by Carla Cassidy, Evelyn Vaughn, Harper Allen, Ruth Wind, Cindy Dees
Her hands were clapped to her ears. A shock wave of sound bypassed them and punched against her eardrums, making the ground beneath her tremble like a jelly mold shaking on a plate. It receded, came back even more deafeningly a second time, receded again. Through her tightly squeezed eyelids she could see every pebble and stone in front of her where she lay, their shapes seeming to burn themselves onto her retinas.
And then it was night again.
Gingerly she removed her palms from their protective clasp over her ears and raised her face from the dirt. Beside her she saw Asher do the same. His mouth moved.
“What did you say?” She realized she’d yelled the question only as she saw him wince. She shook her head, felt her eardrums pop as the pressure in them released, tried again. “What did you say?”
“I asked if you were okay, love.” The searchlights that the Cassandras and their allies had set up outside the entrance to Lab 33 had swung in their direction, and it was possible to see the tension fading in his eyes. A glint of humor replaced it. “But I suppose if you weren’t, you’d pull your handy-dandy healing stunt and be as good as new in a couple of minutes, right?”
Dawn nodded. There was something wrong with her throat again, she thought in irritation. And now the tightness seemed to have spread to the vicinity of her chest, somewhere around her heart. It hurt, dammit.
But in a good way, she thought after a moment’s reflection.
“Ash, about me walking away from you the night you took the bullet for me,” she said, but he didn’t let her finish.
“Ancient history, love.” There was no trace of his usual growl in his tone. He reached for her hand, playing idly with her fingers as he continued. “The government is going to want to debrief you, probably for a few days. You have any plans after that?”
“I was thinking of taking a little vacation,” she said unsteadily, her eyes on his and not on the soldiers who were starting to run their way. “I thought Europe, maybe a side trip to the Middle East at some point?”
“As good a place to start as any,” he agreed. “The terrorists who bought my uncle’s regeneration research from Peters will be trying to assemble a team of geneticists to work on the refining process. I assume you wouldn’t say no if I asked you to come along with me to help find the bastards after I hand in my commission to the SAS?”
His fingers were stroking her palm as he posed the question. The damn man was always trying to get the tactical advantage, Dawn thought, which was something she would have to watch out for in the future. She tightened her hold on his hand just enough so that he’d feel it.
“You assume wrong…but I wouldn’t mind having your help while I track them down. Do we have a freakin’ deal or not?”
He let out a breath. “Dammit, are you this bossy in bed, O’Shaughnessy?”
“Better believe it, buddy,” she said promptly as the military contingent raced up to them and she and Ash got stiffly to their feet.
A corner of his mouth lifted slowly. “Then we’ve got a deal, love,” he said for her ears only.
“Let me through, she’s my daughter!”
“And our sister!”
Dawn looked past the soldiers and saw Thomas King’s broad shoulders pushing their way toward her. Behind him came Faith and Lynn, and behind them was a dark-haired man who seemed equally intent on reaching her. She recognized FBI Agent Justin Cohen, whom she’d met once at Kayla’s home. His eyes met hers as they all drew closer, and to her surprise she saw a gleam of sudden moisture in them.
“And in a way, my niece,” he said huskily, as King released her from a bear hug and Faith and Lynn flung themselves at her. “I believe that my sister, Kelly, was your surrogate mother. I’ve spent my life searching for the truth about what happened to her, only to learn she was another casualty of Aldrich Peters’s manipulations. Now that I’ve found you it’s like having a little part of her back in my life again. Like she didn’t die for nothing.”
“You’ll tell me all about her?” Dawn said unevenly, clasping Justin’s strong hands. “What she was like, the things she used to do, her dreams?”
He nodded, his grip secure on hers. “That’s a promise. But for now all you need to know is my sister was a strong woman who always tried to do what was right.” He released her and stepped away. “In many ways, you’re a lot like her,” he said quietly.
Dawn actually felt tears well up in her eyes. “I’m glad,” she said. She turned toward Tom King and Lynn and Faith, and a tear crept down her cheek.
“Hey sis, no waterworks today. I think there’s been enough of that for all of us,” Lynn said and pushed a friendly fist lightly into Dawn’s shoulder.
“We’ve got a lot of getting to know each other to do still,” Faith added. “I foresee a lot of flying in everyone’s future.” Faith’s extra-sensory abilities didn’t really include foretelling the future, and they all laughed. Tom wrapped an arm each around Lynn and Faith and the three of them moved aside, gesturing for Dawn to join them when she could.
Justin turned away and slipped into the press of people, but not before stopping to embrace a red-haired woman Dawn realized was another Cassandra, FBI forensic scientist Alexandra Forsythe. Alex and Justin exchanged a few intimate words, and then Alex walked toward Dawn along with Kayla Ryan and Sam St. John. Alex flicked a sideways glance at Asher and then raised an eyebrow at Dawn. “Saving the world is nice, but it’s even better when you get the guy as well, huh?”
“Damn straight,” Dawn said promptly. She grinned and then sobered. “It was a group effort. The Cassandras and their allies did good, didn’t we, ladies? Working together turned us into a force to be reckoned with. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a gorgeous and stubborn hunk of man to get stitched up again.”
She moved to Asher’s side. Kayla looked at Sam and Alex, her expression quizzical. “A force to be reckoned with,” she said slowly. “Athena Force. You like?”
Dawn nodded. Sam spoke for all of them. “I like. Athena Force. Kinda kicks ass, doesn’t it?” She smiled. “Just like its members.”
And as Dawn bullied her way through the crowd, a wryly smiling Asher following close behind her, she just made out Kayla’s words. “You got that right, girlfriend,” Kayla said. Dawn could feel the women’s gazes on her back. “Just like its members.”
Epilogue
“You may now kiss the bride.” The white-cassocked Church of England priest beamed indulgently as the handsome groom, Captain Destin Asher, formerly of the SAS, kissed his beautiful new wife, Mrs. Dawn Asher, née O’Shaughnessy.
“Darling, everyone’s watching.” Pulling away from the prolonged kiss, the bride blushed and gave her husband’s hand a squeeze. For a moment it seemed as if her groom was wincing, but his expression turned into a smile as he faced the small gathering assembled in the room.
“Since there won’t be a reception and Dawnie—” there was a slight rustle near the hem of the bride’s exquisite lace wedding gown and Asher seemed to wince again before he went on “—Dawn and I will be leaving Venice immediately for our honeymoon in the Azores, a few words of appreciation are in order. First I’d like to thank Sir Giles Anthony, Britain’s man in Venice and a close friend of my uncle’s, who unfortunately couldn’t be here today, for offering us the use of his beautiful palazzo in which to celebrate our special day and the fleet of gondolas that brought us and our guests here in style. Sir Giles, my adorable wife and I will never be able to thank you enough for—”
“Unfriendly at three o’clock, Ash! Get the freakin’ padre out of the line of fire!”
Destin Asher’s adorable bride reached under the masses of tulle and lace billowing around her. Her hand came back into sight holding a wicked-looking knife. As the guests’ shocked gasps turned to screams, she threw it at the tuxedo-clad man by the door who was raising his automatic rifle to his shoulder.
His aim jerked up, and a deadly line of bullets thudded into the delicately hued painting on the salon’s ceiling
. Wrenching the blade from his arm with a cry of pain, the man began to raise his weapon again.
“Everybody down!” Dawn jerked her attention Asher’s way at his shouted warning. Clad in a dove-gray morning suit, he reached behind the lectern the priest had been standing at before he’d been knocked aside and leveled the Sig Sauer he’d retrieved over the heads of the guests. “Lady, get down, dammit!” He fired off a round and the gunman at the door suddenly clutched his elbow and dropped his rifle. A few pink feathers drifted onto the upturned face of a woman wearing a towering pink hat who’d fainted dead away.
“Crap, Ash, he’s escaping!” Dawn began to race toward the door, but halfway there she tripped on the train of her gown, sliding a few feet on her face before scrambling to her feet again. “Help me off with this freakin’ thing,” she said as her groom ran to her side.
Seed pearls scattering wildly in all directions, Asher ripped her bodice open, revealing a virginal white corset with push-up cups. Impatiently grabbing a handful of tulle, Dawn tore the dress down over her hips and stepped out of it.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer, buddy,” she snapped at a gaping male guest. “Come on, Asher, the bastard’s getting away!”
“He’ll have transportation waiting down by the canal,” he replied as they left their wedding guests huddled on the floor and sped out into a hallway. “No, love, take the stairs to the roof garden.”
“What, are you crazy?” Despite her protest, Dawn complied, shouldering past Asher and reaching the landing a step ahead of him. “We should be following the mother, not going in the opposite direction.”
“That’s exactly my point.” Tearing off his suit jacket as he ran, he headed up a second flight of stairs. “From the roof garden we can see which way his waiting vaporetto heads when it takes off. By the way, couldn’t you find those in white?”
He pushed open the door at the top of the stairs as he spoke, his glance dropping briefly to her feet. She made a face. “The combat boots? Okay, I know they don’t go with the merry widow and the frilly blue garters, but I figured they wouldn’t show under that ridiculous meringue of a dress. Besides, I knew if your plan worked out there was a chance we’d be involved in a situation where combat boots would be more appropriate than satin pumps. Over by those tubs of flowers—that must overlook the front of the building, Ash.”
She sped to the ornamental railing and looked down the three stories—technically four, Dawn thought, since they were on the roof—of the ancient palazzo. The beauty of Venice was spread out all around them, but her eyes were focused on the line of gondolas and motorized vaporettos bobbing in the canal just feet from the front door of the palazzo.
“After six months of always finding ourselves one step behind those bastards who bought your uncle’s research from Peters, this fake wedding was a stroke of genius,” she said, her attention fixed on the scene below. “Like you guessed it might, it drew one of them out of the woodwork hoping to take us both down when we didn’t have our guard up. Where’d you get the actor who played the priest, Ash? He was so convincing that if I didn’t know better I’d swear he was the real thing.”
“Do I still get to take those frilly blue garters off later tonight?” Asher said musingly, leaning over the railing and not looking at her. “Keep the boots on, too, love. It’s a kinky look, but it suits you.”
His tone was too smooth. Dawn frowned, momentarily taking her gaze from the canal. “He didn’t even have to refer to the book of services for the words to the marriage ceremony, I noticed. He was pretty freakin’ good, Ash. Where’d you find him?”
“There’s our man!”
Ignoring her question, Asher pointed to a figure stumbling onto the cobblestoned walkway that lined the canal. Another figure leaped from one of the moored motorboats, grabbed the first man by the arm and hustled him onboard. A moment later she heard the sound of not one but two powerful engines coughing to life.
“Now for the fun part,” Asher said briskly as he threw one leg over the railing and then the other. He stood on the small ledge and gave her a tight grin. “That second vaporetto’s our chase vehicle, love. You up for a quick dip?”
“Are you freakin’…oh, why not. It’s faster than running down all those stairs again.” Dawn hoisted herself over the rail and looked at the man standing beside her. “He was a fake priest, right?”
“Bloody hell, O’Shaughnessy—just jump!” Asher grinned, grabbing her hand and leaping with her off the ledge.
COUNTDOWN
RUTH WIND
Published by Silhouette Books
America’s Publisher of Contemporary Romance
Special thanks and acknowledgment
are given to Ruth Wind for her contribution
to the ATHENA FORCE series.
For my son Ian,
who helped a lot with this book.
Thanks, kiddo!
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Prologue
Tuesday, October 5
It was night and snowing when Kim Valenti parked at FBI headquarters in Chicago. Snow came in through the window of the stolen car—a 1971 gold Buick Skylark—that she’d hot-wired at the parking lot of the UBC television station. She’d be glad to get somewhere warmer.
Before she got out, she checked her face in the rearview mirror. If there was blood showing, she would draw attention to herself, and someone would be concerned or alarmed, which would cause more delays. She couldn’t risk losing any more time.
There was a bomb ticking away at the airport. Somewhere. Due to detonate in exactly—she checked her watch—seventy-nine minutes.
In the mirror, she saw that her lip was swollen. She’d have a black eye tomorrow. A few scrapes, but no damage that would make her stand out too much in a law enforcement agency.
She got out of the car and hid the gun she’d also stolen in the small of her back, tucked into the waistband of her jeans. The weight of it was comforting and cold. Her cell phone was in her hand, the cord around her wrist.
Snow fell more heavily now, and she was half-frozen from the drive through the Chicago streets in a broken-down car with a shattered window.
In spite of the cold, her torn and battered ear throbbed. She wished it would have frozen. At least that would make it stop hurting. Without breaking stride, she scooped a handful of snow from the hood of a nearby car and pressed the icy ball to torn cartilage.
As she approached the front doors of the FBI building, a group of men erupted into the parking lot, rushing toward cars and vans. They shouted directions to one another, pulled on gloves, carted cases and rifles.
All headed, no doubt, for the television station. Kim ducked into the shadow of a truck, watching, her mouth hard. She could tell them that their rush Ruth Wind 9 was futile, but they wouldn’t listen to her now any more than they had earlier.
No, if she had any chance of success, there was only one man for the job—Lex Tanner, FBI explosives expert and a compatriot she’d believed in before this morning.
She spied him toward the back of the group, carrying a metal suitcase. His dark hair was cut very short, the nose surprisingly recognizable from the pictures she’d seen, and he was quite tall. At least six-four. Rangy, lean and muscled, with shoulders big enough to shelter her from the wind.
As he neared her spot, she stepped out of the shadows. “Lex Luthor, I presume?”
He started, narrowing his eyes and
sizing her up. Recognition washed over his features. “Valenti?” He looked more alarmed than pleased. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling all afternoon.”
“Long story. Right now, I need you to bring your little bomb kit and come with me to the airport.”
“I can’t. I’m on my way to UBC. There’s a terrorist—”
“Yeah, yeah—” she waved a hand “—never mind. That’s not the problem.”
“They’ve stolen a bomb they’re threatening to detonate—”
“It’s not at the station.”
“They’ve got hostages.”
“I know.” She took a breath. “Look, I don’t have time to explain everything, but the drama at UBC is a smoke screen—the bomb is at the airport.”
“It’s not there! Don’t you get it? We’ve been over it a hundred and forty-seven times.” His exasperation might have been understandable if they’d been strangers.
If he hadn’t seen that she was extremely skilled. If he didn’t know better.
If she hadn’t proved herself by trusting his instincts, sight unseen.
If, if, if. She shook her head. She could stand here and argue, wasting time, explaining, or she could—
She pulled out her gun, using her body to shield it from the sight of the others, and poked the barrel into his ribs. “I didn’t want to do it this way, but you won’t listen.”
