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“Gemma Daniels,” she said, smiling at the hotel desk agent. She handed the young man her passport and gave her best ‘I’m a weary traveler’ expression.

“Oui, madam. We have you for three nights,” he said, nodding.

“Yes. I may have to leave early for a family emergency, but right now, my plan is to stay for three nights. I do love Paris but coming here for business isn’t exactly the most wonderful way to enjoy it.”

“Are you here for the gaming convention?” he asked.

“Gaming convention,” she repeated. “Yes. Yes, I’m here for the gaming convention.”

“There are so many people here of all ages, races, backgrounds. It’s very exciting. I love video games, but most of them are here for hidden treasure hunts, puzzles, that sort of thing.”

“Fascinating,” smiled Gemma. “Are there treasures to be found here?”

“Oh, many. There’s always talk of lost treasures or the famous golden owl puzzle that has people searching every year throughout France.”

He handed her the keys to her room, and she turned and stepped toward the elevator.

The backpack was digging into her shoulders, but she didn’t dare set it down, or she might not be able to pick it back up.

As she entered the elevator, the other one opened, letting out a flood of convention goers.

Her room was a bit pricey, but at least now she knew why.

Every room was filled with gamers hoping to find their new fix or their new treasure.

The room was spacious, something not normally seen in Europe.

The large king-sized bed was made with luxury linens, and when she opened the drapes, she had a lovely view toward the Champs Ellysse.

With very little clothing to unpack, she settled her things into the closet and drawers, then gave herself a good wash, preparing to go out for dinner. She’d asked Jewel, the con artist, to meet her at a café. Whether she did or not would remain to be seen.

“What to do with the bag?” she murmured to herself. She looked beneath the bed, but it was surrounded by a metal barrier to prevent hotel guests from losing things beneath the bed.

But if there was a metal barrier, that meant there should be an open space beneath the box springs. With little effort, she pushed the mattress off and then lifted the box springs to reveal a dusty underside to the bed. With any luck, it was just enough room for the backpack.

Carefully, she lay it in the middle of the underside, in the center of the frame.

With so many guests in the hotel and the staff probably overwhelmed, hopefully no one would ever see it or know it was there.

With great effort, she put everything back in its place and congratulated herself on the task.

Looking at her watch, she realized that she was going to be a few moments late to meet Jewel at the café. The elevators were so busy she took the stairs down the four flights and opened the door to head through the lobby.

“I know that she’s here,” said the man. “Our sources said she was headed this way, and we’re going to find her. Get those damn eggs back and the amber.”

“What about the woman?” asked a female voice.

“Kill her.”

Gemma pulled the hat down around her face and ducked through the crowd, hoping to go unseen. If Jewel showed up, she could be with the gamers and out to take her find. She needed to change her look and fast.

Jewel would have to wait.

Four hours later, she exited the high-end salon, staring at herself in the window. She hardly recognized the person staring back. Her mousey brown hair, laced with gray, was now a beautiful auburn color, cut in a fashionable style that framed her face.

Her once thick-framed glasses were replaced with contact lenses, and her attire of choice, pull-on stretch pants and a large, oversized sweatshirt, were replaced with a pretty floral summer dress.

“Damn,” she whispered to herself. “You don’t look half bad.”

Gemma knew that Jewel would be long gone, but she walked toward the café just to be sure. She’d intentionally told her to meet her there near closing time, which would ensure that it was empty. But Parisians were known for keeping the cafés open long after closing if there were guests inside.

As expected, it was closed. Turning, she made her back toward the hotel, hoping that even if she ran into her followers, they wouldn’t recognize her. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“Lenora? Lenora Palmer, is that you?” asked the man.

For a moment, she panicked, wondering who on earth could possibly know her real name in Paris. She just stared at the man as he smiled. He was nice-looking, about her age, and had a wonderful smile.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know you,” she said, trying to go around him. Behind the man were the three people she’d seen earlier who were looking for her.

“Lenora? It’s me. Dean Wedder. We went to school together. I’d recognize you anywhere. You’re still beautiful.”

The three pursuers turned and stared at her, but only for a brief moment, then turned toward the crowds. They didn’t recognize her. They didn’t know it was her. She smiled at Dean and stepped forward, giving him a hug.

“Dean! Of course, I’m so sorry. It’s such a pleasure to see you again.”

“Same,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Please tell me you have time for drinks and dinner.” Absolutely perfect, she thought to herself.

“For an old friend? Anything.”