Athena Force: Books 1-6
Page 106
Oh, yeah, she could definitely see his smile—wicked, wonderful and lowering toward her face for a kiss guaranteed to send her soaring.
“Love you, too, Buttercup.”
Four days later, Josie and the remaining modified Predator descended toward Palmdale’s runway, her test project back on track now that Quincy’s tampering had been proved and cleaned away. Her test budget was tight due to the recent delays and crash, so the powers-that-be wanted things up and running again immediately. Down days meant precious and limited dollars burned.
And after the hellish experiences that had come her way with the crash and horrific night flight, it was more important than ever that she crawl back in the saddle right away. Rock solid, she’d logged another flight mission.
The nose gear kissed asphalt, gliding to earth and slowing. Her headset blasted with cheers from the control tower, the remote pilot and the sensor operator, Zeljak.
“Yippee ki yay, mo-fo,” she shouted in honor of Craig Wagner, the hokey cheer a new tradition she intended to ingrain in all her test programs. They were, after all, the last of the real cowboys.
Or cowgirls.
Josie went through the routine of parking procedure calls through her headset while the Predator skated down the runway onto the tarmac. On a small set of bleachers, a group of nearly forty gathered to watch and celebrate—higher-ups from Palmdale and nearby Edwards.
Her reporter friend, Tory Patton, had flown in at her request to cover the event, giving the air force and all of Athena Academy grads positive press to counteract anything Shannon might manage to wrangle out into the public eye. Although Shannon Conner’s name was pretty much mud in the broadcasting industry lately, after her piece about Josie and Bridges had been so firmly disproved. Not that Josie harbored any illusions that a bad reputation would keep Shannon down long.
Josie scanned the runway, which bustled with activity—and celebration. The fight had been a tough one these past weeks, but she wasn’t a quitter. None of the Athena women were, and they would apply that collective determination into finding justice for Rainy. Josie scanned the crowd in front of her. Meanwhile, she owed it to her friend’s memory to savor life.
The craft slid to a stop. Sweeping off her helmet, Josie deplaned amid applause and cheers, her sister’s uninhibited whistles and whoops ringing out the loudest in the gusting wind.
Diana was still in town, suffering no ill effects other than the short-term memory loss. She would never know all that Josie had gone through trying to save her. For the best. Josie didn’t want gratitude or big sister/little sister politics. She looked forward to them working on that equal friendship they’d only just begun to build.
Josie studied the crowd, searching for Diego by Diana and found…
Hoyt and Zoe Lockworth?
Her parents.
The surprise gesture touched her more than she would have thought. Crying right now would not be cool, but God, it was good to see them both waiting there for her.
Helmet tucked under her arm, she strode forward, waving to her smiling family. A memory of her graduation day and her mother’s Beanie Baby gift came rolling back, along with an understanding of what her mother had meant about the importance of being soft as well as strong.
Just as she’d learned in the air four days ago, it was all about balance.
Josie grinned back at the face a mirror image of her own, with a few years added. “It works, Mama.”
“I know, baby.” Her mother tucked a stray hair behind Josie’s ear with a familiar maternal gentleness she’d missed so often as a kid. “I couldn’t be prouder of you. Thank you.”
Hoyt Lockworth hooked an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “I always knew this would fly. Congratulations to you both.”
Her father’s love for his wife shone in the morning sun and for the first time Josie saw it with adult, wiser eyes. Now that she’d had a taste of how intense love could be, compassion kicked into overdrive. Being up on that craft rigged to crash would have been a cakewalk compared to imagining Diego in danger.
“Thanks, Dad.” She stepped into his hug, her mother’s, too, then Diana’s.
Okay, maybe one or two tears would be cool in light of giving Josie and Josephine equal time these days.
And where was Diego? Still holding hard to the perfect moment, she scanned and finally found him a few feet away, with Tory now, feeding her information without ever once taking his eyes off Josie.
Yes, he was giving her the space she’d asked for only a few days ago—without ever leaving. Of course she couldn’t help but think telling him she loved him and then jumping his bones repeatedly the second they were alone may have given him a hint that she didn’t have any plans to run away.
In fact, she wanted to run toward him.
She eased out of the family hug, the warmth remaining. “Mom, Dad, I’ll be back in a minute. I want to introduce you to someone.”
Not a bad plan since she would be meeting Diego’s parents over the New Year in a short vacation down to Mississippi.
She tucked through the crowd, smiling her thanks and shaking hands. She backed a step, bumping into a body blocking her way.
“Josie?”
She tensed. What was Mike Bridges doing here? She spun to face him.
He raised his hands in defensive surrender. “I’m not here to spoil your day and the last thing I want is another pounding from your scowling boyfriend over there. I’m leaving in the morning, but I wanted to see that everything went well with the flight.”
Bridges seemed sincere and there was really no need to cut him, literally or figuratively. His career was basically over. Even if he managed to stay in the service, he would never be promoted again due to his admission to hitting on Josie. He had nothing to gain by being here.
Unless he was bucking for her help with Kayla again. “Have you called Kayla?”
“Not yet, and I’m not asking you to play intermediary. Just still working up my nerve.” His gaze skimmed over to the big brass in attendance and back again. “I hear you’re top of the list for being the new detachment commander. Congratulations. You deserve it.”
She’d heard the same rumors, but still couldn’t wrap her brain around it. The job went to majors or lieutenant colonels. But apparently the position would shortly be hers—a challenge she embraced. “Thank you.”
Nodding, he turned to leave.
She still couldn’t bring herself to call him sir. That was a sign of respect he would have to earn back, if he ever could. But maybe his call sign might not be a bad middle ground. And a fun jab, too. They’d always called him Boss around the detachment because he hated his real call sign that tied into his last name, Bridges. “Hey, Brooklyn?”
He winced. “Yeah, P.C.?”
“Good luck with that phone conversation.”
A hint of his old charm returned with his smile. “Thanks.”
“I wish I could say I meant that for you, but I really mean it for Jazz.”
“And that’s why you’ll make a great commander. Fair and impartial to the end.”
Scowling, Diego peeled away from Tory’s side and started toward them. Thor alert. Bridges held up a hand.
“No worries, Cruiser. I’m not sticking around for the party.” Spinning away, Bridges retreated, climbing into a military truck and out of her life.
Diego strutted toward her, pure sauntering sin in jeans, boots and a T-shirt. His shoulders stretched leather tight, a brown jacket today. Finally he’d tugged out his old flight jacket to wear for what he called Josie’s special occasion. He’d vowed he wasn’t planning on returning to the military, and she believed him. He didn’t need to. He was comfortable in his skin and the new path for his life.
After his work with her on the project and the crash, Diego had been approached again with old offers renewed from contractors about signing on for real, rather than just consulting.
The salary offers were beyond complimentary.
Of course Diego
had never been about the money. He was, however, all about the challenge. And the programs he could head for government contractors designing new military aircraft were most definitely cutting-edge challenging.
He was ready to move forward.
And so was she.
“Great job up there, Buttercup.”
“I just let the guy in the remote booth do his job. Zeljak even captured some great footage of the nudist colony.”
Diego winked. “Hey, if you want to see a hoo-hah—”
“Is that a personal invitation?”
“You bet. The minute the partying’s done here.”
Yeah, she loved this wild man who’d roared into her life and demanded she be Josie, Josephine, P.C., Buttercup, all worthy parts of herself.
Finally, Josie, who’d always given one hundred percent, understood how to accept one hundred percent of herself. “I’m looking forward to an hour-long sweat with you in the sauna so we can—” she gave him a slow, sultry once-over “—talk. You never did tell me how you performed that lomcevak maneuver in a Christian Eagle biplane.”
“How about once we get naked together in the sauna I’ll show you instead?”
Her stomach already flipped in anticipation of the soaring thrills she and this man could experience together.
Even with both feet still on the ground.
JUSTICE
DEBRA WEBB
Published by Silhouette Books
America’s Publisher of Contemporary Romance
This book is dedicated to all the Athena Ladies and a terrific editor, Natashya Wilson—a true bombshell!
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to
Debra Webb for her contribution to the
ATHENA FORCE series.
Contents
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 1
Kayla Ryan eased her Jeep Cherokee into the alley between two long rows of U-Store-It buildings. She lowered the driver’s side window and cut the engine.
For a full thirty seconds she sat very still, utilized all her senses to estimate the threat level.
The cool December air felt thick with tension in spite of the utter silence enveloping the deserted storage facility. Nothing moved.
They waited. Listening. Anticipating her move…her risk level. At least two men. Maybe three.
Now or never.
Ten seconds more and she’d be made.
No way backup would arrive in time.
Her partner would be pissed.
It wouldn’t be the first time. She doubted it would be the last.
Her heart rate ramming into overdrive, Kayla opened her door and got out. She strode straight over to the nearest storage unit, number forty-two, and reached for the lock. Though she had no key, only a couple quick flicks with the lock pick she carried were required before the mechanism disengaged, falling open in her palm.
She removed the lock and raised the four-foot-wide overhead door. The grind of metal on metal screeched, shattering the silence and sending a clear message to the men about ten units down and on the next row who would be listening.
Nothing to worry about. Just someone adding to or taking from her storage unit.
Her gaze roving left and right, Kayla slipped into the shadows of the ten-by-twelve cinder-block unit. Whatever the boxes stacked nearly to the ceiling contained was of no significance. This wasn’t about unit forty-two or its contents.
Keeping her attention fixed on the vacant alleyway, she relayed a text message to Jim Harkey, her partner, from her cellular phone. The message was simple. SOS…UStoreIt.
She’d sent it once already. He hadn’t responded. Today was his day off. Hers too. But some things couldn’t wait.
With the phone clipped back on her utility belt, she wrapped her fingers around the butt of her weapon. The hiss of cool steel sliding from her leather holster prompted a sense of calm that instantly neutralized the negative effects of the adrenaline pumping through her veins.
She might be off duty but she never went anywhere, not even to bed, without her weapon. To a cop, being unarmed was the equivalent of being naked on stage in front of a jam-packed stadium. Not a good thing—unless you’re a part of a living art exhibit.
The muted sound of voices reached her position. She’d been right. Three. All male. All comfortable with continuing business since her presence had obviously been assessed as insignificant.
That kind of carelessness told her something else about her targets. They had grown complacent. Risky business for criminals.
Adopting a battle-ready stance, she eased out into the light of day. Her rubber-soled shoes made no sound on the concrete that formed the drive through the alley between the rows of storage units.
Four more units…three…she moved toward the end of the long row…two more. When she reached the final one she halted, held absolutely still and listened.
The voices were clear now.
“Twenty of the best,” one man bragged. “I can get you as many as you require.”
Kayla didn’t have to see the product to know what the man was hawking. High-end bikes. Valued at upwards of hundreds, even thousands, of dollars each. The goods were stolen from tourists who preferred to bicycle their way around Arizona’s trails and from university students who considered the designer bikes to be “all that” and more. The more expensive the product, the better the students from wealthy families liked it. Titanium frames, leather seats…top-end bikes came just about any way a customer wanted them.
Though the consumer might have to work hours, days or even weeks to earn the cost, it only took the average thief about eight seconds to cut a lock and scarcely a few moments more to ride off. Especially on campus, where the thieves easily blended into the student population, likely wearing backpacks filled with the tools of their trade.
The risk proved minimal in most cases, the reward more than sufficient. At one time a thief could only hope to turn a twenty-five or thirty-dollar profit on a three-hundred-dollar bike, but now was a different story. The better ones went for hundreds or even thousands a pop. Considering the risk and the slap on the wrist thieves got if caught, it was a far more desirable business than running drugs.
No middleman required. No recipes to concoct. No dangerous chemicals to dispose of. Just simple bolt cutters or lock picks and a backpack. Well, and the physical endurance to ride the stolen bike to wherever your pickup contact waited.
This particular group of thieves had been eluding law enforcement for months now. No one could determine where and how they disposed of the stolen bikes. Serial numbers were apparently changed, since the few registered ones stolen never surfaced. These guys would get more than a mere slap on the wrist. Petty larceny was one thing, but this was considerably bigger. Estimates put these guys at a six-figure business annually.
Athens was the perfect location. Situated close to Phoenix, a big college town, Athens offered a quick, neutral place for storage and distribution. Far enough away from the scene of the crime for comfort and yet close enough to facilitate the job.
But this was her town.
Criminals were not going to be allowed to operate under her jurisdiction as long as she could help it.
With one final deep breath, she braced herself for moving around the end of the building. If she waited for backup, chances were the deal would be done. She wanted the buyers as well as the seller.
When she would have swung around the corner, the sound of a car braking to a stop thirty or forty yards behind her drew her up short.
She swore softly. All she needed was the owner of storage unit number forty-two showing up
and throwing a fit. Distraction was not a good thing, nor was being made by the bad guys because of an unfortunate twist of fate.
Her gaze narrowed on the dark sedan that parked behind her Jeep. She frowned. The vehicle looked familiar.
When a tall guy wearing jeans, a sweatshirt and a baseball cap strode up to one of the units and proceeded to tinker with the lock she let go the breath she’d been holding. Nobody.
Now, if he would just stay put and not come nosing around the corner in the event the next few moments got out of hand….
As the new arrival pushed the door of his unit upward Kayla turned her attention back to the voices on the other side of the narrow block buildings.
The deal had been made.
She had to move in now.
Hesitation stalled her. Something still didn’t feel right. She didn’t like having company show up at the last minute like this. She glanced toward the man in the ball cap one last time. He’d disappeared into the unit he’d opened. Just like she had when she first arrived. Too coincidental for comfort.
The voices around the corner snagged her attention once more.
She couldn’t wait any longer.
As she prepared to advance around the end of the building, a vague sort of recognition clicked in the back of her mind and she hesitated once more. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something important about the guy in the baseball cap that she’d missed here.