Athena Force: Books 1-6

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

  It was a sobering thought and she shivered deep inside when she realized that she wanted to know the real man behind the different faces. She wanted to stay close to him, feeling his heat, breathing his scent and verbally sparring with him.

  “What are you?” she asked.

  “A man. Come closer and I’ll prove it.”

  She backed away. She’d never been good at self-denial, and despite Perry she wanted Ben. It made perfect sense to her here in this tropical getaway, with danger at her heels, but in the real world it would be an insanity she wouldn’t contemplate. “Slow down, Casanova. I had a lot of time to think.”

  “And?” he asked, moving closer to her.

  “There’s something not right about you being here. And I’m not going to rest until I figure out what it is.”

  He gripped her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark. She wished they hadn’t. He looked angry.

  “I thought you were on a story.”

  “I am. I can multitask.” She shrugged, trying to free herself, but his grip was unbreakable.

  “No need. Just keep your nosy self out of my business. Stop wiggling.”

  She couldn’t back down now. She had to find out every detail of what made him tick. “That’s hard.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re Alex’s brother.” If she leaned toward him their bodies would be touching.

  “Believe me, Alex is happy with what she knows of me,” he said.

  “Ha.” She had no idea why they were talking about Alex when what she really wanted to do was not have a conversation at all.

  “With comebacks like that I find it hard to believe you’re a journalist.”

  “You make me crazy.”

  “Crazy good?” he asked softly, his breath brushing along the exposed curve of her neck.

  “Crazy crazy.” She tensed, waiting to see if he’d kiss her there. But she felt only the barest touch of his lips on her skin before he released her and stepped away.

  “You’re just plain nuts. Why are you here?”

  “To interview a navy SEAL who has come back from the dead.”

  “If I get you your interview, will you leave me be?”

  “I can’t,” she said honestly. If he’d been nothing more than a society playboy running through Daddy’s money and supermodels, she wouldn’t have even noticed him. But now that he’d shown her this other side, she couldn’t let him be. He fascinated her and her curiosity was aroused along with her feminine instinct.

  “Dammit, Tory. I’m not going to let some TV reporter ruin this.”

  “Ruin what?”

  “Nothing. If you want your interview with Tom King, you better forget you ever saw me here. Where’s my package?” he asked. Why was he so angry? It wasn’t as if she was going to go on network television and expose him as a…what the heck was he?

  She thrust the leather pouch to him. She’d forgotten she still had it in her hands. “Why are you so angry?”

  “Because you can’t forget your damned job long enough to do what’s right.”

  She realized he’d misunderstood her. “I wouldn’t—”

  “Go back to your hotel and wait for the call. You’ll have your interview with King in the next twelve hours. But I’m serious, Tory. Cross me on this and you’ll regret it.”

  He pivoted on his heel and walked away before she could respond. She watched him leave. Rubbing her arms, she wondered how a few innocent questions had turned into the inquisition.

  Tory exited the alley muttering to herself about stubborn, hardheaded men. Since she was just as determined about her job, she could understand why he’d taken the hard line. But at the same time he should know her reputation well enough to realize she didn’t do stories that would hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. And it seemed that a story on Ben would blow his cover and make it impossible for him to function.

  Did he think she was one of those bimbos he usually dated? She didn’t care what he thought. After tonight it was doubtful she’d see him again.

  She heard footsteps behind her. She stopped and turned, expecting to see Bennington Forsythe, but no one was there. Creeped out, she started walking again, this time at a quicker pace. She hugged her purse to her side and then realized she was advertising the fact that she wanted to be a victim.

  She straightened her spine. There was nothing out here in the night that she couldn’t take on. She’d been tested and had proved herself many times in battle. Repeating her mantra—it’s hard to defeat an enemy with outposts in your head—she continued toward the Jeep.

  She had one more deserted shop front to walk past and then she’d be safely back in that rickety old Jeep. Actually she was probably in a better place out here. The pocket of darkness made her wary, and she hurried her pace again but then stopped.

  Someone was in the shadows.

  “Ben?”

  The red-hot glow of a cigar flashed and the pungent scent assailed her. She turned to cross the street and found a man behind her. He wore grubby jeans, a sleeveless T-shirt and a straw cowboy hat that had seen better days.

  The rain still fell in a steady drizzle. Tory cursed her luck. The man with the cigar moved out from the shadows. He had a long scar that ran the length of his face from his temple to his jaw. He was taller than she was and about two hundred pounds heavier.

  “You will come with us,” he said in broken English.

  “No, thanks.” Tory edged away from the two men.

  Scarface laughed. The sound sent chills down her spine. “You misunderstand, Miss Patton. It wasn’t an invitation.”

  They knew who she was. At first that scared her. Was it another of Shannon’s schemes to make sure that Tory didn’t get her story, or something more sinister? Or maybe they were a rebel group who needed media coverage.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “Grab her, Jose,” the man said in Spanish, probably not knowing that she spoke the language.

  Jose stepped closer, and Tory feinted to the right and tried to dash around him. But the man was smarter than he looked and grabbed her around the middle. He brought his free hand up to her throat and held her with her neck tipped back. Her purse dropped from her hand.

  He tightened his grasp until she fought for every breath. And got pissed off. Her pulse quickened as she grabbed his wrist in both hands. Dropping her body weight forward, she flipped him over her shoulder. She backed away and brought her hands up in a defensive pose.

  He got up unsteadily and charged straight at her. He hit her with a punch to the stomach, followed by a jab toward her face. Tory doubled over before he made contact with her nose.

  The man with the cigar circled around behind her and Tory knew she couldn’t fight two men at once. She gasped for breath and remembered a bit of advice her tae kwon do instructor had offered her long ago. In a street fight, go for the legs and take your opponent down.

  She aimed a side kick at Jose’s leg just above the knee and watched his leg crumple. She spun and kicked out again, this time catching him in the ribs. She aimed just below the ninth rib and knew she’d hit her target when he fell to the ground. Tory was sure she’d knocked him out. Whirling quickly, she faced Jose’s accomplice.

  “Very nice, Miss Patton,” Scarface said.

  “I cherish your praise.”

  He stubbed out his cigar on his forearm and placed it in his pocket. Tory backed away to keep both men in her line of vision. Jose hadn’t moved since she’d kicked him. But she wasn’t taking chances.

  Instead of waiting for Scarface to attack, she went on the offensive. She took a deep breath and centered herself. Lashed out with a spinning hook kick to Scarface’s hamstrings. She spun away and fell back into a fighting stance. The kick should have rendered one of his legs useless, but he moved back and the kick didn’t hit him squarely.

  She caught him under the chin with a knife-hand blow to his neck. His head snapped back. Tory danced away and came bac
k with a high kick to his head. He leaned back and grabbed her foot to yank her off balance. Tory used his hold on her foot as a weight. She hooked her other leg around his knees and leaned forward, forcing him to let go of her ankle as they both went down.

  She rolled and sprang to her feet again. Her ankle throbbed, dammit. Scarface stayed down. The fall had knocked him out. She grabbed her purse and sprinted to her vehicle, digging for the keys. She got inside the Jeep and started it.

  Her hands were shaking and her ankle throbbed. She wasn’t GI Jane. She was a relatively successful urban girl with some martial-arts training who was out of her environment. She struggled not to let panic set in as she drove away.

  The road was a patchwork of muddy potholes, which forced Tory to concentrate on driving. Slowly the adrenaline from her encounter seeped away.

  An American journalist was just the kind of political hostage some of the gunrunners or drug dealers could use. But if those men were criminals, why hadn’t they been armed?

  Chapter 6

  Jay was waiting inside the hotel for her when she returned. Though it was only a little after eight it felt more like midnight. He took one look at the way she was hobbling and steered her into the bar for a shot of tequila.

  He handed her the shot glass and Tory took it thankfully, swallowing the liquor in one gulp.

  She leaned back against the wooden chair and closed her eyes. She heard a chair scrape backward, and then Jay sat down across from her.

  “Making friends again?” he asked. He pulled out a cigar and a clipper. Trimming the end of it, he rolled it through his fingers a few times, then brought it to his mouth and lit the end.

  She forced a smile. She was getting edgy, and the feeling of everything going to crap was getting stronger. This wasn’t the first time she’d had a difficult time getting a story, but it was the first time that so many different elements in her life had converged. “You know me. Always the life of the party.”

  “Actually, Tory, you are.”

  She enjoyed a reputation not only as a brilliant journalist but also as a very good-natured woman. “I know. Obviously the natives don’t realize how likable I am.”

  “Obviously. What happened?” he asked.

  She debated how much to tell Jay. He’d become her father confessor since she’d been here. She didn’t like leaning on him, but without Perry she had no one to talk to here. “A couple of guys tried to grab me.”

  “Rape?”

  “I don’t think so. They knew my name and wanted me to come with them.”

  “Probably a group of drug or gunrunners. The new regime frowns on that kind of activity, so having a pretty American journalist as a hostage could be very beneficial to them.”

  “That’s one theory. But the sentiment in the city is very pro-coca ranchers from what I heard when I talked to the people in the marketplace, so I’m not too sure that was their goal,” she said.

  “What were you doing tonight?”

  “A little person-to-person research.” She couldn’t let Jay know that she was a courier for the government.

  He raised one eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. She realized she had to come up with something. “What about Shannon?”

  “I saw her earlier talking to an older man. I think he works for Perez’s office.”

  “I wonder if she’s filed a story yet. I’m going to call Perry and find out.”

  “How’s things with Perry?”

  “Fine. Why do you ask?”

  “For the same reason I always do,” he said after a moment.

  Jay had made no secret of the fact that he wanted to see her. Or at least see her naked. But she had to wonder if maybe he’d picked up on some of her restlessness with that relationship. Regardless, she wasn’t ready to make a change, and certainly not without talking to Perry first. “Things are fine. Back to Shannon—do you think she would have sent those guys tonight?”

  “It’s possible, given the nature of the rumor she started, that they may have believed you were a contact for them.”

  Tory took her glass from the bartender and sipped at this one. She was too tired to really think straight. Pulling out one of her notepads, she wrote down a few notes. “We forgot one.”

  “What?”

  “Maybe they wanted me to interview their leader.”

  “A possibility.”

  She added that to her notes and then jotted down descriptions of both men. She thought there might be a story in this somewhere. Gathering her stuff and herself, she stood. She wanted to ice her ankle and rest.

  “Thanks for the drink,” she said.

  “No problem. I’ve been trying a convince you to have a drink with me for a long time.”

  “Not tonight, Jay.”

  He set his cigar on the table and reached for her hands. “Why not? You look like you could use a shoulder to lean on.”

  She was conflicted and couldn’t deal with thoughts of Jay tonight. He tempted her, but then he always had because he was fun. But she was still involved with Perry.

  “I can’t,” she said with what she hoped was finality. She nodded her goodbye and walked away.

  The night clerk at the desk looked up as she approached the elevator.

  “Tory Patton?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have a message for you.”

  She crossed to him. He dug around on his desk and finally located an envelope with her name on it. He handed it to her. She took some money from her pocket and gave it to the man.

  “Thanks.”

  She pushed the envelope into her pocket as she waited for the elevator to arrive. Finally she was in her room. She tossed her bag on the bed and pulled off her torn shirt.

  She bent and removed her boots and gently probed her ankle. It wasn’t swelling, but a bruise was starting to form. She’d wrap it before she went back out.

  Pulling the envelope from her pocket, she used her nail to rip it open. A slip of paper fell out.

  Come to the Vista Del Mar Hotel in Paraiso if you want to meet King.

  Tory sat up straight, her fatigue falling away as she realized her interview was at hand. She stripped out of her clothing, which was dirty from her earlier altercation, and took a quick shower. Ten minutes later she was on her way down the hall toward the lobby. Her wet hair clung to the back of her neck.

  She’d packed up everything in her room and brought it downstairs with her. Jay was in the lobby speaking to a local when she returned.

  “Grab your camera and come on.”

  He said something to the man he’d been talking to and followed her. Ten minutes later they were on their way to the Vista Del Mar and Tom King.

  Jay drove so she could review her interview questions and notes one more time. She jotted a few final questions on her notepad as they neared the hotel. Jay followed her directions to the parking lot.

  King was in the hotel and no longer at the hospital—and Ben had something to do with that. It was a circumstance she planned to explore when she got inside. It was a few minutes after nine when they got out of the car.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “I got a tip that King was here.”

  “From who? This could be a trap.”

  Tory knew that the note had come from Ben, but knew he wouldn’t want Jay to know. “It’s reliable.”

  “It’s not just your ass if turns out to be Perez’s idea of a joke.”

  “Perez won’t give me the time of day. You’re going to have to trust me, Jay.”

  He looked at her for a long minute, then turned and gathered his equipment. Tory helped him by carrying in the sound equipment. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d miked herself and the person she was interviewing.

  The hotel lobby wasn’t as run-down as the place they were staying in. When they entered, a man in jeans and a dark T-shirt stopped them. His carriage had an air of military to it.

  “Tory Patton?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Rob
ert O’Neill. Follow me.”

  “Who are you with, Robert?”

  “The military,” he said, which wasn’t much of an answer. Which branch? Why wasn’t he in uniform?

  She didn’t have a chance to ask him any other questions. He led them to the second floor and into a suite with a sitting room. The room to the connecting suite was ajar.

  “I’ll set up over there,” Jay said.

  Tory nodded. “I need to change and then I’ll come back and help you set up.” She turned to O’Neill. “Is Thomas King here yet?”

  “He’ll be here in a moment, Ms. Patton. You can use that room to change,” he said, gesturing to the right.

  Tory took her garment bag and entered the small bathroom. She changed quickly and applied her makeup with a heavy hand, knowing that the lights would wash her out if she didn’t. She smiled reassuringly at herself in the mirror and practiced a few of her questions.

  She closed the lid on the toilet seat and sat down, adjusted the buttons on her jacket and then stood and sat down again. Her clothing was free of constrictions and she felt comfortable.

  She left her jeans and T-shirt folded on the counter and reentered the room. Only Jay was there and he had the lights set up and was loading the tape in the beta camera.

  Tory looked at the chairs and then rearranged the angle of each one. “How’s this?”

  They discussed the placement of the chairs, and Tory moved from one to the other so that Jay could check the camera angles.

  The door to the connecting suite opened and a tall, gaunt man walked in. Tory closed her eyes for a minute to compose herself. She’d expected him to look bad, but the reality was so much worse. He had a jagged scar on his neck and a bandage over his left temple, and he looked as if he might weigh less than she did. His clothes hung from his body like rags on a scarecrow.

  She opened her eyes again and met his green-gold gaze. In his expression she saw determination and a quiet kind of rage. She sensed that, though his body was temporarily not up to fighting, his spirit was. His blond hair was thick but cut short and neat.