Edge of Honor Read Online Free PDF Page B

the two men standing in the doorway to Lusk Hall. “See them? They’re Secret Service. You touch me and they’ll be all over you like stink on shit.”
    Zeth cast a look at the two men. They were standing rock-still, faces impassive, well within earshot. For a moment, she was confused, off-balance. Then she recovered. “You mean like when Pontowski reached out and touched you?”
    Brian blinked, worry now written on his face. She pressed her advantage. “I don’t have to touch you, dirtbag. I’ll heap so much shame and ridicule on you that you’ll be on the World Wide Web under ‘www dot Buttjoke dotcom.’” She motioned at the agents. “And they won’t do a thing about it. Mr. Pontowski, a knowledge question. What do you get when you cross Brian Turner with an ape?”
    “I do not know, ma’am.”
    “A retarded ape.” She leaned into Brian. “Hey, dirtbag, I did that one without trying. Wait until I go high-speed on the Internet. You’ll love it. Check your good buddies who are supposed to guard your worthless butt. Are they laughing?”
    Brian chanced a glance. One of the agents was smiling and he heard Little Matt laugh.
    Zeth was on a roll. “Stifle yourself, Pontowski. Only one thing is gonna save your two worthless butts.”
    “What’s that?” Brian asked, defiance still in his voice. But it was all false bravado and Zeth knew it.
    “You two becoming the best Rat buddies who ever marched a tour in the Box. You two will be showdogs for the Corps or the butt of every joke for a year. Your choice. Drop and give me fifty.”
    Brian sneered. “Right after you, Miss Trogger.” The challenge was obvious.
    Zeth dropped to the ground and rapped out fifty fast push-ups, the maximum allowable as punishment. She bounced to her feet. “Now, drop,” she commanded. The two boys fell to the ground and struggled to repeat her performance.
    “How many?” Brian asked through gritted teeth.
    “Until I get tired,” she shot back. She intended to let them go the full fifty but both were running out of steam. “Save me from wussies,” she moaned.

TWO
    Moscow
    “Natasha, I’m Geraldine Blake, Mr. Vashin’s secretary,” the Englishwoman said in perfect Russian as she extended her hand in a businesslike manner. The girl, still in her teens, gently shook the outstretched hand and nodded, her blond hair flowing gracefully around her face. Everything about her shouted youth, grace, education, and breeding, exactly what Vashin wanted. Geraldine Blake spoke to the guard at the elevator door and he, in turn, spoke into his palm radio. A voice answered and the guard jerked his head. The elevator was descending from the penthouse. They waited in silence until the doors opened, revealing two more guards. Geraldine motioned the beautiful prostitute to enter first. The doors closed behind them.
    “Please do exactly what you are told, Natasha,” Geraldine said, “and everything will be fine. Whatever you do, don’t lie.” The girl gave a little nod, her eyes filled with fear. “Take off your wrap,” Geraldine said. The girl handed her the expensive silk cloak draped around her arms. She wore a simple, low-cut flimsy black dress that revealed her lovely shoulders. The dress barely reached the girl’s thighs and was a gossamer cloud designed to showcase her beauty. It cost more than a thousand dollars in Milan.
    One of the guards frisked her, his hands moving roughly over the delicate fabric of the dress. Then he reached under her short hemline and groped inside her panties. He ran his fingers from front to back, poking and prodding for ahidden weapon. The girl’s face was impassive as she endured the search. “How old are you, Natasha?” Geraldine asked.
    “Seventeen,” came the answer. Her voice was soft and sweet.
    “You are a very foolish girl,” Geraldine said. “But I’m sure Mr. Vashin will understand because of your age.” The girl was trembling. The doors whisked open and the Englishwoman led the