Edge of Honor: An EDGE Security Novel

by Loye, Trish

  Charlie stumbled into the room.

  She glared at whoever had pushed her, then the door closed and locked. She held a brown paper bag in her hands. She turned to him and gasped. “Those assholes. Are you okay?”

  He must look worse than he thought. “I’m fine. What’s in the bag?”

  She opened it. “Two bottles of water and two plastic-wrapped sandwiches. Looks like someone went to the corner store for food.”

  “Is there a receipt or any tags?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing to tell us where we are.” She pulled the sandwiches out. “Roast beef or turkey?”

  “Beef.”

  The light snapped off, plunging the room into darkness.

  Jack reached for Charlie, grabbing her hand, and faced the door. Both waited in silence. A minute ticked by, but nothing else happened.

  “I guess it’s bedtime,” Charlie whispered.

  Jack’s eyes got used to the dark. A slice of light came from under the door, making the room dim but not pitch black.

  “Let’s eat,” he said.

  They sat side by side on the cot and munched on their sandwiches. Even though they were in a hostile situation, he liked the feel of her sitting beside him. It was calming.

  “How was your day, honey?” Charlie asked in a falsetto voice.

  He snorted. “You’re warped, you know that, aye?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve always been a bit off-kilter. But seriously, what happened to you today?”

  “Nothing. They left me alone for hours, only coming back once to check on me. Completely boring.” He left out the beating. What was the point of mentioning that? “And what about you? Did they hurt you?”

  She shook her head and something tight inside him loosened. The muscles in his shoulders relaxed slightly. It had been killing him to be locked in here all day wondering what was happening to her. What they could be doing to her and he was unable to do a damn thing about it. “Tell me about it?”

  She bit her lip and looked down at her half-eaten sandwich.

  His heart lurched and he touched her hand. “It’s okay. Talk to me.”

  “I started to build the bomb,” she said quietly.

  He knew it didn’t say much about him that he was glad she was building it, glad because it kept her safe. At least for a little while. “You have no choice.”

  “But I do,” she said. “How can I doom a city to save us?”

  He slung his arm around her and pulled her close. “We won’t let them use it. We’ll find a way to stop them. But until then, do whatever you need to do to survive.”

  She turned toward him and her hand touched a bruised spot near his eye. “How long did they beat you?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve had worse.”

  She bit her lip, her eyes full of worry. Without thinking about it, he traced her bottom lip with his finger, gently pulling it from between her teeth. He rubbed his thumb along her full lip, heat rushing through him. Her breath hitched and he looked up, connecting with her dark gaze. It mesmerized him, drawing him closer.

  He couldn’t remember why he needed to stay away from this smart, beautiful woman. This woman who seemed to care about him.

  He slid his hand into the dark silk of her hair, strands of it catching on his calloused fingers. “So soft,” he whispered.

  Her mouth parted and it was all the invitation he needed. He cradled the back of her head in one hand, burrowing his fingers into her hair as he kissed her. The touch of her soft, warm lips made his gut clench with desire. She sighed into his mouth and her hands gripped his shoulders, her fingers digging in. He delved further with his tongue, caressing hers, and groaned, trying to hold himself back. He wanted to ravage, to own, to conquer.

  But instead, he pulled himself back from the edge and held his strength in check. He didn’t want to scare her. His lips touched hers softly, though something dark inside him demanded he do more. He refused. He gave a last lick of her lip, capturing her sigh in his mouth, and pulled back an inch.

  Her eyes opened. “Why are you stopping?”

  “Because you’re not yourself. You’re in a—”

  Her lips covered his and her hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him closer. He groaned at the sudden contact with the warmth he’d denied himself. She pulled back and he almost growled. What game was she playing?

  “Don’t baby me,” she said. “I’m a grown woman and I know what I want.”

  His gut clenched at those words. His lust strained to overcome his sanity and he stared into her eyes. Hers widened slightly.

  Yes. I am a beast, and I will have you if you let me.

  As if she’d heard his words, she nodded. “I want you.”

  He surged forward, catching her behind the shoulders, and lowered her back onto the cot. He licked her neck and inhaled, sliding his tongue along her skin at the same time. Vanilla and flowers. She gasped but he ignored it, pausing to nibble on her ear while his hand found the bottom of her shirt, sliding underneath to touch the silken warmth of her skin.

  Her lips beckoned him again. Before he kissed her, he studied her eyes. Wide with desire and not a hint of fear. He smiled and touched his lips to hers, loving the nails she dug into his shoulders as he plundered her mouth. She writhed beneath him as he slid his hand up her flat stomach to her breasts. He grazed his thumb against the underside of one and she arched her back.

  Responsive as hell. He’d known she would be. His dick couldn’t get any harder. He shifted his hand a touch higher, not yet touching her nipple through her bra, and her reaction made him groan. She lifted her hips and ground herself against him.

  This wasn’t going to end until he’d taken her. Hard. And then slow.

  He spread her legs with his and settled between them, feeling like he’d come home. The cot squeaked.

  He blinked.

  What the fuck was he doing? They were in a fucking prison cell, held by a psychopath. Jack wouldn’t put it past the arsehole to have a camera or microphone hidden somewhere they hadn’t found.

  He stilled. It was better to end this before it began. He wasn’t sure if he could control himself if it went much further.

  But oh, how he wanted it to go further.

  He lifted himself up and pulled Charlie’s shirt back into place. She mewled a protest that almost made him say fuck it. But he closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. It wasn’t right. “I won’t have the first time with you be here.”

  Her eyes were wide and focused on him. “But what if—”

  “No,” he said. “We’re going to get out of here.” Or at least she would. He would make sure of it. “We’ll continue this when the arsehole is just a bad memory.” He rolled over so he could see the door. “Now cuddle up to me to stay warm.”

  “Just because you made my brains leak out my ears just now, doesn’t mean you get to order me around.”

  He grinned in the darkness, but kept his voice rough. “Just go to sleep, Sherlock.”

  She huffed, but he felt her slender body align itself along his back. He had to force himself to lie still when all he wanted was to roll over and sink himself in her warm, willing body. Her arm crept over his waist and he flinched when her hand came close to his erection. She tried to withdraw it, but he grabbed her hand and held it, keeping her arm wrapped around him. But a bit higher on his waist than before.

  It was going to be a long night.

  * * *

  Charlie ran her hands through her hair, staring at the metal device in front of her. Her brain was full of calculations, while memories of Jack’s kisses kept flashing in, short-circuiting her thinking. She tugged on her hair, the little bit of pain focusing her thoughts. Jack depended on her.

  God, she hoped they didn’t beat him again today. His face had been puffy with bruises this morning, but he hadn’t seemed to notice. She suspected he was putting on a show for her. She’d seen how he’d winced and favored his one side when he sat up on the cot.

 
If he had broken ribs, how had he been able to support himself over her last night? Her face flushed with heat from the memories of what he’d done and how he’d made her feel.

  She tugged on her hair again. Enough of that. It was time to build a bomb. She surveyed the components in front of her. Somehow, Logan had gotten his hands on everything she needed. He must have been planning this for a while. His mini lab was well stocked with low-resistance wiring, micro-capacitors, magnetic coils, multimeters, and a variety of other supplies.

  The problem with this EMP device was incorporating the micro-circuitry, but Peter’s designs were nothing short of brilliant.

  Fuck. What was she doing admiring the blueprint for a bomb? It didn’t matter how brilliant the science. It was still a device that would kill thousands of people and ruin the lives of countless others, besides ensuring that London would become a dead city.

  She put her head in her hands. And here she was building it to the design’s exact specifications. She frowned. What if she added in her own adjustments? What if she built in a back door or a kill switch that would allow her to override the device from a distance somehow? Or even better, to allow it to seem like it functioned but to actually just put out a pulse of only one kilometer versus hundreds?

  She pulled her pad of paper closer and started jotting notes down. She’d have to adjust the coils and increase the resistance in the wiring to slow the current. The design was brilliant in its efficiency, and she needed to destroy that without letting anyone know what she was doing.

  The door clicked open. Logan stood there, dressed again in dark pants and a white button-down. Who was he trying to impress? She crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

  “How much longer?”

  “At least another day,” she said.

  “You’ve already had a day and a half. You’re not trying to stall, are you?”

  “You’re welcome to take over if you’d like.”

  His lips pressed together as he frowned. “You’ll want to be careful about provoking me. Or your boyfriend might lose a finger just like your dear aunt.”

  She scowled, but refrained from saying anything more. Jack didn’t deserved to be hurt because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

  Logan smiled. “Just as I thought. You care about him.”

  She couldn’t let him think that. They would do worse things to Jack to use him against her. “He’s a human being. I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.”

  “Liar,” he said, and laughed. “I would prove it to you, but I don’t have time this afternoon. I have an appointment.”

  Afternoon. It was afternoon.

  “I will give you until tomorrow evening to finish the weapon. At which point, if it’s not done then I will kill you and your boyfriend and kidnap Dr. Anderson. Even if he has the military searching for him, it will be worth it.” He gave her a shark’s smile. “In other words, you are very much expendable. So don’t fuck with me.”

  He left her alone. Charlie exhaled harshly and her muscles went limp. She had to make this thing work at least enough to convince Logan she’d done the job—and she had to do so by tomorrow night.

  At the end of the day she knew she was close, but she wasn’t finished yet. Logan’s men shoved another brown paper bag of sandwiches at her and threw her back into the cell with Jack.

  He stood tensed and ready for a fight. She smiled weakly and held up the sack. “Hi, honey, I’m home. I brought takeout.”

  “Takeaway,” he said. “We call it takeaway here.”

  She hated that he was here with her, and yet she was also glad. So glad that she wasn’t alone. “Did they beat you again?” She didn’t see any more bruises but it was hard to tell since he was already so battered looking.

  He shook his head. “How’s bomb making going?”

  She wanted to tell him about her plan to neutralize the bomb, but she didn’t in case someone listened. “Same old same old,” she said instead.

  He caught her gaze and nodded, as if he understood all the doubts and fears she couldn’t put into words. “What’s for dinner?”

  She opened the bag. “Turkey and beef again.” She handed him the beef and a bottle of water. He didn’t ask any more questions, for which she was grateful. Her sandwich was gone way too soon. One sandwich a day was not enough food. Jack must be starving, since he was twice her size. But he acted as if the sandwich had filled him up and nothing was wrong.

  There was no kissing that night. Both of them too aware of the guards, and too worried about what was to come. He hugged her and kissed the top of her head before rolling over to face the door again. She snuggled up to him, sure she would never get to sleep.

  And then, her eyes closed.

  19

  Charlie sat back and eyed the device in front of her. It was done. It looked almost exactly like the design Peter had developed, but with a few of her own modifications. She prayed what she’d done had been enough. She took a deep breath. It was time to see what would happen next: if they would kill her and Jack outright, or if they would let them go like Logan had promised.

  Her hand shook a little as she knocked on the locked lab door. A moment later, a guard poked his head in.

  “It’s done,” she said.

  He shut the door on her and the lock clicked. She settled back onto a stool to wait. It wasn’t long before Logan showed up.

  He smiled. “According to the calculations, you need to be three kilometers over London in order to get the maximum range. Lucky for you, I have a private jet ready and waiting.”

  Two guards came into the room and flanked her. “It’s time to go, Charlotte,” Logan said.

  “Go where?” she said, stepping back.

  “Oh, didn’t I mention it? I’ll require you to be on the plane with the device.”

  Her mind raced. “But you said you’d let us go.”

  “And I will. Right after the device detonates, you’ll be free to go.”

  She spoke through clenched teeth. “The EMP will take out the electronics on the plane. It’ll crash.”

  His eyes widened in fake surprise. “You’re right. That’s too bad for you and your boyfriend.” He laughed, and turned to his men. “Bring her.”

  The guards reached for her and she leapt back. No way was she just going to let them haul her to her death. She picked up a hefty steel clamp and swung it at the nearest guard, connecting solidly with his jaw. He grunted and stumbled back. The other man swung his fist. She ducked and hit him in the gut with the clamp, then punched again with her other hand and hit him in the groin. He sucked in a gasp and went to his knees. She hit him with the clamp on the temple. He toppled to the ground, but she didn’t stay to watch. She flew by him and out the door. The other guard, now recovered, ran after her. All the while, Logan chuckled softly.

  In the hall, four more men waited, guns drawn. She skidded to a halt, panting. Two men covered each end of the hall. She was trapped. She raised her hands slowly and started to turn.

  Brilliant pain seared behind her left ear.

  The world went dark.

  * * *

  Charlie opened her eyes and groaned. Her head throbbed viciously and she lay on a cold hard floor. A muffled but loud thrumming vibration filled her ears, making it hard to even hear herself.

  Jack lay on his back not far away, his eyes closed and blood trickling from a new cut on his head.

  “We’ve got to stop meeting this way,” she said.

  Jack didn’t stir.

  She looked around, trying to control her panic. Light came from porthole windows set in curved walls. They were on a plane—a ten-seater from the looks of it, but the seats had been taken out, leaving the plane empty but for her and Jack.

  And the bomb.

  It sat a few feet away from them. The timer she’d set on it counted down. Ten minutes.

  Her mind went blank as she watched the clock. Her heart thundered with each second that ticked away. Logan had activated the bomb and
started his plan. He was really doing it. He was going to send London back to the Dark Ages and kill them in the process. She had to stop him.

  Emotion rushed her and she gasped. She sat up, but her arms didn’t function properly. She shook her head to clear the cobwebs from it. Rope bound her wrists in front of her. Her ankles had been bound, as well.

  She had to free herself. She had to stop the bomb. The cockpit door was open and she leaned over to see inside. Freckles sat at the controls. Who would’ve thought he was smart enough to pilot a plane? He reached over and flicked a switch, never looking back at them, secure in the knowledge that they were helpless.

  She hated being helpless.

  “Jack,” she hissed, nudging him with her bound legs.

  No response. She had no time to waste on waking him up. She needed to get free and disarm the bomb. Thank God she’d put in a kill switch.

  She needed something to cut the rope around her wrists, a sharp edge or anything where she could get some friction on it. There was nothing close to her but Jack and the bomb. She scanned the interior of the plane. The legs of the seats were bolted to the floor, but it was the only edge she could see. It would have to do.

  She wiggled around Jack, moving like a caterpillar, humping and inching her way to one of the seats.

  Please don’t let Freckles look back.

  She dragged herself closer to the seat. Freckles still faced forward. Nine minutes on the clock. She rolled into a sitting position. She needed the rope as taut as she could possibly get it—the tighter it was, the more likely the individual threads would snap when sawed under tension, even if the object doing the sawing wasn’t that sharp. She curled her legs up and brought her knees to her chin inside the circle of her arms. Even though her ankles were tied, she could separate her knees and use her legs as leverage to push against her forearms, thus making the rope even tauter than the strength of her arms alone could manage.

  She scooted even closer to the leg of the chair, and pushed against her arms with her legs. The rope tightened on her wrists, digging into her skin. She pushed harder, and her fingers started to tingle as the rope constricted the blood flow. She pushed harder, ignoring the tight, biting pain, and began to rub the spare inch of rope she’d created up and down along the edge of the leg.