Athena Force: Books 1-6

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

  Ben took the gun from Tory. “I’ve got this.”

  Ben was bruised and bloodied. She touched his face, wiping a smear of blood from his lips. “Oh, Ben.”

  Tory was painfully aware that filing the story of a lifetime paled next to the fear she’d felt when she thought Ben was dead. Or the emotions that were flooding through her now. Coming so close to losing Ben made her realize how much she wanted him in her life—for good.

  Robert O’Neill and several other men she recognized from Puerto Isla as being on Ben’s team entered the room and took control of the situation. Tory wondered how they’d known where to come, but before she could ask spots danced in front of her eyes and she collapsed.

  She woke in Ben’s arms. Two paramedics hovered nearby. They had bandaged her arm and her thigh. “I need to get to the studio to cover this story.”

  “Tory, let it go.”

  “I can’t. This is my exclusive. Am I okay?” she asked the paramedic.

  “You’re shocky, so you should take it easy for the next few days,” he said.

  “I’m just talking about sitting at a news desk and reading a TelePrompter,” Tory said.

  “Yes, but only if you take a week off after that,” the paramedic said.

  “She will,” Ben said.

  “I’ve got to go,” she said, and forcing herself to her feet, she limped out of the room.

  It was almost 9:00 a.m. the next morning when Tory exited of the UBC studios in Washington, D.C. She was exhausted, but knew she wouldn’t sleep tonight. Tyson Bedders had been over the moon when Tory had talked to him.

  They’d aired her live story of political corruption. She’d started with Whitlow, Del Torro and Pearson and how the men had met at Oxford in their college years. Pearson had tried to justify his actions by saying that Alejandro Del Torro had needed U.S. funding to make the lives of the people of Puerto Isla easier. But in the end that hadn’t mattered. King’s team had unknowingly witnessed Pearson on the island, funding the rebel movement that was responsible for the coup that ousted Santiago.

  The White House press secretary had quickly issued a statement that James Whitlow had no idea that Pearson had been channeling illegal drug money into his campaign fund. He promised to start his own investigation and rectify the matter.

  Pearson and Addler had both been arrested for their connection to the Jimenez murder. Tory and Ben had both witnessed their confession.

  Whitlow had also agreed to do an interview with Tory in the coming month. That interview would be used to launch Tory’s new spot on UBC’s biweekly newsmagazine, A Closer Look. Tory had everything she’d ever dreamed of.

  Almost.

  “Need a ride?”

  Ben stood in the entryway to the studios, his heavy overcoat dusted with the light snow that was falling. He looked tired, but otherwise she couldn’t read any emotion on his face. He wasn’t the charming Society Sam at this moment, nor the LASER operative.

  “Thanks.”

  Ben slipped his arm around her shoulder and led her to his car. He opened the passenger door for her, but before she could climb into the car, he took her in his arms. “Dammit, you scared me last night.”

  She held him as tightly as he held her. “You’re not the only one. How does someone with your kind of training get kidnapped?”

  “Hey, I had to take a leak.”

  Tory closed her eyes and just breathed in the scent of him, thankful that he was still here with her and that she was in his strong arms.

  “You saved my ass,” he said.

  She slid her hands down his back and cupped his backside. “It’s worth saving.”

  She didn’t want to let this get too serious. She didn’t trust what she felt for Ben.

  “I’m not kidding, Tory.”

  “I know. Every time I close my eyes, I see you lying bound on the floor again and this time you don’t get up.”

  He made a rough sound deep in his throat and then lifted her face to his, kissing her deeply and holding her to him with a strength that would have frightened her a few weeks ago. But now it felt right that he should need her as desperately as she desired him.

  “Come home with me. Let me make love to you so that I can forget that moment when Addler shot his gun at you and I heard you scream.”

  Tory nodded. Ben hustled her into the car and drove them quickly to his apartment. He started kissing her in the elevator, his hands roaming up and down her body, being careful of her gunshot wounds. She did the same to him, understanding that these caresses were for both of them a way of confirming that the other was alive and well.

  Ben lifted her into his arms when the elevator stopped on his floor. He had the door open in no time flat. He slammed it closed behind them and walked her into his bedroom before laying her gently on the bed.

  He unfastened her bra and tenderly palmed her breasts in both hands. His mouth slid along her neck and caressed her lightly at the base. She shivered, undulating against him. She grabbed his shoulders and encountered his heavy topcoat. She pushed at the fabric, finally forcing it off his shoulders. His hands left her breasts for a minute, and he tossed his coat aside and then ripped off his shirt.

  “Tell me if I hurt you,” he said.

  In response she stroked the rippling muscles of his chest, tugging on the light patch of hair and scraping her fingernail over his flat nipples. He groaned her name and lifted her with his hands under her armpits.

  “Open your legs.”

  She did and he moved between them, still being careful of the bandages. His mouth fastened on one of her nipples, suckling her. She tilted her head back. His hands slid between their bodies, unfastening her pants and then slipping between her skin and her clothing. Delving deeply into the moist center of her body.

  He lifted her feet and pushed her pants to the floor. Ben unfastened his own pants and freed his erection. He lifted her again and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He turned to rest her weight on his body. She pulled his head to hers and thrust her tongue deep into his mouth as he entered her.

  She moved over him, setting a rhythm that took them both rapidly toward their climaxes. Ben’s hands roamed over her back, and then as she tightened and tried to move faster, he gripped her buttocks and held her still. Then he thrust up into her once, twice and finally a third time, pushing her over the edge. She held tightly to him as she cried his name. He thrust into her one more time before his own shout of completion echoed in the quiet apartment.

  One week later, Tory was back in Manhattan. Ben had gotten a call in the middle of the night and left her alone at his place. Finally she had returned to her city, her apartment and her successful career. Ben’s picture had appeared in Britain’s leading paper. He’d had his arm around two ladies and the caption had claimed he was in town to celebrate the holiday season in style.

  Tory knew that Ben wasn’t involved with either of the women—probably hadn’t even been there—but she also didn’t know where in the world he was. And she was worried about him.

  She’d gone back to checking into Rainy’s death, searching databases for any additional clues about the fertility clinic burglary or anything at all that might be a lead to Rainy’s killer or her child. She and the other Cassandras were in touch constantly, but so far nothing more had been found.

  There was some lingering public sentiment that the Athena Academy did more harm than good to the young women who attended the school, and Tory was planning a series of in-depth interviews with current students, as well as alumnae to show just how beneficial the school was.

  She’d also been in contact with AA.gov. They’d found the woman who’d leaked information. She was one of Dave Addler’s aides. Apparently once Chris Pearson had mentioned that Tory was on Puerto Isla, Addler had used his diplomatic connections to find out information on Tory.

  When her name came up in the AA.gov system, Addler had used it to try to discourage Tory from pursuing the story. They’d taken care of the problem, but weren’t
going to be able to use her anymore.

  Tory didn’t mind. She’d found enough excitement without being a government courier. She was going to be the next Diane Sawyer.

  She’d gone to Florida for two days and visited her parents and her brother and his family. Derrick was recovering nicely and didn’t hold her responsible for his injuries. Pearson had rolled over on Addler big time and had given the investigators the names of every person that Addler had tried to eliminate from the picture, including her brother. Her parents had smothered her in love, and she’d come back to New York refreshed. In fact, the only thing left open in her life was Ben.

  Was he going to call her?

  A knock sounded on her door. “Come in.”

  It was Perry. She was surprised to see him. He’d avoided her since she’d been back in the office.

  “Got a minute?”

  “Not really. What do you want?”

  “To apologize. I realize it’s too little too late, but I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “What’s this really about?” Tory asked.

  “Nothing. I cared for you. I don’t want to leave things the way they ended at my apartment.”

  “Apology accepted. Please leave.”

  He paused in the doorway. “I’d like to produce some of the work you’re doing for A Closer Look.”

  Perry was a good producer and in the end she couldn’t hold their failed relationship against him. Though it did hurt that the woman he’d taken up with was Shannon Conner. “I’ll think about it.”

  He nodded and then left quietly. Tory folded her arms together and lowered her head to them. She hadn’t loved Perry and wasn’t really mad at him any longer. But what did it say about her that she’d been involved with him for four years? Was she incapable of the kind of depth of feelings that were needed for a real relationship?

  She left the office just before five and headed home. She ordered takeout from her favorite Italian place and toasted her new success by herself in her apartment with a bottle of Merlot. She curled up on her sofa and put Top Gun in the DVD player.

  The doorbell rang while Maverick and Goose were playing volleyball against Iceman. She paused the movie and went to the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “Ben.”

  She opened the door. He was leaner than the last time she’d seen him, and beard stubble covered his jaw.

  “Sorry I didn’t call.”

  “That’s okay. I figured you couldn’t.”

  “Can I come in?”

  She realized she was blocking the door. She stepped back and he entered. He dropped a flight bag on the floor and glanced around her apartment.

  “Planning to stay?”

  “As long as you’ll have me.”

  “This is complicated.”

  “You have no idea. But dammit, I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too.”

  He opened his arms and she stepped into them. “I know you’re not ready for commitment and I’m willing to let you set the pace for a while. But I’m not letting you go.”

  “Good. And maybe I am ready for commitment. With the right guy.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, you.”

  His smile made her heart beat faster. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the sofa. She made love to him and then pampered her warrior home from the battle.

  Their relationship was going to have to be taken slowly because of the dedication and travel that their careers demanded. But when she took him to her bed, Tory knew she’d finally found a man she could have a future with. A man who was her equal and not threatened by her. And an Athena woman would settle for nothing less.

  DOUBLE-CROSS

  MEREDITH FLETCHER

  Published by Silhouette Books

  America’s Publisher of Contemporary Romance

  Special thanks and acknowledgment

  are given to Meredith Fletcher 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 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Late August

  Munich, Germany

  “Your target is at three o’clock, Sam. Coming down the stairs. Can you confirm visual?”

  Shifting amid the throng of celebrants gathered around the nearest open wet bar, Samantha St. John turned to her right and looked up the long winding stone staircase that connected the elegant ballroom to the castle’s second floor. Considering the ceiling was almost forty feet high, the staircase had plenty of meandering room. Other heads started to turn in the direction of the staircase as her target descended. Konrad Steiner loved to make an entrance.

  “Sam?”

  Riley McLane’s warm voice echoed in Sam’s ear as if he was standing right beside her. He’d caught her off guard even though she’d been expecting the audio contact through the micro ear transceiver she wore. She’d been standing idle, making the party scene with small talk for almost two hours without seeing her target or hearing much from Riley. She was good at waiting, but she didn’t like it.

  Sam’s partner on-site had met with the target briefly outside and had managed to tag Steiner with an ultraviolet mist that showed up on the thermal-imaging surveillance systems the support team was using through a geosynchronous weather satellite the Central Intelligence Agency had gotten access to. Riley and the support team in Langley, Virginia, back in the United States had followed the man through the castle, once the tag had been made.

  Only five feet, three inches tall, Sam had to peer over the crowd of guests around her. The spiked heels she wore gave her a boost. Of course, if she got into a footrace, she was in trouble.

  The plan is not to get into trouble, Sam reminded herself. Get in, install the computer program on the target’s computer and get out. Simple and trouble free. Stick with that. No trouble.

  Steiner, the party’s host and an international crime figure, although most of the attendees didn’t know that, descended the stairs with a svelte redhead on his arm. She trailed a hand down the wrought-iron banister, the movement as suggestive as her rolling hips. Her proximity staked her claim on the man at her side for every other woman in the ballroom. And perhaps that message was intended for some of the men, as well.

  Steiner was in his early fifties, but only the mission background Sam had read on the man gave that away. He took care of himself, and obviously considered his image one of his best attributes. His black hair was expertly groomed and his short-cropped goatee stood out proudly. A cruel smile curved his generous mouth. The dark blue tuxedo he wore fit him like a glove, delineating the broad shoulders and narrow waist.

  The man looks like a medieval lord, Sam thought as she watched Steiner. The castle suits him well. But then, he knows that, doesn’t he?

  Balloons and festive party decorations covered the walls. The chandelier in the ballroom glittered with a thousand points of light.

  The castle outside Munich, Germany, along with the landscaped grounds inside the walls and the forest beyond, was a recent acquisition that Steiner was showing off. He was also showing off the woman at his side, another recent—although more temporary, judging from past behavior—acquisition. His relationships with women tended to be perishable in all senses of the word. Tonight the castle and the woman both were intended to intimidate those Steiner planned to do business with.

  His slender companion was less than half his age. She wore a shimmering dark green evening gown that left little to the imagination. She clung to Steiner’s arm, dwarfed by his height. She laughed and talked
freely, patting Steiner on the arm.

  Steiner paid polite interest to the young woman, but his sharp hazel eyes roved over his guests like those of a hawk swooping toward a nest of field mice. He was a predator going to work, sorting out the strongest and the weakest of his victims in a glance.

  Seven men in evening black met Steiner at the bottom of the stairs. All of the men started talking at once, in three different languages. Each of them had a deal he wanted to present. Asia, Africa, Australia and North America were represented in the delegation.

  Steiner was, Sam knew, fluent in those languages and a dozen others. Patiently and with diplomacy, Steiner shelved the topics for discussion, saying there would be plenty of time for business after the party. Sam barely heard the exchanges over the noise of the crowd and the roar of the speed metal rock band playing live in the next room.

  “Sam, do you copy?” Riley prodded. There was an unusual edge to his voice.

  “I’ve got him,” Sam whispered. The miniature sending and receiving unit tucked in her ear picked up her voice easily and filtered out the extraneous noise. The device broadcast on a satellite phone frequency. The signal made the trip to the limousine Sam had arrived in, was encrypted there on hidden Agency hardware, and sent on to her mission controller.