Unmasked (Godmother Security Book 1) (6 page)

Cindy had started highlighting her hair shortly after coming to live with Faye.  When she’d first asked Faye if she could change her hair color Faye had pointed out that Cindy’s hatred for her mousey brown hair was directly related to wanting to wash away her past and become a new person.  Even at fifteen, Cindy couldn’t argue the fact, and had said so to Faye.  Faye’s response had been, “Okay, I just wanted to make sure you understood your reasoning.  I have a wonderful stylist that works miracles.”

Three days later Cindy had left the salon several shades lighter and feeling like a new person.  Ever since, though she hadn’t always gone to the same stylist, wherever she’d lived she’d had a standing appointment every two months to touch up her honey blond highlights.  Her latest appointment had been just before the Peirce rescue, but as she stood in her bathroom Monday morning blow drying and styling her hair so that it fell straight around her shoulders, all traces of blond were gone. 

Sunday morning she had awoken with the overwhelming desire to make sure Sebastian Prince did not recognize her when she went into his office on Monday.  She’d had on a mask, but there were a few identifying things she could change.  Her hair was the most important.  She’d briefly considered wearing one of the many wigs she had on hand for undercover jobs, but she hated wearing them and had no idea how long this job would last.  The thought of getting up every morning and donning a wig for a week or more wasn’t appealing.

With no chance of getting a stylist—even Faye’s overpriced one—to come in on a Sunday, Cindy had headed down to the corner drug store and picked up a couple of bottles of color.  Once there she realized it had been so long since she’d seen her natural color, she no longer had any idea what it was. 

She’d stood in front of the hair color so long the cashier started giving her dirty looks as if she thought Cindy was getting ready to steal something.  After briefly considering a vibrant red shade then dismissing it as too flashy, Cindy had settled on a rich chocolate brown.  Pinning back just enough hair at the temples so that it didn’t fall in her face all day, she had to admit the color was flattering on her.

It took her nearly an hour to apply her makeup so that she looked as if she had spent ten minutes getting ready.  Using techniques Faye had taught her, she carefully contoured her jaw, cheekbones, and lips so that they appeared to be shaped differently than ‘Ella’s’.  When it came to color, she went with sheer and nude colors, a pale peach on her eyes and nude on her lips.  For the ball her makeup had been bold, calling attention to her eyes and lips.  Now she played down everything, making her face as unremarkable as possible.

When it came time to dress she chose a brown tweed pantsuit paired with a creamy peach camisole.  The boxy jacket and wide-legged pants of the suit effectively hid her slim body, and gave no hint to curves or body size.  A pair of brown leather flat loafers finished off the look.  They were comfortable, professional, and made her five inches shorter than she’d been at the ball.

Not wanting to draw attention to her face she chose not to wear earrings, but the thought of jewelry made her insides clench and tears threatened again.  She’d called the hotel several times on Sunday, but no one had turned in her necklace.  She was having a hard time accepting it was gone, but there was nothing left to do. 

Pushing the thought out of her mind, she surveyed herself in the full length mirror on the back of her bathroom door.  She looked professional, bland, and short.  Just the look she was going for. 

She put her laptop into her briefcase with the file on Sebastian Prince, tucked her gun and extra ammo into her shoulder bag, and headed to work.

The headquarters for Prince Industries was located in a thirty-two story glass and steel building in Manhattan’s financial district.  Cindy walked through the glossy lobby to the reception desk where a young woman wearing a headset with one earphone and a straight black microphone next to her cheek asked how she could help Cindy.  After explaining she was Sebastian Prince’s new personal assistant and showing her ID, Cindy waited as the receptionist spoke quietly into her headset, listened for a moment, then told her someone would be out in a moment.

Less than two minutes later a security guard exited a door behind the reception desk, and escorted Cindy to the keycard activated executive elevator.  They rode up in silence, and when they reached the 28th floor the guard simply nodded for her to go forward.  Another headsetted young woman sat at a large, semicircular desk a few feet from the elevator.  Cindy once again gave her cover story and ID to the receptionist, this time she was pointed to a door at the end of the hall and told that Mr. Prince’s secretary was waiting for her.

Cindy stepped through the door indicated into a large outer office and waiting area.  One side had several comfortable looking leather chairs arranged around a coffee table with carefully placed magazines.  The other side of the room was filled with a large L-shaped desk.  Behind the desk sat a woman who looked to be in her sixties with dark, creamy skin and short, perfectly coiffed, steel gray hair.  The sign on the desk said, ‘Della Porterfield, Executive Secretary’.

Cindy approached the desk.  “Mrs. Porterfield?  I’m Cindy Ashe, I believe you are expecting me.”

The woman turned dark, assessing eyes to her.  “It’s Ms. Porterfield.  I never married,” she said, lips pursed.

Cindy blinked.  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.  Men are more trouble than they’re worth,” Ms. Porterfield snapped.

Cindy let out a bark of laughter before she could stop herself.  “You won’t get any argument from me on that point!”  

Ms. Porterfield watched Cindy for another long moment, then her scowl softened and her mouth relaxed into a smile.  “I think you’ll do just fine, Ms. Ashe.  You may call me Della.”  She came around the desk, and offered her hand to Cindy.

“Only if you will call me Cindy, Della,” she replied, taking the proffered hand and shaking it.

“Deal,” the older woman said.  “Now come on, they are waiting for you.”  She turned, opened a door on the far wall, and walked through.  Cindy followed.

“Ms. Ashe to see you, Mr. Prince,” Della announced.

“Thank you, Della.   Will you see that we aren’t disturbed for the next half-hour please?” said a deep, masculine voice Cindy recognized.

“Certainly,” Della replied, then turned and walked past Cindy, pulling the door shut behind her as she left.

Cindy watched Della leave then turned around to find Faye and Sebastian standing near a large mahogany desk. 

Faye raised one eyebrow at Cindy’s appearance, but simply said, “Sebastian, this is Cindy Ashe.  She will be the guard posing as your assistant until we have this little mess cleared up.”

Little mess indeed.  Faye certainly had a way with words.  The man’s cousin had hired a professional assassin.  That was more than a little mess.  But the word choice seemed to sit well with Prince.  At least he didn’t contradict her.  Instead he stepped forward and held his hand out, “Nice to meet you, Ms. Ashe.”

The sound of his voice again sent tiny frissons of panic through Cindy.  While planning her appearance carefully, she’d still failed to take into account the one thing she couldn’t really change.  Her voice.  If she tried to use an accent or altered the pitch of her voice she would have to remember to do it every time she opened her mouth around Prince for the next week or longer.  And she’d already used her normal speaking voice and accent with his receptionist and secretary.  Nothing to do but wing it and hope he hadn’t heard her voice well in the ballroom over the orchestra music that had played all night.  While they had spoken on the terrace, she knew her voice had been more breathy than usual at that point. 

Taking a deep breath and clearing her throat, she said, “And you as well, Mr. Prince.”

Cindy held her breath, watching Sebastian’s eyes and facial expressions for any signs he recognized her, but there weren’t any.  His face was passive, unreadable, and then slipped into a mask of incredulity. 

“This tiny woman is supposed to be my body guard?  No offense,” he said, glancing at her then turning his attention back to Faye.  “I would really feel more comfortable with one of those big guys that guarded me last night and this morning.”

Cindy stepped in front of Faye so she was in Sebastian’s direct line of sight.  “No offense taken, however before you make a snap judgment, there are a couple of things you should know.  Godmother Security is the best in the field, and I am the company’s best agent.  This is not a brag, it is fact.  Despite their larger size and strength, neither of the two men that have been guarding you have ever bested me in hand to hand combat. Though they are both trained snipers, my shooting skills are on par with theirs, and actually better in close quarters situations.  In addition, I am a former profiler for the FBI counter-terrorism unit, and have the unique skills to pose as your assistant while observing the individuals you come into contact with during your work day in case the assassin your cousin hired poses as a potential client to get up close and personal.  Though Gus and Jack are excellent guards they don’t quite fit “personal assistant” mold, and it was my understanding you wanted your daytime guard to be discreet and blend.  So, you can either have the best of the best, or you can continue to be a douchebag misogynist and put your own life at risk.  Your choice.”

“What she said,” Faye said from behind Cindy, a hint of laughter in her voice.

Sebastian put his hands up in front of his chest as if in surrender.  “I apologize.  No sexism or douchebaggery was intended.  I agree that Godmother Security is the best in the private security business, and if you, Ms. Ashe, are the best the agency has to offer, then I definitely want you on my team.”

“Good,” Faye said, stepping from behind Cindy to take a seat in front of the desk, motioning for Cindy to take the chair next to her.  Sebastian took his place behind the desk.  Faye continued, “I’m glad that is settled.  Cindy will guard you during office hours.  As we already discussed, Frank will drive you to and from work, and anywhere you need to go during office hours.  Jack and Gus will be stationed at the hotel, and will take alternating shifts for the evening and overnight.   Until this matter is cleared up it is best that you don’t work late or go out in the evenings.  Hopefully we will have this all cleared up by the press conference on Friday, but no guarantees.”

“I understand,” Sebastian told her, seemingly unconcerned. “And what about the other business we discussed?”

“Ahh, yes, that,” Faye said.  She looked at Cindy, her expression blank.  “A woman Mr. Prince met at the charity ball he attended Saturday night left a piece of jewelry in his suite.  This morning a press release went out to local media outlets.  By lunch it will be on all of the networks.  Mr. Prince has set up a hotline to weed out all but the most viable respondents.”

Cindy felt like all of the blood in her body had drained into her stomach, she felt weak and nauseated.  “A press release and hotline?  I don’t understand.”

“To find the owner of the necklace, Ms. Ashe,” Sebastian said slowly, as if he were explaining a difficult concept to a child.

“Yes, but why don’t you just turn it in to the venue.  Wasn’t the ball held at a hotel?  It seems logical that if she lost it there that is where she would call to find it?  She could pick it up from there.”

“Perhaps.  But she may not be aware of where she lost it.  Afterall, she didn’t lose it in the ballroom, she lost it in my suite.  This also will make sure only the woman it belongs to receives it, because I will screen the recipients.”

“Surely there is an easier way.”

“Perhaps,” he said again.  “However, I must see Ella again, and this is fastest way I know to find her.”

“Why is seeing her so important?” Cindy asked.

“Because I love her.”

Cindy’s hands clenched in her lap so tight her knuckles went white. 

“It all sounds very romantic to me,” Faye said, avoiding Cindy’s eyes.  “Searching out true love.  Of course it may give the assassin a way to get into the building, but preparations for that are being made as we speak.”

It took several minutes for Cindy to think of something coherent to say.  It took a few minutes for the shock of what Sebastian had just said to wear off, but once it had, fury slid into place.  Love?  He loved her?  That was a crock, she thought. He lusted after her, or rather he lusted after Ella.  Cindy knew that she, as Ella, was one that got away.  He was putting on a very elaborate fishing expedition to reel in the big one.  Once he got her he’d take a few pictures and throw her back, with a hole in her lip. 

The thing was, Cindy couldn’t disagree with Faye’s logic.  Cindy’s purpose for being at the ball had been to keep an eye on those that tried to get near Sebastian.  He was practically putting out an invitation for the would-be killer, that is if it were a woman. 

In the end, all Cindy could do was smile and agree.