Athena Force: Books 1-6

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

  Loni was certified by the American Board of Forensic Document Examiners and had worked for the U.S. Treasury Department, Secret Service for ten years, spotting bogus currency. Retired and at the disposal of police departments from Comanche to Las Vegas, Loni was called in on anything from counterfeit and forged documents to ones charred beyond recognition.

  She must be more than just a yoga partner, Darcy thought, smiling. Loni was doing this on her own time as a favor to Megan.

  Darcy was grateful for the help and had offered to pay her. Loni told her to put away her money, and reminded her that the private sector could rarely afford her services. Darcy accepted the kindness and shut up.

  Right now, Loni was hunched over a microscope. Darcy estimated her age at around fifty, only because her hair was pure silver, a contrast to her face, barely wrinkled around the eyes, her complexion smooth. Documents of her achievements lined the walls, and while she dressed very hip, she had a no-nonsense, business-first manner that marked her as a highly sought-after professional.

  And she made great coffee.

  Around Loni on several different tables were workstations with tubes, chemicals and equipment Darcy wasn’t going to try to understand.

  “Tell me what you want to know, Piper.”

  “I need to know if that signature is real. Compared to the older ones, it looks the same to me.”

  “And the canceled bank draft?”

  That was the draft Porche had given Maurice at the time she’d disappeared. Marianna had sent it, and Darcy needed to know if Fairchild had really signed it. “Well I’m not certain, but I think it’s fake, too.”

  “Can I ask your interest in this?” Loni looked up, her gray-blue eyes penetrating.

  “I’d rather not say right now. It’s a hunch, and I don’t want attention if it’s nothing.”

  “Understandable.” She went back to the pages under the microscope. She made notes, not saying a word, then went to another table, putting the paper under what looked like a copier. Darcy guessed that it wasn’t.

  “This paper is at least five years old, and I have five different sets of fingerprints.”

  “Can you find out whose?”

  “Not here, but I can make a transfer of each set, if that would help.”

  Darcy didn’t know how it would. Maurice, as far as she knew, had no prints on file. Perhaps Porche might have, since she was handling large amounts of money. But getting a comparison would be impossible since Darcy didn’t want to get that close to the police.

  “That would be good.” She’d at least have them.

  Loni put the paper through another set of tests, and machines spit out analyses, one after another. It took a while, and she admired the woman’s patience.

  Finally Loni returned to her desk, and Darcy poured her fresh coffee as she sat close.

  “This is a real document, and this signature is authentic.” She tapped Maurice’s and had compared it to an old note Darcy had found in her date book. Five years ago, it had arrived with flowers, a diamond bracelet encircling one of the roses. It had been an apology from Maurice for speaking rudely to her, and at the time, Darcy had still had hope for their marriage.

  She’d sold the bracelet for the down payment on her house.

  “What about the other signature, Ms. Fairchild’s?”

  Loni looked over the rim of her half glasses and Darcy held her breath. “It’s real.”

  Her shoulders sank.

  “However…” Loni slid the bank draft for nearly twenty million across the desk. “This one is not.”

  Darcy stared at the draft, her heart pinging inside her chest. She lifted her gaze to Loni’s, took a breath, then swallowed. “And the ones for the storage units, the business closures?”

  “Forgeries. Good ones, done by an expert, I imagine, but forgeries.”

  Darcy sank into the chair, not smiling, her mind ticking off her next steps.

  Then Loni said, “This is grand larceny, bank fraud, fraudulent identification, fraudulent commercial securities and electronic-funds transfer fraud. Aside from the forgery of a legal document, and I can think of about two other charges to add.”

  Darcy’s gaze shifted to hers. “Good. But it’s murder I’m trying to prove.”

  Loni’s eyebrows shot up. “You need to give this to the police and the FBI.”

  “Oh, believe me, when I have enough, I will.”

  “You have enough now, Piper.”

  Darcy shook her head. “This person has money and power, Loni. He could buy his way out of this.”

  Loni tipped her head, her silver hair gleaming in the soft light. “You don’t have much faith in the justice system, do you?”

  Darcy stared back, indecision clawing at her dignity. “No, I don’t. I was an abused wife, Loni, and I begged for help, from the police, from family and people who I’d thought were my friends. But no one would help me. The cops wouldn’t even come to the house when I called because my husband had more influence and if he didn’t, he had close ties to those who did. He’s a somebody, I’m a nobody.”

  Loni removed her specs, and picked up her coffee. “I can sympathize. I’ve seen it happen. It’s a crime to ignore the call for help.”

  “This man—” she pointed to the papers, unwilling to reveal that it was her husband’s signature Loni had been examining “—is the same. A power broker. Someone who thinks he can get away with anything because he’s got money and prestige.”

  “Well, then, I will tell you another piece of information.”

  Darcy waited, almost breathless.

  “This bank draft was signed by Maurice Steele. However, he was nervous when he signed it.”

  “Nervous?”

  Loni inclined her head, and they stood and moved to the copierlike thing. Loni switched on the light and motioned for Darcy to have a look. “See the jerky edges of the T and L? That tells me he signed it but his hand was shaking. Now if it’s from illness—”

  “He’s as fit as a twenty-year-old.”

  “Then he was nervous. And the same hesitation is found here and here.” She pointed to Porche Fairchild’s signature.

  “Did he write it?”

  “That was the other thing I was going to tell you. Yes, he did. The witness signature I can’t be certain of without anything to compare, but I would go so far as to say yes, he signed that, too. The similarities are just too close. And this is my specialty, by the way.”

  “Would you document all this for me?”

  Loni hesitated.

  “This could lead to murder charges, Loni,” Darcy pleaded. “Porche Fairchild was missing before that check was signed.”

  “How long?”

  “At least a week.”

  “Have they found her?”

  “No, and no one is looking. Except me.” Darcy waited.

  Loni finally nodded, and Darcy thought her knees would give out, she was so relieved.

  “All right. I will.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But you have to promise me one thing,” Loni said before Darcy could work up real excitement. “That you’ll turn all this over to the police and won’t go after this man yourself.”

  “I have no intention of confronting him.”

  “Good. Because with a jail threat like this coming, he could quite possibly try to kill you to keep you quiet.”

  “Of that I have no doubt.”

  The only thing Darcy had on her side right now was time, and that Maurice didn’t know where she was.

  Chapter 10

  Darcy had one more appointment when Kel showed up, looking so fine in brown leather slacks and a long, butternut-colored jacket. As slick as you please he walked up and kissed her lightly.

  Though she’d kissed him once before, she felt he was being awfully presumptuous.

  “Where have you been, love?”

  In the storeroom, Darcy kept putting away the new stock of tints. “I had some business to take care of, nothing big,” she s
aid, checking her invoice. “What have you been doing?”

  “Oh, taking pictures, eating hot salsa and wanting to see you. You are about the busiest woman I’ve ever met.”

  “Know a lot of slackers, do you?”

  He smiled, inching closer. “Can I talk you out of work for a bit?”

  She made a little sound, half want, half denial. “I have customers.”

  Regardless, he slid his warm arm around her waist, not caring about the clipboard and pen, and dipped his head to kiss her more thoroughly. The clipboard sagged in her grip as his hands slid up her back.

  The man knew how to kiss. A movie kiss.

  Yet Darcy pushed him back. “Someone will see.”

  He grinned. “And this matters?”

  “Charlie does, and this is my business.”

  He stepped back, rubbing his mouth and looking chagrined. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. You shouldn’t be so irresistible then.”

  How was she supposed get ticked at that?

  “I had a bit of a chat with Charles.”

  It was cute that he called her son by his given name. “What about?”

  “Oh, the usual guy stuff, worms living even after you cut them in half, motorcycles and that you’re headed to Vegas.”

  She hesitated in putting away a box, then finished, wishing Charlie hadn’t taken to Kel quite so readily. “Yes, I am. Just a quick trip.” She hoped.

  “And you’re taking Charles? Seems like the last place you’d take a child.”

  She wasn’t taking her son, but before she could answer, Meg knocked. She was grinning when she peered around the door. “Your next appointment is here.”

  There was something about the way she said it that put Darcy on alert.

  “I’m ready.” She set the clipboard down and she and Kel left the storeroom. Kel kissed her, spoke to Charlie, who was playing in the little pop-up tent Kel had bought him, then went to the door.

  Darcy stopped short when she saw Jack Turner standing close. By the look on his face, he’d seen Kel kiss her.

  Great.

  Kel stopped in front of Jack and the two men stared. Jack had a “bull in the pen” look, and Darcy waited for one of them to paw the ground and charge. Kel glanced her way, winked, then left.

  Jack came to her, stopping within inches, his gaze hard and piercing, though his voice was low. “You kiss all your male clients?”

  “No, just the really good-looking ones.”

  His look said he didn’t know whether to be pissed or pleased.

  She put her hands on her hips. “Are you here for a trim or did you come in just to interrogate me in front of everyone?”

  Jack let out a long breath, scraping his hand over his shaggy hair. He glanced at the clients, who were all too interested in their conversation. “No, I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Come on,” she said, nodding to the shampoo center.

  As she washed his hair, he kept his eyes closed, his hands to himself, not saying a word. When she was done, Charlie realized Jack was there and shrieked his name so loud they both winced. Jack tossed her the towel and bent, his arms open to catch the flying toddler diving for his knees.

  Charlie wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck and Jack looked almost honored. “How you doing, sport?”

  Charlie gave him a big smile. “Great. I got a tent.” He twisted to point.

  “You do?” He glanced at Piper, then with Charlie in his arms, walked over to inspect the tent. Squatting, Jack gave it a good shake. “Seems solid. You having fun in there?”

  Jack set Charlie down and the boy dived inside, where he had comic books he couldn’t read yet, a blanket and a pillow. “You’re all set for a night in the desert, huh?”

  “Yeah, cool huh? Kel says I can go with him next time he goes to shoot pictures.”

  “Is that so?” Jack twisted to look at her. Darcy could tell his back teeth were grinding.

  “Yeah. I have new crayons and why do they call blue cyan?”

  Jack looked back at her son. “To be different, I guess.”

  Charlie asked about another half dozen questions at light speed, then finally took a breath to say, “Wanna see my books?”

  “Sure, can I borrow one? I’ll read while your mom’s cutting my hair.” Charlie held one up to him, proud to share his Spider-Man collection. Jack took it, flipping through it and telling Charlie, “This is great. I haven’t read this issue.”

  Charlie beamed, and Jack slipped a tiny penlight from his back pocket, one with a plastic charm on the end, and handed it to Charlie. “This might come in handy in there.”

  “Wow,” Charlie said, and Jack ruffled his hair before the boy huddled in the small nylon tent and flicked it on and off repeatedly.

  Oblivious to the smiles from the other stylists and clients, Jack sat in Darcy’s chair. She whipped the cape around his neck. “You really should stop giving him toys all the time.”

  “I don’t do it all the time. Besides, it’s just small stuff, and he likes it so much.”

  “He has an old hatbox filled with the stuff you’ve given him.”

  Jack twisted to look at her. “No kidding. Huh.”

  “He adores you,” she said close to his ear and she got a whiff of his aftershave.

  “How about his mama?”

  Jack was always so blunt. She leaned forward and said, “I like you, too, Jack.”

  “No adoration, damn. How about that Kel Adams guy? What’s he still doing hanging around?”

  “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “I know the answer.”

  “Why is it bothering you so much?” He looked back over his shoulder at her. Darcy felt struck by the possessive look in his eyes. “I barely know him, Jack, but I know you. At least I think I do.”

  He faced front. He was quiet, his forehead furrowed as she combed and sectioned his hair, cutting on automatic since she’d been doing it for nearly two years. The silence stretched and for her own self-preservation, not wanting anyone to have something more to gossip about, Darcy turned the chair so Jack faced away from the crowd.

  “Watch your back with that guy,” he said after a moment.

  She paused, looking at him.

  “I’d hate to have to bust his chops if he hurts you.”

  Her champion, she thought, smiling. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

  His look said more than his words. “In a heartbeat.”

  Darcy’s throat tightened, she was so moved, and she squeezed his shoulder. Jack patted her hand, saying nothing.

  After a few minutes she ventured, “Jack? I need a favor, some help.”

  “Name it.”

  She blinked, not really taken aback, but reminded that Jack was one of the good guys. “I have to go to Vegas to look for someone. She’s supposed to be working at a casino.”

  “Showgirl, croupier? Waitress?”

  “Showgirl I think. A dancer, that much I know.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Where would she live? What kind of area could a showgirl afford?”

  “They make decent money, so the apartments past the strip would be your best bet. Easiest way is to follow the paper trail.”

  Darcy nodded, trimming his neckline. “I gotcha. DMV, power, phone records.”

  “That’s a start. I’ve got a pal who works in Vegas, maybe he can tell you exactly where this person works.”

  “I’d rather not bother her there.”

  “A showgirl’s schedule is tough and erratic.”

  “Speaking from personal knowledge?”

  She caught his gaze in the mirror and that little devilish smile made her heart skip. “Maybe.”

  “Hand that to someone else, Jack. You’ve got Cheshire cat written all over your face.”

  He chuckled and the tension radiating between them eased a little. She finished, fluffing his hair and picking up the blow-dryer. She knew what Jack liked and kept running her fingers through his dark hair, but touching him was
like adding oil to a flame and after a couple passes, she was running her hand down his jaw before she realized it. He caught her hand, looking up at her and pulling off the cutting cape.

  “You keep doing that darlin’ and I’ll break my promise and drag you into the dark.”

  Her skin flushed, her body gone warm under her clothes. It felt almost instinctive to touch him. “What promise?”

  “One I made to myself, not to push you where I want you to go.”

  She didn’t ask where that would be. His expression said, bed. Long hours of hot sex. The thought made her warm all the way down to her toes, but sex with Jack wouldn’t be just sex. It would be commitment, and Darcy wasn’t able to do that just yet. She was a liar, a fake, and until that changed, she couldn’t. But she wanted to.

  The fleeting thought of Kel slipped into her mind.

  How could she kiss a man in her storeroom, then in the next moment want Jack like breathing? The men were like night and day. Kel was carefree and fun loving, a big tease. Since she’d met him, she often wondered if he actually worked at his job, since she hadn’t seen him do it, nor had she seen any of the pictures he’d supposedly taken of the older section of Comanche. But he always had a camera with him.

  But Jack was equally handsome, yet in a totally different way. While Kel had a softer look, more GQ, and cared about his clothes and the statement he made, Jack had rugged, tanned features, his clothes were always a little weathered around the edges, and he spoke his mind, up-front and to the point.

  And right now, she told herself, Kel Adams was safe. Jack was dangerous. He didn’t do anything halfway, and once she fell, there was no turning back. She wasn’t prepared to risk the relationship they had now, and was terrified of losing it if she gave in to her feelings. She wanted him, not Kel, yet they both were chasing her. It was great for her ego, but Darcy was a realist. Sex took you only so far.

  Kel played. Jack played for keeps.

  She brushed at his hair. “I’m done. Handsome once again.”

  He held her gaze for a couple seconds, not smiling, and she felt as if he was trying to delve into her mind. Then he stood and didn’t even peer in the mirror, giving her an obscene tip and walking to the desk to pay. She followed him and he was already jotting something down on the back of her salon business card. He handed it to her.