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

picked the left one out of the box where it was nestled in tissue paper, the smooth leather cool to her fingers. She
     kicked off her hideous pumps and slipped the boot on, feeling the way the arch cupped her foot and the leather hugged the
     shape of her toes.
    It laced up the side, the golden cablelike thread hooking through silver eyelets. She laced the left, then slipped on the
     right and repeated the procedure. Amy might have her quirks, but she was most definitely a good friend, because while these
     shoes might not make Lydia want to go out and kick serious butt, they really did make her feel . . . well . . . special.
    She stood up and walked around the apartment, surprised at how comfortable they were, considering the two-inch heels. She
     did a few little pirouettes, laughed like a loon, then headed to the couch, where she kicked back and watched the Tuesday-night
     lineup. Maybe not the most exciting night of her life, but at least she was being boring in really cool shoes.
    When the time came to pack it in and get to bed early—so that she could be refreshed and ready for the meeting Darla had so
     kindly reminded her of—Lydia left the shoes right beside her bed. Ready to slip on the second she woke up.
    The weird thing was, she woke up with the shoes on her feet: a little fact that came to Lydia’s attention when the shrill ringing of the telephone woke her. She leapt out of
     bed, landing awkwardly on the heels.
    Not that she had time to wonder about her toes’ midnight migration into her shoes; the caller ID identified her office, and
     she snatched up the phone and uttered a breathless hello.
    “Lydia? It’s Joanie,” announced Mr. Stout’s secretary. “Looks like we’ll have an extra ten heads at the meeting this morning.
     Can you swing by a bakery on your way in and pick up a couple of dozen doughnuts?”
    “Sure,” Lydia said, eyeing the clock and mentally adjusting how fast she had to get out the door. No problem. She could do
     this.
    She had to take the shoes off to shower, and weirdly, she actually felt a little bit of a letdown as she stripped them off
     her feet. “I’m coming right back to you,” she assured them, leaving the shoes tucked under the foot of the bed. She felt a
     little silly talking to her footwear, but since she was alone in her apartment, what did it matter?
    Showered and clean, Lydia slid into the outfit Amy had picked out for her and slipped on her fabulous new boots. A nice little
     electrical charge zipped through her and—yeah—she felt different. More spunky.
    Pretty damn cool.
    The bakery on the corner was her absolute favorite, so she grabbed two dozen mixed doughnuts even though she would have to
     schlep the boxes all the way into the city, her business tote slung over one shoulder and two boxes in a Twin’s Bakery bag
     clutched tight in her other hand. With extreme willpower, she managed to not eat the doughnuts during the train ride, and
     she was feeling supremely smug by the time she was a single block from the office with seventeen minutes to spare. Oh, yes!
     No way was she getting any grief from Darla today. This was a major brownie-point day in the making.
    That’s when she heard the scream.
    Lydia froze. Her feet didn’t, though, and suddenly Lydia found herself racing pell-mell into a dark, scary alley, with absolutely
     no idea what she’d find there. Or, more important, what she’d do once she found it.

    It was the scream that caught Nikko’s attention, and damned if he didn’t try to ignore it.
    The sound had come from the west, at least a couple of blocks over from where he was perched, biding his time until that late
     that night, when Ruthless was supposed to show up in the alley behind a particularly seedy gentlemen’s club. According to
     the Council’s new intelligence source—aka, the rat-fink who’d leaked information and technology to Ruthless—Ruthless had received
     a tip from a psychic (honestly!) that the single