Melissa Cutler - Secret Agent Secretary

She smoothed the creased fabric over her thighs with a frown. Six hundred bucks and the dress wasn’t even wrinkle resistant. Between the wrinkles and the obnoxious zipper, the dress was way too high maintenance for her taste.

When she’d seen it hanging in the window of an uptown boutique, she’d thought it a perfect symbol of her New Year’s resolution to move on with her life after her disastrous breakup with Zach in October. Plus it was exactly the sort of curve-hugging dress Pepper Potts might wear to a Tony Stark cocktail reception, which made it a must-have in Avery’s book.

Well, Pepper Potts would never let a high-maintenance dress get the best of her. She spun the chair toward her desk and grabbed a box of paper clips. She might not be Pepper Potts or have access to secret agent gadgets, but Avery was nothing if not resourceful.

In two minutes flat she’d fashioned a paper clip chain and shimmied out of the dress. Though the office had been crawling with agents all day, Agent Reitano had been the last to leave, so she didn’t have to worry about someone catching a glimpse of her Spanx or beige ultra-support bra.

With only a few minutes to spare until she was supposed to meet her friends, she didn’t have time to wallow in the irony of lingerie that made a woman look sexy in clothing but did exactly the opposite once her clothes came off. But given how clingy and revealing this particular dress was, a teensy lace thong wasn’t going to cut it. Avery’s figure required high-performance undergarments.

Once she’d secured the end paper clip to the zipper, she donned the dress once more and raised the chain over her shoulder, pulling up. The zipper began to close.

“Ha! Take that, sucker.”

When the dress was half-zipped, her desk phone rang. The shrill, unexpected sound made her jump. Heart thudding madly, she leaned her elbows on the desk to check the caller ID and yanked the dress’s zipper the rest of the way closed.

Odd. Agents never called the office landline from their personal cell phones after hours, especially when on surveillance missions. They had partners and ops contacts and all sorts of important people to touch base with—anyone but the office secretary.

Then again, it was after ten. He should’ve been done with the surveillance detail already and off celebrating the last night of the year. Brows raised in disbelief, she lifted the receiver. “ICE Agency. This is Avery Meadows.” Even her usual telephone greeting came out sounding skeptical.

“You’re there. Good.” Agent Reitano had the kind of deep velvet voice that resonated in Avery’s body all the way to her toes, even though coaxing more than a few clipped words from him at a time was no easy feat. The man gave new meaning to the word laconic.

“Agent Reitano, is everything okay?”

He chuffed. “That’s debatable. Listen, I need you to get on my computer and email me a document labeled LM1204. Would you do that for me?”

LM1204 was a classified piece of evidence from the Chiara case. Why would he need that tonight?

“Our computers are password coded and we’re not allowed—”

“I know it’s against department policy, but I can change my password tomorrow. This is too important.”

A little voice inside her told her to decline. It went against her better judgment not to alert her bosses that one of the ICE agents might be in distress and had asked her to go against the rules regarding the handling of classified intel.

But a bigger voice inside her, the proverbial devil on her shoulder, said, This is what you’ve been waiting for, Meadows. They don’t call it covert ops for nothing.

Her gaze caught on the Department of Homeland Security emblem on the wall opposite her desk. An eagle, its wings outstretched and its body guarded by a shield. ICE, the department’s Immigration and Customs Enforcement division, was a critical component of that shield guarding her country’s freedom.

“Yes, of course I will.” She jotted down the password he gave, then decided to indulge her curiosity by asking, “Are you still at the Mira?”

The line went silent, as though he were thinking deeply about her question. “Yes.”

She bit her lip against asking for more details. Clearly he wasn’t in a talkative mood. As if he ever was. She rolled her eyes and her attention caught on that afternoon’s mail. “Oh! One more thing. I forgot. A letter came in for you a few minutes after you left from an express courier service. It’s international and it’s got urgent stamped all over the front and back. From a Mr. Paolo Hawk.”

She paused as a crazy idea took shape in her mind. Her only New Year’s resolution was to finally start crossing items off her bucket list, and one of those items was to be more daring—at work and in her social life. It might be less than two hours until the stroke of midnight, but this was her first chance to get started.

“Wait, what did you say?”

“A letter from Honduras. And it looks urgent.” He started to speak again, but she cut him off, knowing if she didn’t get this out now, she might never. “What if... How would you like...” She drew a bracing inhale. Come on, Meadows. You can do this. “Would you like to meet for coffee tomorrow? I could bring you the letter then.”

He sighed. Not a good sign. She waited in silence, her mortification growing. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, he answered, “Yes. Okay. Take it home with you. That would be best. I’ll get it tomorrow.”

“Over coffee?” She cringed. She’d sounded a bit too desperate with that question.

“I have to go. Don’t forget to email me the file. Oh, and don’t tell anyone we talked. Got it?”

“Oh.” What the heck was going on?

“Avery, will you do that for me?”

Any other time, she would have thrilled at the sound of her name from his lips, but an uncomfortable tingling had begun in the back of her throat. This wasn’t normal, not the request for secrecy or the strain that had leaked into Agent Reitano’s usually unemotional voice. “What’s happening? Is there someone I need to call? Agent Mickle or—”

“No,” he barked before continuing more softly. “Please. Don’t tell anyone, especially Mickle. If you want to help me, email me the file, then go home and take that letter with you.”

Despite her misgivings, she trusted all the agents in her office. If Agent Reitano needed her to keep a secret as a matter of national security that might aid in Vincenzo Chiara’s capture, then she would.

Vincenzo Chiara was one of the world’s most wanted men. An Italian black-market mercenary, his crimes included forcing children into slavery and prostitution, the murder of innocent people and orchestrating the sale of drugs, weapons and anything else on demand in the black market.

She glanced again at the department’s emblem. It was time to step up and do what she was born to.

Pumped and feeling good about her decision, she sat up straighter and looked at her watch. Drat. She was already late. Kristen was going to kill her. Oh, well. National security never took the night off. “I’m on it, Agent Reitano.”

“Thank you. And Avery? Call me Ryan.”

Oh. What she needed now was a witty comeback, something flirty and fearless. She screwed her mouth up, thinking hard, but before her brain had a chance to kick into gear, the line clicked dead.

She held the receiver away from her face and stared at it for a beat before dropping it into the cradle. So much for witty banter.

Waiting for Agent Reitano’s computer to boot up, she fingered a stack of Post-it notes and tested his name aloud. “Ryan. Good morning, Ryan. Have a good weekend, Ryan. Would you like to take me home and have your way with me, Ryan?”