. During their time together the only disagreement they’d had was choosing a wine. “I wasn’t sure where you stood in this.”

  The front legs of O’Brien’s chair clunked and his feet hit with a thud, rattling loose boards.

  “You. Thought. I had a part in killing my family.” He stood.

  “No.” It was close to a yell. She went to her feet. “No.” Much softer this time. “Inside Lee’s file was a photo. You look so much alike. I thought it was you. I thought Lee was you. I thought . . . Damn it.” Her head throbbed. “I thought you were dead. Then I thought you were married. I thought you’d lied about being married.” A tremor worked its way through her as she remembered the moment. “All that fucking training about never trusting . . . took over. It’s ingrained. We have to doubt, be suspicious. Our lives depend on it.”

  “Exactly.”

  She looked into the evening dimness and heaved a sigh. One more try from another angle. “From what I saw on the table you have notes and records from your family. We can help each other. I have—”

  “No.”

  “But I have—”

  “I don’t give a shit what you have. I’m not letting you see anything. You showing up is all too convenient. I don’t trust you.”

  She winced. His words tore at her, causing as much pain and damage as an exploding RPG round. The gray light gave him a sinister look. Geesus. A few minutes ago she thought he was prepared to work together. Now the man was in fight mode. This was all wrong. She’d made a mistake. She wished she hadn’t met him months ago. Wished she’d never been with him. There was no fucking way to prove she wasn’t the bad guy here. If she didn’t leave, right now, he’d keep hammering at her. She rose, said nothing, and pushed past him to go inside and retrieve her weapon and duffel containing the notes, then headed down the steps.

  “Where are you going?” he said as she turned on a flashlight.

  “The outdoor facility.” She stopped and turned the beam on him. “Or do I need to ask permission first?” He said nothing. “Oh. And me, taking this”—she held up the black bag—“is me not trusting you.”

  She did her thing and hustled around the side of the cabin to the car. At the very least she’d hope their prior relationship would bring tolerance and allow sharing of info. At the best, sharing info and a bed. It had been a gamble and she’d lost all around. Nothing left to do but leave. The engine whirred to life and O’Brien came out.

  “What are you doing?” he called. She turned on the lights and put it in reverse. Captured in the headlights, he raised a hand to protect his eyes from the glare of the high beams and came down the rickety stairs.

  She buzzed down the window. “Leaving.” She twisted, looked over the seat and slowly backed the car.

  “Stop.” He came to the driver’s side and leaned slightly. “I wasn’t kidding about the roads being wicked at night. Wait until morning.”

  “Nope.” She tapped the gas and the car eased back. O’Brien grabbed on to the door. She kept her foot on the gas and he walked alongside.

  “It’s dangerous.”

  “I’ll risk it.” What did he care?

  “What are you going to tell them?”

  Now he was getting to the point. Him. She braked. “Tell them? I’ll tell them you were uncooperative and I left.”

  “Okay.” He let go and stood straight. “I apologize.”

  “For?”

  “Whatever you think I did.”

  She stared at his back as he returned to the cabin. “Nice.” She kept backing up.

  O’Brien whirled and charged the car, acting every bit the wild man he looked to be. She positioned the gun in her lap. He slapped the hood with a fist.

  “I said I was sorry. What more do you want?” He came to her window and leaned in, reaching for the keys.

  Honey lifted the H&K enough for him to see it. “Back away. Slow. I won’t hesitate tightening my finger against the trigger. The rounds I use will easily penetrate the door.”

  “You won’t kill me.”

  “No, but I will make you a eunuch.”

  He looked down. The barrel was pointed at the right level and he retreated a step. She flung open the door with enough force to knock him to his butt and hustled out to stand over him, double-handing the gun and pointing it at his left eyeball.

  “Stop pointing that gun at me.”

  “No. Ah. Fuck.” She let out an exasperated breath and lowered the gun. “I’m leaving.” She turned then whirled back. “I may not have the same stake in finding these assholes as you do. It doesn’t make me any less determined to find them.” She kicked his thigh. “You didn’t see what they did to those girls. One of whom died last night. I. Want. Them. I will get them with or without you.” She backed off and let him stand. “You’re so arrogant you think I was sent to this godforsaken place to get naked and have sex with you so you’d tell me all your secrets? Look at me, O’Brien.” She stretched out her arms. “Would the woman you know want to have sex with a rude, creepy, hairy guy that smells like lake, in a cabin with no electricity or indoor plumbing?”

  He beat the dust from his backside and said nothing.

  She shook her head. “I’m here to help and . . .”

  “I know you’re from the government and here to help.”

  “You’re incredible.” What could she say? There was no getting through. This Jack O’Brien she didn’t know and didn’t care to know. “Fuck it. I’ve had it with your weirdo raging asshole routine.” She returned to the car. “Go back to your pity party and whatever it is you’re smoking.”

  She jammed the gear into reverse and floored the gas, doing a 180 and raising a cloud of luminous dust.

  Jack came through the cloud, his hands high, palms out. “Don’t leave tonight.” He came to the side of the car, staying out of door-swing range. “It is dangerous.” He stepped back and shoved his hands into the jeans’ back pockets. Honey put it in drive and moved forward.

  “I’m sorry. I’m an asshole.”

  Honey looked at him. Yes, he was an asshole, a big hairy one. She looked around. The only light came from the cabin, the headlights, and a red glow from the brake lights on the brush beside the road. Crap. She really didn’t want to tackle the road. It would take a good hour to navigate it in this darkness.

  “Stay.”

  The Honda’s engine hummed and moths, drawn to the headlights, filled the air. “Are you going to quit acting like an asshole at least for tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tomorrow, will you answer my questions about your brother?”

  He hesitated. “Yes.”

  She turned off the ignition and lights, gathe
red her bags and without a word went inside. Jack followed but stayed just outside the door.

  “You can take the bed.” He sounded contrite.

  “Sofa’s fine.” She sounded indifferent.

  “Can I come in and get the blankets? Don’t have extra sheets.”

  She nodded.

  He went to the loft, returning with a pillow, quilt and two fleece blankets, dropping them on the sofa.

  “I know it’s early but I’ve had a . . .” She started to say wicked day but didn’t want to aggravate him again. “Long day. Do you mind if I turn in now?”

  “Sure. Get’s cool at night. Need to start a fire.” He crouched at the fireplace and stacked the grate high with wood. “You can wash in the sink. Towels on that chair are clean.” He tipped his head to the stack of clothes. “Use what you want. Waters cold. By the time you finish the fire will be going good to warm you.”

  The water wasn’t cold, it was liquid ice. She pumped the frigid water and took her time washing, using a paper towel for a washcloth while the fire gained strength.

  Jack put out the oil lamps. “I’ll take a walk around outside while you change. Once you’re on the sofa I’ll go up.” He went out then stepped back in. “So you know, I sleep with earbuds in. You need me, yell. Loud.”

  Earbuds? Really? He wouldn’t know anyone was coming in until he woke up with a gun in his face. Honey arranged the covers on the sofa, stuck her H&K under the frame, then stripped to her panties and shrugged into a gray cami top. She stood in front of the fire turning, gathering warmth and knowing Jack was watching from the shadows. Sufficiently warmed, she plopped down. The old leather grumbled with her every attempt to burrow under the blankets and get comfortable. The fire’s flickering dance reminded her of the fire in the Nordic hunter’s cabin where she and Jack had spent four days insulated from the world by feet of snow. The northern lights had been almost as spectacular as the sex.

  Jack cleared his throat and the tumblers on the door clacked into place. She yanked the cover over her head and curled into a human comma. Steps and loft boards creaked, shoes thudded. Denim chaffed against flesh and in the ensuing silence she imagined him standing there naked, looking down at her. Imagined the flickering glow of the fire turning his body golden as it had in Norway. A moment later the mattress sighed, sheets and blankets rustled and rasped. A grumpy man sound, then silence. Tomorrow they’d talk and she’d get the hell out of here and his life. The fire sizzled and snapped, lulling her to sleep.