Athena Force: Books 1-6

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

  “Hold that thought, Pete. I need to make a quick phone call.” Sprinting toward the door, Diego shouted to the waitress to add any more drinks to his tab.

  Outside and away from the noise, he fished his cell from inside his leather jacket and punched in her number with impatient fingers while he searched the parking lot. The phone rang. And rang.

  Her voice mail picked up at the exact moment he spotted her Mustang spotlighted in a fluorescent circle. The car was empty.

  His brain burned.

  “Josie?” he called in a voice deep and full of authority. With luck, his approaching presence would stop any possible threat, like the night in this same lot when he’d sensed someone watching her.

  No answer, just the distant rumble of cars echoed from the highway leading out of this middle-of-nowhere bar. He strode deeper into the parking lot, muscles bunched.

  And then he heard it—just a rustle, a slight whimper two car rows over.

  “Josie,” he called again, calmly, in defiance of his slamming heart and feet picking up speed along gravel.

  He rounded yet another row of vehicles, visibility dimmer without a light nearby. His eyes adjusted, saw—Josie and Bridges against the bastard’s SUV.

  Both bodies blended into one without enough room to slide so much as a military reprimand between them.

  Blood pounded to his brain, clouded his vision, until all he could see was his ex in too damn near the same position outside a bar with a guy from his squadron. The final showdown had ended their marriage—the day he’d gotten shit-faced drunk because he was officially out of the air force.

  Diego inhaled deep into his belly to clear the crimson haze. She wasn’t his ex-wife Stephanie. Josie might not want him, either, but she sure as hell cared about her job enough not to risk it for a quick grope with Bridges.

  Bridges was hitting on her against her will, pressing her too flat against the car for her to move. An entirely different red fog fired through now.

  Diego forced a casual lounge against a truck bumper and let his voice stop the action. If this turned into a fight, he intended to have Josie at least a few inches away from the man.

  “Bridges, the way I see this you’re about a tonsil tickle away from a court martial.”

  Diego’s voice cut the air with a lazy—and damn welcome—authority.

  Disgust churning her gut, Josie took advantage of Bridges’s momentary shock and shoved her way clear of him. She scooched along the car, under the bastard’s arm and away, straightening her shirt and leather flight jacket with shaking hands. “Diego, am I ever glad to—”

  “Well hell, Morel.” An angry vein pulsed at Bridges’s temple, making lie of his easygoing smile. “You’re interrupting something that’s none of your business. Head back inside the bar.”

  Diego shifted to look at her. “Is that what you want, Josie?”

  “No! No.” Her shaking voice steadied. “Of course it’s not.” It was all she could do not to hurl on the gravel.

  Bridges raked his fingers through his mussed dark hair. “Fair enough. If the lady wants to go, by all means she can go. Nothing’s happening here against anyone’s will. Just two adults getting carried away by the moonlight. Luckily, nobody but you saw a thing. Right, pal?”

  And with that came the implication that Josie couldn’t file a complaint because there were no witnesses to anything beyond a kiss that had probably appeared mutual since Bridges had flattened her to the car.

  She’d shoved at his chest repeatedly—without budging him. She could have taken him completely out. But that would have risked an article 15 for hitting a senior officer. Definitely damned unfair for him to ignore the very rules that kept her from delivering a much-deserved pummeling. So she’d been forced to resort to simple shoving and waiting for him to move just an inch so she could slide away.

  Her jaw worked in frustration. “I hear and understand. But you’d better understand this, sir,” she delivered the surly salutation with lengthy disgust. “If you ever lay so much as one finger on me again, I’ll make sure your career ends in the fastest crash and burn you can imagine. And I won’t care if mine ends, as well.”

  She scraped her hand slowly, roughly across her mouth.

  The major continued, “You don’t want to do anything rash. There are already enough questions going around about you after your rescue stunt a few months ago for that friend. Then there’s your mother’s history and that near miss at Red Flag. Even if you make it through an investigation, do you really want yet another dark cloud of doubt following you for the rest of your career because of a simple misunderstanding?”

  Stepping in front of Josie, Diego stared Bridges down. “Thing is, I don’t care much about my career these days. So there are no constraints on what I may or may not do.”

  Bridges held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, back down, pal. I thought the lady was interested. I misread the signs. Not the smartest moment in my life, but nobody was hurt.”

  No one hurt? The guy was nuts. Sure she’d had a momentary attraction to him once, but she’d never, never said one word or acted on it. She wanted to confront him here and now on words that smacked of that clichéd “she asked for it” bullshit.

  But now wasn’t the time. She knew that, and would plan her next move carefully. When she didn’t want to gut-punch the man.

  Diego continued his deliberate look, not moving. Finally Bridges shrugged, smiled again and slid into his SUV. Gravel spit from the guy’s retreat. Josie sagged back against a truck bumper.

  This was so unfair.

  She didn’t consider herself one to shake her fist at the moon and bemoan her fate. But the horrible, flat-out injustice of Bridges’s come-on enraged her. She’d said no. Emphatically. Right before Bridges had plastered his smarmy lips onto hers.

  She wanted justice now, but knew she would have to be patient and follow the channels in place.

  First thing Monday after her Predator flight, she would find a senior officer she trusted. She would be calmer, more rational and articulate after a breather. She would then make an official signed, dated, sealed Memo of Record about the incident for that officer to keep, detailing everything that had happened with Bridges. That would lay the groundwork for establishing a pattern of behavior. If anything ever arose from him again in regards to her or anyone else—and she prayed to God it wouldn’t—her statement would be opened. She would take great pleasure in slapping it down on Bridges.

  Meanwhile, she definitely had some swelling anger to vent.

  Knowing that Diego was an undeserving target didn’t stop words guaranteed to halt him in his tracks. “I can’t believe you threatened him. I can fight my own battles. I do have a plan for dealing with this.”

  “Excuse me.” Leaning against the hood of a Ford F-250, he hooked his boot heel on the bumper. “I thought you didn’t want to play tonsil hockey with him.”

  “I don’t.” She shuddered.

  Diego’s words registered. He really believed she wasn’t at fault in spite of Bridges’s adolescent posturing. There Diego went again, being fair and deflating her anger. She wanted the chance to get all-out mad and stomp.

  She needed a good fight.

  Apparently she wasn’t going to get one from Diego. “Thank you for not assuming I invited that crap from Bridges.”

  “Oh, I did actually—for about four red-fog seconds. And then I managed to think.”

  “You realized I really want you.”

  “I realized you wouldn’t jeopardize your career with such a stupid risk.”

  Well now wasn’t it just swell that he hadn’t assumed she would turn Bridges away because she was already involved with another man? The hardheaded biker jerk standing a foot away was lounging against that truck so casually she wanted to knock his boot back onto the ground.

  Maybe she would get her fight after all. “Good God, Diego, I was ready to sleep with you less than twenty-four hours ago. No way would I turn around and crawl all over some other g
uy. I thought you knew me better than that.”

  “Know you?” He shook his head, hair grazing shoulders encased in black leather as dark as the night and his eyes. “Not really. We only met a couple of weeks ago. It’s not like we have some relationship going.”

  His words slapped her with the implication that she was only after sex with him. Something that, sure, she’d told herself. But somehow the words sounded ugly coming out of his mouth.

  “Screw you, Morel.” And screw this whole damn evening.

  Men. More colorful, uncomplimentary terms came to mind.

  Already she could see a punching bag at the gym with some specific male faces on it. She stomped away, mad at Bridges, Diego, herself and, hey, why not toss in some frustration with her dad and global warming while she was at it?

  “Hold up.” Diego stopped her with a hand to her arm without moving away from the truck. “I’m a rude son of a bitch.”

  “Is that an apology?” She sure couldn’t tell from his stony face.

  “Yeah, I guess it is.”

  “Well, thanks.” She shrugged off his arm. “But I’m not accepting it. I’ve taken enough crap off men for one night, thank you very much. Do you have any idea how frustrated, upset, flat-out pissed I am right now?”

  Anger glinted in Diego’s eyes. He folded his arms over his chest, stretching leather taut across his shoulders. “No one can understand exactly what another person has been through.”

  “That’s right!” She shot back in his face, too close, too tempting.

  Her anger was misdirected and she knew it. None of this was Diego’s fault. He’d never been anything other than straight up with her. Even super cyber sleuth Diana couldn’t find anything on the guy. So he must be trustworthy on at least some level.

  She angled around Diego and slumped beside him against the truck. “God, I couldn’t even rack the guy’s family jewels to get out of that for fear of being brought up on charges of assaulting a senior officer. That comes with a far harsher penalty than if Bridges ended up accusing me of being the one to instigate the lip-lock. What the hell was he thinking?”

  “Some people don’t think when it comes to sex.”

  “It’s just so damned wrong that he would use his position of authority this way.”

  “I wish I’d come looking for you sooner.”

  “I wish Bridges had gone somewhere else to drink tonight.” Although she suspected that would have only delayed exactly the same situation. She shivered beneath the warmth of her flight jacket. “I had to wait and hope for a moment to break away before things got out of control and I was left with no choice but to deck him.”

  Josie gasped in gulps of chilly night air that did little to ease her tightening lungs. “I need to hit something and you’re making yourself too easy a target. I gotta get out of here.”

  She spun away and toward the bar, where the subcontractor was hopefully still waiting.

  “Bridges is going to start trying to cover his ass.”

  Diego’s low words rode the ever-constant desert wind, stopping her more effectively than his grip a moment ago.

  She turned to face him again. “Excuse me?”

  “I’ve seen his type before. He’s going to make a preemptive strike.”

  How could Diego stay so calm when she could barely understand English through her disillusionment? “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “He’s going to start dropping subtle hints that you’ve been hitting on him.”

  She shook her head. “He wants this to go away as much as I do.”

  “His ego’s bruised and his ego is definitely tied into the size of his airplane, and thereby his career. He’s going to be gunning for you now. You need to strike first if you want to protect your test project…and your career.”

  “I will. After my flight Monday, I’m going to write up an official Memo of Record. If he tries this again with anyone, there will be a paper trail to nail him.”

  “Good. Excellent move and completely warranted. But why stop there?”

  “You think I should file an official complaint now?” She returned to slump against the truck beside him. “Even though it’s just my word against his? That won’t accomplish anything without corroboration.”

  He turned his head to stare down at her. “That isn’t what I meant by preemptive strike.”

  “Excuse me for not taking Devious One-oh-one when I was in college. What do you suggest?”

  Reaching, he gripped her chin in two fingers, tipping her face up to his. “Make it clear to everyone that you’re involved with someone else so Bridges knows he’ll look like a fool if he says you were hitting on him.”

  Oh, my.

  Desire tangled with frustration and anger, dangerous emotions to mix with passion. But then, her feelings for Diego had never been gentle or pretty. And kissing him sure beat hitting a punching bag.

  A car door slammed in the silence stretching between them. The bar door opened, people exiting. “Well then, Diego, I guess there’s no better time than the present.”

  Catapulting into the plan with the force of too-many fired-up emotions inside her, Josie pressed her lips to his.

  Ah. Yes. Just as good as she remembered. How could that be when she’d been certain she couldn’t have experienced anything this mind tingling?

  His mouth opened beneath hers. A growl swelled from him into her as each bold, insistent, possessive swipe of his tongue bathed away the bitter taste of Bridges’s betrayal.

  Losing faith hurt. She should have developed calluses over the years, but instead each broken trust slashed deeper than the last. Too many foundations of her world had been shaken, starting with a child’s certainty that Mama would always care for her and Daddy could fix anything.

  She’d thought at least she could believe in the credo of duty, honor and service she’d found in her air force commission. Bridges had made a lie of that. And damn him for tainting something so many were willing to die for.

  God, she didn’t want to think anymore, just lose herself in sensation, Diego’s hand sliding up to the side of her breast to erase memories of the press of Bridges’s body against hers. His kiss deepened until she could have sworn she saw stars. Bright sparks shimmered behind her eyes once, again, flashing brighter like—

  A camera.

  Sparks turned to icy shards of premonition. Josie tore herself away from Diego.

  Shannon Conner stood a few feet away with her camera and a smug smile.

  Chapter 11

  Josie blinked to clear her vision, if not her anger over Shannon Conner’s latest backstabbing attack. No question, Shannon was gunning for more than photos to use as backdrops in some docudrama.

  Well, she would be going away empty-handed.

  Josie strode forward, anger lifting with the wind to swirl around her. “What the hell are you doing here, Shannon?”

  “Searching for a story.” Shannon held up her camera. “And it looks like I found one. These still shots will make fabulous insets during the rest of my video footage of Athena grads.”

  Josie snorted. “A few pictures of me making out with my boyfriend? How’s that network-worthy news?”

  Shannon zipped her camera case, swishing her nodoubt processed blond hair over her shoulder. “He’s working with a congressional oversight committee looking into your test.”

  How did a television reporter know that? Suddenly a helluva lot more was going on here than she’d originally thought.

  “Big freaking deal,” Josie forged ahead. “There’s absolutely nothing in the regs that says I can’t see him if I want to. And if you learned nothing else about me, you know I don’t break rules.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have a problem with me including a few of these pictures in my little piece on Athena Academy graduates. I got a really flattering shot of you with his hand plastered on your breast.”

  “I’ve had a crappy day, Conner.” Josie issued a final warning. “You really don’t want to mess with
me.”

  “Well, here’s a newsflash for you. I’ve had a crappy lifetime. Athena grads like you and Alex Forsythe never understood what it was like to scrap for everything, to make my own opportunities.” Her lip curled. “You with your CIA granddaddy and Alex with her family fortunes. But this story will show you all for what you are and finally launch me.”

  “Any grief that’s come your way, you’ve brought on yourself. If your own stupid jealousy hadn’t led you to set me up on that bogus stealing charge, you might have actually graduated from Athena.”

  “Bullshit.” Shannon leaned forward as if to spit the word out of her painted mouth with all the venom she could muster. Her veneer peeled away in layers, revealing a mighty damn pathetic resentment beneath. “Right from the start, you elitists in the Cassandra group had your clique and all the privileges that went along with your collective family influences. I didn’t stand a chance at being number one.”

  Josie’s feet planted. She wasn’t backing down. “You just don’t get it. It was about the whole group succeeding. You could have been a part of that. But you’re right on one thing. Athena Academy women do stick together. Just like you said during our desert flight about us being there for Kayla when she had her baby girl. Support and friendship helps you get ahead a helluva lot faster than going it alone.” Her shoulders sagged with a sigh. “When are you going to let go of this vendetta?”

  “When you and your coattail-riding friends are washed up.”

  “And how does taking cheesy clinch shots of me improve your chances for respect?”

  “I call this news, hon.”

  “God, Shannon.” Josie swung her jean sack purse to the ground. There was no other way. Shannon Conner was seconds away from eating gravel. “It’s so damn sad to see someone as smart as you turn out to be such a pathetic loser.”

  Diego smelled blood in the air.

  He assessed the two women. They seemed evenly matched height wise. But the blond cupcake had a mean edge to her. That one wouldn’t fight fair. Still, his money was on Josie pulling out a win if the fur started flying.