Mrs. Undercover Review

“It’s not a punishment,” Ellie said, circling him. “It’s a choice.”

Dave chuckled, assuming she was joking. He always assumed she was joking.

“Oh, how lovely,” Ellie said, taking the dish. “Won’t you come in?”

“Thrilling.”

“Rough day?” he asked.

The nine-iron swung in a perfect arc. He crumpled like a laundry pile.

Her husband, Dave, a pleasant but profoundly unobservant accountant, kissed her forehead. “Big day at work, honey. Budget meeting.” Mrs. Undercover

Brenda raised an eyebrow. “Glitter glue?”

That was the problem. After ten years of marriage, three of them deep undercover as a wife , Ellie had become her disguise. The Agency had stopped calling. Her handler, a chain-smoking cynic named Harris, had retired to a shrimp boat in the Gulf. She was, for all intents and purposes, a ghost.

She was looking for him .

Ellie didn’t flinch. She’d learned that fear was a scent, and predators could smell it. Instead, she pulled a small object from her pocket—a juice box.

“I’m retired,” Ellie said, setting the casserole on the counter. “And it’s Mrs. Undercover now.”