Читать книгу Secret Agent Secretary - Melissa Cutler - Страница 13

Chapter 4

For someone who’d freaked at the sight of his gun, Avery sure did caress the grenade canisters in Ryan’s hand like they were her favorite sex toys. And calling them gadgets? Ryan didn’t know anybody who referred to grenades as gadgets, but if it gave Avery courage for the life-risking run they needed to make, then she could call them whatever she wanted.

Fighting a smile, he bought Avery a few more seconds to make peace with what she was about to do by squeezing off several rounds that forced Chiara’s men to scatter for cover. “Yeah, I’ve got a few gadgets. Are you ready to move?”

Avery gave a thumbs-up and crouched into a sprint starting position. A pulse of admiration for her bravery nearly had him smiling again as he removed the pin from the first grenade and tossed it. It exploded in a screen of smoke.

The decoy he lobbed at the garage entrance. The hostiles’ gunfire stopped, and Ryan could see them running for cover. Spraying gunfire to cover Avery’s sprint, he gave her back a nudge. “Move!”

She took off running. Ryan followed, shooting through the smoke screen. Machine-gun fire resumed all around them. Bits of wall and ceiling crumbled over Avery as she threw the door open, but she kept moving like a champ. Ryan slipped in behind her. There was no way to bar the door from opening, but lucky for him, Avery had kept her wits about her and was already working the keys in the locker-room door.

Ryan held his position near the door, ready to neutralize anyone who dared open it.

“Got it,” Avery called. She shouldered the door open, kicking her fallen purse in with her.

Ryan sidestepped her way, gun trained on the parking-garage door until he was at the employee entrance. As he closed his hand over that door, the parking garage door opened, followed by another succession of gunfire.

He ducked behind the door, paused to squeeze out a half-dozen rounds, then slammed the door behind him. If Chiara’s men had another key, he and Avery had maybe thirty seconds to bolt. If they didn’t, their window opened to a minute or two, perhaps more until Chiara’s attack dogs either blew the door down or found another way to reach them.

A thunder of noise from beyond the door preceded the appearance of dimples in the metal plated wood. Gunshots. Ryan dived away from the door. “Let’s move!”

He scooped up Avery’s purse and jogged with her past the kitchenette and dining area, toward the lockers. Behind them, the sound of the doorknob rattling was followed by another long roar of gunfire.

So they didn’t have another key. Excellent. He tucked Avery’s purse in the inside pocket of his jacket. “How do we get out of here?”

“Stairs, straight ahead.”

Halfway down the row of lockers stood a solitary young man, shirtless, his eyes and mouth wide-open as he stared at Ryan’s gun. The poor schmuck looked harmless but frozen with terror, which was probably why, despite the gunfire in the parking lot, he looked more ready to pee his pants than flee. While Ryan was busy mentally debating whether or not to incapacitate him so he didn’t call hotel security on them, Avery rushed the guy, spearing a finger in the air.

“You. Take off your shoes. Now!”

The man gaped at her. Ryan was taken aback, too, but he caught on quick. She’d left her heels in the parking garage and had correctly reasoned that even used, ill-fitting shoes were better than no shoes at all.

He moved beside her, his gun aimed at the poor, half-naked employee. “You heard the lady. Get those shoes off.”

His focus riveted on the gun, the man whimpered and sank to his knees. “Don’t kill me.”

Avery rolled her eyes and swatted at the air between them. “It’s a gun. Get over it. Give me your shoes, or I’m going to make you.”

His lower lip trembled, but he nodded and complied.

It was an entirely inappropriate time to feel like smiling, but Ryan nearly did. It’s a gun. Get over it? That was quite the change of tune since she’d first laid eyes on Ryan’s S&W in the stairwell.

Once Avery had slipped into the black sneakers, Ryan gestured his head toward a staircase along the wall that led to the ground level. “Lead the way.” Pointing his gun at the employee, he added, “Count to one hundred—then call 911. Got it?”

The man nodded like the bobble-headed eagle on Ryan’s desk.

Avery took the stairs two at a time, the heels of the sneakers clunking like flip-flops, clearly too big. He climbed sideways behind her, keeping one eye over his shoulder at the employee to make sure he didn’t try anything heroic and the other on her bare back. Boy, had he been wrong to think her a possible double agent. She was like a shot of sunshine with a heart of pure moxie—about as far from the shady underworld Ryan operated in as a person could get.

All those months he’d wasted stewing on his suspicions he could’ve spent having impure thoughts about her.

Behind them, the door to the stairwell rattled. Muffled shouting came from the other side. At the top of the stairs, Avery paused at the closed door. He came up close behind her, ready to resume his lead position. There was only one problem. “I’m out of ammo,” he said under his breath.

She turned, brushing against him. Her hair flouncing over the right side of her face, she fingered his tie. “But you’ve got more gadgets, right?”

What was it with her and gadgets? He tucked her hair behind her ear and let his gaze drop to her full, heart-shaped lips—the kind that straddled the edge between sweet and wicked. The kind that begged to be scandalized with a hot, wet kiss. Maybe later—after they made it out of the hotel alive.

“I’ve got more gadgets.” Maybe, for once that night, luck would be on his side and he wouldn’t have to use them.

Reaching past her, he cracked the door and took stock of the reception area. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. “Here’s the plan. We’re going to walk straight out the Mira’s front doors. You think you could pretend we’re a couple, out for a night on the town?”

He hoped she was game because that wasn’t going to be a problem for him. There wasn’t going to be a single ounce of pretending on his part to look like he was totally into the smoking-hot woman at his side.

She inhaled deeply, determinedly. “Okay, but there’s one teensy issue.”

He cocked his head in question.

“If we’re trying to blend in, then this dress and these shoes aren’t going to work.” She held the tattered edges of her skirt as evidence.

He stared down the length of her body. Most of the skirt had been torn off in the parking garage, dirty smudges covered most of the material and the back hung open due to the broken zipper. What a shame. “It was such a nice dress.”

“You approve?”

He doffed his jacket and draped it across her shoulders, his jaw growing tight as a fresh zing of approval hit him below the belt. “Something like that.”

Given their height difference, the jacket was long enough to cover Avery’s body from her neck to an inch or so above her knees. Her clothes were still an obvious wreck, but at least the whole of downtown San Diego wouldn’t be treated to a view of her bare skin.

He dropped his empty shoulder holster onto the floor and double-checked to make sure his shirt covered his concealed carry belt. Holding the door open with his shoulder, he wrapped an arm around Avery’s waist and pulled her firmly against his side. Damn, she felt good there. If only they weren’t fighting for their lives against one of the deadliest men in the world.

Ducking his lips near her earlobe, he whispered, “Showtime.”

She shivered at the word, so he searched her face, looking for fear or hesitancy. If she froze up now, he’d have to rethink their getaway. But all he saw in her face was brazen determination. Impossible not to admire her for that kind of courage, given how her life had been flipped upside down that night.

Nothing he could do about it now except protect her the best he could. That was one of his duties tonight, but not his biggest problem. Getting them both out of the hotel wasn’t even his biggest problem. Apparently, his biggest problem had come in with an express courier late in the day. The thought made his gut lurch.

He maneuvered them through the maze of managerial offices at a brisk clip, as though they belonged there, then around the back of the busy receptionist desk and into the lobby.

As they moved through the crowd, he whispered, “Where’s the letter I asked you to take home?”

“In my car.”

Ryan didn’t consider himself a cynic, but it was almost too good to be true that something had gone off without a hitch tonight. He’d been afraid it’d gotten dropped somewhere in the hotel. “Where’s your car now?”

“In the ICE parking garage.”

That was going to be a problem. Chiara’s men would know to look for him at the ICE office. For all he knew, they’d been hunting him as surely as he’d been hunting them. True, Ryan could probably still take on an army of Chiara’s goons with the various weapons and defensive devices strapped around his body, but without at least one loaded gun at his disposal he felt positively naked. They’d have to regroup and return for the letter once he was fully loaded again.

A bellman opened the front door, but before they’d stepped a foot outside, gunfire sounded all around them. The wall of windows above the lobby shattered.

Ryan’s reaction was immediate and visceral. He ducked over Avery to shield her from the raining glass, pushing her through the door. They spilled onto the sidewalk with dozens of screaming, fleeing guests.

While the cover provided by the panicked crowd had its benefits, Ryan fought against getting swept away with them. He and Avery needed to move at twice the speed of the masses and get out of view of the street, out of range of the hostiles’ bullets and the law enforcement officials who were guaranteed to swarm the building at any moment. Already, sirens sounded in the distance.

Ryan kept his arm around Avery and pulled her into the first building they came to. A restaurant. Though it was nearing midnight, the place was packed. They ran past the hostess, dodging tables of diners who seemed dumbstruck. Wide-eyed, several of them stood in slow motion, like they were still processing the noises they’d heard from outside and it was finally sinking in that something bad was going down.

Behind them, more gunfire rang out. Ryan turned to see three of the men from the parking garage giving chase. He pushed Avery faster, pulling the pin of another smoke grenade with his teeth. He chucked it at the men as he and Avery pushed through a swinging door into the kitchen. They sprinted past prep tables and stove tops, dodging startled cooks and waitstaff.

Finally they burst out into a dark alley. Not exactly an ideal locale for avoiding shady underworld thugs, so Ryan took Avery by the hand and steered her toward the next block, where a cluster of employees huddled under a light, smoking, just outside an open door. Hoping it was another back entrance to a nightclub or restaurant, Ryan pulled his gun out. Sure, it was out of ammo, but these guys didn’t need to know that.

He ground to a stop in front of the smoking workers and took aim at them with his S&W. “Out of our way.”

Cursing, they scurried off. Ryan boosted Avery ahead of him, then reached for an offensive grenade. Using it was a huge risk given the close proximity of the other buildings. There was little else in the world that Ryan hated more than collateral damage—innocent civilians getting hurt or killed. It was his one thing.

He’d vowed to his father when he had entered the service to never take collateral damage lightly and to avoid it at all costs. But he and Avery needed to create some distance between themselves and the men trailing them and he was running out of options.

“What are you waiting for?” Avery asked from inside the doorway.

“Just a sec.”

As soon as the three thugs shot into the alley from the restaurant, Ryan made sure they got a good look at him. They ran at him, shooting wild. He waited until they were in range, then pulled the pin and lobbed the grenade.

He slipped through the door as an explosion ripped through the alley, a tsunami of shock waves and fire. He shook off the jolt to his body and slammed the door then locked it with the dead bolt.

Avery took hold of his arm. “Are you all right?”

All right was a relative term at the moment. “Better than dead.” It was something he and his black ops crew used to say. Remembering the crew sent a knife of longing through his heart. He missed those times, before it all fell apart. “Let’s jam. You lead the way.”

He followed Avery through the nightclub employee break room, ignoring the protests of the workers, and into the main area of the club. The music inside was deafening, so loud that no one seemed to have registered the grenade explosion or trouble at the Mira only a few blocks over. This place was dark and crowded, perfect for two people on the run to get lost within.

Halfway across the dance floor, Avery put on the brakes and turned to look over her shoulder, like she wanted to say something. Ryan ducked his ear close to her lips to hear her over the techno music.

“I know this place,” she called. “It’s a string of connected dance rooms and bars, each linked to the club next door. We might be able to sneak out an exit the bad guys aren’t expecting us to.”

“Perfect. I’ll follow.”

“There’s a problem.”

He cocked a brow at her.

“This is Club Brazil, where I was supposed to meet my friends tonight.”

No way. “Seriously?”

“We can’t let them see us or they’ll want to know what we’re up to. We don’t have time to explain and we can’t take a chance of the bad guys seeing them with us. They don’t deserve to be put in danger.”

She was right on every level. “You’re short. Keep your head down and—”

“Avery!”

Her eyes closed, her face scrunched. “Too late.”

Ryan swallowed a curse and plastered a genial expression on his face as three sets of couples gathered around them. The women were young and dolled up much like Avery, with tight dresses and flushed, happy faces. The men were just regular guys, corporate businessman types and sort of puny, the kind that made Ryan feel like an ogre in comparison.

“You made it,” one of the women said. She hooked Avery in a one-armed hug that threatened to slosh the drink in her other hand, but her attention was locked on Ryan, as were the other women’s. “I see you found someone to ring in the New Year with, and you didn’t even need my help.” She nudged Avery and whispered something. Ryan wasn’t a lipreading expert, but it looked like she said, “He’s hot. Nice job.”

“Sorry I’m so late, but you can see I had a good reason.” Avery took Ryan’s hand, like they were an item. Her hand was so tiny and slender; he loved the way it felt in his. He held on tight. “I hate to do this to you, but we’re on our way to, uh, have a little private party of our own. We just stopped by so you wouldn’t worry about me.”

Wow. Bold. Then again, taking off with guys she’d just met must not have been her normal M.O. because her friends’ eyes grew wide and they gave Ryan a brand-new head-to-toe inspection. The men seemed more skeptical than pleased at the news compared to their dates’ reactions. One of them stepped forward, hand out like he wanted to shake Ryan’s and make extra sure their friend was safe in his company.

Avery lurched sideways, waving and pulling Ryan along with her. “Okay, we’re out of here.”

Ryan offered the group a conciliatory wave and matched Avery’s quick stride.

“You didn’t even tell us his name,” the curly-haired brunette called after them.

“James!” Avery hollered, smiling with too much enthusiasm.

They ducked through a hall between that dance floor and the next. This room was even more crowded with revelers and dancers than the last, so that they were squeezed together as they wormed their way through the throng.

Ryan couldn’t muster the desire to let go of Avery’s hand, and now that they were pressed back to front, it was easy to get close to her ear to tease her.

“James?” he asked. “Is Ryan not a good enough name?”

Sweeping her chin over her shoulder to regard him from below her thick, long lashes, she smiled. “That was my attempt at subterfuge.”

And damn it all if he didn’t break out in a chuckle right there on the dance floor of Club Brazil while fleeing with a civilian from a ruthless pack of hit men. He couldn’t stop the lightness Avery summoned forth from him.

They were partially across the floor, moving toward the lighted exit on the far end of the room when the music volume lowered. The DJ’s voice boomed over the speakers, announcing midnight’s imminent arrival. The number twenty appeared on the numerous television screens around the room, counting down to midnight.

Ryan and Avery exchanged glances but kept moving, though their progress was made more difficult because the partiers were all standing still. Champagne was passed around. Everyone’s eyes were on the screens.

Ten, nine, eight...

The emergency exit came into view down the restroom hallway behind a mass of people only four deep. In moments, they’d be out on the street. The midnight celebrations would be the perfect cover for them to slip away. But all he could think was, What the hell. You only live once.

He ground to a stop, tugging Avery’s hand, spinning her to face him.

She bumped up against his chest, looking confused. “Why did we stop?”

Three, two...

As the first second of the New Year turned over, he took her cheek in hand and captured her lips with his. She stiffened, then her mouth went soft. She threw her arm around his neck and kissed him back. Her kiss was as luscious as her body, full of passion and heat and supple softness. It’d been a while since Ryan had really kissed a woman so that it crashed through him, all the way deep down inside. He forgot how profound a feeling that was, how addictive.

He touched the tip of his tongue to her lip, and the moment her tongue found it, flicking against it, a jolt of arousal ripped through him. Oh, yeah, this was the best idea he’d had all night. He could’ve stayed there until morning dawned, but the city was crawling with hostiles who wanted nothing more than to destroy him—and now Avery, too. He couldn’t afford to take his eye off the game, not even to puzzle out the secrets of the charming, beautiful woman in his arms.

He ended the kiss, then looked down at her dazed eyes and moist, parted lips, and had to hold himself back from sampling her again. “Happy New Year, Avery.”

She blinked slowly, as if awakening. “Happy New Year, Ryan.”

He smoothed his hand over her bare back under his suit jacket, hungry for the feel of her flesh. “I’m back to being Ryan again?”

“It’s a lady’s prerogative.”

He caressed her lower lip with his thumb, and the grin that had been threatening to break out did exactly that. “How about we get out of here?”