Point of No Return

by Rita Henuber

  “Heads up. Porn stars coming in the training center entrance.” Coops words served to increase their speed. “Porter and the guy splitting off. Porter looks pissed. The creepy receptionist is heading in the direction of Ali. If that’s her destination, she’ll make it before you do. Stand and hold at the next intersection until I know where the other two are going.”

  Weapons ready, they ducked low and made like paint, pressing hard against the wall and listening to the duo’s echoing footfalls coming closer. Mac and Porter moved through the intersection fast, not looking around. The group edged to the corner, listening to the diminishing footsteps.

  “They’ve turned, still moving away, and creepy woman is in the room waking up Ali.”

  Honey was sure her heart pounded hard enough to be heard by the others and it was an effort not to break into a full-out run to the training room door. They were there in less than two minutes.

  “Upper left corner of the room,” Coop said as she and Santiago slipped into the training room. Santiago moved along the left wall. Honey went straight for Ali and the creepy woman.

  “She’s heard or seen you. She’s holding the kid in front of her,” Coop said. Verna’s left arm crossed Ali’s chest and rested on her right shoulder. In her right hand, against the girl’s slender throat, she held an eighteen-inch blade, a pig sticker, making the child seem more petite than she was. The girl’s wide eyes darted between her and Santiago.

  “Drop your guns or I’ll kill her.” Verna licked her lips like a dog going in for a kill. Honey focused her attention on Ali. “Peanut, I’m a Marine, like your mom. My name is Major Thornton. I came with Uncle to take you home.” Ali remained perfectly still.

  Verna rocked side to side. “I’ll slit her throat. Little kids bleed out a lot faster and she’ll be dead in seconds,” she said in a high-pitched rhythmical cadence. A physical jolt ran through Honey. The woman was high. She chanced a sideways glance at Santiago, who was doing the same with her.

  “I don’t want you to listen to anything this woman holding you says,” Honey said calmly.

  “Shut up.” Verna yanked Ali closer, tucking her against her side. Ali’s enormous indigo eyes fixed on Honey.

  “Peanut. Uncle told me you gave him a sore arm one day. Do you remember?” The corner of her mouth quirked up. “Think you can do that again?” Ali gave a tiny nod.

  “I told you to shut up. You better listen to me, whore.” The huge blade sang musically as she sliced figure eights in the air. A chill skittered over her neck and shoulders. In her state she was perfectly capable of doing exactly what she said.

  Gawd, she hoped Jack was right about Ali being smart. She didn’t take her eyes from the child’s and returned the nod slowly. Once. Twice. And with the third nod Ali flawlessly executed her move. Free, she ran.

  She and Santiago had their guns high, ready to fire once Ali was clear of that blade.

  “You little shit.” Verna’s lips curled, exposing over-whitened teeth, giving her the appearance of an alien thing. She reached out faster than Honey thought she was capable of moving and caught Ali’s dark curls in one hand, wildly swinging the blade over the girl’s head with the other. Ali screamed, reached back and gripped Verna’s hand. To Honey’s amazement Ali stepped back and twisted, going under Verna’s arm, perfectly executing another self-defense move and twisting free. She made a beeline to Santiago, who was closer. She hid behind her, clutching the belt loops of her pants, resting her head in the small of her back. A good place to be. She didn’t want Ali to see what was about to happen.

  Verna advanced. “I heard you don’t like being cut,” she sneered.

  “Drop . . . the . . . blade.”

  “Or what?” She lunged

  “We shoot your ass,” she said.

  The thwaps of two suppressed H&Ks firing in unison were decidedly unmusical. Ali let out a high-pitched squeal. Santiago turned and crouched, using her body to shield Ali’s view of Verna as Honey put an insurance round into her body.

  “Can you walk, run?” Honey said, taking a knee in front of the child, “Do I need to carry you?”

  Ali gave her a solemn look. “Walk.” She wrapped her fingers around Honey’s and tugged. She clearly was ready to leave. Honey guided them to the door and Ali’s grip tightened at the sight of the two Marines staring down at her.

  “It’s okay. They’re with us. More Marines. They’re going to take you outside, okay?”

  “I want you,” Ali cried.

  Honey went down to her level. “Ali, you have to be quiet. There are more bad people here. They have Uncle.” She sucked in her lower lip and her eyes filled with tears. “I’ll help Uncle and you’ll go with these Marines.”

  “I want to help.” There was determination in her voice.

  Jack was certainly correct. Ali was extraordinary. “No,” Honey said with authority.

  Ali sniffled and gave her puppy-dog eyes. “Promise you’ll get Uncle.”

  “Promise.” She changed her mind about letting Ali walk and scooped her up, handing her to Santiago.

  “Hello, Ali, I’m Gloria. These two ugly guys are Buck and Gunny.” Ali gave her a tiny smile. “We’re going to take you out of here to safety. We aren’t going to let anything happen to you. You keep a lookout, you see anything, whisper in my ear.” Ali nodded and wrapped her arms around Gloria’s neck.

  “Go.” Santiago and Buck headed off, Ali’s head bobbing against Santiago’s shoulder. Gunny came to Honey’s side.

  “I’m staying.”

  “No. Get going.”

  He stood his ground. “This isn’t a military action, you can’t order me around,” he said.

  Gloria and Buck slowed. “I can’t leave you in here.”

  She grabbed his vest and put her face inches from his. “You fucking can and will leave, Slick. You . . . We agreed.” She shook him. She knew his courage and loyalty would lead him to sacrifice everything. His freedom, his life . . . the same she would do for him. “Go. Please. Take care of them.”

  His eyes searched hers.

  “Somebody better decide something soon because O’Brien’s got trouble,” Coop’s voice came over the com. Gunny flinched and nodded in tacit understanding. She shoved him in the direction of safety and went to Jack.

  Chapter 26

  Outside the room where Jack was being held, Honey huffed in a calming breath. This was one time anger couldn’t be her driving force. She couldn’t let anger fuel a tsunami of adrenaline so she could charge in and take her revenge. A bloodbath would satisfy her issues and stop these doers but not the powerful puppeteers behind them. She used logic to force back the rage and focus on the goal. Get out alive with Jack and shut down Global. She carefully shouldered open the door, M4 high and arcing the weapon side to side.

  Jack was in the center of the room, strapped in a plastic desk chair getting the crap beat out of him. Ferret Face had one hand, the one with unbroken fingers, tangled in Jack’s hair. Squeaky, the purple bite mark on his cheek swollen and looking painful, was beating Jack. Mac leaned against the wall to the right and Nelson fidgeted in a chair, watching Jack’s brutalization. Bear and Porter were MIA. Squeaky drew back his arm.

  “Asshole.” Heads jerked in her direction. She took a step. “You want to keep that arm you’ll put it to your side, slowly.” She took another step “And you.” She pointed the gun at Ferret Face. “You want to live, let . . . go . . . of . . . him.” He let go. Jack’s head bobbed and he slowly turned a bloody, swollen face to her. The corner of his mouth climbed then sagged.

  Cold metal pressed against her temple. “If you want to live, you better not move, Gyrine,” Bear said. She didn’t move as Porter came into view, took her long gun, and Bear stripped away her sidearm and Taser.

  “Good evening,” Porter said, no longer trying to hide her East European accent. “So glad you joined us and made our job very much easier.” Porter briefly examined the gun then raised it and jabbed the hammer-forged barrel painfully to t
he bridge of Honey’s nose, her finger hovering in front of the trigger pull. Bear backed away.

  Honey’s breathing slowed. A warm rush of adrenaline cloaked her. She cut her eyes to Jack then back to Porter. Did the bitch really think she was going down without a fight? She gave it everything she had and slammed her left hand against the M4, forcing Porter into the right hook she landed to the side of her head. The bitch went down and Honey yanked the M4 from her grip. Before she could bring it around to fire Bear delivered a hard blow to her stomach, bending her in half. Another crack to the back of her head dropped her in a heap on top of Porter. She lost the gun and protected her face and head with her arms from Bear’s barrage of punching and kicking. She tucked into a tight ball when Bear did his best to strip away her dragon skin. Mac yelled for him to stop. Jack was yelling.

  “I told you fucking idiots we need them alive.” Porter got to her feet.

  Honey was encouraged. She and Jack were necessary to fulfill some unknown purpose. Prisoner 101, be patient and take advantage of all opportunities to escape. She could do that.

  Honey opened her eyes and saw Bear’s boot coming in the direction of her face. “Fuck yourself. They’re alive, ain’t they?” Bear said.

  Thwap. Thwap. Thwap. A suppressed burst from the M4 silenced the yelling. Bear dropped, his face inches from hers. Life already gone. The eye he had left stared at her as rivulets of his blood oozed her way. A riot of shouts rose. Hot shells peppered Honey as similar bursts dropped the other men.

  “You stupid cunt. Those were my men,” Nelson yelled. “You had no right . . .”

  “Shut up. You brought this down on us,” Porter snarled.

  “I was protecting us,” Nelson protested.

  “Right.” Mac’s boots came into her view. “You kidnapped girls and killed to protect us.” He leaned and fired a for sure round into Bear. Geesus. The man’s brains were on the floor, on her. Still he nudged the man with his boot, checking for signs of life. She rolled to a sit and scrambled to her feet as he did the same to the other men.

  “Because of you we have to shut this down. Start new,” Porter said.

  “No.” Nelson held his hands up, palms out. “I’ve got it worked out how we can clean it up and get rid of the bodies.” He moved toward Porter.

  Flaming fish balls, the man was insane. Only seconds before she’d shot three men. Was he lobbying to become the fourth?

  “At least try it, then if—”

  Nelson jerked and collapsed to his knees as Mac emptied his gun into him. He stayed that way. On his knees blankly staring until Mac shoved him over. “Where the fuck is Verna with the brat?” He turned before the body he’d rendered lifeless crunched softly to the floor, wiping his face with a sleeve. “We don’t have much time left.”

  Honey had seen death. Seen men die. Had killed. There was something monstrous in the casual manner of these two. A flash grenade of fear for Jack went off in her brain.

  “I’ll get them. See how things are progressing,” Porter said, checking her watch.

  The duo was ignoring her. She took advantage, hustled to Jack and worked at freeing him from the tape. She leaned close. “Ali is out and safe. My guys have her.” Worry slid from his face like an iceberg breaking free of an arctic glacier. “It’s us, for ourselves.” She didn’t ask if he was okay. He wasn’t and there was nothing to be done about it. They were in a fight for their lives.

  “Get away from him,” Mac said.

  “No.” She didn’t look back. “He’s hurt. He can’t do anything.” Using the knife would free him faster but she didn’t want to reveal her last weapon. She continued to tear at the silver tape, uncoiling strips until he was free, then slipped the blade into his hand. Behind her, the sound of an empty magazine hitting the floor and a new one locking into place caused her to arch over Jack protectively. Her body went rigid preparing for the projectiles to enter. Instead, the still-warm barrel of the gun touched the right side of her head. She straightened. Slowly. The barrel broke contact with her scalp.

  “Step back,” he demanded.

  She took a small step back, intent of protecting Jack.

  “Turn around.”

  Jack bent his head slightly. Their eyes locked, he dipped his head, and, reasonably sure he was ready, she turned to her left out of the direct line of fire. Slow at first, then fast, her left arm windmilled back, the outer edge of her hand striking the side of Mac’s neck with force, knocking him off balance. Her right hand came around and she raked her nails across his face. He tried to backpedal but Jack had the hand holding the gun, pulling him down. Mac’s hand-to-hand combat training kicked in. His palm smashed into Jack’s face, followed by the crunching sound of breaking cartilage. Jack grunted in pain. If his nose wasn’t broken before, it was now. Jack swiped at him with the knife, opening a gash from his elbow to his wrist. He howled, released the gun, and launched himself at Jack. They crashed to the floor rolling, punching and grunting.

  Honey kicked the chair away and heard the trigger pull on the long gun. Then nothing. It was empty. Honey spun to face Porter. who used the gun like a Louisville Slugger and her head was the ball. She went down, falling on Ferret Face’s body. She saw Mac over Jack, holding him up by his shirt, Jack’s head lolling to one side. She tried to get up and slipped in blood pooling around the body. Mac released Jack, turned, took a step and looked at the knife handle protruding from his stomach just under the rib cage. Porter released a weird squawk as he fell. Mac gasped, his body shuddered and he was dead.

  Honey went for the gun Mac dropped. Porter beat her to it. This one wasn’t empty. She lay on her stomach panting, waiting for Porter to speak or kill her. She said nothing as she kicked her five, maybe six times. Finally she quit, standing over her, breathing hard.

  “Ahhh. Ohhh.” Honey moaned and twisted on the floor. Porter moved back a few feet and Honey rolled to her back, the H&K aimed at her head. “How do you expect to get away with this?” She sucked breath through clenched teeth and held her throbbing side.

  “Get away with? I’m an innocent victim.”

  Honey levered herself up on an elbow, fighting the pain.

  “You and O’Brien came here seeking revenge on Mr. Bristol.” She kicked Jack and Honey was relieved he moved and grunted. “I had no knowledge he wasn’t who he said he was. You killed him. Not wanting to pay for your crimes, you became suicide bombers. You set explosives.” Footfalls and voices in the hall drew their attention. “Right now,” she said, her teeth showing behind a carnivorous smile, “explosives that will bring down the building are being placed.” Honey moved to sit up. Porter kicked her. “Down.”

  She was beginning to understand why they wanted to keep them alive. Forensics would be able to tell if they were dead before the explosions. That is, if they found big enough pieces to work on. “What about the identity theft scam? It’s bound to come out.”

  “I will be long gone. Returned home to my country. Illegal activities will be attributed to Mr. Bristol. Any investigation will be stopped by your illustrious vice president. The man won’t want his involvement with us known.”

  Despite herself, Honey showed surprise at this information.

  “I see you didn’t know.”

  Honey shook her head. It made sense. Jordan sat on approval and oversight committees. His office could add and scrub records. “He knows about the murders and kidnapping?” Honey gasped. “The identify theft?”

  She shrugged. “He knows what we do here. What Bristol did . . . ?” Another shrug.

  “You think you have it all figured out.”

  “I don’t think, I know,” Porter said triumphantly.

  “Did you get that?” Honey said.

  Porter looked confused. “Get what, bitch?” she said sharply.

  Honey double-tapped her ear, indicating her tiny communication device. Realization replaced Porter’s confused look. “Gotcha, bitch. Everything you said was heard and recorded.”

  Porter squeezed the trig
ger on the H&K a second after Honey’s boot blasted into her knee, snapping her leg like a tree limb breaking in an ice storm. The bitch shrieked. Her red hair billowed around her head as she went down, the H&K lost when her hand smacked the floor. Honey swatted the gun out of reach then straddled Porter, opening a can a whoop ass on her head.

  The bitch squirmed and twisted at the same time, trying to deflect the blows. Honey swung away, gripped by a cold rage. Porter’s hand came at her face and she rotated to the side to avoid the clawing hand. Her hand flashed back and Honey saw she held a long thin blade. Where the fuck had that come from?

  Honey lurched back and Porter rose, coming at her again, aiming the blade at her neck. Her left hand flew up in a defensive move and the blade entered her palm to the hilt, coming out the back. For a moment, Honey stared at the tip inches from her face. Porter collapsed and tried to slide from under her. Honey backhanded her face. The blade sliced from Porter’s jaw, across her mouth, over her cheek and eye to her hairline. She screeched and both hands covered her face. Honey was so jacked on adrenaline she felt no pain when she pulled the knife from her palm. She rolled off Porter, crawled to her gun and sat, double-handing the gun, pointing it at the door. She expected men to come through the door any moment to investigate the screams. None came. She struggled to her feet and went to Jack.

  “Can you walk?” He nodded as she helped him to his feet. “Good, ’cause I’m beat.”

  “Yeah. First,” he said and limped to the table, picked up the roll of duct tape that had been used on him, “let’s fix your hand.”

  “Hurry,” she said as he looped the tape. “They’re going to blow this place.”

  Jack’s head jerked up. “As in explosives?”

  She nodded.

  “Geesus, these tunnels.”

  She nodded. Even a small explosion would travel the corridors building pressure, strength, and bam. Anything in its way would suffer.

  They skirted around Porter to the door. Honey poked her head out and back once, then twice, looking for bad guys and getting her bearings.