to give this guy a taste of his own medicine. Maintaining her hold on the paper clips, she jammed the toe of her shoe into his crotch and twisted. He reared back, howling, then keeled sideways onto the stairs. She kicked him onto his back and ground her spiked heel into his crotch. His eyes rolled back in his head.
That’s right, buddy. No one messes with Avery Meadows’s bucket list.
With a nod of satisfaction, she swung the chain out and grabbed hold of a single paper clip that had pulled straight. Without giving it a second thought, she jammed the paper clip into the assailant’s shoulder. She heard his shriek of pain as if from a distance and pushed the metal in deeper as the image popped into her head of Zach in bed with that two-faced pole-dancing instructor.
A hand on her arm shook her out of her trance. She whirled around, wielding the paper clips.
It was Agent Reitano. He eased the chain out of her hand, his eyes huge, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d witnessed.
“Avery, stop screaming.”
Screaming?
He put a finger on her chin and pushed her mouth closed.
Confused, she met Agent Reitano’s eyes with a look of challenge. “I wasn’t screaming. Don’t be ridiculous.”
Amusement flashed in his eyes. It was the first time that night he’d looked at her without accusation. “My bad. You were as stealthy as a ninja.”
She smoothed her dress. Cold air nipped at her back, where the dress now gaped with a broken zipper, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to care. Power and energy like she’d never experienced buzzed through her system, pushed along by her pounding heart.
She chanced a look at the assailant. He’d passed out cold. Good. “Any chance that guy was a criminal mastermind?”
“Not quite. More like a hired gun. Anyhow, thank you for coming to my rescue.”
Looking over her shoulder, she studied the limp form of the man more closely. Then reality crashed over her. “Oh, my God. I saved you, didn’t I? I kicked that bad guy’s butt. Wow.”
Ryan retrieved Cross Tattoo Man’s gun from the floor, popped it open and inspected the inside, then put it back together and stuffed it into his jacket. “More like ground his nuts to a paste, but yeah, you saved my bacon.”
“I saved your bacon,” she echoed in a whisper of disbelief as a bone-jarring shiver racked her body, bringing with it a hefty dose of nausea. Desperate for a distraction so she didn’t give up her butt-kicking status by spewing her martini all over Agent Reitano, she paced to one end of the landing and back, trying to calm down.
He glanced up from where he was sifting through the pockets of the man with the broken neck. “Avery, take some deep breaths.”
She stepped over the men’s legs, rubbing her jittery arms. “Trying. Not working.”
The next moment, his hands clapped onto her shoulders, his thumbs stroking the straps of her dress. “Your adrenaline’s crashing. Totally normal. It’ll fade soon.”
She dropped her forehead onto his shirt and concentrated on the rise and fall of his solid chest to distract her from her queasiness. His hands slipped from her shoulders to her head. He smoothed her hair in slow, easy strokes.
All the years she’d dreamed of gadgets and high-speed chases, clever riddles to solve and fake identities to assume, she’d never once stopped to think what it would actually look like to watch someone die. Nor what it would feel like to listen to a man scream in pain that she was causing.
Her mom would say no human being deserved to be the victim of violence, no matter how repugnant his crime. Avery knew, logically, that her mom was wrong, that some men were evil and had to be stopped by whatever means necessary when there were no other options.
But growing up the child of two grassroots pacifist leaders, she’d come to understand that believing in the occasional necessity of violence and letting go of the guilt about feeling that way were two entirely different issues. She’d wrestled with both for most of her life, but that struggle hadn’t prepared her for the way she felt tonight.
Watching Agent Reitano battle the bad guys had certainly frightened and shocked her, but what she’d felt when she joined in the fray was a hundred times more potent. She’d liked the way it had felt to wield power. It had given her satisfaction to do harm to another person. The realization scared her to her core.
“Maybe I should stick to being a secretary.”
Against her forehead, she felt the rumble of his chuckle.
She pulled back, annoyed. “Are you mocking me?”
His smile fell. “No, I... Absolutely not.” He rubbed his neck, his expression turning guarded again. “I’m going to finish searching these guys, and then we’ll get out of here. I’m going to let go of you. Don’t fall.”
“I won’t.”
He set her away from him, holding her shoulders until she found her legs again.
“Thanks, Agent Reitano.”
He frowned down at her. “Just Ryan, okay?”
Nodding, her gaze slid to the fallen men.
Ryan squatted over the man she’d felled and patted down his pockets. Then he rolled him onto his stomach and continued the search.
“Are you looking for ID?” she asked.
Shrugging at her question, he lifted the flap of the man’s sports coat and removed the gun hidden there. “Not really. These guys aren’t going to tell us anything I don’t already know.”
He pocketed the gun, then tried the doorknob of the employee locker room she’d stood in front of during the attack. It was locked. “Here’s the plan. We’re going to make a break for it through the parking garage, so I’m going to get my gun out and load it with a fresh magazine, okay? Don’t freak.”
Avery drew herself up, giving him her best indignant glare. “Oh, please. I’m not going to go nuts at the sight of a gun. I see guns every day at the office.” Holstered, of course. But still...
He straightened his tie, smoothed a hand over his hair, then removed a big black gun from his jacket and positioned himself against the wall next to the parking garage door.
Despite her words to the contrary, Avery drew a sharp breath and her heart skipped a beat. But her reaction was purely reserved for the man holding the weapon. She followed the line of his shoulder to the bunched muscles of his biceps beneath his pricey-looking, perfectly tailored jacket, then farther, to the large, steady hand holding the gun. With that suit, the gun and his devastatingly handsome face, he looked like the most dashing and sophisticated secret agent the world had ever known.
He looked like James Bond.
A hot flush crept over her cheeks. No doubt about it, Agent Reitano—Ryan—hit every one of her buttons in just the right way.
Without seeming to notice her perusal, he said, “Stand behind
