Athena Force: Books 1-6

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

  She approached from the east, on a neighboring property, beyond the blind spot of the security cameras she remembered from when she’d left Maurice. She shined a penlight at the camera, counting off the seconds it took for it to pan the yard and return. From her pack, she pulled out a thermal blanket with a thick rubber backing. Getting past the electrified wires on the top of the stone wall wouldn’t be easy. But she was more worried about the dogs. They weren’t pets, they were attack dogs. If she wasn’t quick, she’d be ripped apart before she could get to Charlie.

  She climbed the large tree beside the fence on the neighbor’s property. They didn’t have Maurice’s security paranoia, but she still had to avoid the sensors. She wished she could risk the strength of the tree limb and just move out to the edge, but if it cracked, they’d hear it for half a block. Like a lizard, she lay facedown on the branch, then scooted inch by inch out onto the limb, balancing herself with her ankles wrapped around the thick branch.

  In one quick motion, she unrolled the blanket, throwing it toward the wall and letting it sail open todrape over electrical wires as thin as hair. Gripping the branch, she rolled off, dangling for a second before swinging her legs up and throwing her weight at the wall. She caught the edge, praying the blanket didn’t slip out from under her as she flung her leg over. Sitting on the ledge, she watched the cameras pan, then jumped.

  Immediately she heard the dogs growling, the soft thump of their paws as they raced toward her. Quickly Darcy pulled the package from her vest, but in seconds she was cornered, the black Dobermans baring their teeth and barking.

  She unwrapped the raw meat and stretched out her arm. One dog snapped at her.

  “Easy, Hercules,” she whispered and the dog cocked its head. “Hello, Zeus, how’s it going, buddy?” Her voice was hushed, the meat hanging from her fingers. The growling was a low constant hum. Before she left Maurice she’d secretly fed the dogs so they’d obey her and wouldn’t bark when Rainy came to help her escape. She tossed the meat to the left near the wall, but the dogs didn’t go for it.

  Now what?

  Tugging off her glove, she extended her arm. The dogs growled, shiny fangs bright in the dark. Darcy didn’t think she’d ever been more afraid of being eaten. She let them sniff her.

  One whimpered. One sat.

  “Go on, eat.” They just stared, their growls low and steady. Then she remembered the commands, and motioned sharply to the meat and said, “Eat.”

  The deadly black pair went for the food. Quickly, Darcy backed against the wall, blending into the dark, glancing down at the dogs. The drugged meat would put them out cold for at least a couple hours. Harmless drugs, but necessary. Pulling on her gloves, she moved swiftly along the perimeter toward the back patio where she was able to see a considerable part of the lower level through the great room. With the lights on inside, no one could see her.

  She edged around the house, remembering when she’d selected the flowers and bushes, the curtains and furniture. Maurice had given her free rein and endless money to decorate. It had been a blanket covering the truth about her husband. There was always a price with Maurice. That was how he’d gotten Kel Adams to do what he wanted.

  She slipped over the low retaining wall that cupped the back patio, her felt-and-rubber-bottomed shoes soundless. She heard music, Bach, and knew Maurice was near. She inched along the outer wall of the house, sliding up to each window and looking in. The floor plan in the house was etched in her mind, the way in, the way out. Darcy knew she had to find Charlie first.

  The great room was empty, the low light spilling softly over the decor. It looked just as it had when she left. Nothing had been changed. Even her wedding picture still hung over the mantel.

  A shadow flickered, and Darcy’s gaze shot to the walls, then to her surroundings. It moved again and her gaze zeroed in on the lower guest-bathroom window to her left. Darcy rushed to it, peering.

  Oh, crap. Her mother!

  What the hell was she doing here? First instinct was that her mother was in on this. She still hadn’t forgiven Delores for not helping her when she needed her mother’s understanding the most. But Darcy wasn’t leaving her mom behind. And if she was drunk? Getting to Charlie was one thing—getting her mother out as well was another.

  Darcy watched Delores fill a glass of water and leave the bathroom. Quickly she moved to the next window. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw Charlie on the bed, motionless. Delores held his head, tipping the glass to his lips.

  Charlie was pale as a sheet and not moving. Damn you, Maurice!

  She squatted to rethink the plan. If Charlie was drugged, then he’d be tough to carry out of the house with any speed. And her mother—drunk? Or not?

  The dull rumble of voices pierced the quiet, and she hurried along the length of the house. There was a long breezeway leading from the house to the garage with doors to the side lot where the servants parked.

  Strapping on her NVGs Darcy shifted around the bushes and leaped the north patio wall to see who was leaving for the night. Two women hurried down the glass corridor, one glancing back at the house. When the first woman stopped, the other grabbed her, shaking her head.

  They knew and did nothing.

  Darcy moved along the west side of the breezeway, then around the garage to the east side. One woman punched in the lock code. Darcy inched closer. She ought to knock one out and take a uniform, but the maids usually lived in the house. Which meant Maurice had sent them home for a reason.

  One woman stepped out, then the second. Darcy slipped up behind them and caught the door, darting past. It closed without her being noticed. The lock clicked shut, the alarm light turning from green to red.

  Inside the breezeway, she stored the NVGs in the pack then moved down the hall toward the main house. Outside the kitchen door, Darcy concealed a couple of her knives. The gun was a last resort, in a holster under her left arm and hidden by the vest.

  She opened the door slowly, her gaze shooting around the kitchen. To the left was the dining room, to the right and beyond the separating wall was the foyer and stairs leading to the second floor. She hoped her mother and Charlie stayed on the lower level. If they didn’t, she’d have a tough time getting upstairs then back down.

  Part of her needed to confront Maurice, but her maternal instincts wanted her son out as safely and silently as possible.

  She stepped inside.

  She moved through the kitchen, alert to sounds. She needed to locate Maurice first and suspected he’d be in his office to the left of the foyer, next to the library. Music still played, muffling any sound she’d make. She followed it, then realized it was over the in-house speaker system. Where was he then?

  She moved through the house, to the foyer where she’d landed when he’d pushed her down the stairs, then beyond. The door to the library was open, but the room was empty. The door to his office was closed. Keeping back so she didn’t cast a shadow on the floor in front of the door, Darcy listened. She was nearly certain Maurice wasn’t in there till a chair squeaked. She darted back, flat against the wall. His high-backed oxblood leather chair, which looked like a throne, had always made that sound. Retracing her steps, she passed through the kitchen, crossed the dining room and into the back hall.

  Her mother was talking to Charlie, but her son wasn’t responding. Darcy checked the unopened doors before slipping into the guest room.

  She reached her mother just as Charlie opened his eyes. “Mom!”

  Her mother turned, and Darcy covered their mouths, hushing them with a warning look.

  Her mother just stared at her, her gaze moving over the cat suit, the knives. “I didn’t have anything to do with this.”

  Darcy glared at her mother to be quiet as she scooped up her child, hugging him tightly. She checked him for injuries, noticing his pupils were dilated, then motioned for him to stay quiet. Darcy pulled out her cell, hitting send, and she let the call ring once, then cut the line. Her own cavalry would come now
. She took a step. Her mother stood there, immobile. Darcy inclined her head for Delores to follow.

  Down the hall and into the dining room, Darcy made a decision to take the shortest distance and headed toward the great room. If she could get out without Maurice knowing, she’d consider it a miracle. But she couldn’t shut off the alarms. Maurice was paranoid about security and changed the codes all the time. Even if she tried the breezeway doors, the floodlights would come on, and every window and door would lock down. It was how he kept her trapped in here.

  They edged the room, behind the sofas and tables to the French doors leading to the back patio deck. Darcy set Charlie down to cut the sensor wires in the glass door.

  “Well, aren’t you the clever girl.”

  Darcy whipped around.

  Maurice was standing on the far side of the great room near the Roman columns, a cocktail in his hand. He smiled and a chill rippled all the way down her spine.

  “Hello, my love.” He looked her over thoroughly, walking closer. “You’ve lost weight, haven’t you?”

  Her lips thinned. She put herself between Maurice and her family.

  “You were stupid to even try this, you know that, don’t you?”

  He spoke to her the way he had four years ago, reasonable, as if making him mad over something trivial was her fault, as if the threats to her life were her doing. It just pissed her off more.

  “Bite me, Maurice.”

  “Interesting proposition, but my tastes have changed.”

  “You have taste?”

  His expression sharpened and he tsked. “Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Darcy.” He set the glass down and shrugged his jacket into place. It set off a warning in Darcy. He always did that before he hit her, before he pushed her down the stairs.

  Maurice moved closer, eyeing her. “I like the longer blond hair better. That reddish mess doesn’t suit you.”

  She said nothing.

  “And what do you think you are, dressed like that?”

  He moved closer and she advanced, not about to let him near the only exit and her child.

  The dignified act slid away and he lunged for her. Darcy tipped her body, her foot shooting out and hitting Maurice in the chest. He flew backward, banging into a delicate table, sending the lamp and knickknacks across the floor.

  Maurice gasped for air, clutching the table ledge, glaring at her. “You deserve a beating for that, bitch.”

  He came at her and Darcy struck first, one to the face, a second to his stomach. But Maurice was fit and took the brunt of it easily, locking his arm around her throat. She went loose, sliding down and twisting. He tightened his grip, held her back against him.

  “Fighting me just makes it all the more interesting,” he growled in her ear. “Now what, my love?” He jerked tighter, cutting off her air.

  She answered in successive moves. She threw her head back into his nose, drove her elbow into his stomach, then snapped her fist down to slam into his groin.

  He grunted each time, howling with the last. She shoved him away, turned, fist primed. He was folding to the floor.

  Charlie moved.

  “No!” she shouted.

  Maurice surged and grabbed Charlie’s leg. Darcy went after him till he pulled a tazer from his pocket. He held it crackling near her son’s skin.

  Darcy froze. “Don’t, Maurice.”

  “Give up then.”

  She said nothing, trying to ignore the fear in her son’s eyes.

  Maurice gave the tazer a jolt, blue current sparking. “This is supposed to take down a two-hundred-pound man, what will it do to a child?”

  It would kill him. Maurice knew it.

  She threw her hands up. “Okay, okay, don’t hurt him.”

  Maurice climbed to his feet, using Charlie as a shield as he moved toward her. Charlie whimpered.

  “Shut up.” He shook her son violently.

  “You do that again, Maury, and I swear to God I’ll scar you for life.”

  Maurice let the tazer crackle, the blue stream of energy too close to her child’s throat. Then he backhanded her, snapping her head to the side. Slowly, she turned her head, leveling him with a stare meant to fry the flesh from his bones. She swiped her hand across her lip. Blood smeared.

  Maurice’s confidence slipped a little.

  Between them, Charlie sobbed, staring up at her with his big eyes and trusting her to free him. Moving back, Darcy circled, making Maurice turn, making him look at her and not her son.

  “This is between me and you, Maury. Let him go.”

  He didn’t, holding Charlie by the collar of his shirt. “You’ll be my wife again.”

  “Dream on.” She moved to the right.

  “Or you’ll go to jail for kidnapping.”

  “I protected myself and my son.” She wanted to draw him near the fallen knickknacks, make him trip. She needed Charlie clear of him. “You’re the one going to jail, Maury.”

  “For what?” he said supremely arrogant.

  “Forgery, illegal money transfer, defrauding the government and there is the matter of Porche Fairchild.”

  His face turned to stone. “I heard she’s still on sabbatical.”

  “She’s dead.”

  “Really. You kill her?”

  “No, you did. Lot eight, the studio? Ring a bell? I found her body in a barrel of HCHO.”

  He paled, but covered it well. “That doesn’t mean anything to me.”

  “It should. Remember when you burned the bloody clothes in the hearth? You passed out, and I put out the flames and took them. They have her blood and the HCHO all over them. Plus your monogram—and your DNA.”

  Slowly the color drained from his handsome face.

  “And I’ll give you one guess who has them now.”

  “Well, it seems you’ve grown a brain.” He lunged, the tazer out, and Darcy swung her leg up, clipping his wrist. The tazer flew out of his hand and he stumbled right on her, dragging Charlie. She brought both fists down on the back of his neck.

  He dropped like a stone, taking Charlie with him. Darcy pulled her son away, pushing him toward her mother. Delores grabbed the tazer and stood near the door with Charlie behind her and the weapon out. Her hand shook.

  “Now you have no way out.” Maurice pushed up on his hands.

  “You are so stupid sometimes.” Darcy moved backward toward the French doors. “Do you think I came here alone?”

  Maurice’s expression turned molten, the ramifications sliding through his brain. “I’ll kill you!” He got to his feet, swaying a little.

  “You tried that once.” Fists out, she flicked her fingers. “I’ll give you another chance, though. Close your eyes, Charlie, Mommy has some house cleaning to do.”

  Maurice charged at her and Darcy waited for one moment. Waited till he was nearly on her. Her fists shot out in rapid succession, breaking his nose. Blood poured and he stumbled back, swiping at his face and staring at the blood. Then he came at her, and she drove her fist into his solar plexus. He buckled over, gasping, then threw his head back, clipping her under her chin. Darcy tripped backward, putting distance between them.

  “You can’t testify against me, Darcy,” he snarled. “A wife can’t testify against her husband!”

  “You really need to come out of the movie world, Maury. A wife can’t be forced to testify. Nobody will twist my arm.”

  “You spent the money, bitch!” he roared advancing. “You decorated this house with it.”

  “I never signed a thing. Remember? You wouldn’t let me.”

  The instant he was near, she executed a high spin kick, knocking him in the side of the head. He fell against the grand column, grabbing it for support. Darcy wasn’t done. Another double kick packed with anger sent him flying back. He landed hard on the tile floor, sliding a few feet.

  He didn’t move.

  Darcy adjusted her stance, not trusting that he was out for the count.

  “My God in heaven Darcy, where did you
learn that?”

  “Athena Academy.” Darcy rushed to the doors. Taking the tazer, she shocked the alarm system on the door. It shorted out and the locks sprang. She scooped up Charlie and shoved her mother out ahead of herself.

  Maurice was still on his back.

  Outside, she heard the blare of sirens, the squeal of tires. But it was the sweet sound of the incoming chopper that alerted half the neighborhood. Lights blinked on for a block as Darcy raced out, helping her mother run toward the beach.

  Like a hawk diving for its prey, the helicopter swooped in from the shoreline. The blades beat the air, the power knocking over planters, bending back tree limbs. The pilot delicately lowered the iron bird, and Darcy smiled at Lieutenant Josie Lockworth as she touched down.

  God, it was good to have heavy-duty backup.

  Darcy hurried her family toward the chopper.

  Maurice screamed her name. “If I lose it all, so do you!”

  Midstride, Darcy turned her head to look behind. Maurice stood on the patio and pointed a gun at her back. He cocked the hammer. She stopped and put Charlie down, telling him to run to the chopper, pushing her mother with him. Josie was already leaning out to pull them in.

  “Darcy! Come on!” Josie shouted when Charlie and Delores were inside.

  Darcy met her gaze and put her hands up in surrender, then made small circular motions with one gloved finger. Josie’s gaze shifted beyond to Maurice and her lips tightened. She didn’t want to leave her, Darcy knew. Darcy shook her head and mouthed, Save my baby. Josie adjusted her headset and lifted off without her.

  “Don’t shoot, Maurice.” Behind her, he smiled and Darcy looked up as the chopper rose, putting her hands behind her head.

  Charlie was screaming for her, reaching, and her mother struggled to hold on to him.

  The helicopter blades twisted the air, stirring dirt and leaves, the water in the pool. Josie aimed the spotlight down like a beam from heaven, showering them in white light.

  Maurice fired a shot at the chopper and in one motion Darcy twisted, pulling a knife from the pocket behind her neck. She threw. The small blade whistled through the air and sank into his thigh.