The Cinderella Mission (Family Secrets #1)(57)
Author: Catherine Mann

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?”