Athena Force: Deceived Part 3

Her single goal through childhood and adolescence had been to please Jonas. She'd spent all of her life seeking his approval by being the good, dutiful daughter. She'd wanted to show him that he hadn't made a mistake when he'd adopted her and brought her into his home to raise.

Certainly he'd given her the best of everything, and she never doubted that he had her best interests at heart. But the restlessness that she'd felt for the past several months could no longer be silenced.

It was time for her to seek her own way, find out who she was separate from Jonas. It was definitely time for a change.

Although she had never been to the dance club, she'd driven by it once not too long ago when she'd come into Miami to pick up some school supplies.

The closer she got, the faster her heart beat with excitement. She felt as if this was the first night of her life, that finally she was going to break free from who and what she was and just have fun like any normal twenty-two-year-old.

The club was housed in a huge steel-and-gla.s.s one-story building with bright neon lettering flas.h.i.+ng across the top. The parking lot was already three-quarters filled when Lynn turned in at ten after nine.

She spied Sonya's silver Porsche and pulled into the empty s.p.a.ce next to it. She sat for a moment in the car, fighting the shyness that always swept over her when she was going into unknown territory. Go have some fun, she commanded herself.

As she stepped out of her car, the balmy night air wrapped around her, bringing with it the scent of the city and the sounds of music and people, coming from the open door of the club.

A touch of nerves fluttered in her stomach as she reached up and smoothed her hair, then ran her clammy hands down the thighs of her tight jeans.

Her blouse was a forest-green crop top that she knew enhanced the green of her eyes. The blouse displayed her slender waist and was more provocative than her usual choice. She figured if she was going to cut loose, she might as well dress the part.

She grabbed her tiny purse from the car seat, then locked the car and walked toward the front door of the club. Her friends had been talking about Sensations forever. She knew from them that the place had become one of the hot spots of Miami for the young and single set.

A man at the door collected the ten-dollar cover charge, then Lynn walked past him and into the nightclub. For just a moment she was overwhelmed with sights and sounds.

The club was cavernous. At the far end a live band played from an elevated stage area. Writhing, gyrating bodies filled the huge dance floor, and colored lights swept over them like beacons drawn to their movements.

Tables were arranged around the dance floor and a long bar stretched across each side of the room. There were people everywhere and Lynn despaired of ever finding her friends in the mesh of people.

"Hey, sweetheart, I haven't seen you around here before. How about you let me buy you a drink?" A tall blonde touched Lynn's arm, his bleary smile letting her know he'd been here awhile and had imbibed more than one drink.

"No, thanks, I'm looking for somebody."

"I'm the man you're looking for," he replied. He paused to sip from the drink gla.s.s in his hand, then continued. "I'm the Romeo to your Juliet, the moon to your stars, the music to your song." He smiled with the overconfidence of a drunk, displaying a row of perfect white teeth.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not interested." Lynn felt the blush that heated her cheeks. She wasn't looking for a love connection or a one-night stand. She just wanted a night out with her friends.

At that moment, to her relief, she heard Sonya calling her name. She looked around and spied her friends at a table in the distance. "Excuse me," she said to the blonde. "Maybe another time." She didn't give him an opportunity to say anything else but hurried toward the table where Sonya, Vicki and Jenny were waving to her.

"We thought you were going to chicken out and not show," Vicki said as she pulled a chair out and yanked Lynn into it.

"I got hung up at the door by some guy who wanted to be the Romeo to my Juliet," Lynn replied.

The three others looked at each other and laughed. "That's Roger," Sonya said. "He's been looking for his Juliet for as long as we've been coming here."

"Drinks! We need drinks," Vicki said, and signaled to a pa.s.sing waitress.

Within minutes they all had drinks before them. The others had ordered Lynn a drink called an Alabama Slammer, a fruit-punch-like concoction that went down smooth and easy and sweet.

"So, did you sneak out of the house, or tell your uncle you were going to the library to study?" Sonya asked.

"Neither," Lynn replied. "Uncle Jonas is out of the country. I spoke to him on the phone before I left to come here."

"I'll bet a hundred bucks you didn't mention what was on your agenda for the night," Jenny said, her brown eyes sparkling.

Lynn laughed. "No way. I'd lose the bet."

Vicki leaned over and grabbed her arm. "We're just glad you're here. It's about time you get a life."

"I'll drink to that," Lynn replied, and hoisted her gla.s.s for a group toast.

Lynn had met the other three women two years ago when she'd been attending college. They were the only friends she'd ever had, and she adored each of them.

Sonya Kincaid, with her bleached blond hair and love of makeup was a theater major and the extrovert of the three. Currently she worked teaching high school drama and was active in community theater.

Jenny Walbrook was majoring in child psychology and was a slightly overweight brunette with a smile that could warm Antarctica.

Lynn was closest to Vicki Taylor. She'd known the pretty redhead longer than the other two. Vicki was also a computer science grad student. Vicki came from a wonderfully normal, tight-knit middle-cla.s.s family. Lynn loved hearing her talk about her parents and siblings.

Lynn had never been much of a drinker. She occasionally had a gla.s.s of wine with dinner, but the Alabama Slammers were delicious, and the ambiance around her encouraged her to have more than one.

By the time she was halfway through her third drink, she was having a ball. She felt a pleasant buzz in her head and found everything anyone said vastly amusing.

The first time a guy came up and asked her to dance, she'd declined with a fierce blush. She'd never danced in public before, and her natural shyness raised its ugly head.

But, it didn't take her long to realize that n.o.body was paying attention to anyone else, and the music called to her at the same time the drinks gave her courage. When she was asked again, with her friends urging her on, she hit the dance floor.

She danced and laughed and drank with her old friends and the new friends she met. The loud music made any meaningful conversation impossible, but Lynn didn't mind. With each drink her head grew fuzzier and fuzzier and the last thing she wanted was conversation. She just wanted the music and the laughter and the feeling of utter freedom that sang in her veins.

By the time she finished her fifth drink she was vaguely aware that the fuzz in her brain had grown bigger than anything else.

She grabbed her purse and stumbled toward the rest rooms, deciding that perhaps a cool compress on her forehead would sober her up just a bit.

She was surprised by the way the floor seemed to undulate beneath her feet as she walked slowly and carefully to keep from falling down. Her stomach felt just a tad bit sick, and she stepped up her pace, eager to get to the bathroom.

The rest room was crowded, but she managed to work her way to one of the sinks. She grabbed a couple of paper towels, ran them under the cold water, then wiped them across her forehead and the back of her neck.

Her reflection in the mirror was blurry and she felt as if she were swimming through layers of cotton. The cool water on her neck and forehead did little to clear her head.

So, this is what it felt like to drink too much, she thought. More than anything she suddenly wanted to curl up in a corner and sleep until the brain fogginess pa.s.sed.

The idea of being found in the morning curled up on the floor by a cleaning crew made her giggle. She swiped her forehead one last time then turned away from the mirror.

As she shuffled from the rest room she vaguely realized she'd learned a valuable lesson tonight...three Alabama Slammers was her absolute limit and at the moment she was way over her limit. If she ever came here again she would know to limit her drinks to no more than three.

She'd gone only a few feet toward the table where her friends awaited when a big hand grabbed her around her upper arm.

"Hey, baby, I think maybe it's time you and I spend a little alone time together."

She squinted up at the tall, dark-haired man who held her in his grip. She'd danced with him twice and thought she might have flirted with him a bit. She thought his name was Bob. "I don't think so, Bob," she said, and attempted to pull her arm from his grasp. "I need to get back to the table with my friends."

"Come on, honey. You know you're hot for me." He pulled her down the hallway back toward the rest rooms, then backed her up and she found herself pinned between him and a wall. "And the name is Rob."

"Bob...Rob...whatever, my friends are waiting for me and I'm not hot for anyone. In fact, I'm not feeling very well." She placed her palms on his ma.s.sive chest and pushed in an attempt to get some breathing room.

She was uncomfortable by his intimate nearness, and the fact that they appeared to be in a small alcove just out of view of the general public made her even more uneasy.

"I'll make you feel better. Come on, admit it. You've been coming on to me all night long. You've been sending me signals and, honey, I've been receiving them." His breath was hot and sour as he leaned forward, apparently preparing to kiss her.

She turned her head to the side and felt his mouth glance off her cheek. Confusion swept through her. Had she been sending signals? She didn't think so. She certainly hadn't meant to.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean anything...just let me go," she said, and pushed against his chest again. He was as immovable as a mountain, and the first stir of panic rose up inside her. "Please, let me go."

"I'll let you go when I'm finished getting to know you better." His blue eyes were cold, hard-looking as he sneered down at her.

To her horror, his hands moved up her body and across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She wanted to throw up. He pressed more intimately against her, and she could feel that he was aroused.

"I'm warning you, let me go or you'll be sorry."

He laughed, as if stimulated by her protests and pleas. "I'll be sorry? What are you going to do, sweetheart? Hit me with that little purse you're carrying?"

Lynn had never used the skills she'd been born with, outside of her work. Jonas had warned her from the time she was small that those skills should never be used when somebody else could see. But she wasn't about to allow this half-drunk creep to touch her anymore. She drew a deep, steadying breath, then struck out.

He'd been late. A problem with one of the security cameras had caused Nick to be late arriving at Sensations. The moment he'd arrived it had taken him only a few minutes to spy Lynn at the table with her friends.

He'd stood some distance away and watched her. It was obvious she was having a good time. He'd never seen her look so animated, and it was apparent she was comfortable with her friends.

It was also obvious that she'd had a lot to drink when she stood and staggered off toward the rest rooms. He watched her as she made her way across the floor. Her jeans fit tightly on her long, slender legs and s.e.xy bottom. The short blouse displayed her flat abdomen and the thrust of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She looked hot, and Nick had a feeling he wasn't the only male in the place who had noticed that fact.

When several minutes pa.s.sed and she didn't come back to her table, Nick headed in the direction of the rest rooms, wondering what was taking her so long.

He saw her immediately, pinned against a wall by a big hulk of a drunk. She looked tiny and helpless and frightened and adrenaline pumped through Nick as he forced his way through the throng of people to get to her.

Before he could reach her, she flew into motion with a speed that astounded Nick. She boxed the man's ears, jabbed him in the eyes, then shoved him back with a force that looked almost inhuman.

"Lynn," he cried to be heard above the noise.

Her eyes were wild as she looked around. When she saw him, she ran into his arms. Nick put an arm around her while he looked for the creep who'd had her backed against the wall. He was nowhere to be seen.

"Are you all right?" he asked her as he put his hands on her slender shoulders.

She nodded and looked up at him, her green eyes overly bright and unfocused. "I'm just so glad to see a familiar face." Her words slurred together so it sounded as if she said "sogladseefamiliarfash." She leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around her.

"You're drunk," he said.

She nodded, not even bothering to protest his announcement. "Too many 'Bama Slammers."

She didn't seem to notice that she was in his arms. She leaned heavily against him as if unsure she could stand on her own. She might not be aware of their closeness, but he was acutely aware of it.

The top of her head fit neatly just beneath his chin and the soft silk of her chestnut hair tickled his jaw. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressed against his chest, and her breath was warm and punch scented on his face.

His hand pressed against her back and encountered the warm skin between her short top and the waistband of her jeans. The touch of her warm, smooth skin electrified him.

"You need to go home," he said gruffly, and moved his arm from around her back.

"You're absolutely right. I'll just say goodbye to my friends and be off." She swayed on her feet without him as an anchor.

Nick cursed under his breath and put his arm around her once again. She was totally bombed. "I'll drive you home," he said.

"That's not necessary," she protested, the words running together to form one long word. "I'm perfectly capable of driving home."

Ah, the confidence of drunks, he thought ruefully. "I'm driving you home, and that's the end of the matter," he said forcefully. "Now, go say goodbye to your friends and we'll get out of here."

As they wove their way back to the table where Lynn's friends sat, Nick kept a firm grip on her, not trusting that she wouldn't fall flat on her face if he let her go.

What would she have done if he hadn't shown up here when he did? Who would have seen to it that she got home safely? He wanted to lecture her on her irresponsibility, drinking too much and not only getting herself in a tight spot with a man, but also not thinking about how she would get herself home safe and sound.

But he knew a lecture at this moment would be wasted on her. Drunks didn't listen to lectures.

"Wow, did you find him in the bathroom?" a heavily made-up blonde at the table asked Lynn with a pale arched eyebrow. "I need to go to the bathroom more often if that's what's available."

Lynn giggled and placed a slender hand on Nick's chest. "These are my friends, Sonya, Vicki and Jenny." She patted his chest. "And this is Nicky. He's driving me home."

The flirtatious smile on Sonya's face instantly disappeared. "Whoa, Lynn, honey. One of us will drive you home. One of the cardinal rules of club life is that you don't let a man you just met take you home when you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk and Nicky is an old friend. He works for Uncle Jonas. I'll be perfectly fine with him."

Nick was impressed that her friends apparently did care enough about her to question his motives. "I'm head of security for Jonas. I'll see that she gets home safely," he said even as he marveled over the fact that she'd called him Nicky and patted him on the chest.

It was obvious her intake of alcohol had quieted the natural shyness he knew she possessed. "Say goodbye, Lynn, and let's get you home."

"Yes, get me home to my ivory tower with the little red eyes that watch me and the cell phone that Uncle Jonas uses to keep track of me twenty-four/seven."

The long sentence seemed to take everything out of her. She slumped against Nick and moaned. "I think I feel sick."

That was Nick's cue to half carry, half drag her to the nearest exit. He hoped when she got some fresh air maybe she'd sober up a bit.

His hope was short-lived. The night air did nothing to sober her up, if anything she appeared to be getting drunker by the moment.

He guided her to his car but paused before putting her in the pa.s.senger seat. "Do you feel like you're going to throw up?" He hated to be indelicate, but he didn't want her tossing her cookies in his car.

"No, I don't think so. I just need to close my eyes for a few minutes. Everything is spinning."

He tucked her into the pa.s.senger seat, then hurried to the driver's side and slid in behind the wheel. She slumped back, eyes closed and appeared to pa.s.s into oblivion as he started the car and left Sensations behind.

As he drove, her scent eddied in the air, the fragrance of expensive spicy perfume and the faint sweet scent of punch and Southern Comfort.

She'd felt good against him. Too good. It had been more than two years since Nick had enjoyed any kind of relations.h.i.+p with a woman. Being undercover wasn't conducive to relations.h.i.+ps and usually only led to disaster. He hoped developing a relations.h.i.+p with Lynn wouldn't prove disastrous for either one of them.

He thought of what she'd said when he'd told her it was time to go home, home to her ivory tower where the red eyes followed her and her cell phone rang all the time.