Secret Cinderella

“How rusty are your skills?”

Her mouth went dry. She’d known the moment she heard his voice he was in trouble, but this…

“How sharp do they need to be?” she asked nervously.

“There’s a New Year’s Eve party tonight in the hospitality suite at the Rorhem Hotel downtown.”

Her stomach contracted. He pushed out words as if the effort were painful.

“Carl Boswell is going to pass a DVD to someone at that party. I need you to steal it first.”

She inhaled sharply. “Boswell is the man from RAL who was going to buy your program.”

“Yeah. He decided to steal it instead.” The ironic tone he tried for was lost in the sound of his labored breathing.

“You’re hurt.”

He ignored the interruption. “Six-four, two-thirty. Sandy red hair. Sharp widow’s peak.”

He was fading fast. Her stomach twisted with fear. “I’ll get the DVD. I’ll bring it to you.”

“No!”

The crack of the word sent all sorts of terrified images springing to mind.

“I won’t be there,” he said more calmly. “I have a place to go.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Worry nothing. She was scared to death. “If you die on me, I’ll never forgive you.”

He managed a weak chuckle that ended on a cough. “Not a chance, kid.”

He wasn’t going to tell her. Her mind was busy supplying all sorts of horrible scenarios, but she tried to keep her voice steady by focusing on what he really needed.

“How will I know I have the right DVD? Is it labeled?”

“Might be now.” He paused, his voice growing more ragged with each breath.

“Never mind. If he has more than one, you’ll get a collection,” she promised. Mel could almost hear his slow smile.

“Be careful. He likes knives.”

“Gary!”

“Get the program back for me, kid, it’s the only copy I made. Of course that bastard could have made more by now.”

Her fingers pressed tightly against the plastic of the telephone.

“You didn’t back it up?”

Gary had been working on this program for well over a year now. Not being a computer person, the only thing she knew about his pet project was that it was some sort of security system he was very excited about.

“I can re-create it, Mel, that’s not the point.”

“Okay. Never mind.” He sounded so weak. “I’ll retrieve your brainchild, but you’ll owe me big,” she added fiercely, trying not to let him know how scared she was for him.

“Be careful. Boswell’s willing to kill for it. I don’t want to be an only child, either.”

Her heart plummeted to her toes, her wild imaginings reinforced. But she kept her tone light, trying not to let him hear her fear.

“Mom and Dad would be ticked,” she agreed. “Don’t worry, Gary, he’ll never feel a thing.”

Chapter One

Mel hated it when her words turned prophetic.

Carl Boswell had been past feeling anything at all when she found him. Now she clutched the slim plastic card and the keys she’d removed from his wallet an instant before she’d been discovered going through the dead man’s pockets. She continued to ignore the horrified, sick feeling in her stomach as she paused to get her bearings. She didn’t have time for sick. Not then, and especially not now.

From the elevated balcony, Mel frantically scanned the noisy crowd below, landing on a tall, imposing figure in an immaculately tailored tuxedo. The stranger moved alertly among the room’s occupants, nodding to acquaintances, but not stopping to speak to anyone. His purposeful stride was carrying him toward the exit at the far end of the ballroom.

Perfect.

As she skimmed down the stairs keeping her gaze focused on the man, she watched him pinch the bridge of his nose as though he had a headache. Understandable in this din.

He continued on his path with the sense of purpose that had first drawn her eyes—a lean, feral cat among the pigeons. People parted instinctively to let him pass.

Not a good mark. He was too alert for that. But she was desperate and his size alone might present a shield. He’d have to do. Everyone else seemed to be with someone.

She shot a glance over her shoulder. Still clear.

Mel darted amid the clusters of people while trying to keep him in sight. Her spiked heels didn’t add nearly enough height. Fortunately, the stranger was lofty enough that his perfectly groomed, thick dark hair stayed visible.

Another glance over her left shoulder confirmed the worst. Someone had figured out where she’d gone. A tall man in a perfectly fitted tuxedo appeared on the balcony near the entrance she’d just used.

He was not alone.

Mel bit back a groan of dismay. This was bad—very bad. With an imperious sweep of his arm, the man sent two burly security men scurrying into the crowd.

Looking for her.

Her throat went dry. Renewed adrenaline sent her pulse racing faster. Now she blessed her short stature as she ducked behind a man and woman who blocked the aisle. They chatted with a table full of laughing people, oblivious to the others around them. Mel managed what she hoped was a cheerful smile as she edged around the couple, aware of several startled looks from some of those seated there.

Cursing the shiny beacon of a glittery dress she wore, she kept moving. Her choices had been severely limited after Gary’s frantic call, and the borrowed dress had accomplished its original purpose. No one had questioned her right to join the noisy private party upstairs when she timed her arrival to coincide with a large, boisterous group.

Up there, the gaudy dress had been an asset. Unfortunately, most of the women down here had opted for black, which meant that any minute now one of the men pursuing her would spot the bright kelly-green color. If she could make it to the tall stranger she had a slim chance of getting away.