Point of No Return (5 page)

He shrugged. “It’s been redacted. He was an active operative and currently works for a private contractor. What you see is what we have. The brothers are Irish twins, born the same year, and from what I understand they look enough alike to be twins.”
There was an understatement.
“Jack’s heavier, rougher, with lighter hair.”

Yes. Jack had an edge the photo of his brother lacked. Of the few details contained on the page, the most important to her was the checkmark next to
single
under marital status. He hadn’t lied. She kept her gaze on the folder in her lap as if it contained the answer to world peace and recalled the first time she saw Jack. She’d turned to chew out the owner of an insolent voice and found a tall, big-framed, rugged man giving her a dangerous smile. His confidence and good looks were so sexually potent she’d fallen into immediate lust. Honey looked at Moore to find him still watching. An uneasy feeling skittered over her shoulders. Did the SOB know about the affair and somehow plan to use her against Jack? She gathered her wits and got back on track. “What about the child?”

“The child?” He leaned back in his chair.

“Is she being protected? Who’s caring for her?”

“
Oh
. Her grandmother. Lee’s mother. The captain had no family. My understanding is with their connections, there’s protection.”

“Where’s the uncle?”

“Tennessee. Holed up in the family cabin in the woods.”

“Why?”
Her tone was sharper than she meant. “Seems odd he would leave his family at this time.”

Moore let out a loud breath. “The brother is a former agency man. Could be any reason.”

“I see,” Honey said slowly. She stacked the folders neatly and patted them. “Why isn’t MTAC and NCIS all over this?”
Hell, why isn’t everyone all over it?

Moore said nothing. In Cairo when they’d brainstormed, he’d remained silent and let her work out solutions. She’d thought it was a learning tool. It was, he was learning from her. Now? All she knew for sure was that he was a tool. She held her index finger to the cleft in her chin, moving her head up and down. “
You
think one of the other agencies knows something?
You
think they aren’t sharing info with DoD?”

He nodded.

“Ramsey and Saunders aren’t saying anything to DoD because they’re involved in another investigation?”

He nodded.

“You want me to get a read on them during the family visits.” She paused and gathered iron-clad control on her emotions. “I’ll do the same with the brother in Tennessee.” She didn’t dare say his name. “See why he’s hiding.”

“Good idea.”

Honey settled back in the chair and patted a stray strand of hair into place.

Moore reached beside him and lifted an aluminum briefcase to the desk. “Now that we’ve gotten the official BS out of the way . . .” He opened it, revealing an iPad and laptop with two burn phones nestled inside. “All info you’ll need is here.” He removed the laptop and iPad and powered them on.

“The usual security setup?” she said.

“Yes.” He pushed the devices across his desk.

Honey pressed a key. “Password?”

He handed her a three-by-five card. On it he’d written the address of her Cairo apartment. “You can change it, of course.”

Silently she stroked the keys. He sighed and powered on his own computer.

“New password set at 10:52,” she said.

“10:52 new password time logged to security,” he said.

“What do I have on here?” Honey asked.

“All of Global’s past and present employees. Contracts, areas of operation, jobs, as complete as we can be.”

Honey rubbed her temple. “This is a lot to get through by Tuesday.”

“I’ll come by your place and we can go over it—”

“No!”
It came out sharper than she intended. “Thank you. I want to go over these with fresh eyes. I don’t want your views contaminating my thoughts.” She didn’t want him in her home and she didn’t want him anywhere near her while she sorted out how Jack fit into this and how their
relationship
affected her investigation. They had a simple arrangement. In their line of work, relationships were hard to maintain and relatively short. Workplace hookups were doomed the moment they began. Dating
civilians
required lying about your job, where you were when away, even making up fictional families. It created emotional remoteness that killed relationships. Not to mention how worrying about slipping up in the throes of sex or the disorientation of the afterglow could take the fun out of things. She and Jack knew what the other did from the get-go. In the time they carved out to be together, there were no questions. No talk of the past or the future. Only a free, heady feeling of living in the moment, enjoying each other and uncomplicated sex. She learned more in the few lines of his bio than she’d ever known. Now, knowing so little about him and how he would react to her involvement deeply complicated their simple arrangement.

She took a pastry, examining it a long time, and placed it on a napkin. “Does Bristol have my information? Know what I look like?”

“Your packet will be emailed this afternoon. No photo, name listed as Major H. K. Thornton, no gender. I doubt he will even open it on a Friday afternoon. It’s a stretch but—”

“No.” She shook her head slowly. “I agree. Long weekend. He may not even be there today. What about notifying the brother in Tennessee? I don’t want to surprise a spook.”

“I’ll get a message to the family he should expect a visit from an investigator.”

“Then I’ve been assigned to the investigation team?”

“Final names will come out next week.”

Moore was a talented liar but not talented enough to get it past her. He knew who would be assigned. “I see.” She used her warm, sweet, Southern debutant voice, giving him a smile that was anything but warm and sweet. Honey closed the laptop. “What’s the iPad for?”

“The review and report forms for Global. You used one before?”

“Yes.” She swallowed a snarky remark and powered on the device. “The password is the same as the laptop?” He nodded. When it glowed to life she changed the password, put it in the case next to the laptop and reset the lock code. She stood, gathering up her jacket. “Anything else?” She retrieved her uniform from the chair.

“Yes.” He came around the desk and she allowed him to help her into the jacket. “Keep that temper of yours in check. I don’t want you reaching out and touching anyone and blowing this.”

She dipped her head, brushed her sleeves and tugged on the jacket hem until she was sure her uniform was perfect. Her eyes remained downcast for a long moment. She locked her gaze on his face. “I have no intention of blowing it,
sir
,” she said quietly.

“Honey.” He stepped closer. She stiffened and shook her head. He stopped.

“General Moore, whatever your reason for giving me this detail, I truly appreciate the opportunity. Be very clear. That. Is. As. Far. As. It. Goes.”

He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. She left without another word or looking back.

Chapter 4

Jack O’Brien stood in his niece’s room. The seven-year-old slept curled around her favorite stuffed toy, Blue Bear. The princess night light provided enough glow for him to note changes she’d made since the last time he’d visited. More books, a new drafting table, with her tiny martial arts uniform draped over it, and were those . . . He walked to the table and picked up tiny pink boxing gloves.

“Don’t wake her,” his mother, Clare, whispered from the doorway. He held up an arm and nodded. He didn’t want to wake the child. Each time Ali saw him her eyes sparked for an instant then grew sad, realizing he wasn’t her father. It damn near broke his heart to see her like that. He’d let his hair go long and grown a beard so the child wouldn’t see her father in him. His mother sighed deeply and he listened to her soft footfalls grow fainter in the hall and finally go down the stairs.

He crouched beside the bed and moved back the dark curls resting on Ali’s forehead and took in her sweet little-girl scent. She stirred and rolled to her back. He held his breath and didn’t dare move. She rubbed one eye and squinted at him with the other. “Daddy?” Her voice delivered a bolt of hurt.

“No, it’s not Daddy.” His body heaved with a sigh. “It’s Uncle.” Why hadn’t he left well enough alone?

From her spot at the end of the bed, Ali’s rottweiler, Sasha, lifted her head and gave a disapproving snort. Ali stretched out her arms and wiggled her fingers. Her way of asking for hugs. He leaned, gathered her up and sat on the bed holding her in his lap. She snuggled against his chest. Her little fingers rose to his beard, danced there for a moment, then dropped to her lap. Sasha crawled nearer, touching her massive head to his thigh.

“Uncle,” she said through a yawn, “you smell like my daddy.”

He said nothing as he gently rocked her, fighting back hot tears.

“I miss Mommy and Daddy,” she said through a yawn.

He rested his lips on the top of her head and whispered, “I miss them too, Peanut. I miss them too.” How had this tiny creature captured his heart by simply being? The moment Lee thrust the dimpled, smiling infant into his arms he was hooked. Now, she was his. He was her guardian, to forever protect. It was his responsibility to see she was happy and became . . . became what she wanted to be. Jack rocked her until her breathing told him she was asleep again. He tucked her and Blue Bear in under the pink coverlet, kissed the tip of a finger and touched it to her cheek. “Love you, baby girl.”

The big dog sighed, resuming her guard position, and Jack scratched her behind an ear. “Take care of her.”

Sasha snorted as if saying, “Back at ya.”

Jack retreated into the hall, leaned against the wall and took out his cell to once again listen to his brother’s last message.

“Hey, man,”
his brother’s voice filled his head.
“Ali can’t wait to see you. She has some new tae kwon do moves she wants to show you.”

“After four lessons she thinks she’s an expert,”
Becca said in the background.
“Better be ready to be taken down.”

Lee laughed.
“Later, bro.”

Later
they were dead. A home invasion gone bad. Bullshit, they’d been slaughtered. If his plane hadn’t been late he would have been there. If his mother hadn’t taken Ali and the monster dog for the afternoon. If she hadn’t been delayed in bringing Ali home by a washing machine delivery . . . Jack rubbed his forehead then raked his hands through his long hair. A lot of fucking ifs.

At first he thought he was the target, that they’d mistaken Lee for him. Becca was collateral damage. Then he learned the daughters of two military officers were taken. The officers had a connection to a company Becca was set to review.
There are no coincidences
. He called in favors and obtained the use of a satellite a few hours a day to search for proof in an off-the-books investigation. With abso-fucking-lutely no results.

He blew out a long breath and headed downstairs to spend some quality mom-and-son time. In the kitchen over coffee he got the inevitable
be careful
lecture and gave it back, cautioning her to be extra vigilant. Clare O’Brien was an old hand at being careful. Her brother was a career agent. She was widow to one. Married thirty years. A rarity in the business. Mother to two sons who followed their father’s career path. She often said she was an agent by default. Ali was safe with her, but still he worried.

He kissed his mom good-bye, drove Becca’s Passat to his storage unit and parked it inside. The unit was his safety net. He kept weapons there, Canadian, UK, French, and Turkish passports. Ten thousand in U.S. dollars. An equal amount in euros and the Hong Kong dollar. The unit wasn’t far from Dulles and a quick getaway. Tonight, getting to the airport was a problem. He didn’t even try to get a cab to come out here at four in the morning. Even if one did come, a good look at his long hair, beard, and work clothes and they’d be gone. He lifted his pack and began the hike to the airport. Twenty minutes later, he was proven wrong. A cruising cab stopped and asked
him
if he wanted a ride. Sometimes the world managed to amaze him. He climbed in, and after twenty minutes of listening to the driver complain about his wife, he was at the USAir curbside check-in. The inside counter wasn’t open yet and he waited another fifteen minutes for the guy to show. Jack gave him a twenty to boot up the system early.

Jack pulled his ball cap low, keeping his face concealed from airport cameras, eyes sweeping the area looking for unknowns on his leisurely stroll to the men’s room. He was the only occupant and took time to improve his image. A red Nationals cap and sports jacket took the edge off the jeans and work boots. With his beard combed and reasonably tamed and his hair in a ponytail he looked like a rough tradesman and good enough to avoid a cavity search. At least he wouldn’t send little kids screaming and pregnant women into labor. He cleared through TSA, dropped into an uncomfortable seat, retied his boots, then slid to a slouch, stretching out his legs and hoping to catch some sleep while waiting to board. Within seconds a man sat next to him and opened a newspaper. Four hundred fucking empty seats and the guy had to sit next to him. Jack’s gaze tracked from white running shoes to khaki pants to an orange Hawaiian print shirt so bright it could probably be seen from orbit, and a boonie hat pulled low on his head.

“Morning, Jack,” the familiar gravelly voice said.

Neuberger.
The agent glanced at him casually. Jack stayed slumped in the seat. “What do you want?” he said, irritated the man had approached him in a place with cameras and dressed the way he was.

Neuberger tilted in his direction. “Nice to see you too.” He paused and straightened, still looking ahead through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the graying dawn. “If that is you under all that fur.”

“How did you know I’d be here?” He’d used an alternate identity.