Point of No Return (24 page)

“What?” She quit clicking the pen top.

“Food.”

“Very funny.”

“Fried egg sandwiches. You want a couple?”

“Sure. Will you fry a piece of bologna for mine?”

“
Damn
, woman. You eat some strange crap.”

“Don’t knock it ’til you try it.” She quit inflicting torture on her eyes and brain and began clearing an area on the table. “How long has your family had this cabin?”

“The thirties. A great uncle built it and left it to my dad. He left it to Lee. Not much has changed.”

“Yeah,” Honey said, glancing around. “Tell me about your family.”

Jack turned and gave her a narrow-eyed stare. “Why?”

“Curiosity sickness.” She gestured to the table. “The . . . job,
us
. It’s blending. It’ll be easier if we know more about each other.”

He scanned the cabin then nodded. “Okay. What do you want to hear?”

“Not a party line. Tell me about your family. Start with why your dad left this place to Lee and not the both of you.” Hurt flashed then vanished as quickly as a flickering neon sign. “Sorry. Too personal.”

“Nah. Dealt with it all my life. Lee was Dad’s favorite. Nothing Mom or Lee said, nothing I did, changed it. I had better grades. If I came home with anything less than an A-plus, I got the you-disappoint-me lecture. Lee could have failed and it wouldn’t have mattered to Dad. I excelled in sports. Lee didn’t even play.”

“That had to have messed with you.”

He shrugged. “I let it get to me a few times, until he died”—he went to the fridge—“and I read the open-after-my-death letter he left for me.”

“Interesting.” She went to help. He handed her butter and eggs and he brought out cheese, mayo and her bologna, kicking the fridge door shut.

“When did he die?”

“Five years ago.”

“My dad too. Was the letter an apology?”

“Nope.”

“Then what?”

He shot her a sideways look. “Never seen you all curious.”

“Come on,
tell
.”

He ignored her and dropped a chunk of butter into a hot skillet.

She sighed. “Okay.
Please
tell me why he did it.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” He gave her a smile over his shoulder. “It was an
explanation
why he did it. He said, and I quote, from the day I was born he knew I was a triple-X alpha type. Like him. A self-starter who needed no one and would resent help. No one could stop me from doing what I wanted. Lee on the other hand needed constant support and encouragement to reach his goals.”

“That’s bullshit,” she blurted and immediately issued an apology.

“I agree. Question is, was it a bullshit parent excuse or a bullshit mind and behavior study on his own kids excuse.”

“I . . . I . . .” It took a moment to process what he was suggesting. “Are you serious? Your father was capable of that?”

Jack cracked two eggs into the sizzling butter and gave them a liberal sprinkling of salt and pepper. “My father was a master agent. He had a talent for reading people, knowing what they would do before they knew. Getting them to do what he wanted without them knowing. Involved in big shit. Chemical mind altering, cognition. Propaganda, dissidence. Unethical shit. The more I find out about him the more I wonder if I ever knew him.” He put a slice of the bologna in a smaller pan he’d been heating and it sizzled. She cut nicks in the edges to keep it from curling.

“I’d been at the agency for a while and a senior agent who knew and worked with Dad went whistle-blower. After ingesting one hell of a lot of scotch, he told some wicked stories about Dad and said he was afraid of him. Most people were afraid of him. He was a stone-cold killer.” He turned the eggs and put cheese on top while she slathered bread with the mayo.

“Did you believe him?”

“Yes, but I never saw that. He never raised a hand or his voice to us. I was never afraid of him. Only of not doing well for him. He kept that part of his life completely separate from his family.”

Her stomach fluttered like a cave full of bats. Jack could be describing her living in two worlds. Keeping each world separate from the other.

“Was he capable? I don’t doubt it. Did he do it? Dunno, and it doesn’t make a difference. I don’t play what-if. I am who I am. I was raised to be polite, respect my elders and help others. I’m smart, funny, good lookin’, I’m good at what I do.” He went back to preparing the food.

“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.