Dead No More

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Dead No More Page 7

by L. R. Nicolello


  “But how did you get here?” Derek gestured to the open space. They could have plucked her penthouse loft straight from a designer magazine. It was spectacular, with its dark espresso hardwood, floor-to-ceiling white sheers draping the windows of walls and the black baby grand piano sitting in the corner.

  The gourmet kitchen opened up to the main living area and the granite that made up the kitchen island, with its deep veins of gray and specks of blue, looked as though it had been flown in from Italy. Instead of the typical backsplash, old exposed brick covered most of the kitchen wall, only adding to the “industrial meets glamour” look Lily’s place boasted. The various apartments of fellow agents he’d seen—including his own—had nothing on this place. It was huge and perfectly designed.

  “This place...” she motioned around her “...has been our family’s safe house for as long as I can remember.”

  “Remarkable.”

  He was sure the things he couldn’t see far outweighed the things he could. He scanned the walls and the room, looking for anything he could use as a tell—a painting hung too far from the wall, a misplaced seam, a piece of the wooden floor that gave too much—to pinpoint where she kept her gear, because he knew she had it. Somewhere.

  He got nothing. Impressive.

  “Okay. Better question. How have you managed the prolonged flight under the radar? You don’t just walk away from 67.”

  She got up and paced.

  “How did you do it?”

  Lily took another sip of wine. What was she trying to hide? It was a simple question, so why had it spun her up? Operatives retired all the time for multiple reasons. Age. Mental health. But to just up and leave? No way in hell.

  “Lily...”

  She chewed on her lip, then let out a long, exasperated breath, pushing a stray hair off her face. “The director is my godfather.”

  Derek whistled. Holy shit. Another vital piece of information conveniently left out of her file—whoever put that thing together needed to be booted from the Unit.

  “So you’re the one everyone whispers about. I honestly thought that was 67 folklore.”

  She tipped her head and frowned. “Not following.”

  “You’re company royalty.”

  A nervous laugh escaped her lips. “Hardly.”

  “Says the woman who all but flipped them off, quit and is still breathing.”

  “I didn’t quit.” Spots of pink kissed her cheeks.

  “Easy.” He held up his hands. “Sorry. You didn’t quit. Why did you go to ground? Why’d you go quiet?”

  “I had my reasons.”

  “I read your file, Lily. Afghanistan. Korea. Iran. Shit, you’ve been in more countries in the past twelve years than most agents see in a lifetime. You speak seven different languages. Someone like you doesn’t just turn her back on the very thing that makes her tick.” A shadow passed across her face. “No matter how much shit hits the fan.”

  “I walked because I couldn’t get past the last case, okay?” Her voice caught as she shook her head. “Still can’t. And no matter how much I might’ve loved the job, or been the best, or whatever the hell people say about me, I’m stuck in that moment.”

  “Lil—”

  “No one wants an operative with that mind-set.” She locked eyes with Derek, almost daring him to disagree. “That’s when people get killed.”

  “Fair enough. But—” The shrill sound of his phone interrupted him. Pulling it out of his pocket, he glanced at the number and frowned. Alexis. She was late. She was never late. Every muscle fiber in his shoulders knotted as he answered on the second ring. “Well?”

  “It’ll hold,” Alexis reported, all business now. “It’ll better than hold—I couldn’t crack it, no matter how many different approaches I took, and I tried them all. Hence why I’m late—which, for the record, I hate.”

  “Excellent.” The tension evaporated. “Thanks, sweetheart. That’s exactly what I was hoping to hear.”

  “Whoever put that file together is a genius, like, my kind of genius. I’m impressed.”

  Derek looked over at Lily and smiled.

  Yes, so was he.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Saturday, September 20, 4:30 p.m.

  LILY FIELDSTRIPPED HER GLOCK. Her mind wandered as she removed the magazine and racked the slide to eject the round from the chamber. Saying yes to this mission was ludicrous. As much as she wanted to dismiss that ugly fact, it was unchanging: this mission was unsanctioned until Lily called the director. She checked the chamber, pointed the gun toward the exposed brick on the far side of her loft and dry fired.

  Hell would freeze over before she did that.

  Not until she was good and ready. And she wasn’t. Thirteen months later, and she was still too angry—or, if she was being honest, proud—to call him.

  Disassembling the gun into its four main component parts quieted her. Lily took a deep breath and glanced at the box of files Derek had left behind. Her heart hammered against her rib cage.

  Derek.

  Sweet-talking, unwavering, solid-as-rock and hotter-than-hell Derek.

  She grabbed the barrel and pushed the cleaning rod into the breech end of it. She knew she walked a tightrope with him. Agreeing to work with him was one thing, but there was no way she’d go to his place to prep, no matter how much she trusted him.

  She grabbed the slide and vigorously scrubbed the slide rail cuts. In the few days they’d spent together, she’d started to trust him. His probing, though direct and persistent, was never hard. Curious? Yes. Demanding? No.

  That alone eased the tension permanently residing in her back. They’d easily, and almost instantaneously, fallen into a natural rhythm that coaxed her further and further from her hiding place.

  But it was his eyes that chipped away at her suspicious guard, made her trust.

  Jackson’s eyes had been calculating. She’d been mesmerized by what they saw and computed, but she’d always felt their shrewd stare on her.

  Watching. Evaluating. Assessing.

  Derek’s eyes were gentle, yet alert. Try as she might to fight it, they drew her in with their softness and away from her self-made shelter.

  Bottom line, her bullshit meter hadn’t pinged once, and Lily had to trust that. If she couldn’t, if she’d lost confidence in herself, she’d lost it all.

  Still...she wasn’t the naive agent she’d been. Lily insisted on always meeting here, at her home, on her ground. When she’d moved in, she’d updated and installed cameras, audio and heat sensors in the lobby and the landing right outside her door.

  This was her castle.

  Here, she was queen.

  She reassembled the gun, did a function check and smiled. Perfect. Lily quickly thumbed bullets into her magazine, switched the safety on and tucked the gun into the small of her back.

  Lily glanced at her watch and stood. Her two hours were up. Derek had called earlier, informing her that he’d be over at five o’clock. One thing she’d figured out about him—he was always early.

  Here they were again.

  Round two.

  She stared at the monitor. Partly because she was curious about how George would respond to Derek “invading her space,” as he’d ranted earlier. And partly because she enjoyed the view—it was the only time she could stare at his impressive physique without getting caught.

  He stopped at the concierge’s desk and chatted with George. Her mouth dropped open in surprise. Since when had those two become buddy-buddy? Derek smiled at something George said, looked up into the camera and winked. If George approved, maybe, just maybe, her bullshit meter was still intact after all.

  Rowland was her one and only focus tonight, no matter how sexy Derek looked in his tux. And he did—damn right delicious. Deep down, Lily knew ton
ight was only a mission, but still...her gaze swept over Derek’s wide back and traveled south as he walked toward the elevator, and heat rushed to her cheeks.

  He stepped into the elevator and tossed his head in a quick nod toward the corner camera as the doors closed. She switched the monitor to the thermal view. The outline of a gun hung just below his right armpit.

  Packing heat, are you, pretty boy?

  Lily bit back a laugh. That was okay. So did she. She opened the door before he could knock.

  “Hey.” He smiled down at her.

  She stepped aside as he strolled in, a black garment bag thrown over his arm. Her heart kicked up a gear, as it seemed to do every time he was near, and despite her best attempts, her gaze traveled south down his back and rested on his ass.

  “Looking good, Moretti.”

  Derek held out the garment bag on two fingers. “For you.”

  She eyed the bag, curious to see what he’d brought. They’d both agreed to let Derek take charge of her wardrobe, but Lily wasn’t entirely confident that his idea of appropriate evening attire matched her own.

  An easy grin spread across his face. Her stomach fluttered. Again. Give it a rest, Andrews. Don’t forget what happened last time. The fluttering stuttered, then disappeared entirely.

  He gave the bag a little shake. “I can help with the zipper if you need...”

  She snorted, snatching the bag from his outstretched hand. Their fingers briefly brushed, sending sparks down her spine. For a brief moment, she wondered if her eyes mirrored the want burning in his.

  Wouldn’t that be one hell of a way to derail their op before it even started?

  She turned and walked toward her bedroom. Derek followed after her. She glanced over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. “You. Stay put.”

  Lily kicked the door shut with her foot, silencing his deep laugh, and tossed the bag onto her bed. Unzipping the bag, she pulled out two dresses.

  Thousands of tiny black sequins covered the first gown. Soft chiffon, satin and lace made up the second. Each ink-black dress was exquisite. She’d been outfitted on other missions with her fair share of amazing clothes, but those were burlap compared to these gowns. She whistled softly. “Wowzah.”

  Lily carefully laid each out and examined them. Yanking her tank top over her head, she dropped it to the floor. She stepped out of her jeans, kicked them over to join her shirt and held out the first sequined dress. The neckline swooped down gracefully between two tiny spaghetti straps. She twirled the dress.

  The back plunged in a deep V.

  “Well, that won’t do.” She frowned and tossed the dress over the side of the chair tucked in the corner. A twinge flickered in her stomach. “Not ever again.”

  Turning her body slightly, she glanced over her shoulder into the tall mirror leaning against the wall. Angry purple scars peppered her back. The pang in her stomach twisted.

  Jackson’s treacherous actions had damaged not only her confidence, but also her body. She’d hoped to one day be able to move past the emotional barriers that day had erected.

  But she’d never escape the physical evidence of his betrayal.

  They—and subsequently Jackson—would be with her forever. Whether she liked it or not.

  She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. She didn’t have time to deal with that shit. Hands on her hips, she glanced at the second dress option. It reminded her of something she’d seen some Hollywood star wear on the red carpet. “Guess you’ll have to do.”

  Slipping the dress over her head, she let its soft fabric envelop her. The smooth material perfectly hugged her curves, fit her like a glove. Lily stared at her reflection in the mirror.

  The front plunged low in a deep V and barely covered her belly button or her breasts. A delicate strip of black lace connected the two sides of the V, concealing just enough to keep the gown from being entirely indecent. When she moved, her thigh peeked out the top of a mile-high slit.

  The dress was daring. Flawless. Exquisite.

  She loved it.

  Turning, she peered into the mirror again. The high back concealed everything it needed to.

  Well played, Derek. The dress couldn’t have been more perfect if it had been hand-tailored to her.

  Game on. Time to go to work. She hitched her leg up, let the seam fall open and reached for her .32, then stopped. Normally, she’d be strapping on her thigh holster.

  Not this time.

  Tonight, they’d agreed she’d go in unarmed. Not her preference, but there was nothing she could do about it.

  She left the bedroom and silently studied the man who’d blown into her life, turning it upside down. Derek stood with his back to her, gazing out the window overlooking the city. One hand was shoved in his pocket, while the other rested on Dakota’s neck as the dog sat by his side. The perfect pair, as if they belonged together in this place. With her. Lily froze. Where the hell had that come from? She shook her head. That would never happen, no matter how inviting a picture the two of them made.

  “So?”

  He turned and did a double take, desire sparking in his eyes. Lily recognized it immediately, and her stomach tightened. Derek whistled. “You look incredible.”

  Warmth spread through every inch of her body, pooling in her stomach at his open approval. She couldn’t deny the pull Derek had on her, had from the very moment he’d tackled her to the ground. Yes, she’d been pissed and fought it—still tried to fight it, if she was being honest—but the urgency to push him away diminished with every second he was near.

  “You think he’ll take the bait?”

  Derek’s eyes traveled down her body. He ran his hand over his head and scratched the back of his neck, then nodded.

  “Oh, yeah, he’ll take the bait.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Saturday, September 20, 7:00 p.m.

  COBALT BLUE GAVE WAY to the blackness of night as the sun finally relinquished control. Tiny stars pushed through the inkiness, twinkling in the autumn twilight sky. Lily glanced around, taking in every inch of her surroundings. She had to admit—she was impressed.

  The statuesque, all-stone building rose from the ground, elegant and majestic. A long, thin, rectangular reflection pool stretched off and to the right of the main entrance. Two tall stone pillars, straight from the ancient Aztec civilization, jetted up through the still-as-glass-water, their ageless and stoic beauty highlighted in the soft glow of a single spotlight.

  On another occasion, Lily would have loved to explore the gems hidden within the stone fortress jetting up from the ground.

  This was her first mission since...Lily paused mid-step as another wave of self-doubt pummeled her. Stop! She took a deep breath to silence the demons torturing her mind, to lock them away. Jackson hadn’t stopped her then; she wasn’t about to let the ghost of him stop her now.

  Derek pressed his hand against the small of her back. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m good. Let’s go get our guy.” Lily straightened her shoulders, gathered the material swirling around her ankles into her right hand and climbed the grand staircase of Joslyn Art Museum with the grace and ease of an A-lister, immediately spotting the five armed guards stationed between each of the four imposing columns holding up the museum’s heavy stone ceiling.

  She tipped her head toward the five men. “Impressive show of force, isn’t it?”

  “Our host wouldn’t have it any other way,” Derek muttered.

  “Duly noted.”

  The man stationed between the second and third column held up his hand, halting them. “Invitation.”

  Derek handed him their satin envelope, compliments of John Elsworth. The guard took the invitation, scanned it briefly and passed it back. His eyes roamed Lily’s body and landed on the deep V playing hide-and-seek with h
er navel. She cocked her head, and a coy smile played on her lips.

  He swallowed hard, then stepped to the side. “Have a good evening.”

  “Thank you.” She gathered the flowing material in her hand and walked into the grandiose building.

  Derek lowered his lips to her ear. “Nicely played.”

  They walked through the east foyer and, following the soft piano melody, continued past another stone archway before the ceiling opened up into a majestic room, showcasing Joslyn’s infamous two-story Storz Fountain Court.

  “Wow,” Lily breathed into the striking room.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Derek leaned close and whispered into her ear, his soft breath tickling her skin.

  Beautiful was an understatement.

  Every inch of the room was overlaid in perfectly sculpted tiles, reminding Lily of a Roman bathhouse she’d once visited while in Rome, down to the minute details of the mosaic columns on the second-floor balcony level overlooking the foyer below. A gold-plated stainless-steel sculpture, resembling a sunburst, rose elegantly from the middle of a mosaic fountain situated front and center in the room.

  The massive two-story room, already stunning in its own right, had been turned into a dazzling ballroom, and couples swirled by in time with the piano’s hypnotic tune.

  “Shall we dance?”

  Lily turned her attention back to her handsome companion and nodded. He gently put his hand on the small of her back and led her deeper into the room toward the dance floor. The crowd parted, conversation ceased, curious faces turned toward them. What are they staring at? She glanced around and stopped short.

  Shit. No wonder the guard had given her a once-over. She was going to kill Derek. He had to have known the conservative tilt of this crowd. Among the high-society matrons in their demure, elegant ball gowns, Lily’s daring dress, with its plunging front and thigh-high slit, positively screamed for attention.

  She swallowed a sigh. There was no way she’d go unnoticed by her mark tonight.

  Derek swirled her onto the dance floor and either oblivious to the blatant stares of their fellow dancers or enjoying the attention—Lily couldn’t tell—closed the distance between them. He laid one hand lightly on the lowest part of her hip and entwined their fingers, bringing her hand up to his chest. Lily tensed at the intimate gesture, then all thoughts of Rowland disappeared as her muscles relaxed and she molded into Derek’s embrace. He tucked her closer and bent his head, his soft breath against her ear as they swirled to the music.

 

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