Dead No More

by L. R. Nicolello

  Pride coursed through Derek’s veins. He’d never known a more dedicated, steadfast and incredible person. Ever. This woman never ceased to amaze him.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Lily leaned into the mirror and examined the bandages holding her latest gash together. Derek’s throat tightened. Even with the bruising, she was stunning. The clean white towel hitched up on her thighs. His blood pounded in his ears. Focus, man.

  “I look like Frankenstein’s bride.”

  “No, you don’t,” he said, his words thick. “You’re beautiful.”

  She slowly glanced up, catching his eyes in the mirror’s reflection.

  Derek didn’t move. Didn’t blink. His mouth went dry. There was something in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

  What are you thinking, babycakes?

  Without a word, she turned and stepped toward him. His stomach tightened. She put her hand against his jaw. Her warm touch sent tremors down his body.

  Then she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. Light and cautious at first, then more demanding. He froze for only a moment, then picked her up, set her down on the countertop and closed the distance between their two bodies. Every inch of his skin was on fire. She showered his face with soft kisses and pulled at his shirt.

  Marcus’s voice—by the books, man—swirled in his head.

  “Wait.” Derek grabbed her wrists and held her tight. He wanted her. Now. But... “Where’d this one-eighty come from? You shut the door on me, remember?”

  “You scared the shit out of me.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t want to leave you.”

  “Why did you, then?”

  Her face fell. Derek wanted to stop talking and pull her back into his arms, but he had to know.

  “Derek, the last man I loved tried to kill me.” Lily shook her head.

  Did she just say “love”?

  Tears brimmed in her eyes. “I never expected to love someone again, and then you dropped into my life.”

  Holy shit. She did say “love.”

  His brother’s cautionary words floated through his mind. Screw the book. Derek tipped her chin up and stared into the endless depths of her eyes. Tears glistened, then overflowed down her cheeks. He gently brushed them away with his thumbs.

  “I’m not Jackson.”

  She caught his gaze and held it. Derek’s world all but stopped. He’d never seen such transparency, such rare emotion, such raw trust, in his entire life.

  Derek knew in that moment that he’d do anything for this woman. He loved her too much to ever cause her pain.

  “I’m not Jackson,” Derek said again, his voice husky.

  “I know,” Lily said, pressing her lips to his.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Tuesday, September 30, 4:00 a.m.

  LILY WAS UNDONE. Completely and irrevocably finished. The world had tipped under her when she’d looked into the mirror, saw the gentle fire burning in Derek’s eyes. Clarity shot through her—he was not Jackson.

  She loved Derek. Lily didn’t think, she just went into his arms.

  She hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted him—needed him—until his mouth found hers, until his gentle caresses coaxed her from her hiding place. Lily let her towel fall, and with it all her inhibitions, her fear, her uncertainty.

  She was his: mind, heart and soul.

  “Lil,” Derek said, his voice husky. He reached out, pressed two fingers to her lips, trailed them down her chin, her throat, between her breasts, until his hand rested lightly on her tiny waist.

  The feathery stroke stole her breath. He cupped her face with his hand, brought his lips to hers. The kiss was soft, gentle. Inviting. Without hesitation, without pause, Lily answered its hypnotic call. She pulled him to her and wrapped her arms around his neck. His clothes were rough against her bare skin, but she didn’t care.

  All she cared about in this moment was Derek.

  He nuzzled his lips against her throat and a small gasp escaped her. The tender touch propelled a wave of electricity through her.

  Grabbing his face, she brought his lips close to hers. She wanted to taste him, feel him. His heart hammered against her chest, and his heat pressed against her. Her mouth parted, inviting him closer. His hands drew simmering lines of fire along her skin as he touched, explored.

  “Take me to bed, Derek.”

  He hitched her up and pulled her to him. Her legs wrapped around his waist, closing any space between their two bodies. The sudden movement sent pain through her body. She winced.

  He stopped moving and frowned. Reaching down, he gently touched the butterfly bandage on her stomach. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You can’t hurt me.” She bent her lips to his. “Take me to bed.”

  Hugging her naked body to him, he obliged, carefully sitting them on the edge of her bed.

  He freed one hand, traced it slowly down, then up her ribs—his fingertips playing, teasing, burning. Whatever pain had zipped through her stomach vanished, replaced with a white-hot fire. Every muscle in her body tightened, responding to the desire simmering in his eyes.

  “You sure?” His voice sounded hoarse, strained. “This isn’t some emotional, knee-jerk reaction, is it?”

  Lily loved this man and his no-nonsense, bold, honest approach to everything. His eyes searched hers. She drowned in their endless probing, daring her to come closer. Her heart pounded.

  This was no knee-jerk reaction.

  Tugging at his shirt, she yanked it over his head. He let go of her long enough to hold his arms up and aid in the process, his eyes never leaving her face.

  Uneven scars—some fresh, some old—zigzagged across the tight muscles, rippling down his perfectly proportioned frame. She gasped.

  He read the horrified question in her eyes and answered. “More than one mission gone wrong.”

  Sympathy flooded her eyes as Lily pulled her finger over the largest white scar just below his heart. She pressed her lips to raised skin.

  “You understand.” She looked at him.

  “I understand.” He kissed away the tears flowing down her cheeks.

  With a featherlight touch, he trailed his fingers along her collarbone and down her arms. He reached around and traced her back. She froze. No one had ever touched her scars—no one had touched her at all, really, not since Jackson. Uncertainty gripped her heart in a tight vise and squeezed.

  “You’re beautiful,” Derek whispered into her ear, pulling his thumb over one raised scar, then the next. “I love every inch of you.”

  Her throat closed with an emotion she couldn’t explain. This man loved her. All of her: the good, the bad, the ugly. She relaxed, rested her forehead against his chest and closed her eyes. He loved all of her. He slowly drew his fingers over every scar, murmuring into Lily’s ear. With each touch, each gentle caress, he stroked the desire building inside her.

  She kissed him hard, tasted his sweetness and felt the softness of his tongue. He murmured her name into her mouth.

  Derek lifted her up, stood and turned, gently lowering Lily onto the soft bed. He caressed her face and looked into her eyes before devouring her mouth again. He matched her passion, satisfied her need. She came up for air, breathless. Her fingers followed the muscles in his shoulders, outlined his scars, as his lips memorized every inch of her body.

  He pulled away from her and grinned. Lily’s heart raced. Reaching up, she pulled his head down and crushed her lips to his again. He didn’t hesitate, answering hungrily. Burning, possessive lips owned hers.

  He balanced his weight on one arm and brushed his fingers along her waist, back up her ribs, skimming his hand between her breasts. She wiggled, eager to feel his body against hers, skin to skin.

  “Derek...”

 
Her insides turned molten as his lips skimmed her skin, sending a fervor through her veins. He dropped his head to her stomach and traced his fiery kisses south, down her exposed skin. Lily froze, then...

  Oh, sweet Lord. She gasped and clutched the sheets with both hands. A soft moan escaped her as he found her most sensitive spot.

  The tingling sensation started in her toes and grew with each soft, adoring pass of his mouth until Lily’s whole body hummed. She squirmed as her body called for a sweet release.

  She couldn’t stand to wait any longer. “I want you now.”

  He looked up at her, need burning in his eyes. She watched him step out of his jeans and forgot to breathe. She’d been around her share of perfectly sculpted men her whole life, but nothing had prepared her for what stood in front of her now. Lily crawled toward him, a ferocious desire she didn’t know she possessed surging through her.

  “Now, Derek.”

  “With pleasure.” He pulled her to his chest and hauled her onto his lap. His breath hitched. “Help yourself, babycakes.”

  He filled her and a soft moan escaped her lips. Derek cupped Lily’s breast with his hand, lowered his head. Her body arched at the sensual touch. He let go, caressed the tiny scars peppering her back with one hand.

  The humming took on a feverish pitch, coiling within every single cell. Lily was fully alive. On fire. She couldn’t handle it, needed the release. She pushed him onto his back.

  “You set the pace, Lil.”

  She moved against him, took her time, fascinated with the love-drunk look spreading across Derek’s face as she rode his body.

  Slowly. Deliberately.

  Bending low, she brushed her breasts against his bare chest. Derek groaned and grabbed her hips, pulling her closer. As they moved, heat tore through her, melting her insides. The tingling sensation returned with a vengeance. The coiling stole her breath, demanding release.

  She pushed, driving against him. Harder. Faster.

  The pressure built, and they rode the swell until it exploded. Lily moaned a helpless cry of release, pushed harder and fell onto his chest. Panting, she held on as if he were her lifeline.

  Her blood thumped loudly in her ears as she caught her breath. Pure ecstasy. Derek kissed her forehead, then flopped back onto her pillows.

  They lay, tangled together, and Lily listened as his heartbeat skipped, steadied, then fell in line with hers.

  “Totally worth the chase,” Derek murmured.

  She couldn’t have agreed more.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Tuesday, September 30, 7:00 a.m.

  DEREK LISTENED TO Lily’s soft breathing. He’d woken with her body molded to his, her leg draped over his thigh, her face nestled against his chest. He didn’t want to wake her, wanted time to stand still. Soft, warm air tickled his skin with each breath in and out. He lay there in the silence of dawn and enjoyed her closeness.

  Despite his current state of bliss with the woman of his dreams cuddled to his side, naked, his damn mind refused to quiet. Something was off. Why hadn’t Jackson just killed Lily? Why the forty-eight-hour ultimatum? By the looks of it, he could’ve easily slit her throat while she slept.

  Lily stirred and nuzzled closer.

  Why the hell was he thinking about Jackson with Lily in his arms? He pressed his lips to the top of her head. Then Marcus’s words—by the books, man—shattered the fantasy forming in Derek’s mind.

  He slipped from Lily’s embrace, slid his jeans on.

  Closing the bedroom door, he made his way to the living room and grabbed his phone, keying in the numbers. It was early, but the man would be up. Derek knew his schedule like the back of his own hand.

  He answered on the second ring. “Derek.”

  “Director, I’d like permission to speak freely.”

  “Go ahead, Moretti.”

  Derek took a deep breath. He was stepping into uncharted territory. He didn’t enjoy going toe-to-toe with his commanding officer, but he had questions that demanded answers.

  “Sir, I’d like to be read in on Jackson. Full disclosure.”

  “I’m not following.”

  Of course he wasn’t. Derek swallowed the smart-ass response hanging on the tip of his tongue.

  “You sent me here to keep an eye on him, but I’m sensing there’s more to this story.” Derek moved to the wall of windows, looked out as the sun danced with the horizon. Silence met him. Fine. He could play hardball, too. “She told me that Jackson was her fiancé.”

  The silence lengthened, and with each passing second, Derek’s thin veil of patience evaporated. “Sir?”

  The director cleared his throat. “That detail didn’t pertain to the case, Moretti. End of story.”

  Derek balled his hand into a fist. Didn’t pertain to the case? What the hell was going on with the director? It sure as hell pertained—Lily’s life was at stake. “With all due respect, sir, I think it’s time you read me in. I can’t do my job, any of it, including protecting Lily, if I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

  “What happened to Lily? Is she all right?”

  Derek ran his hand over his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “Jackson paid her a little visit last night.”

  The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. Derek bristled. If the director knowingly put Lily in danger... “What the hell is going on, sir?”

  “Jackson was the one who first brought us Rowland.”

  There was a strain in the director’s voice that Derek hadn’t picked up on until now. He sank into the sofa. “Yes, I know Jackson had first contact with Rowland. Sir, what haven’t I been told?”

  “Jackson is the agent who brought Rowland to our attention, put him on our radar.” The director hesitated, and it took all of Derek’s willpower not to jump in with another question—because he had plenty. “Derek, this whole situation was already in motion before I pulled you into the game.”

  Derek had already begun to suspect as much, but he remained silent, waiting for Kennedy to continue.

  “I took it up the chain of command and was instructed to kill the investigation. When I told Jackson to stand down, he refused.”

  “What kind of agent refuses the direct order of his commanding officer?” Derek demanded, his voice hot.

  “He brought more intel to convince me—and I am fully convinced—that the threat Rowland presents outweighs the potential slap on the hand.”

  Derek couldn’t believe what he was hearing. What shit storm had the director put him in? His hand curled. Forget about him. Derek could handle whatever came down the pipeline. What had the director knowingly put Lily, his own godchild, into?

  Not wanting to push his luck with his commanding officer any more than he already had with this conversation, he focused on keeping his tone low and calm. “What intel? Did you authorize him to disobey your orders?”

  “Yes.” The director answered slowly, his voice tired. “I sent him in. Alone.”

  Derek’s head snapped up. Alone? How was Jackson alone? Derek was here, in Omaha, with direct orders to keep an eye on the rogue agent. Who apparently wasn’t a rogue agent at all.

  A sinking feeling spiraled in Derek’s stomach. “Alone, sir?”

  The director cleared his throat. “It’s completely off the books. Black. No one knows you or Jackson are in Omaha. No one can know. Could you imagine the type of hell that would rain down on us if any other country knew we had a black-ops mission going on in our country?”

  As much as Derek wanted to reach through the phone and punch him, Kennedy had a point. It was part of the game. The game they’d all willingly signed up for.

  Still...

  Derek had never been on the dark side of things, not knowing every inch of an operation. And the game had never put someon
e Derek loved in direct danger.

  That changed everything.

  He got up, headed for the kitchen. He needed a drink. And given that it was barely morning, coffee would have to do. “Why Jackson?”

  “Easy. He originally brought Rowland to my attention and he knows the man down to the kind of floss he uses. He asked me to send him in.”

  Derek reached for the coffeepot and froze. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to keep the rage out of his voice. “So the stunt with Lily?”

  “It was a staged operation. It had to look legit. And Lily isn’t an easy one to pull something over on like this.” The director cleared his throat. “I admit, Jackson took it too far.”

  Derek’s eyes popped open. “Are you shitting me right now, sir? Do you not remember that he dropped her out a three-story window?” The heat in Derek’s words made his voice rise. He glanced over his shoulder, lowered his voice. “Why was he not pulled? Did no one think it prudent to yank the bastard after he tried to kill his partner?”

  “We tried, Derek,” Kennedy said, his voice drawn. “He went dark. You know the percentage of people we lose when they go under.”

  Derek knew.

  He’d almost gotten lost himself.

  It was his first solo mission with Unit 67. He’d been young, fearless...and stupid. He’d mentally prepped for having access to a safe house. Instead, he’d been forced to bed down within his target’s compound, with no reprieve from his cover, no time to clear his head from the atrocities he’d witnessed on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis.

  While it pissed him off because it directly affected Lily, Derek understood the slippery slope that may have led to Jackson’s ultimate betrayal.

  The number of agents who went dark was staggering. Everyone needed someone to tether to, to be reminded of the humanity hidden deep within his or her cover. Without that tie, it was easy to float away into the black pit of undercover oblivion and never return.

  “Is that why I’m here?”

  The director didn’t respond.