Point of No Return (7 page)

Theresa’s dark eyes were huge and for once she was speechless. She nodded then shook her head. Ripley scanned Honey’s face. His expression said he was having a problem deciding if she was being snarky or serious. He decided she was serious and the spark died. “Yes, I’ll check my schedule and let you know when I’m available,” he finally said.

“Certainly.”

“Good evening, sir.” Honey guided Theresa briskly down the hall to the pantry.

“Honey,” Theresa protested.

“Shush.”

Theresa planted her Alexander McQueen–clad feet. “Don’t you shush me, Honey Thornton.”

Honey responded with a hard look. “Move,” she said in her best Marine Corps voice and continued to motivate them past the catering staff to the pantry, Theresa’s shoes clacking on the kitchen tiles as she tried to keep pace with Honey’s long strides.

“How dare that man,” Theresa blurted indignantly once the pantry door closed. “Telling you what you should be doing.” Theresa’s eyes were big as Oreos. “I don’t care if he is the VP, he has no right.” She paused. “Do you really know martial arts?”

Lord
. “Yes, and what’s going on?” Honey said, working past a bizarre need to lay a hug on her sister for defending her.

“Going on?” Theresa looked at the ceiling.

She was sooo not good at lying. “Why did you insist on me being here tonight?”

Big sis’s Oreos darted side to side as she chewed on her lower lip. “I . . .”

A knock interrupted. “Mama? Aunt Honey? Can I come in?” Kara said.

“No,” Honey blurted.

“Yes,” Theresa said at the same time, obviously wanting backup.

Kara came in, eyes big as her mother’s. All they needed now was a glass of milk. “Mama, what’s going on?”

“That makes it official. Two out of three people in this room want to know,” Honey snapped.

“Tell her,” Kara said, stepping closer to her mother. Honey rarely saw the two together and she was struck by how much Kara had come to look like her mother.

“I . . .” Theresa squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “I invited a man I think would be good for you.”

Honey looked from one to the other. She closed her eyes and took a moment. “Ladies, we had a conversation about my job. I remember you being in attendance. I told you things like this were not good. Apparently it went in one ear and came right back out the same ear. And Jordan?
Really
?”

“No, not that ass,” Theresa said indignantly. “Cindy Moore talked me into inviting him.”

“Mrs. General Cindy Moore?” Honey said in a harsh half whisper, half growl. Theresa nodded. Oh! It just got better and better. “The general is here?”

“No. He . . .”

“Never mind.” Honey waved a hand. “I don’t want to know. Tell me about this other man.” With her luck he’d be on the ten most wanted list.

“He isn’t here yet,” Theresa said, looking at Kara, who nodded confirmation.

Well, that was a break. She could leave now and escape terminal boredom. Honey leaned back on the counter and looked around the room that was bigger than most people’s bedrooms. “Why do you think I need help getting a man?” She’d carefully explained to them her choices were limited. Civilian men were intimidated by a woman in her line of work and she didn’t date men she worked with directly. Apparently, it had been for nothing, a flyby. Everything she said had sailed past their heads.

“You hang out with NFMs,” Kara said.

Honey said nothing, waiting for the explanation. “No. Future. Men,” Theresa said.

Kara came close. “Oh, Auntie, he’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s comfortable around the A list. He can even tolerate the veep.”

Really?
That clinched it. There was something wrong with him.

“Not drop-dead gorgeous,” Kara went on, “but close, and he’s got a bod to die for. At a party I asked him to dance and felt him up. Nice package.”

“Kara!” Theresa and Honey said in unison.

Kara clucked and sighed. “I was kidding. Relax, you two.”

Honey eyed her. “If he’s so great why aren’t you, with your many charms, going after him?” Her patience was getting short.

“Too old. He’s your age. Mother and Daddy would have a fit.” She shot her mother a look.

“At least check him out. He’d be a good fit for you. He owns a huge company that does business with the government,” Theresa added.

They were tag-teaming her. Honey narrowed her eyes at her overenthusiastic relatives. “Where did you get all this information, DC gossips?”

“We Googled him,” Theresa said, getting back to her mission task.

“You don’t have to be an S-P-Y to get information about people,” Kara said, quite pleased.

Honey raised an eyebrow. “
Apparently not.
Okay. What’s this guy’s name?”

“David Bristol,” Theresa said.

Honey hadn’t been surprised in a long time. And never like this. Even so, she went through her options at lightning speed. One: She could stay, meet, and observe him. An investigator’s dream scenario. Get a baseline read on his reactions before he had any reason to lie. Two: Meet him and spill she would be reviewing his company the next two weeks. He could report he’d met her socially and get her yanked from the job. Or three: Get her ass out of here. She chose to get the hell out.

“The two of you listen to me very carefully.” Theresa opened her mouth to speak. Honey held up a finger. “Quiet. Not a word until I’m done.” They both nodded. “To keep me busy while I’m here in DC I was given the job of reviewing Bristol’s company. You’ve put me into one of those compromising positions we talked about.”

“Oh.” Theresa’s face looked like a child’s drawing. Huge round eyes. Mouth a circle outlined with red cupid lips.

“I’m working on a promotion.” Misdirecting lies with the truth made lies more believable. “Any misstep can be used against me. I need to get out of here. You can set up something in a couple of weeks.” She looked at Kara. “If he’s as great as you say I’ll be interested. If he doesn’t ask me out, I’ll ask him.” A lie to put salve on the guilt they would have and keep them from bringing Bristol up again. If they pushed it, she’d become the DC distributor of guilt in a heartbeat and remind them of tonight. “Does Bristol know about this setup?” Theresa shook her head. “Good. Now get out there with your guests. Don’t mention me. Act like I was never here. If someone asks for me, says they saw me, tell them I had to leave. Say no more. Don’t embellish. Don’t lie.” Honey gently guided her sister to the door and opened it. “Do not ad-lib or deviate from what I told you to do. Do your best to stay away from Jordon. I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said, nudging her sister into the kitchen, then closed the door.

“You.” Honey dug a business card from her purse and gave it to Kara. “Take this and give it to the senior Secret Service agent here. Ask him to meet me on the back patio. Say there is no danger, it’s important I speak with him. Direct him to the patio. Do not come with him. Go back to the party.” Chatty Cathy Kara was unusually silent and still. She made no move to leave.

“What part of that didn’t you get?”

“This is so exciting. I want to work with you. I’m going to enlist Monday.”

“No, you’re not.”

“But why?” Kara said, frowning as Honey moved her to the door.

“Monday’s a holiday. Recruiting offices are closed, and by the time Tuesday rolls around I’ll have planted so much crazy shit about you on the net they won’t even talk to you.”

“Auntie.”

“We are not having this conversation again,” Honey said as they stepped into the busy kitchen. “Go.”

• • •

Honey waited in the shadows on the flagstone patio, watching the doors.

“Major,” a deep voice said from behind her, giving new meaning to the secret in Secret Service. She turned to see a man about her height standing a couple of feet away.

“If this is about the vice president, I can’t discuss him,” he said in a clipped and very rehearsed tone. Damn. His detail was accustomed to making excuses for the man.

“It isn’t about Jordan, Agent . . . ?”

“Swenson.” He stepped closer and she saw her card in his hand.

“I’m an intelligence officer and have a . . . a conflict with a guest. I want to go around the house without being shot by one of your men and leave. My car is the Beemer in the driveway.”

“Did you get that?” Swenson said. Every agent in a hundred-mile radius got it thanks to lapel cams.

“You’d tell me if this guest was a threat to the VP.”

“There is no threat. As I said,
I
have a professional
conflict
.”

Swenson nodded then cupped a hand over the Secret Service pin on his lapel. “Sorry there isn’t anything we can do when he oversteps.”

“Not a problem. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

Swenson’s lips twitched into a smile. “I gathered that.” His hand came away from the pin. “Major, your car is clear. I’ll see you to it.” He gestured to the stone path leading around the house and Honey took off.

Swenson closed her car door and leaned down. “My card. If you ever need anything.”

“Thank you.” She saw his cell number and fanned the card. “I appreciate this.”

He gave her a nice smile and straightened.

Behind him, David Bristol walked up the stairs to her sister’s home.

Chapter 6

Honey parked in a space marked
Visitor
, lifted her briefcase from the roadster’s passenger seat and headed for Global’s entryway. The sprawling facility was located in an undeveloped wooded area nowhere near other government facilities, or at least none she knew of. These days that was a difficult call. Its concrete buildings looked as cold and stark as they had on the satellite and digital photos. To a visitor or passerby, it resembled warehouses with nothing hinting at the vast technical complex connecting the company to units and outposts around the world. She pushed her way past the glass doors etched with the company’s world atlas logo. Automated glass doors at the other end of the entry vestibule slid open and she walked into a large reception area. Across the room a woman who complemented the company image,
rough
,
sat behind a desk guarding more glass doors. Honey went to stand in front of the receptionist, who diligently ignored her.

“Yes?” the woman finally said but kept her attention on three oversized monitors on her desk. Honey had no doubt one was connected to the outside cameras and the woman had watched her arrival.

“I’m H. K. Thornton here to see David Bristol.” Honey offered her business card. In uniform, she thought adding rank and branch of service unnecessary. The woman, whose nameplate said Verna Barras, finally looked up, frowned and took the card. Honey removed her shades and performed a surgical assessment on the woman. Early thirties. Bottle blonde in need of a root touch-up. Good complexion. Damn poor job of makeup application around dark, savvy eyes. Overly whitened teeth. A thick weightlifter’s neck rose from a black polo bearing the company emblem on the left breast. She swept a calloused thumb over the card’s embossed eagle, globe, and anchor. This was a woman with hard experience, and not at a reception desk.

Verna did her own accessing. It was more on the scale of an extreme fighter sizing up an opponent. All they needed was the cage. “
You’re
Major Thornton?”

Honey was tempted to say,
not really, I stole her uniform and business cards and showed up here to confuse you.
“Yes,” she said and smiled, using a professional, sarcasm-free tone.

“Your appointment is for ten hundred, it’s just nine twenty,” Verna said, glancing at one of the monitors.

“Traffic was light.” Honey noted her use of military time.

“He’s busy right now.” The woman’s eyes cut to the glass doors that led to a cavernous hall and returned to tattoo Honey with a menacing look that didn’t quite do it.

Honey surveyed the sofa, chairs, and a small desk on the other side of the reception area. “I’ll wait.”

“Whatever.” Miss charming curled her lip and dropped the card like it was soaked in cat piss, returning her attention to her keyboard.

Honey settled into a club chair, removed the iPad from her briefcase and prepared to look busy until Bristol
wasn’t
busy. The guard’s tattooing looks hit her again, and being a hard-look tattoo artist herself, she returned the favor until the woman turned away. She powered on the iPad and focused on a Quantico baseball league schedule as if it were top-secret material. Men’s voices drifted from the corridor entrance Verna guarded and after a few minutes the doors whooshed open. Honey angled her head slightly to see Bristol and another man dressed in a black polo like Verna’s, camo pants and boots. Combat boots for the man and ostrich cowboy boots for Bristol. As Kara said, the man wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous but average. Dark, close-cut military-style hair, small dark eyes like river pebbles and as cold. Angular nose and muscular body stuffed into a size too small polo shirt. A not-good vibe that stood the fine hair on her neck like porcupine quills.

“Mr. Bristol.” Verna scurried from behind her desk. “This is Major Thornton.” She pointed to Honey as if there were twenty people in the room. “She has a ten hundred,” she added, advancing on Bristol. Honey caught an interesting hint of accent in Verna’s voice.

“Sit down, Verna.”

Verna stopped liked she’d walked into an invisible wall, clamped her jaw and shot Bristol one of her tattooing looks, which he didn’t see because his gaze was fixed on Honey. She stood. “Mr. Bristol.”

Bristol stood with his feet planted wide apart, hands on hips. “
You’re
from DoD?”

“Yes, sir, I am.” He shook his head as Honey closed the distance between them, extending a hand. “My information was emailed to you Friday.” Bristol said nothing. “Is there a problem?”

Bristol’s eyed shifted to Verna, who’d returned to her place behind the desk. Honey mirrored the look and found the woman’s gaze fixed on Bristol.

“Mr. Bristol?”
Honey withdrew her hand. “Is there a problem?”