Veering off from the running path, he headed west, making his way back to his place. He needed time and space to regroup before he approached Lily again with a proposal she wouldn’t be able to resist.
CHAPTER FOUR
Monday, September 15, 5:00 p.m.
LILY STALKED INTO the downstairs lobby of her penthouse loft. Despite another hour of pounding the running trail, she couldn’t shake the image of that strange man smiling down at her...or the memory of his body pressing against hers. He was all male, all alpha—and taking up way too much real estate in her mind.
George, her doorman and longtime family friend, looked up from behind the concierge’s desk. He frowned. “You okay, Lil?”
Of course he’d sense something was off. “I’ve had better runs.”
Wasn’t that the understatement of the year. How had that stranger known where to find her? Better yet, how had he known so much about her?
She headed to the elevator, having no intention of starting that powder keg of a conversation with George. No doubt the giant man would quietly corner her, demanding full disclosure of whatever had spooked her—because she was spooked.
“Lily,” George’s low baritone voice interrupted her mental tirade. “There’s a note for you.”
She stopped midstride and turned slowly back toward George. He held out a cream-colored envelope and watched her warily, his bushy black eyebrows furrowed. “A man came in a few minutes ago. Says he owes you an apology.”
She clenched both hands into tight fists, her nails digging into the softness of her palms. “Toss it.”
“That’s what he said you would say, and I was tempted.” He tilted his bald head to the side and searched her face with his deep brown eyes. “Why does he owe you an apology?”
She shrugged, reached across the desk and snatched the envelope. “It’s a long story.”
“Time is all I’ve got these days.” George crossed his log-like arms across his barrel of a chest and didn’t move. Despite his concierge uniform, he looked menacing and huge, and every bit like the Senegalese warrior he was. For all Lily could tell, he didn’t even blink before he slowly spoke, his voice dark. “I’d appreciate an answer.”
Lily swallowed down the frustration seeping up. He’d been tasked to do one thing and one thing alone: watch her six. Which was one hell of an assignment, given the independent, stubborn streak she was known for. Disappearing into the wind in Omaha had been a godsend, and she was grateful for the shelter her safe house gave her, but at thirty-one years old, Lily didn’t need yet another set of eyes watching her back.
But here George was.
Her parents had seen to that, even from their graves—between him and Ben, she’d never been alone or without protection. He was merely doing his job, but being constantly watched, even by someone she considered family, still pissed her off.
“If you must know, that man interrupted my run today and knew way too much about me.” She hesitated, then scrunched up her nose, not wanting to see his reaction to her next three words. “The old me.”
“Shit, Lil.” George’s eyes grew wide and the vein in his forehead bulged. “Does he know yet?”
Lily cringed. Of course George would bring up Ben. Every warrior needed a wingman, right? Well, she’d been blessed—or cursed, depending on the day—with two.
“He’s my next call.” She held up the envelope. “Especially with this awesome little love note.”
“Lily, this isn’t something to joke about.”
Walking over to the elevator, she pushed the up button and glanced over her shoulder. “Believe me, I’m not laughing.”
* * *
LILY CLOSED HER front door, tossed the envelope on the counter and reached for her cell, pressing one on her speed dial. As she rubbed the back of her neck, she tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder and quickly moved to her bedroom.
Ben answered on the second ring.
“What’s up, Lil?” His familiar voice cut through the quiet and instantly soothed her frayed nerves.
She faltered. Never in a million years did she think she’d utter the words that hung on the tip of her tongue.
“Lil...”
“I’ve been compromised.”
“What? Who?”
“Not sure. But, Ben, I think he’s from 67.”
“Why is that?”
Lily heard the unspoken question veiled within those three words—Are you burned?—and her head spun. No, that wasn’t possible. Was it? Destroying all passports and 67-issued equipment, she’d gone dark, covering her tracks and doubling back multiple times to ensure she wasn’t being tracked before heading to Omaha.
The only people on the planet who even knew she was in Omaha were Ben and George, and only because they were the only family she had left.
“How else would he know so much about me? The alternative is one I refuse to consider. I can’t go there, Ben.”
Lily shut her bedroom door, turned the lock and moved to her closet. To the casual observer, it appeared to be a massive walk-in closet for a woman who was obsessed with shoes, clothes and jewelry. But she wasn’t that woman. They were all props. Lily didn’t care about any of that stuff. She only cared about what it concealed.
“I want to know who he is, and why the hell 67 sent him after me.”
“You and me both,” Ben grumbled, his voice hard as steel.
“Well...” She stopped in front of the tall dresser, flipped up the jewelry tray and pressed her hand to the cool, smooth surface underneath. A screen—doubling as a smaller mirror hanging on the wall—appeared and scanned her palm. “Let’s find out. Shall we?”
The display lit up, and she quickly keyed in her code and started scanning through the lobby’s video feed.
“Yes. Let’s.”
Despite the agitation rapidly firing from one nerve to the next, Lily grinned. She could almost see Ben’s face growing as stormy as the Pacific Northwest in the winter.
Within minutes, she’d found her running buddy. Apparently he’d managed to slip in a shower before invading her personal space. Fantastic.
Despite her best efforts to be pissed off at this stranger, she couldn’t help a twinge of admiration. He was tall—six-two, or maybe six-three—defined and, even in his casual attire of jeans and T-shirt, damn right beautiful. His black T-shirt was snug, but not obnoxiously so, and she could see muscle definition beneath the dark fabric. No doubt the result of rigorous training. She rolled her eyes. She didn’t need to be imagining anything about this guy.
He looked directly up at the camera, mischief in his blue eyes, and winked. Lily snorted. Nothing subtle there—the guy had balls of steel.
Lily tapped the screen. Got you now.
She froze the image and took a screen shot. “Sending over a picture. Can you check him out?”
“I’ll get my IC people on it.”
Lily couldn’t help but smile. Ben’s people were her people, or at least they had been. On the books, they were all part of the United States Intelligence Community, or IC, which was led by the Director of National Intelligence, and each had their own cover story. To those outside of Unit 67, Lily Andrews was a CIA computer analyst, the best hacker to come through Langley’s doors in a decade. Off the books was a whole other ball game, and one she missed desperately. Unit 67 fell under a separate director, one that reported directly to the president himself, and was unknown by any of the other sixteen separate government agencies.
Though she’d gone dark, Lily still had allies within the intelligence community—all Ben had to do was mention her name, and they’d have the intel on this joker, 67 agent or not. No one within 67 tolerated a breach in protocol, and showing up unannounced to another agent, potentially blowing their deep cover, was a serious one.
“You want
me to come get you?” Ben’s voice grew serious.
“No. I don’t take people flushing me out lightly.” She eyed the photo. Her mind pulled images of him straddling her, and heat surged through her body, which royally pissed her off. Not a chance, buddy. “This is my home. I’ve been doing just fine here for a year. I’m not leaving.”
“Lil.”
“No. I’m staying. Besides...” She moved over and tugged at the massive mirror hanging on the far end of the closet. It swung open on cleverly concealed hinges, revealing row after row of firearms and ammo lined up on hidden shelves. She reached for her favorite Glock and pulled it from its bracket. “You and I both know this place is my own personal Fort Knox. If he gets past George, which is very doubtful, he’ll regret it.”
“I still don’t like it,” Ben grumbled.
“Me neither.” She closed the mirror-door. “But I’m not leaving. End of story. I’ll meet you tomorrow, and we’ll go over what we’ve both scrounged up tonight.”
“Call me if you need anything. And no heroic shit. We don’t know who this guy is.”
“Promise.” She hung up.
Oh, she’d keep her word to Ben, but she’d track this mysterious man until she knew the type of toothpaste he used. She didn’t appreciate her life being interrupted or her anonymity being blown.
Lily shook her head. Who was she kidding? She was spooked this stranger had not only found her and snuck up on her like a freaking ghost, but he’d also caught her attention...more than she cared to admit.
She reached for the .32 sitting on the dresser, tucked it into the small of her back and grabbed her tablet. Whistling for Dakota, her three-year-old malamute—the only good thing Jackson had left her with—Lily walked into her bedroom and sat cross-legged on the edge of her bed. Dakota lazily sauntered in, jumped onto the bed and curled up against her back. Lily reached over and ran her hand over his heavy coat. She loved that dog, had since the moment Jackson presented her with him as a puppy, complete with a blue ribbon tied around his neck.
She pointed the tablet at the seventy-two-inch flat screen and pressed another button. The screen blinked to life and divided into four separate displays—each one granting her access to a different ABC government agency.
“Not sure who you think you are, buddy, but you messed with the wrong woman.”
Lily keyed in her search requirements and, for the first time in thirteen months, felt alive. Like the woman she’d been before Jackson dropped her from that window. Bringing that bastard in would be her life’s mission, but she couldn’t deny that she missed this—the researching, the tracking...the hunting. Worse yet, she was bored, and a bored agent eventually became a threat to themselves, or worse...
They ended up dead.
CHAPTER FIVE
Tuesday, September 16, 6:00 a.m.
LILY BURST INTO Keystone Café and glanced around the coffee bar that could have been plucked from Tuscany itself. The tension in her shoulders evaporated. Everything about the small shop invited her in, calmed her nerves: the tan walls peppered with shots of the Italian coastline; the dark, hand-scraped wooden floors; the fireplace nestled into the farthest corner, its flames softly flickering. The whole ambience of the café beckoned her to sit, relax.
Ben looked up from behind the tall, black granite coffee bar and greeted her with a weary smile.
“Mornin’, Lil. Here you go.” The big man reached over and handed Lily her usual latte in her favorite burnt-orange mug.
“Thanks, B.” She grabbed a wooden chair at the farthest table facing the door and sat, positioning herself to watch those who came and went through the tiny café. Ben joined her and also angled his seat to have an eye on the whole place. She grinned. Once an agent, always an agent.
She noticed the file in his hands and sighed—it was just as tiny as hers. “What did you get?”
“Not much.” He tossed it on the table. “At least nothing that anyone with a computer, internet access and a normal IQ couldn’t have stumbled upon. My guys are still working on it, but they need to be careful. You?”
Lily wasn’t surprised. Gaining information about this guy had been trickier than she’d imagined. Which begged the question: Who was he? She pulled out the small file she’d scrounged together, handed it to Ben. “I couldn’t risk back-channeling into 67’s computer mainframe yet—”
“Smart.”
“—but my facial-recognition software got a hit early this morning. Our pretty boy is one Derek Moretti, retired Air Force pilot, now supposedly working as an FBI forensic psychologist for BAU. Interesting cover story, but I, for the record, would have gone with something a little more...” Lily took a sip of her latte and set the mug down, searching for the appropriate word. Finally, she looked up and smiled. “Badass.”
“Badass?” Ben deadpanned back, a single eyebrow raised.
Lily swirled the liquid heaven around in her mug, her mind drifting back to Derek. Obnoxious. Ballsy. Gorgeous. Arrogant. They all suited him, or what Lily knew of him, anyway, but to define Derek Moretti in a single, neat little package? Yeah, there was only one word in the English language that summed him up.
She raised the mug to her lips, took a sip and met Ben’s gaze over its orange rim. “Badass.”
Ben shook his head and flipped open the file. “What do you think he wanted?”
She pursed her lips, then shrugged. “Not sure.”
“Do you think Director Kennedy sent him as a cleaner?”
Lily doubted Kennedy wanted her dead. The director was just as determined to get her back into his court as she was to ignore him. But if for some reason she’d fallen completely out of grace with her former boss, and Kennedy wanted her eliminated, she’d be withering away in some undisclosed location or sinking to the bottom of the ocean with a bullet in her head, not drinking a latte.
“No...” She let her voice trail off as she studied the printout of Derek staring into the surveillance camera on the table.
Black Ops? Definitely. Part of 67? Probably. Sent by the director? She didn’t know, which bothered her. But a simple FBI profiler? Yeah, right. And she was the queen of freakin’ England.
Ben peered over the edge of the file, his brown eyes searching her face. “Think this guy will approach you again?”
“Yes, but on his own terms, in his own time.” She took another sip of her steaming drink. “Until then, have your guys stay on it to see what they come up with, and I’ll work on burrowing down on Derek.”
“Be careful not to trip any internal security measures.”
“Ben—”
“I know.” He held up his hands in mock defense. “I know who I’m talking to, but sometimes even the best need to be reminded they aren’t invincible.”
Lily winced. No one needed to remind her of that—the nightly reoccurring dream of her free fall did that just fine.
Ben looked at his watch, pushed back from the table and rose. “Need to finish this conversation later, my regulars will be here any moment.” Rounding the counter, he started prepping a new pot of drip coffee. “Just be careful, Lil. He already got the drop on you once.”
“Don’t I know it.” Lily rubbed her shoulder. She’d been out of the game for far too long. “Apparently I’m a little rusty.”
Ben glanced up, his face solemn. “Or he’s just that good.”
“I’d rather think I’m rusty.” Considering he was that good made her feel as if a million ants scurried over her. No one got the drop on her. Or at least they never had before.
She needed time to figure out her mystery man’s next move before he made it. And to clarify the raging thoughts sparring in her head. She’d woken up still annoyed that he’d found her, yet wanting him to find her again so she could differentiate the truth from the bullshit...and get a second look at him, if she were being trul
y honest with herself.
“Mind if I jump behind the counter after I’m done with this?” She raised her latte. “I could use the mindless—”
Ben shot her a glare. “It’s not mindless.”
“Come on, B. Compared to what we’ve been trained to do? This is mindless. I’m not knocking it. But really?” She enjoyed teasing the tall ex-ranger, even if it was as dangerous as poking a sleeping, cranky lion. She couldn’t resist—putting a smile on that hard, windswept face was a challenge she’d been tackling since she was five.
“It’s not mindless,” he muttered.
In Lily’s opinion, the day the doctors delivered their devastating news to Ben was the day Unit 67 lost their greatest asset. A piece of shrapnel from his last encounter in the sandbox lodged too close to his heart for the doctors to safely remove. One misplaced jostle, and Ben was a goner. Given their line of work, he’d had no choice but to hang up his guns. If not for that news, Lily was positive he’d still be out in the field, or at least training the next up-and-coming agents.
She took a small sip of the molten liquid. She loved him. He was family. She’d do anything for him. And how could she not? He’d saddled up when most people had stepped out.
Lily got it. Many people didn’t know how to deal with grief, couldn’t handle the searing heartbreak of tragedy. Most reverted to awkward conversations, eye avoidance and painful silence. Or simply vanished.
Not that she could blame them.
Death was a bitch.
But Lily would be forever indebted to that big, bald and way-too-serious man who’d stepped in when she’d lost everything...and stayed.
* * *
ONCE SHE’D DOWNED her drink, Lily set up behind the coffee bar and took orders. As she handed a skinny vanilla latte to a young girl, the door chime dinged and Derek Moretti walked in, flashing a grin her way. A strange sensation fluttered in Lily’s stomach as he walked up to the counter, flipped open the menu and perused it.
Dead No More Page 3
