Athena Force: Books 1-6

by Justine Davis, Amy J. Fetzer, Katherine Garbera, Meredith Fletcher, Catherine Mann

  “Is this about your new hair color and why you disappeared at the funeral when the press was there?” Alex said.

  The comment didn’t surprise her, they were in tune with each other, even after all this time.

  “Yes.” Darcy took a deep breath and began. She withheld nothing, not a single detail of her life with Maurice. They’d all been at the wedding. Poor girl marries millionaire. It sounded good. She was crying by the time she got to the night Rainy came for her, and had to stop to collect herself. She apologized for hiding all this. But she was ashamed, mortally ashamed of her weakness. There was a stretch of silence. Darcy looked at Megan, uncertain.

  Then one clear voice, Kayla, said, “Rainy told me some of what you’ve been through. We all guessed that something was wrong with your marriage. We knew you would come to us when you were ready. You want us to go after him?” They started chattering at once, agreeing.

  Darcy deflated into the chair, relieved beyond measure. She wiped her eyes and smiled. “I love you all, you know that.”

  “Oh, Darcy, what a burden this must have been all this time,” Josie said. “And with Charlie to protect, too.”

  “We’ve all made mistakes,” Tory said. “It’s not your fault. Fear for your life is not a flaw.”

  When they asked about what she planned now, Darcy explained the situation with Porche Fairchild. They all had input that gave her confidence. She wasn’t alone anymore, and she realized that her life would have been so much easier if she’d just told them the whole truth from the start. Shame was an ugly thing, she thought.

  “I can test the clothing if you want,” Alex offered.

  “I could run a check on Fairchild, see if she has prints on file,” Kayla said.

  They each offered help and Darcy felt her soul lift.

  Alex said, “That evidence might not stand up in court because it wasn’t collected by forensics.”

  “I know that. It’s a chance I have to take.” But she wasn’t dispirited.

  “One more thing.”

  “There’s more?”

  “I found a surrogate.”

  “Way to go!” came through the speakerphone. She explained about finding Touchy, the boys in black, and Cleo Patra. She told them what had happened in Vegas and all she’d learned from Cleo. “Dr. Reagan and Betsy Stone are the connections to Cleo and this Peters guy. Maybe if we find Reagan’s records they’ll lead us to Peters.”

  “Where is Cleo now? I’d like to talk to her,” Tory said.

  “I have her hidden. She told me everything she could and until I know it’s safe, no one can go near her. I’ll copy the tape recording and send one to each of you. But considering they chased us down and shot at us, we can’t let anyone know we have her.”

  “You really need to carry a gun, Darcy.”

  Darcy sank back into the cushions. “You sound like Jack.”

  “Who’s Jack?” Josie asked curiously.

  “A bounty hunter.”

  “Intriguing.” This from Kayla.

  She glanced at Meg, who was smug. “He is,” she said and Darcy introduced her trusted friend to the Cassandras. They all thanked her for being Darcy’s friend and support.

  “Can you count on this Jack for help?”

  “Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Jack knows everything. In fact he’s known who I am for nearly two years and kept his mouth shut.”

  “I like him already.” Darcy thought that was Josie.

  “We want to help, Darcy,” Alex said.

  “You can’t.” When they all protested Darcy reminded them, “I’m a parental kidnapper, ladies. I don’t want any of you accused of aiding and abetting.”

  “But you’ll let this Jack help?”

  “Jack isn’t a man who takes no for an answer.”

  She wondered how he’d feel about her going to see Kel. She had to, it was only fair to break off what little relationship they had. Besides, she wanted to confront him about seeing him in Vegas. She still wasn’t sure if it had been him, since she never got a good look.

  But Darcy trusted her instincts and so far they hadn’t steered wrong.

  Chapter 14

  Darcy found it odd that the instant Jack left her house, Kel called, inviting her over for a drink. She agreed for one reason only—to say goodbye.

  Her cell rang just as she knocked on Kel’s door. She answered it. “Yes, you can have cookies and milk tonight and mind your manners.” Kel opened the door, smiling.

  “Charles?” he asked.

  She nodded, said goodbye and ended the call. “He’s excited about watching some new video.”

  He took her jacket, hanging it up on a peg near the door. He kissed her softly, running his hand down her back. She stepped away, wondering why his touch didn’t evoke the same feelings as before. Jack, she thought, walking farther into the apartment.

  “This is cute.” It was sparse, a studio of sorts, with only a partition wall hiding the bed. It must have come furnished, she thought. It looked generic.

  There wasn’t a radio but a small TV that looked like a throwback from the eighties sat in the corner of the living area. Not his, she decided. His camera equipment was set up in the corner, one camera on a tripod, and photos lay strewn on the table.

  “May I?” she asked, pointing.

  “Sure.”

  She picked up a stack, examining them as he took out two wineglasses. The photos were lovely. Sunsets, old homes, the city from the hilltop. Like postcards.

  “These are very nice.”

  “You’re too kind. They’re just preliminary shots. Seeing what I like the best, then I’ll go back and shoot again to narrow it down. They don’t pay for soso, only for the spectacular.”

  She heard the pop of a cork, and looked up.

  He held up the bottle. “Wine?”

  “I don’t drink.” Her mother was an alcoholic. She’d seen the effect up close and personal.

  “I love American wines.” He showed her the label. “Costs a fortune in England. You sure you won’t have some? You look as if you could use some relaxation.”

  Laying down her purse on the sofa, she went into the kitchen. When he put the wine in the fridge, she added, “I’ll have one of those, though.”

  She pointed to the bottled iced tea, noticing everything in one sweep. The worn appliances and dishes that must have come with the place, the fridge that had little in it except what he’d recently purchased. What really got her notice was that his clothes were still in a suitcase instead of the dresser. There wasn’t any paraphernalia on the dresser, no jewelry, aftershave, receipts, pocket change.

  He poured the tea into a glass, then handed it to her. Darcy drank half of it, not moving when he motioned her to the living-room area.

  “I can’t stay, Kel. I came here for one reason.”

  He frowned. “Well that doesn’t sound good.”

  “We can’t see each other anymore.”

  “And here I thought it was going great.”

  “It was nice, but you’re leaving the area and I don’t want it to go further.”

  “It’s him, isn’t it? That bulldog, Jack Turner.”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “You could at least have the decency to tell me the truth.”

  “Fine, it is Jack.” She tripped over the words, her mouth suddenly numb. She frowned down at the iced tea, then peered at the bottom of the glass. A faint swirl of greenish powder colored the bottom.

  Her gaze snapped up. “You drugged me.”

  His look was deadpan. “I beg your pardon?”

  “There’s something in this.”

  “You’re imagining things.”

  Oh, no, Darcy thought, feeling her limbs soften.

  “What the hell did you do?” She turned away, and grabbed the table when her world tilted. “Who the hell are you?!”

  “If you must know, I’m an actor.”

  Darcy’s heart slammed to a stop and she choked for air.
Oh, no. Maurice!

  “Ah, I see you understand.”

  “You bastard.” She tried to move around the edge of the counter, ready to tear him apart, but he sidestepped and she nearly fell. The numbing feeling seeped down her body like liquid fire. She reached for her knife, turning to throw, but he knocked it out of her hand, shoving her onto the sofa.

  “No, it’s your husband who’s the bastard.”

  She grappled for purchase. Her bones felt liquefied.

  “Let me help you to the sofa.” His accent was completely gone.

  “Drop dead.” She looked at him, blinked, then sent her fist driving into his face. The impact rang up her arm and sent him flying backward. She struggled to her feet, the room swaying. She had to get out of here.

  “Well I didn’t expect that, Mrs. Steele.” He worked his jaw, spit blood.

  “I’m going to kill you,” she said, her words slurred, yet holding the power of her rage. Suddenly, her legs folded and Darcy dropped to the floor.

  “I’ll be out of the country by the time you wake up.”

  “You have no idea what you’re dealing with, Kel, or whoever you are!”

  “Yes, I do. Your husband is a very powerful man in Hollywood.”

  “You owed him, didn’t you?”

  Kel’s expression sharpened. “Yes, I did. He got me out of a jam a couple years back.” His tone went bitter. “I’ve been paying for it for some time now. But my career means more to me.”

  Her world moved along in slow motion, faint sounds amplified, and she barely managed, “Ho-how did he find me?” Did it matter now? She tried pushing herself up off the floor, but her arms wouldn’t obey her mind.

  “The news report, ABS. About some funeral. Charlie and you were on it. He hired a detective to find you, then sent me in to hook you.”

  Rainy’s funeral. Ex-Athena student Shannon Connor had blasted Athena Academy in that news report. Mostly because Shannon had a grudge against Athena and the Cassandras. She’d tried to frame Josie for stealing. Tory had exposed her, and Shannon had become the only student ever to be expelled from Athena.

  Shannon must have caught her and Charlie on film at the funeral. Maurice knew she wouldn’t have missed the service. He must have recognized her and tracked her and Charlie through their plane tickets, must have discovered her alias.

  This is my fault. I knew it was coming and didn’t move fast enough!

  Kel picked up her purse, digging in it and Darcy’s panic shot like a rocket through her when he pulled out her cell phone. Kneeling near her, he hit Star 69, then dialed the last number. She could barely hear Megan answer, saying her whole name. Meg had no fears; her common-law husband was behind bars for the rest of his life for murder. Kel cut the line, then dialed information, asking for an address. “Clever girl, hiding him with your receptionist.”

  Angry tears burned her eyes. Charlie, oh God, my baby. Maurice would use him for the single reason that Darcy loved him more than her own life.

  Kel bent and gripped her jaw, kissing her roughly. “It was fun while it lasted, love.” He stood.

  The drugs kicked through her, narrowed her vision, paralyzing her arms and legs. She could feel her heartbeat slow down.

  Kel’s footsteps and the slamming door echoed through her mind.

  Then everything went black.

  Maurice’s jet landed at a small airport outside Comanche. Kel was waiting for him beside a compact car.

  “Be gassed and ready to go in a moment,” Maurice said to the crew as he stepped onto the flight deck. He took one look at the small car and made a face.

  He got in. “You couldn’t do better than this roller skate?”

  Kel met his gaze. “A limousine will be noticed.”

  Maurice flicked a hand for him to drive. “She’s out cold, correct?”

  “Yes, for at least eight hours.”

  “Good work. Let’s get the boy.”

  “He’s with the receptionist.”

  Maurice sent him a hard glance. “You don’t have him?”

  “She hid him from everyone. No one knew who cared for the kid while she was away. And you wanted to do this. I said I’d find her and get close to her, but I’m not stealing the kid. That’s a felony.”

  “And you do have a sexual assault record, don’t you?”

  Kel’s expression turned bitter. “You better make this worth it, Steel.”

  “Or?”

  “I’m not sure. If you’d been here when I called, I might have found the boy sooner while she was in Vegas.”

  “I had appointments I couldn’t break.” Maurice gave a distasteful look at the passing scenery. “Did you ever learn what she was doing there?”

  “No. She almost spotted me, so I disappeared.”

  Maurice gave him an annoyed look and when the car pulled into the driveway of a small house, he got out and with determined steps went right up to the door. He didn’t knock, and pushed his way in.

  Darcy was abruptly aware of her surroundings.

  Her face was hot, her skin itching. It felt like ants crawling over her back, making her shift and pushing back the thick, cottony feeling in her brain.

  Sprawled on the floor, she had no idea how much time had passed.

  Charlie.

  The thought of her son in danger forced her to move her legs, draw her arms to support herself as she pushed up on her hands and knees. Her stomach recoiled and she gasped for air, trying not to retch and then not caring. Bile spilled, burning her throat. Crap. She swiped her mouth and struggled to her feet.

  Her knees went soft and she grabbed the sofa arm, lurching into it. She lay there for a minute, trying to breathe, to clear the cloud of drugs. What did he give me? Now that it was out of her body, after a couple minutes, her blurry vision began to clear. Her breathing sounded like an engine in the small apartment.

  She looked around. Alone.

  Her heart twisted with anger and worry, and she grabbed the phone. No dial tone. Staggering to her feet, she swallowed, her mouth dry. She ripped the place apart looking for her cell phone. She found it in Kel’s suitcase along with papers from Maurice. An investigator’s report. She tried reading them but the words swam like bugs on the page. Stuffing them in her jacket, she dialed Meg. All she got was a busy signal.

  Darcy cursed, the floor feeling unstable beneath her feet as she hurried to the sink. Filling a glass of water, she drank, then shoved her head under the faucet. Charlie, repeated in her mind, her thoughts going wild over what Kel would do with her son.

  I’ll kill him. I swear to God, I will kill him.

  She shook her head like a dog, smoothing her hair back as she looked out the window. The break of dawn painted the night sky purple. It’s been hours. Charlie would be scared. He’d scream. Maurice needed Charlie unharmed, but Darcy feared Kel had hurt Meg to get him. Her friend wouldn’t give up Charlie without a fight.

  She dialed 911 and told the police that she’d been drugged against her will and where they’d find the evidence. She gave them the address, said Kel had done it to kidnap her son. They’d send a car to her house, but Darcy knew it was too late. It had been hours. The police wanted her to wait where she was. All she said was “No” and cut the line.

  Whoever Kel really was, he was going to jail. And if he touched her son, she’d kill him. She didn’t care about herself, about watching her back, about staying out of jail. All that mattered now was her son and Megan.

  Slinging her purse, she moved down the narrow hall to the door. The walls swayed a bit and she paused, waiting, then grabbed her jacket, threw open the door and walked out.

  I hope pretty-boy Kel gets twenty to life as some guy’s prison bitch.

  Maurice was back in L.A. within two hours. Darcy, he thought, was still on the floor of that apartment.

  He paced the spacious living room, staring at the boy tucked into his grandmother’s side on the sofa. Delores Allen was just an added lure for Darcy. She was a drunk and liked all the things Ma
urice had given her to keep her quiet and docile. She didn’t look docile now, though, glaring at him from her perch like a thin sparrow.

  “Would you like a drink, Delores?” he asked. He knew she wanted one. She’d been drunk when he called her, drunk when she arrived by limousine. Twenty-four hours locked up made her look like an aging hooker in detox.

  He stepped behind the maple-wood bar, pouring a scotch, then bringing it to her. She looked at it hungrily and Maurice knew she needed it—more than she wanted it.

  “Go on, it will take the edge off.”

  She shook her head, hugging the sleeping child protectively. Maurice grinned and sipped the smooth, gold liquid. His gaze landed on the boy. He’d cried for his mother the instant he’d woken after the plane flight. He’d whimpered and whined, begging to go home. Maurice felt stung by it, wanting his boy to come to him. Maurice chose not to tell him he was his father and a little dose of his own insomnia medication had kept the boy quiet for now.

  If he wasn’t certain the child was his, he would have thought the boy belonged to another man. He was a dead ringer for Darcy. He even had her bright blue eyes. The only trait of his the child possessed was Maurice’s dark hair, yet it was streaked with the same blond as his wife’s.

  Maurice turned away to stare out the window. The alarms were set, the fence electrified, and the dogs were loose on the grounds. There was no way she could get in here, yet Maurice wasn’t taking any chances, keeping a gun close by. When she arrived, he’d call the police and claim she was trying to kidnap the child.

  The boy stirred, whining for his mother, and Maurice motioned to a servant to give him the drug-laced milk. Maurice continued to look out the window, knowing Darcy couldn’t get inside and confident he had the upper hand. He’d lure her in, then make her pay for ruining his life by leaving him. No one left him. And he wasn’t going to let a pretty piece of poor, white trash win.

  He’d kill her first.

  Chapter 15

  Darcy broke the speed limit and nearly crashed twice to get to Megan’s place. She dashed out of the car, leaving it running and pushed through the front door, shouting for Charlie and Meg.