Secret Agent Secretary. Melissa Cutler

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