The Cinderella Mission (18 page)

Unable to stop herself, Kelly searched for him. Finally, she spotted him across the sea of bodies, standing with Samantha Barnes and White House advisor Matt Tynan. With them stood Eugenie and the Gastonian ambassador. Ethan hadn’t left the man’s side all evening, just as Kelly hadn’t left the jewels.

Ethan’s face creased with his laugh, a deep rumble that echoed in Kelly’s ear, along with background noise from ARIES headquarters.

Only she would recognize the underlying edge or how Ethan longed to ditch the formal garb. His tuxedo fit his body with a negligent élan. So often she’d seen him in a suit at ARIES and thought the same thing, never realizing the true Ethan preferred ragged jeans to designer clothes.

He knew how to adjust to fit into the world around him when necessary, while no one ever realized he held a piece of himself apart. Never noticed he didn’t allow himself to belong.

Kelly accepted another round of congratulations from Ethan’s social set, along with eat-dirt-and-die glares from more than one woman. No doubt Ethan would have plenty of consolation after their post-mission breakup.

Would he share with one of them why he hated ties?

Kelly willed away distracting thoughts and flipped her wrist to view her diamond-studded timepiece. Only fifteen minutes left in the cocktail hour and then the guests would
all shift to dinner. The jewels would be stored away. The transfer to and from the armored cars could be controlled. No worries there.

Could the whole thing have been a hoax to divert their attention? Or had word of the additional security leaked, scaring away the thieves? In which case, they might not have a security heads-up next time. Alex Morrow might not have a second chance.

Ethan’s voice stayed with her as her constant companion, an ever-present reminder that even if she succeeded in the evening’s mission, she had still failed him. Failed
them.

Where was the compromise?

The string quartet on the corner dais faded to a stop.

Adrenaline simmered, heated, tingled through her.

“Attention, ladies and gentleman,” the speakers blared with the announcer’s voice as the lights dimmed. “If you’ll direct your attention to the displays so generously loaned, we’ll begin our laser show and highlights of tonight’s features.”

Across the room, Ethan nodded to his friends and stepped back, his gaze raking the crowd. “Show time,” he mumbled.

“Got it.”

“What?” Tara asked.

Kelly pulled a smile. “Got to step back so I can see better.”

Tara looped her arm through Jake’s. “Of course.”

The laser show spotlighted jewels, strobing through the room, flickering, distorting images away from the cases into choppy, fragmented disco movements. Kelly blinked. Looked again. Her SIG-Sauer lay like a cold block of ice against her thigh. If only she could have worn a shoulder harness like Ethan.

“Kelly, check your six o’clock,” Ethan called the warning to look behind her. “Why does that person look familiar in a wrong way?”

She glanced over her shoulder at the mass of bodies.
Slowly, her eyes focused on…the hairstylist from Peter’s salon? Then his cashier. Two, five, then ten of the salon’s employees moving. Reaching into their jackets for…

“Gun,” Kelly ducked to speak into her mike.

“Security, guard your eyes,” Ethan barked. “Dazzler, go.”

With barely a flicker, the lights adjusted, shifting to the military-developed Laser Dazzler. A hum of noise started from the crowd two seconds before disorientation set in.

Pandemonium reigned.

Guests stumbled in uncoordinated confusion. Couples clutched each other. Jake Ingram braced an arm around his fiancée’s waist. A waiter tripped over a potted tree, champagne glasses sliding, shattering on the floor.

Twenty men with guns surged forward, aiming wildly. Guards swarmed the ballroom, wearing protective eyewear.

Screams echoed up to the crystal chandeliers. Keeping her post by the jewels, Kelly karate-chopped the guns from two men’s hands. The damn dress limited her from kicking.

One gunman somehow staggered past the fountain toward the Gastonian ambassador. “Ethan! Coming your way.”

Bodies swayed, dropped to the floor. If a shot went wild… Ethan plowed through, launched himself on top of the ambassador.

“Ethan?” Kelly forced her voice to stay calm, her focus on the mission, essential for keeping Ethan and the others safe.

“Secured and clear.” His steady bass rumbled reassurance through the airwaves. “Check right.”

“Roger.” Kelly turned in time to trip the salon’s valet and call another warning to Ethan. “Two possibilities coming your way!”

Ethan pivoted, bodyblocking one figure while shouting to his aunt.

Eugenie swayed, averted her head and righted. She hefted a near-empty pewter punch bowl from the table and clocked
the gunman on the head. The man collapsed back into a jewel case, glass shattering.

Alarms blared as the punch bowl thumped to rest on white velvet.

And it was over.

That fast.

After two weeks of intense planning and praying. A multiservice security force of unlimited funds brought the op to a successful conclusion in less than three minutes.

But worth every penny for the lives saved. God, how much worse this could have been without prior warning to plan.

Feds swarmed the room, making arrests and taking statements. Kelly’s ear buzzed with cheers from Juarez and Davidson. The general consensus circulating through the crowd seemed to attribute the disorientation to prior planning by the jewel thieves. Fine by Kelly as it kept their role downplayed, the goal of all ARIES operatives to maintain cover. An APB had been put out for Peter Miller.

Peter the masseur.

An American spy? Or Rebelian national? His flat accent that sounded like
studied
newscaster tones thrummed through her memory. At least they’d found out before anyone died.

Kelly slumped against a wall, the draft from the hall cooling sweat she hadn’t even realized had beaded her skin. Her heart thudded in her ears. She’d done it. They’d done it. Ethan had to see how well they’d worked together.

If only they could find the same balance in a relationship.

Kelly’s hand gravitated to her breastbone where the aquamarine lay nestled and hidden inside her dress. What had happened to taking charge of her future? So she and Ethan had argued. One fight. A really big one with no apparent compromise in sight. But she’d been willing to battle for her job. Why had she fallen short of giving the same effort to a relationship with Ethan?

Because the failure would hurt more.

A pitiful excuse for not going after what she wanted. A woman with a dragon on her hip and love in her heart didn’t back down so easily anymore.

Kelly spun away from the wall.

Smack into a chest.

A masculine chest and the man of the hour everyone was seeking. Too late, she realized her shock and fear must have shown—and alerted him. An arm hooked around her waist.

“What are y—”

A hand slapped over her mouth. Strong and masculine. Peter Miller yanked her into the corridor.

“Kelly?” Ethan looked left to where FBI agents cuffed and hauled away suspects. Right to where a society matron draped in diamonds sobbed on her companion’s shoulder. Who the hell could see anything in the mass of people? “Kelly? Talk to me. What’s happening?”

He surged into the crowd, searching. Wingtip shoes crunched shards of glass along the hardwood floors.

“Walk,” a masculine voice growled through the earpiece.

Ethan’s steps faltered. “Kelly?”

Her breath huffed heavier, faster into the mike. Ethan’s joined pace. Only now did he realize how their breathing had become one over the past two hours since they’d left the house. “Kelly? What the hell’s going on? Where are you?”

Kelly gasped. “It would be easier to walk if you’d take your hand off my eyes and the gun out of my side.”

A gun on Kelly. Ethan’s gut twisted, burned. Only minutes ago he’d been reeling with relief over keeping Kelly alive. Even if she did walk away from him, at least he didn’t have her blood on his soul. Now his worst nightmare exploded in front of him and all he could think about was the time he’d wasted arguing with her.

“Davidson, do you copy that? Kelly’s been taken.” Ethan flung through the door into the hall while ARIES affirmed his transmission. “Keep talking, Kelly.”

“Ow!” she squawked. “It would sure be nice if you didn’t bump me into walls. This hall has too many corners.”

Fear grabbed Ethan in a stranglehold as he listened to her voice. “The hall. Got it, Kelly. Davidson, give the order. Have security fan out. I’m looking, Kelly. Hang tough. We’re looking.”

Kelly panted, the sound of running feet pounding through the mike. “You won’t get away with this, Peter. Why are we going upstairs instead of leaving?”

Peter. She’d found Peter Miller. “Good, Kelly. Keep it coming.” Ethan forced his voice to stay even, hell-bent determined to keep her calm, reassured even as his feet double-timed toward the service elevator. “Davidson, did you get that? Peter Miller is here and he has Kelly.”

“Roger that,” Davidson barked from headquarters. “We’re trying to track you, Kelly. Keep talking.”

A door squeaked and clicked.

“Peter, stop. You don’t want to do this.” Kelly’s voice rose for the first time.

The hair on the back of Ethan’s neck prickled.

“Get in the room and shut up.”

What the hell was the man thinking? Peter Miller was in a load of trouble in a place crawling with agents of every kind. The guy shouldn’t have a second to spare…

Unless he’d lost hope and planned a standoff—with a hostage.

In a room. A hotel room. Alone with Kelly.

No. No. And hell no! Fury fired through Ethan while fear iced his spine. He didn’t want to hear what he was almost certain would come next.

“Take off your dress.”

Ethan’s world exploded into a red haze. Not Kelly. Not that.

“No!”

“N
o!” Ethan’s shout reverberated in Kelly’s brain.

She slapped a hand to ear. Her eyes teared up from Ethan’s shout. Not just from the physical torture to her eardrum, but from the anguish in his voice.

Thank God her captor hadn’t heard.

“Take it off,” the wiry masseur ordered again from his position in front of the door to the cleaning service supply room. He bore little resemblance to the gentle, new-age masseur who’d taken time to mix ylang ylang bath oils for her.

Kelly stumbled away from him, reaching behind her for anything—a mop, a jug of cleaner. Some weapon.

She wouldn’t allow this to turn into the nightmare of her experience with the college professor. Kelly scrambled to think of something to say that would reassure Ethan while still figuring out a way to get out of this hell.

Why would Peter waste time on this?

Unless he had nothing left to lose.

She wouldn’t, absolutely wouldn’t let this happen to her.
And she wouldn’t be separated from the tiny microphone inside her dress button. Peter hadn’t said anything to lead her to believe her cover had been blown. She needed to hold on to that.

“Whatever part you had in what went down tonight, you don’t want to make it worse.” Her grappling hand closed around an iron. “Ethan will be looking for me any minute. Give—”

Peter backhanded her.

Kelly reeled, slammed against a shelf. Towels and brooms rained around her, the iron thudding to the ground. Pain exploded through her head for a second time, but she held back her own scream for Ethan’s sake even though the smack must have transmitted.

Ethan’s growl rumbled in her ear. “He’s a dead man.”

His cold vow chilled her soul.

She wanted to let Ethan know she would make Peter pay big-time. Once she found her opening. Let Peter think she was weak now. She’d kick his ass soon enough, regardless of how strong the wiry man was from years of giving massages.

Thank you, Ethan, for giving her the tools to do it.

She’d learned. She would make it.

She hoped.

Peter snagged a housekeeping uniform off a hook. “Here. Take this.”

Kelly sagged with relief. He just wanted her to change. She needed to let Ethan know before he lost it and barged through in some reckless dash. “Oh, you want me to—”

“Shut up.” He leveled the gun at her temple.

Fair enough.

Kelly inched her zipper down. Revulsion swelled into nausea. Twice Peter had touched her while giving her a massage, looked at her, and she’d never known.

Swallowing down bile, she distanced herself. Besides, she wore a bra and slip beneath her gown. She was still covered, her 9mm out of sight.

She wasn’t the helpless student from all those years ago. She was a government agent, with training. She could keep herself focused, protect her gun in the white garter-belt holster until she could button that housekeeping smock.

“Kelly!” Ethan barked through her earpiece. “Damn it, Kelly, find a way to talk to me. Now. Give us your twenty.”

The gun never wavered. She couldn’t risk talking yet and feared he wouldn’t be able to hear her anyway, not with the growing space between her and her button microphone.

Kelly wrestled into the khaki jumper, fumbled as slowly as she dared with the buttons. Done. She straightened in time to see Peter pitch her gown into a cart of dirty sheets. He yanked her toward the door.

“Kelly!” Ethan demanded. “Kelly, damn it, say something.”

The edge to his voice worried her more than the gun, and she was seconds away from leaving her mike. She gathered her thoughts and gave one last shot at communicating with Ethan. “Peter, why am I changing—”

He dragged her into the hall and kicked the door closed.

“Kelly?” Ethan’s call echoed. “Talk. Let me know you’re all right.”

He couldn’t hear her.

Peter wrenched her arm. “I hate the delay, but it was necessary. I had to make sure my hostage wasn’t wearing a wire and or one of those listening devices. But then I guess it was ridiculous of me to think
you
might be some kind of undercover cop.”

“Yeah, silly.” He’d pay for that one later, Kelly assured herself.

He jammed the gun in her side. “Not a sound.”

Kelly slowed as much as she dared along the hall, Ethan’s voice her constant companion.

“Kelly, I’m with you,” Ethan rumbled through, steady, strong. “No matter what’s happening right now. I’m with you. Know that. Listen to me. Do what you have to do to
stay alive. I’m gonna pray you’re kicking the crap out of him right now.”

She heard his heartbeat thudding harder, faster.

“But if you’re not—” his voice turned hoarse, pain radiating from his quiet words, “that’s all right. You do what you have to do. Just zone out. Go to that far-away place in your head when you’re meditating. Anything you have to do to stay alive.”

Tears burned her eyes as his words seared into her mind. Yes, she heard him. Every ounce of his love and hurt transmitted and stabbed right through her.

Finally she understood what he meant, how love could be wonderful, but it could be hell—their pain as tightly entwined as their joy. She’d thrown his love and his need for her back in his face. Which didn’t say much about the love she thought to have for him.

A love she hadn’t even told him about, and now she might never have the chance.

“We’re looking for you, Kelly. By God, we’re going to find you. So just hang on. Hang on, Kelly. I love you. I hope to God you can hear me. I love you.”

Again, she heard him, as did everyone in ARIES. This time, she believed him and grieved she hadn’t listened before. If—when—she got out of this, she would remind him he’d made his vow to a host of listening ears.
No holding back, Williams.

And she would give him hers, as well. To a room full of people. From atop her damned cubicle if she had the chance. She wouldn’t give up, couldn’t give up, because of Ethan. She couldn’t do that to Ethan.

He needed her.

Peter rounded the corner, stopping in front of the stairwell. Would he go down or up?

“Okay, Kelly-girl.” He swung open the stairway door. “Time to hang out on the roof and wait for my ride, while everyone downstairs cleans up the mess I left behind, patting themselves on the back for what a good job they did.”

He scooped his hand into his pocket and withdrew…

A rock. A fist-sized sapphire. On the inside of his wrist, usually covered by sweatbands, scrolled a tiny tattoo with Rebelian lettering woven into a snake. “I’ve got what my leader asked of me, anyway, and a valuable hostage. I’ll bet Williams pays big-time to get you back from Rebelia.”

All roads led to Rebelia.

“How did you get the sapphire?” Her mind flashed through the evening. All the jewels had been secure…

Except for the case crashed open by the Gastonian ambassador’s body.

“So nice of Miss Eugenie to drop that punch bowl into the case and cover the missing jewel, not that she intended to help. But I’ll take it any way I can.”

At least he still didn’t know her part or Ethan’s or that they knew she was missing. It bought her an edge.

If she could just lead Ethan to the roof. Even if these scum received ransom ten times over, they would never release her. She’d studied their like in ARIES profiles too often. Once she climbed into that helicopter, she’d be as good as dead, taken from the country and tortured—if they weren’t shot down first.

She pressed a hand to her thudding heart. The gemstone necklace tucked in her bra cut into her skin.

The necklace.

Kelly eyed the doorknob.

Slowly, she inched a finger into her bra to hook onto the chain, easing it up and into her palm. Hand clenched, she dropped her fist by her side.

Willing any remnants of Kelly the Klutz aside, she glided her hand along the door and slid her chain over the knob.

Okay, Williams. Time to live up to that hotshot agent rep.

Because she needed him every bit as much as he needed her.

Ethan tore down the halls. Fourteen more floors to go. The elevators were out. Only eight minutes had passed since
communications with Kelly had gone down.

Eight endless minutes. He fought roiling nausea in his gut.

He couldn’t think about what might be happening to her. He had to focus on finding her. Someone would find her soon.

The hotel was just so damned big.

Through his earpiece, a barrage of voices filled the waves. None of them Kelly’s. At the ARIES command post, Hatch had assumed control, clipping out commands in rapid succession for additional backup.

Ethan listened, all the while chanting through a litany of heaven-only-knew-what to Kelly in the hopes that she could still hear him. Damn it, he customarily made security checks on people in his aunt’s life and Miller’s record had been clean. The fact reeked of a scope of influence Ethan didn’t even want to consider. Not now.

He rounded a corner, ready to search the next floor.

A flash of light sparked.

His feet slowed. Ethan squinted, looked closer as he closed in on a glistening pendulum swinging on a door at the end of the hall. A chain with Kelly’s semi-precious stone dangled from the stairwell to the roof.

Kelly wasn’t in one of those rooms. Relief almost drove him to his knees.

A temporary reprieve.

If they’d headed to the roof, Peter intended to leave. A hell of a lot worse waited for Kelly if they got away.

“They’re heading for the roof. Send backup.” He looped the chain off the knob and clutched it in his fist. “Aquamarine, Kelly. Message received and I’m on my way up. Not much longer.”

Ethan charged up the stairs. A helicopter hovering out of radar range could swoop down in seconds and be gone just as fast. He wasn’t too late. He wouldn’t let it be too late.

He stopped at the door. Don’t go blasting in. Think. Pull
that mojo out of exile and put it to work. Go on the assumption Peter didn’t know they were looking. Give nothing away. He spoke softly into his mike, “Kelly, I’m coming onto the roof.”

Ethan tucked his gun in his pocket, donned his idle-rich facade and pulled open the door, his most important undercover op yet, with Kelly’s life the stakes. “Kel, hon, you up here? Don’t be mad, babe. I just want to talk to you.”

He stalked across the roof, all of historic Alexandria sprawled below. Frigid wind tore gusts of steam from vents, blasting snow in a near-blinding swirl. Good. That would make landing a helicopter damned near impossible.

If they hadn’t left already. “Kelly?”

“Over here, Ethan my boy.” Peter Miller stepped out of the shadows, Kelly tucked against him, gun in her side. Two henchmen, more spa workers, loomed behind him.

Ethan allowed himself three precious seconds to absorb the vision of Kelly alive, and apparently unharmed, other than the hint of a bruise on her face.

Peter Miller would pay for that. Slowly. Painfully.

But first he had to take care of three sets of enemy hands holding guns. Two-against-three odds. Not what he’d hoped for but losing wasn’t an option.

“What the hell’s going on, Peter?” Ethan bluffed.

The feds couldn’t be more than a couple of flights below. Stall. Pray the helicopter couldn’t land and that there wouldn’t be a hail of gunfire.

“You should have stayed downstairs, Williams. Now we’re going to have to take you, too.” Peter nodded to one of his henchmen who swung around and aimed a Glock at Ethan. “Of course you shouldn’t have started asking all those questions about your parents. I had it good here and you screwed it up. Now I have to leave.”

Ethan kept his stance loose, deceptive, trying not to think of the gun pointed at Kelly. She stood limply against Peter, no doubt luring him into assuming weakness. The wind
blasted snow around her feet. Her teeth clattered but her eyes sent a clear message of honed training.

Ethan eased forward. “Messed up a good thing?”

Crooks always loved to brag, ego ruling them. He could use that to distract Peter, and get as much of the confession as possible into the mike. Ethan eased closer. “What do a few questions have to do with a jewel heist?”

Peter asked. “You’re thinking small. I’ve been collecting secrets for years and giving them to my country. I wish I’d killed that bitch Eugenie and taken my chances with her ridiculous press-release threats.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. My mistake then, but not now. Too bad you didn’t die in the mine. That would have paid her back. Her snooping cost my homeland a big piece of what the CIA had going on back then.” His boots moved backward as he dragged Kelly with him. The odd shuffle, the snow, the boots all merged with the image of another pair of boots in Ethan’s memory.

The day his parents died.

“Or maybe I should kill you after all. I walked away from you alive once before thirty years ago. I won’t make that mistake again. So what if the old bat talks? Who’ll care about one of your long-gone turncoat agents selling my country a few laboratory secrets thirty years ago anyway?”

The irony of it nipped Ethan with more power than the tearing wind. There had been a Judas in their social ranks all along—Peter Miller. The guy had been using his position catering to the DC politically powerful to pilfer secrets, and had no doubt used his position to watch over Eugenie, as well. The stakes were too high for Peter to negotiate. Any hostage was as good as dead. “Let Kelly go. I’m a more valuable hostage anyway.”

“How short-sighted of you. It’s not just about money. It never has been. It’s all about country.” The barest hint of an accent slid past his flat broadcaster’s voice. “My sister
Iona was prepared to die serving our homeland, and so am I.”

Peter and Iona, linked, thirty years ago and now, danger so close. Every muscle in Ethan contracted with the magnitude of what could have happened. He’d been so focused on Kelly and future threats, all the while this slime had put his hands on Kelly and Eugenie countless times. Hell yes, Ethan could understand well a fury that would rage for years—for a lifetime.

Helicopter blades slapped the air in the distance. Closer. Time to trust his partner.