Point of No Return by Rita Henuber

.”
    “Nooo.” He dragged the word out and gave a hand signal. Two agents came forward and one took Theresa’s arm, moving her away. Honey took her other arm, holding her in place, and gave Ripley the evil eye until he dismissed the agents with a flip of his hand. The arrogance of the man was mind-bending. Where was a police-grade Taser when you needed one?
    “Yes, coming to my office to talk would be a good idea. You are in an extremely dangerous line of work.”
    Theresa gasped like she was hearing that for the first time. Well, hell, maybe she was.
    “I have to say,” Jordon droned on, “I feel a responsibility to suggest you consider another line of work. With your background you would be a valuable asset here in DC in the political community working for me.”
    Of all the unmitigated gall . Of course, her father’s political legacy and money would be an asset. Jordon would never see a single dollar or word of support from her. And referring to anything in current politics as a community was a sick joke.
    Theresa brought herself to her full five-foot-two height—no, make that five-six with the shoes she had on—and said, “I don’t think what my sister does is any concern of yours,” stunning the hell out of Honey.
    “Ripley.” Honey edged between Jordan and Theresa. “I appreciate your concern, but that is not going to happen.” She kept the hand twitching to do him physical damage on Theresa’s arm and squeezed. “I can assure you I can take care of myself in every situation. ”
    “One can only imagine what a woman like you can do.”
    “I would be glad to show you anytime, sir.” She played into his innuendo. Jordan’s head snapped back. His eyes sparked with interest. “I can set up a day at Quantico for you to observe my shooting, martial arts, hand-to-hand combat and interrogation skills.” She looked to her sister. “Perhaps you’d like to come.”
    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