Point of No Return

by Rita Henuber

  “Your turn. Tell me about your dad.” He deftly slid the eggs from the pan onto the bread and started the cooking process again.

  “I’ve already told you. I was a handful.”

  “School?”

  For some reason she didn’t want to tell him again what a brat she’d been. How teachers hated her, with good reason. She preferred her father’s version of history to books used in classes. Drove teachers bonkers when she pointed out a book’s inaccuracies. Drove her bonkers when teachers droned on about faraway exciting places she’d visited, reducing them to dull words on a page. “I was a troublemaker in grade school. Main problem was my short fuse.”

  “For instance?”

  “When one of my so-called educators talked down a culture I admired, I went ballistic. Never did find out how much it cost Daddy to keep me in that”—she used air quotes—“exclusive school. Or where the teacher transferred to at the end of semester. Daddy finally convinced me losing my temper and throwing a bitch fit wouldn’t solve a problem. Find the source of the problem and work from there. A long, slooow, tedious process.”

  “That how it works in the military?”

  “Yeah, sure, only much slower and much more tedious.”

  He slid the next eggs on the bread. “The military treat you okay?”

  “You mean as a smart-ass with a short fuse or as a woman?” She knew what he was asking and answering was difficult. She’d dealt with harassment, groping, an attempted rape and . . . Moore. Overall, her experience wasn’t the norm. Her financial circumstances set her apart from the women she served with. She had no fear of being out of a job. Not being able to provide for her family if she reported a man for inappropriate behavior. She couldn’t be intimidated. Didn’t need to kiss ass. If push came to shove, she could walk away.

  “Both.”

  “I’ve had some problems. I don’t let what assholes do mess with my head. My rank and rep keep me out of the fray.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You have a rep?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Um. Don’t mess with me or mine. I will cut you and then I will destroy you.”

  He considered her. “You’re serious.”

  “Damn skippy.”

  • • •

  They took their food and beers to the porch, firing questions back and forth and watching a peach-colored Tennessee sunset turn to inky blackness, followed by a luminosity only stars on a moonless night can provide.

  “Brothers? Sisters?” Jack asked.

  “One sister, twelve years older, different mothers.” When talking about her family she found brevity best. No complaining to avoid the poor little rich girl syndrome. “No close relationship. Theresa doesn’t like me. Thinks I’m an embarrassment in every way. Since I can remember, she’s tried to change me. We’re family, so I’m tolerated. My niece, Kara, is what keeps me going back for more punishment.” After a pause she asked, “What does Ali draw?”

  “Paints. Watercolors. She calls it Impression style.”

  She almost said she wanted to meet Ali. She didn’t want to appear pushy. “Is she serious about the tae kwon do?”

  “Serious as a heart attack. She made me help her practice the getaway-from-your-captor moves until my arms hurt.”

  Maybe it was the solemnity of Jack’s expression, or the image of a tiny girl practicing escape moves on him, whatever it was, she laughed.

  “You laugh now. Wait till you meet her and she wears you out.”

  “I’d like that,” she said, pleased he’d suggested it.

  “Dark here in the middle of nowhere when there’s no moon,” Jack said as they listened to night sounds filling the still air.

  She drew her knees up and hugged her legs. “I don’t mind. I like the dark. It’s comforting.” She didn’t look at Jack but could feel him staring. “I love nights in the sandbox in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, sleeping beside a Hummer or against a compound wall in complete darkness. Seeing the blackness morph into a purple dawn made hazy with dust raised by boots is restorative.” Geesus, what was wrong with her? “Sorry, TMI.”

  “Nah.” He stood and offered her a hand. “Time to get back to work.”

  Work they did, for three hours that felt like thirty, reading boring impressions of events that had her eyes feeling like they were bleeding. The only entertainment of the evening was Ramsey’s note about a boot lieutenant wanting to discipline one of his troops for being bitten by a desert rattlesnake after being ordered to stop playing with the snake. He accused the corporal of disobeying an order to be bitten and get out of work. God save the military from boot lieutenants.

  “Getting chilly in here.” Jack closed the door and went to the fireplace. “My eyes can’t take any more. Time to quit.” He made his way around the room putting out the oil lamps.

  “How can sitting and hardly moving make me as stiff and sore as rolling in the dirt with three men?” She stretched. “What I wouldn’t give for a hot tub.”

  “Come here.” He plopped down on the sofa and motioned for her to sit on the floor in front of him. He held up his arms and wiggled his fingers. “No hot tub, will magic fingers do?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She detoured to the cupboard for the Jameson and glasses then dropped to the floor in front of him. They quietly sipped the whiskey, watching the flames build and listening to the dry wood pop and sputter.

  “I’m ready for those magic fingers.”

  “Shirt off.”

  “Your wish is my command.” She peeled the shirt away without hesitation then settled back, pressed between his legs. “Rub,” Honey said, tapping her fingers on a shoulder. “Put those magic fingers to work.”

  She let out a long sigh and sipped the whiskey as he started on her neck and moved to her shoulders. “You know I’m going to owe you for this.” Her head lolled back into his crotch. “Can we work out a payment plan?”

  “I’m sure something can be arranged.” As his fingers worked her flesh he thought what a different man he was with her. How he’d changed since they met. Normally, after rubbing her body and listening to her breathy porn flick umms and ahhs he would have her naked, pounding into her. Not that he wouldn’t mind that, but in this moment he was content to run his hands over her, take in her scent that never seemed to change no matter what soap or shampoo she used. Enjoy the smoky taste of the liquor and sounds of the fire. He slid to the floor and stretched his legs beside hers. Moved his hands around to her belly.

  He kissed her shoulder. “Thank you for, for, helping, sharing the notes.”

  She sighed deeply.

  “Sorry. You want me to keep rubbing.”

  She gripped his hands, preventing them from moving and snuggled against his chest. “I can only stay another day, night.”

  He nodded. He’d been prepared for her to leave tomorrow. They weren’t having any success with the notes. She’d have to go back, deal with Global and Moore’s line of shit. Another full day and night with her. He wasn’t going to complain.

  She leaned back, put her hand to the back of his neck and pulled his head to her.

  “Tonight, your bed?”

  He put his lips to her ear. “Anything you want,” he said and enjoyed the shiver rippling across her skin.

  She made a mewing sound and her breaths came quicker as he teased her nipples. Her back pressed against his erection and he worked his hand between her legs. Gawd, she was already wet for him. She spread her legs and arched her pelvis into his hand. “I want to strip those jeans off you, spread your legs and kiss and suck until you come.”

  He pulled the scrunchie off her braid, freeing her hair and its soft fragrance, then demonstrated the sucking technique on her neck. Her breath caught, she twisted in his arms and trapped him in her gaze. He’d never seen her eyes this dark blue. Maybe it was the combination of firelight, desire, and need. Or uncertainty. They were at a relationship crossroads, and taking the wrong turn . . . fuck. There was no wrong turn for him. He wanted her. Not just the balls turning
blue want. He wanted to be with her. See her smile. Touch her. Talk to her. And if she didn’t feel the same . . .

  “Jack.” When she said his name in that soft, lust-filled voice it rocked his world. “I’m ready.”

  “For?” He knew exactly what. He wanted to hear her say it.

  “For you to fuck me.” The words rolled out in a sexy human purr, turning his semi-hard woody into an oak post. His hands slid up to mold and knead her breasts.

  She kissed him. “Let’s go up now.”

  He nodded and hoped his balls weren’t too blue to keep him from walking.

  He stoked the fire. Honey took the glasses and Jameson and went up the loft steps. He followed and discovered she’d straightened the sheets and comforter, folding them back like a hotel turn-down service would, and she was naked. He went to her, arms out, ready to hold her. She grasped his wrists and shook her head. “You want me to leave you alone?”

  He didn’t understand.

  “I want you to let me take care of you.” She shimmied her hands under his shirt, tugging it up. “You do nothing tonight.”

  “Okay,” he said as she tossed his shirt. Next were his pants. She popped the snap and the zipper whispered open. A yank and the jeans were around his ankles.

  “Step out.”

  He’d left his shoes downstairs. When he lifted his feet, she pushed the heap of denim away and he went for her breasts.

  She pushed his hands away. “I said, you do nothing.”

  She guided him to the bed.

  “I’m in control. Sit. Back against the headboard.”

  He did as ordered. They took turns being in control with the sex. She was every man’s dream. She wasn’t shy about telling him what she liked. And did the same for him, asking to be instructed in what he wanted, liked, and fantasized.

  She adjusted the few pillows he had then stood back. “Comfortable?”

  “Yeah. What . . .”

  “Hold these.” She handed him the glasses of whiskey. “Arms resting to the sides.”

  When he’d assumed the position, she poured in more whiskey, then stood, hands on hips, looking him over. “I am going to begin pleasuring you in every way I know how.”

  His cock heard that and did a happy dance.

  “I’ve fantasized about taking advantage of a man, of you. Of completely controlling every aspect of the sex, and since I’m not into the tying up thing . . . The glasses.” She squeezed a breast and blinked slowly. The tip of her tongue cruised her upper lip. “If you spill one drop of that whiskey, I will go to that uncomfortable sofa, alone. Understood?”

  He looked at the glasses and shit, she’d filled them more than halfway. He’d have to be very still. “Can’t we . . .”

  “No, to whatever you were going to say. It’s my way or I go away.” She paused. “What’s it going to be, big man?” She bent and licked the tip of his cock.

  “Any . . . damn.” He jerked as her lips closed around him. His eyes darted to the glasses, checking for spillage. “Anything you want.” His voice was so hoarse with lust he hardly recognized it.

  She bent and swept her hair down his chest, belly, over his dick and thighs, leaving his skin feeling like he’d received a mild electrical shock. Then she rubbed, her hands feeling like fire. He wanted to pitch the fucking glasses against the wall and grab her. He didn’t doubt she would keep her word, and after this no amount of jerking off would satisfy him. She spread his legs, cradled his balls, fingered the strip of skin just behind his nads, and he watched as she sucked him off.

  She quickly straddled his body, one hand on a breast and the other between her legs, flicking faster and faster. This was crazy. He wanted to be doing that to her. She kept her gaze on his face even when her body arched and jolted with her climax. She collapsed on his chest. “Take the glasses,” he ordered when she recovered.

  “Give it up.” She sat up, her eyes glazed, her body flushed pink. “I’m the one in control and we’ve only just begun.” She swept her hair back. “Unless you want me to stop.”

  He did give it up. He wanted her to keep going and he surrendered. For the next hour, he was in sublime torment while she sucked, nipped, fondled and rode him, finally riding him hard until the earth shook for them both.

  “Take the damn glasses,” he groaned. “I’m too weak to hold them anymore.”

  Honey rolled to a sit and took them. She downed half of one and held the other out to him. He opened and closed his hand until he felt confident of his grip, then took it. Honey had been uncharacteristically quiet. Normally she talked during sex and he loved it. She took another drink.

  “Thank you”—she looked at him over the rim of the glass—“for fulfilling my fantasy.” She put her glass on the trunk that served as a night table and stretched out her body against his. “If you ever need help fulfilling yours,” she said and yawned, “I’m available.”

  “I’ll let you know.” He slipped an arm around her. She’d already fulfilled his fantasy by being with him.

  Chapter 19

  Honey snuggled against Jack, who lay on his back, hands tucked behind his head “Know what I was thinking?” he said.

  Honey sniffed. “You need deodorant?”

  “No, smart-ass.” He propped up on an elbow. “I was thinking about the first time I saw you.” Honey gave him a questioning look. “The moment you swept into that meeting in Istanbul”

  “You were asleep when I came in.”

  “Well, after you woke me up. You were trailing a cloud of dust like that Charlie Brown character and you looked pissed.”

  Honey shifted against him. “I was pissed. A chopper ride, a sandstorm, and that arrogant turd, the acting station chief, lays into me for being late. Like I did it on purpose.”

  “Christ, the way you took him apart was classic.” He rolled to his back and brought her onto his chest. “And you, stalking to the door with him demanding to know where you were going. He sure as hell didn’t expect you to say to get a shower and get laid.”

  She laughed and rested her chin on his chest. “I didn’t expect you to offer help with both.” She traced a finger through his chest hair.

  “Fastest I was ever seduced.”

  She raised up. “Seduced?”

  “Yeah, seduced. You come into the room riding a dust storm, chew out a turd, wearing a worn T-shirt with no bra and tight jeans that made your . . . eh . . . retreat as exciting as your entrance, then offer sex . . . My kind of woman.” He pushed her hair back over her shoulder. “One thing. When you stopped and asked if I was coming, which by the way, in the sexual way, I almost did, did you expect me to follow?”

  She hadn’t, but when she saw him she sure as hell hoped he would. She tugged on his chest hair. “Where’d we spend the next twenty-four hours?” The thought of their first time together was enough to make her wet and she squirmed against the thigh he had pressed between her legs.

  He rolled her to the bed and delivered a deep I want you now kiss. He was hard in seconds.

  She broke the kiss. “Really?” They’d had sex once last night and once this morning.

  “My big head knows better. But . . .” He pressed against her wetness. “that other head needs convincing.”

  She smacked his ass. “Tell Agent Always Hard to cool it.” Their laughter mingled. How easy it was to slip into a feeling so warm and good that it was unsettling. She coiled her arms around him as if he was broken and she was trying to hold him together. She must have made a distressed sound as she buried her face against his shoulder because he tightened his grip too.

  “I know,” he whispered. They were silent for some time. She wondered if he was considering where this was all heading like she was.

  “I should call for an update,” Honey finally broke the silence.

  “Yeah.” He threw off the covers and went to flip the jammer switch. He jumped back onto the bed, bouncing Honey then burrowed under the comforter as she keyed in the number. Before the first ring was completed, Ka
ra answered and Honey put the call on speaker.

  “We thought you’d never call.”

  Kara’s excited tone sent a warm surge of adrenaline through her. She levered up on an elbow. “You found something?”

  “The mother lode,” Coop said in the background, excitement replacing his usual nonchalant tone.

  She and Jack sat up, staring at the phone on the sheets between them. “What?”

  “Can I just say Global is going to have one hell of a going-to-jail sale.”

  “What do you have?”

  “There’s too freaking much here to tell you everything. I need an address to send it.”

  Jack swung his legs over the side of the bed and called out an address while pulling on jeans.

  “Is it secure? ’Cause what I’m sending is . . .”

  Jack nodded on his way down the stairs. “Yes.”

  Honey put the phone down and pulled a shirt over her head. “Somebody tell me what you found.”

  “This site you got me into is primo. A nerd’s wet dream. Black ops, all kinds of people in there. How come we haven’t used this before?”

  Jack shot a look at her. She looked away.

  “Coop . . . tell me.”

  “Hang on,” Santiago said. “This is gonna blow you out of the water.”

  “Jesus, somebody tell me.”

  “To begin with, David Bristol ain’t David Bristol.”

  Honey looked down at Jack, who stared back.

  “I sent the results of the facial recognition search first. You have them?”

  A ping came from the laptop. Jack nodded. Honey snatched her jeans off the floor and went to join him. Together they stared at a split screen. A picture of the same man on each side. The left side from a Virginia driver’s license. The right side, a military ID. There were green iridescent lines crisscrossing the two images, marking similarities. A legend across the bottom proclaimed a 99.9 percent probability the photos were the same man. Jack hit a key and the next screen showed two photos of men taken from military IDs and driver’s licenses. They resembled one another but the recog program declared no match.