Dead No More

by L. R. Nicolello

  Lily pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. She hadn’t meant to hit him that hard. “Sorry about that, Derek. I didn’t know...” She stopped and frowned. “Wait, what did he say?”

  “I think the exact words he used were ‘John may put up with you, but I won’t. Not tonight.’”

  Walking toward her bedroom, Lily tucked the phone between her shoulder and ear and reached behind her, fingers grasping for the zipper. She needed out of this dress, pronto. Her fingers landed on the zipper and she tugged. “Your reaction was priceless.”

  “I’d say you hit like a girl,” he deadpanned back, “but that’s not true at all.”

  “It worked, though.” The dress fell from her shoulders, the soft material pooling around her ankles, and Lily stepped away as she reached for the crystal hairpins folded into her hair and yanked. Soft curls fell around her shoulders. Raking her fingers through her hair, she massaged the places on her scalp that the hairpins had bitten into all night. “I’m in, but can we debrief tomorrow? I’m exhausted and still need to write out my reports.”

  “Nope. We debrief tonight.”

  “What?” She stopped short. “Absolutely not.”

  “I’m not asking. I’ll be there in ten.”

  She stared at the dead phone, annoyed. But after dancing in his arms across the marble floors of the museum earlier—even ever so briefly—Lily had to admit that she was looking forward to seeing him again.

  She shook her head violently to clear those thoughts and went to hunt up something to wear. Don’t go there, Andrews. He’s nothing but trouble.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Saturday, September 20, 11:15 p.m.

  DEREK CHECKED HIS WATCH. He imagined Lily would be furious if he showed up before his ten-minute warning. Walking across the street would take him all of fifteen seconds. So he settled in and went back to surveying her building.

  When the cab had pulled up in front of Lily’s building and she’d stepped out, Derek damn near had a heart attack. Four hours after they’d headed out to meet Rowland, and she still sizzled in that shimmering black gown. He’d worked with some gorgeous women in the past, but Lily surpassed them all. She radiated class and beauty. A deadly combination.

  Peering through his binoculars, he frowned. Everything about her screamed that she was on edge—her staccato steps, the subtle glances over her shoulder, the beeline to the door.

  Why? Did something go wrong with Rowland? He scanned the street. It was empty, except for the two of them.

  Lily threw another look behind her, then walked through the front doors and out of his line of sight.

  Derek looked out his window and studied the penthouse. She’d drawn the sheer curtains across the wall of windows. He could see her soft silhouette. Not the best protection from prying eyes, but good enough.

  Focus, Moretti.

  Derek rubbed his hands over his face. That was the problem, though, wasn’t it? He couldn’t get his focus off her. He checked his watched. Again. Screw the ten minutes. He got out of the car and made his way toward Lily.

  * * *

  LILY SWUNG OPEN the door before he knocked. It was a pattern she’d established since their first rendezvous. Pattern? He grinned down at her. Her hair was up in a sloppy bun, and she’d slipped into her uniform of black yoga pants and black tank top.

  “It hasn’t been ten minutes.”

  “Who’s keeping track?”

  Rolling her eyes, she stepped back. “Did we really have to do this tonight? I’m exhausted.”

  Dakota barked and bounded toward the door, skidding to a halt in front of Derek. He knelt and ruffled the soft hair behind Dakota’s ears. “That’s exactly why. We need every detail to be perfect.”

  “I wouldn’t have forgotten anything.” She shut the door behind him. “This is ridiculous.”

  He couldn’t argue with that. Why was he acting like a freaking teenager? Lily walked by Derek and he caught the soft scent of jasmine. She’s why. Ridiculous or not, he was here. But he needed to keep his distance. If he so much as touched her, all bets were off.

  “When do you meet with Rowland again?”

  “Monday night.” She sank onto the sofa. Dakota jumped up and curled around her.

  Whistling, Derek plopped down in the chair opposite her. “Nice work.”

  “Did you expect anything less?” She folded her leg under her and threw him a smirk.

  “From you? Not really.”

  “So...” Lily fidgeted and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I think I might drop by his office on Monday afternoon.”

  “You sure that’s the best move?” That was definitely not what he expected, nor what he’d do. “It might be a bit aggressive.”

  “I showed up at a conservative black-tie ball in that gown.” She shot him a look. “No thanks to you.”

  Derek choked back a laugh. Now was not the time to push any of her buttons. No matter how much he would enjoy it. “It got the job done, didn’t it?”

  Fire flashed in her eyes. “I didn’t need the help, thank you very much, but yes, it did. So, while dropping in on him is a bit aggressive, I think he might expect it.”

  “It’s risky.”

  “So was bringing me on.”

  “Touché.” He laughed and tipped his head toward Lily. “So a drop-in tomorrow it is. Then let’s go over the key players again.”

  She let her head fall back against the back of the sofa and groaned. “Derek.”

  “It’s happening. Do you have anything stronger than water?”

  He wasn’t about to let her walk into the lion’s den without him being completely confident that she was ready. If that meant he’d be here all night, so be it. A primal urge to protect her ripped through him, motivating every action he took.

  Even if that meant protecting her from herself. Derek wouldn’t apologize for that. Not when her life was on the line.

  And with Rowland in the picture, it certainly was.

  “There’s Merlot on the counter. Or Guinness in the fridge.” She gestured to the kitchen. “But you know that. So make yourself at home.”

  He pushed to his feet and headed for the kitchen.

  Oh, he planned on it.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Monday, September 22, 1:00 p.m.

  LILY GAWKED AT the impressive structure before her. Pristine white marble walls soared up from an immaculate emerald lawn. Sunbeams danced on the building’s glass facade.

  ARME Industries was stunning. And monstrous.

  Straightening her dress, she concentrated on walking in the Dolce & Gabbana stilettos. Whoever invented high heels should be taken out and shot.

  She focused on the microscopic chip nestled between her forefinger and thumb and smiled suggestively at the men leaving the building, who were drooling like Wile E. Coyote as they ogled her body-hugging charcoal dress. Rolling her eyes behind the dark, oversize oval glasses perched on her face, she tried not to laugh.

  Hopefully Rowland would have the same reaction.

  Lily pushed the tall glass doors open and made her way to the front desk. She’d come prepared, and the older, elegant-looking woman behind the counter, with her silver hair and perfectly tailored, champagne-colored suit, was her first target.

  “May I borrow a pen?”

  Lily didn’t wait for the woman to answer. She leaned down, reached for a pen and knocked over the woman’s coffee cup. The hot contents flooded the receptionist’s lap and she yelped, jumping up.

  “Oh, my goodness. I’m so, so sorry. How embarrassing.” Lily reached down to assist her. “Here, let me help.”

  “That’s not necessary. Please stay here.” The woman grimaced. “I’ll be right back.”

  Racing across the marble floor, the woman disappe
ared into the women’s restroom. Lily glanced around quickly before pressing the microscopic chip onto the underside of the woman’s computer. It contained a malware that would, once connected with the computer’s surface, take complete control over the system—including downloading and uploading files, tracking web history, adding infected software installations and even controlling the keyboard so she could type commands.

  Everything the receptionist saw and heard on her computer, Lily would be able to tap into.

  The bathroom door swung open and the receptionist made her way back toward the desk. The woman didn’t speak until she sat. Lily waited, her hands clasped in front of her. No need to further piss her off. Bug in place, it was time to turn up the charm. This woman staring Lily down was the gatekeeper.

  “Now,” the receptionist asked, her tone icy. “How can I help you?”

  Lily couldn’t blame her. She’d probably just ruined the woman’s expensive-looking outfit. Discreetly, she checked the nameplate sitting on top of the desk.

  “I’m so sorry about your suit...Helen,” Lily gushed, opening her designer bag and rummaging through it. “Please allow me to cover the cost of replacing it, or at the very least, to get it dry-cleaned.”

  The fire in the woman’s eyes died a little. “Thank you for the offer. That’s very kind, but not necessary. Do you have an appointment with someone?”

  Lily hitched the bag onto her shoulder again. “I’m here to see Mr. Rowland James.”

  “Your name?”

  “Addison. Addison Moore.” Her Southern twang came out in a soft drawl.

  At the sound of her name, the woman jolted as if struck by lightning, then smiled welcomingly. “Ms. Moore, so nice to meet you. Mr. James is expecting your visit.”

  Lily was slightly startled by the woman’s remarkable transformation, but gratified to see that she hadn’t lost her intuition or her charm. Thank goodness she’d listened to her gut this time.

  The woman reached for her phone. “I’ll call a security guard to escort you up.”

  “No need, Helen. We’re headed that way,” a voice said from behind them. “We can take her up.”

  Lily turned and came nose to nose with the voice. She took a step back. Disdain and curiosity flickered in the man’s dark brown eyes. He flashed a reserved smile. She glanced over his shoulder. Derek flanked him, just behind and off to his right. Their eyes locked, and it felt as if Derek reached inside her with his steady, heated gaze. She jerked her focus back to John Elsworth.

  His appearance in the flesh shocked her, just as it had in his picture. She would have assumed that the man who dominated the controlling percentage of ARME Industries, the largest weapons manufacture in the Northern Hemisphere, would be more of an alpha male, with a quiet, but take-no-shit strength.

  She still couldn’t get her head around the fact that Elsworth more closely resembled a basement accountant.

  “Thank you, Mr...” She held out her hand and cocked her head to the side in an assumed manner of polite confusion, giving him time to respond to her unspoken question.

  “John. John Elsworth.” He took her hand and shook it with more force than she’d anticipated. Without letting go, he asked, “And you are?”

  “Pardon me. Addison Moore.” She gracefully withdrew her hand from his and tried not to wince. The man had an iron grip. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Elsworth.”

  “You said you were here to see Rowland?” The crispness in his voice made Lily reconsider the man in front of her. Surely one had to have a steel spine to stand his ground against the likes of Rowland James.

  “Yes, I am.”

  He nodded. “Follow me. We’ll take you up.”

  “Thank you. That would be most kind.” Her words come out in the slight drawl she’d mastered.

  The express elevator took them straight to the executive level on the third floor. Derek’s hot gaze pressed on her back, and she resisted the urge to squirm the short ride up. The door opened, exposing an expansive lobby. Massive doors flanked the grand space on opposing ends. A handful of desks peppered the area in between.

  Lily stepped out, then looked back at Derek. A tight smile rested on his face. Her heart flip-flopped. What was wrong with her?

  She’d been annoyed when he’d shown up on her doorstep last night, but only because it wasn’t on her terms. He was ballsy, stubborn as hell and he gently pressed until he got what he wanted. But truth be told, she enjoyed Derek’s company. Though she’d never admit it to him.

  John disappeared into his office, and Derek followed. Only then did the assistant, with her flawlessly styled, black-as-night hair and doe-like brown eyes, swing her attention from Derek’s vanishing backside to Lily. “May I help you?”

  “Mr. James, please.”

  She looked Lily up and down. “And who may I tell him is asking?”

  “Addison Moore.” Lily struggled to keep the Southern drawl audible. She wanted to reach across the desk and smack the snotty expression off the young assistant’s face.

  Her name did it for her.

  The woman blanched, her brown eyes widening even further than Lily thought humanly possible. Pushing back from her desk with trembling hands, she stood. “My apologies, Ms. Moore. Mr. James is expecting you. Please, follow me.”

  What the hell was going on here? Lily figured Rowland kept a tight ship, but the hypersensitivity was beyond bizarre. She glanced at the woman’s nameplate. “Thank you, Ms. Montgomery. I sure do appreciate it.”

  “Please, call me Alyssa.” She flashed a tight smile, then walked Lily to the wooden doors. They appeared ancient, as if flown in from some castle in Europe, and they were a work of art, as was nearly everything that had to do with ARME.

  Alyssa pushed the door open and stood aside, ushering Lily into a small, cozy sitting area. “Mr. James is finishing up a call in his office. He’ll be with you shortly.”

  “Thank you, Alyssa.”

  The lovely young woman nodded and pulled the doors closed behind her, leaving Lily alone. Wrapped in a cocoon of silence, she stood still, glancing around.

  Then she spied the photos. Curious, she walked over to take a closer look.

  Frame after frame of the top leaders in the world sat neatly displayed on a long side table overlooking the expansive courtyard below. The average citizen would have been stunned, grappling with the picture of Rowland with his arm casually thrown around Saudi’s youngest prince, Shaled bin Daad.

  If the average Joe even knew who was in the photo.

  If not for her previous training—and firsthand encounters with many of them—she would have been amongst the many awed at Rowland’s powerful connections with the world’s leading international businessmen, princes and leaders. And she would have missed the true significance of the photos.

  But Lily saw them for what they were.

  “Holy shit,” she breathed into the quiet room.

  She’d filed, memorized and burned their smug faces into her memory. They weren’t just businessmen, but some of the top players in the international terrorism circle.

  One particular photo caught her eye, and she reached for it. The man Rowland embraced was none other than the Afghan warlord she’d been sent to track on a recon mission two years ago. Her blood ran cold.

  Violent, vivid images she’d tried hard to forget flashed through her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut and pushed the old, aching pain down. She’d lost many friends at that brutal man’s order.

  If he could, this one man alone would happily take out the entire United States government and the life and freedom Americans knew.

  Lily scanned the many faces on display, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. He was but one of a dozen framed photos of equally evil and dangerous men that Rowland triumphantly exhibited.

  You cocky son
of a bitch.

  She couldn’t believe Rowland’s arrogance. To openly flaunt his connections to some of the most powerful and deadly men of the twenty-first century was loathsome. Her mind raced. Why not have those photos in his office? Why showcase them in his sitting area? Was he trying to intimidate his visitors?

  She softly gasped. Holy shit. He was. It was the perfect, ultimate mind game. Of course someone who knew enough to be visiting Rowland at ARME would know some, if not all, of those men he showcased. At least they should, especially if they were in the weapons manufacturing industry.

  “Addison. Welcome to ARME.”

  Lily cringed inwardly. In her preoccupation with the photos, she hadn’t heard him approach. She put down the frame and turned, throwing him a sultry smile. “I hope you don’t mind me dropping in like this, but—” she took a step closer “—it seemed as though you were expecting me.”

  Rowland leaned against the door frame between his office and sitting room. His crisp white shirt, hinting to a well-defined chest, was tucked neatly into his perfectly pressed sharkskin suit pants. Lily would have to be dead not to be affected by his enigmatic charm and good looks.

  Why were sociopathic animals frequently so damn beautiful?

  “Coming to my office uninvited is rather assertive, but yes, I expected it.” He lifted a crystal tumbler to his mouth and searched her face. He stepped aside, waved her past him. “Please, join me in my office. It’s more comfortable.”

  She obeyed, following him into the immense room. A sleek conference table sat to the left, eight black, stoic-looking leather chairs neatly tucked against it. At the far end of the room sat an ornately carved mahogany desk, one that Lily could only imagine came out of some Italian chateau, anchoring the perfectly designed space. Behind the desk, a vintage-looking world map, covering every inch of the far wall, stretched wide. To the right, along the floor-to-ceiling windows, two dark leather chairs, mirroring their counterparts across the room, and a matching sofa encircled a coffee table, all overlooking the grounds below.