Secret Agent Secretary. Melissa Cutler
given that he was locked in a deadly game of cat and mouse with a man of no scruples and no loyalty but to himself.
Avery shifted, reclaiming his attention. She tilted her mouth toward his chin. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere to talk.”
She nodded, the worry lines on her face easing. “Good. Because I think I can help you with the Lassiter transcript.”
Her words threw him off-balance again. The LM1204 document was top secret. There would be no way for her to know the names involved in the wiretap unless she’d read the file. Even if she was lying about his computer breaking down, she couldn’t have opened the file, because it was individually passworded. Lassiter was a rogue computer hacker and a known associate of the Chiara brothers. His connection to the current investigation into Chiara was highly classified intel that she had no business knowing.
He gave her body a calculated perusal. “I’m curious—why the costume and the drink?”
He’d chosen the word costume purposefully and injected some venom into his tone to lob that off-balance feeling right back at her, but he still felt a twinge of regret when she smoothed a hand down her dress in a self-conscious gesture. He touched his shoe to his ankle holster, a reminder of the dangerous mess he was in.
“There are a lot of women here in cocktail dresses holding drinks,” she answered. “I think I blend in rather well, thank you very much.”
He ran his tongue along the backside of his teeth, fighting the urge to break it to her that her rationale was flawed. Sure, there were a lot of fancy-looking women in the lobby, but a hot blonde in a skintight pink dress standing alone at the bar? He’d bet the contents of his safety-deposit box that every male in the room had taken note of her.
The escalator poured them into a wall of people waiting to gain entrance to the ballroom. With one hand on Avery’s elbow and the other on the small of her back, Ryan cut through the crowd, his destination the service stairway entrance on the far side of the second-floor landing near the restrooms. Neither he nor Avery tried to speak, as the effort would’ve been futile given the earsplitting mash-up of dance music and people talking.
As he bypassed the elevators, then the restrooms, she tugged his jacket sleeve. “Wait a sec. Where exactly are we going?”
“Conference rooms on the third floor.”
“What about the hotel room you reserved? Wouldn’t that be the safest place?”
It was happening again. His intuition was going bonkers. Was she trying to lure him there thinking he had yet to visit the room where the hit men had been lying in wait? Or was she asking an honest question? At this point, he couldn’t see any harm in telling her the truth. “Chiara’s men were waiting to ambush me in the room when I got here tonight. So, no, it’s not the safest place for us to talk.”
He opened the stairwell door and leaned in to make sure the stairs were clear. Avery yanked him back by the jacket and gave him a shake. “Hold on—are we in some sort of danger?”
Looking into her wide eyes, a wry chuckle escaped his throat. He removed her hands from his lapels and held her wrists. “Right now I can’t decide if you’re honestly that clueless or if you’re the world’s best liar.”
She jerked away from his grip like he’d burned her. Another twinge of regret jolted through him. He forced himself to remember it was a good sign, that feeling. It meant he had at least a shred of humanity left in him, which was saying something after all he’d seen and done in his life.
“I don’t understand,” she said. Glancing over her shoulder at the crowd they’d navigated, she rubbed her bare arms. “I thought you were conducting routine surveillance tonight, nothing dangerous. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have come alone. The whole team would’ve been here to—”
In time with the pounding bass from the ballroom, a booming shot rang out nearby and a piece of wood splintered from the doorway above Ryan’s head. A second shot followed before he could react, lodging in the wall behind Avery. She shrieked.
Ryan pulled her into the stairwell and jerked the door shut.
He pushed her ahead of him down the stairs as he retrieved his S&W .45. “Change of plans. How fast can you run?”
Chapter 3
Ryan had to hand it to Avery. For a dolled-up chick in high heels and a tight dress, the lady could book it. He paced her at a jog, the soles of his shoes crunching over debris and crumbled stucco on the dingy, dusty staircase.
“Oh, my God. We were shot at, weren’t we? Oh. My. God.” Maintaining a litany of exclamations and curses, she skidded around the second turn in the staircase and slammed her side into the wall.
Arms flailing for balance, she barely slowed down until, somewhere above them, a stairwell door opened with an echoing boom. Her speed faltered before cranking up another notch, until she was virtually flying around the final corner.
The stairwell bottomed out on a dim, concrete-floored landing with a door leading, Ryan hoped, to the hotel’s underground parking garage. He sped past Avery before she had a chance to dart through the door. He wasn’t a big fan of running scared, which meant it was time for him to neutralize the threat.
He snagged her around the ribs and tossed her into the shadowed space beneath the stairs, in front of a second door he hadn’t noticed earlier that had the look of a supply closet. Her eyes locked on his gun for the first time and she squeaked, dropping her purse. After flashing his fiercest warning glare, she clammed up. Last thing Ryan needed was her giving away their position. Then again, if she did, he’d have his answer about who her allegiance belonged to.
At least two sets of men’s shoes thumped along the stairs in descent.
He pulled back into the shadow, smushing Avery’s body into the corner behind him. Assuming a defensive position, he aimed at the turn in the stairs, his finger on the trigger. Avery’s shallow, quiet breathing fanned over his neck. From her stomach to her chest, her body quivered against his back, as though she was trying so hard not to move that her muscles spasmed with fatigue.
Too late, it dawned on him that if she was the double agent, she might be armed. He had no idea where she’d stash a weapon in that dress, and her purse was on the ground between their legs, but nevertheless, it was a stupid move to have his back to her.
Torn between protecting her from Chiara’s men and protecting himself from her, he decided to go with his gut—however unreliable that’d proved tonight. After all, hesitation, not double-crossing secretaries, was the number one killer of people in his line of work. The debate fled his mind as a man’s legs materialized on the steps.
Avery’s body quivered more violently.
Three men took the steps two at a time, their eyes on the door to the parking garage. Ryan recognized none of them, which told him Chiara had an even deeper reservoir of attack dogs than he’d been aware of.
Two men, Ryan could’ve neutralized before they knew what was happening, but the third man changed the odds. He’d have time to react while Ryan felled the first two, putting both Ryan and Avery in serious danger.
Close combat was his only viable option.
As the men descended, their focus on the door, time slowed. The world went silent.
Ryan felt the rush of adrenaline through his veins, a hot, dark burn of power and purpose. His favorite feeling in the world. All his years of experience had taught him to harness its potential, syncing the strength of his body to the strength of his will. He released an exhale in a slow stream through his nose and prepared to attack.
The tallest man put his hand on the door’s push bar.
Ryan took a deep breath and lunged, squeezing the trigger as he flew.
* * *
Avery watched with crippling