These Boots Were Made for Stomping Read Online Free PDF Page A

Anytime you want
     to share it, you feel free.”
    “Patience,” Zephron said, his eyes twinkling as he held up a finger. “It is our belief that Ruthless is becoming desperate
     to locate the final component of the shrinking device he is constructing. So desperate, in fact, that he will soon be resorting
     to drastic measures.”
    “Such as?”
    “Such as threatening to kill a Protector if his terms aren’t meant.”
    “Cold.”
    “Indeed,” Zephron said. “Though not entirely unexpected. There is a reason, after all, that he is the bad guy and we are not.”
    “Fair enough,” Nikko remarked, leaning back in his chair and kicking his feet up on Zephron’s desk. The corner of the Elder’s
     mouth turned down, but he didn’t say anything. Nikko hid a grin. Years ago, he’d been among Zephron’s favorites. Nice to know
     some things hadn’t changed.
    “It occurs to me,” the Elder continued, “that we can use this desperation to our advantage by handing him a Protector. A victim
     whom he can use as a bargaining chip—or, at least, a victim that he believes can be used as such. Someone he will take back
     to his lair, seemingly conquered. And once there—”
    “He can storm the castle and take the place down from the inside,” Nikko finished.
    “That is the idea,” Zephron said. “We can equip you with a tracking device that is undetectable prior to activation. We will
     set the device so that the process of reintegration activates it. Once you are in the lair, the signal will be transmitted,
     and we can be there almost instantaneously.”
    “Great plan unless he kills me in transit,” Nikko said.
    “We shall hope that doesn’t happen.”
    “Yeah,” Nikko said. “We shall.”
    “You are in agreement, then?”
    Nikko nodded. “It’s the best lead so far. But how do I get captured if I can’t get close to him?”
    “Simple,” Zephron said with a smile. “You will be in the right place at the right time. And, of course, you’re going to have
     to lose a fight. Can you do that?”
    “It’ll be tough,” Nikko said, deadpan. “But I think I can manage.”
    On Tuesday, Lydia talked herself out of wearing the new outfit Amy had put together for her. The shoes were supposed to arrive
     at her office on Wednesday morning by priority shipment, and so she held off, wanting to wow the folks on the fifth floor
     with her keen fashion sense. Or, rather, Amy’s keen fashion sense.
    At ten of six, though, Lydia was wishing she’d tried the outfit after all. For that matter, she was wishing she had the shoes.
     Forget the goddess factor, at that point she would have been happy with a placebo effect. Anything to help her stand up to
     Darla and her cronies, all of whom had heard that she’d been given a second chance by Mr. Stout.
    “Poor Lydia,” Darla had said. “Maybe next time you’ll get your work in on time. And don’t forget about the eight a.m. meeting
     tomorrow. After turning in your work late, I can’t see Mr. Stout keeping you on if you blow off a meeting, too.” She pressed
     her fingertips to her lips and made kiss-kiss noises. “Just trying to be helpful, Lydia,” she added, her white teeth gleaming
     like wet sugar.
    Bitch.
    But Lydia had only stood there, seething, knowing damn well that she’d turned her work in early, but too chicken to tell Darla
     to take a flying leap. More than that, she’d actually arranged the details for tomorrow’s meeting, so it was hardly likely she’d miss it. But Darla couldn’t miss an opportunity
     to stick in the knife and turn.
    “You’re a wimp,” Lydia told herself as she marched down the crowded city sidewalk to catch the train to her tiny apartment.
     One of a thousand girls trying to make it in Gotham, Metropolis, the Big Bad City.
    And then—in case she thought the day couldn’t get any worse—she stumbled on a subway grate and the heel on her ancient black
     pump snapped. She fell forward, skinning her knee and