Lily looked over her shoulder and did a double take. Well, wasn’t that providence—Rowland’s home office. “Gotcha now,” she whispered into the quiet room and went to work.
Nothing he said and did in this room would be a secret any longer.
* * *
LILY TWIRLED IN her desk chair, quite pleased with herself. It had taken her less than twenty minutes to get in and out of Rowland’s home office, which included installing two separate camera feeds.
She took a sip of her latte and glanced at her computer. At least something had gone right in the past twenty-four hours. Her face flushed as another wave of desire surged through her. Derek. She’d almost thrown caution to the wind when he’d kissed her.
Almost.
Shaking her head, Lily tried to focus. Good grief. She needed to be drilling down into Helen’s system, not imagining Derek’s lips.
With the malware chip she’d installed on Helen’s computer, she could piggyback into ARME’s server practically undetected and search for hidden files. She clapped her hands together once and twirled in her chair.
Hunting time.
Her fingers raced across the keys and the screen flickered to life. Unbelievable. Did they think ARME was invincible? Or was this weakened firewall intentional? She made a mental note to ask Derek to look into that, typed in a simple command and overrode the system. Pressed Enter. Lily let the computer scrub through the many layers as she eyed the files racing past.
Nothing.
She changed the parameters of her search and hit Enter again.
Still nothing.
“Come on, baby. Work with me.”
She stretched her neck to the side and refocused the search, then watched as the computer scanned. There. Lily stopped and leaned in. Nestled amongst mundane files was one labeled in Czech.
“Got you now.”
She highlighted it and hit Copy.
There was no telling what was in that file. But it was the only one that arrested her attention, pulled at her gut. She had to trust her intuition. Lily strummed her fingers against her desk as the download percentage inched toward eighty.
“Come on. Come on.”
Fear prickled at her skin. The longer she stayed logged into Helen’s computer remotely, the higher the risk that Lily would trip a firewall. The percentage stalled at ninety.
The muscles in her shoulders tensed. She held her breath. Please. Come to Momma.
One hundred percent.
She dragged the copied file to her remote hard drive, ejected it and cleared out of Helen’s computer, sagging back in her chair as the tension in her body released.
Glancing at the clock, she groaned. It was already eleven. That left her only five hours to scrub the file and get to ARME for dinner with Rowland.
Setting her alarm, Lily grabbed her backup laptop and plugged in the hard drive. She crossed her leg and bounced her foot as she waited, praying the file wasn’t bogus, but would contain viable information that could shut Rowland down.
Her screen exploded with multiple folders. She clicked on the first one. Black–and-white weapon schematics peppered her view. She clicked out and moved to the next file. Past travel documents popped up.
So far, this file was a dud.
She dug deeper, spied another folder tucked within the clutter and labeled “DH.” What the hell? She dragged the cursor over it and double-clicked.
A handful of additional files popped up. What was this? A freaking wormhole?
She clicked on the first file.
Photos of badly burned naked bodies populated her screen. Men, women and children with twisted limbs and faces unmoving in their torment stared up at her. The gruesome photos reminded Lily of old WWII concentration camps. Only these were worse. Far worse. And in full color.
Lily had seen her fair share of death. But she hadn’t been prepared to see the tortured, mangled bodies or the faces frozen in agony.
What had she stumbled on? Better yet, what did it have to do with Rowland?
Closing that file, Lily moved to the next and double-clicked again. An Excel spreadsheet full of names populated the monitor. The first name sparked a memory.
She opened a tab in Safari, typed in Zagor Horvat and hit Enter. Multiple links popped up. He was head of the Croatian mafia. She grabbed a pen and notebook and scribbled down his name. He was a major kingpin in the Afghan heroin trafficking, human trafficking and money laundering. Killed by a swarm of bees that had been placed in the front seat of his Maserati.
She frowned, marked him deceased on her paper, then scanned the second article. The ME report stated that he was deathly allergic to bee stings. His car’s locks had malfunctioned. He’d been trapped.
Lily shuddered. Malfunctioned, my ass.
Someone had murdered that man.
Next was Abu Zadran. He was connected to Al-Qaeda. Burned alive. Lily swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and moved on to the next name, the next target.
Twenty-seven names later, twenty-seven searches later, she stopped, her head swimming with the dark, murderous images. A number of unopened folders still remained, so Lily tried to regain her focus, clicking on one and scanning through its contents. As she read, she grew more and more dismayed.
The tattered pieces of information came together in Lily’s mind, shaping into the image of an organization that resembled a world-domination terrorism ring. She’d never heard of them, not even a scared whisper within the back confines of the black market. So what was all this information doing on Rowland’s hard drive? What did it have to do with him? Better yet...
What the hell was Dům Hrůzy?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Tuesday, September 23, 6:00 p.m.
DEREK SKIMMED OVER the spilled contents of Lily’s case file scattered across the immaculate mahogany surface of his desk. John quietly powered through his own paperwork in the adjourning office, oblivious to the shit storm Derek was staring down at. He stopped, reached for the stack of files on the edge of his desk and riffled through them, landing on the last file.
“Son of a bitch. Babycakes, you did it.”
Not that he was surprised.
Growing frustrated at the lack of intel after weeks of searching within ARME’s systems, Derek had—with more help from his computer-genius sister than he cared to admit—remotely hacked into Lily’s system and waited. His computer alerted him to Lily’s movement within ARME’s system, and he’d followed her electronic breadcrumb trail straight to the file marked “DH,” the file he’d failed to locate.
Until now.
He rummaged through the contents of the case file and shook his head. She’d remotely piggybacked right into ARME’s system and singlehandedly cracked his case wide-open. Lily most likely didn’t even know what she’d stumbled across yet.
Derek knew of only one other person who had the skills to accomplish such a feat—his baby sister, Alexis. Heaven help him if the two women ever got together.
He got up, shut his office door and reached for his secure cell. This was definitely not a call he wanted to make, not while Lily was at dinner with Rowland. The director answered on the second ring.
“Lily hacked into ARME’s computer system—”
“She did what?”
“You heard right. I’m sending you the encrypted file now.” Derek could almost see the vein on the side of the director’s face bulging. He’d seen it happen a hundred times before. Derek hit the send button and turned his focus back to the scattered pages in front of him. “Take a look for yourself.”
Derek folded his arms and settled back, waiting for the reaction he knew would come.
It didn’t take long.
“Tell me I’m not reading this correctly.”
“No, sir, you are. I triple
-checked the intel myself before I called.” Derek pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. The director hadn’t seen anything yet. Gotta love being the bearer of bad news. The director was going to shit himself. “Sir, Rowland James is part of the original world-domination terrorism ring, an organization known as Dům Hrůzy. It’s Czech, and literally translates to ‘House of Horror.’”
Stony silence rang loudly in Derek’s ear. He flipped through photo after grisly photo of murder scenes, pressed on.
“Rowland is the only remaining founding father. The photos in the file are evidence of Rowland’s modus operandi. Every other member either mysteriously disappeared or died a violent death. Rowland now singlehandedly controls this organization.”
“How is this even fucking possible?” Kennedy demanded. “How is it that my division of the world’s best operatives can’t zero in on this one guy?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, sir, and at the present time, I only have one answer for you. And you’re not going to like it. But I believe it’s because they haven’t been Lily.”
“Oh, come on, Derek. Don’t give me that bullshit. That’s all you’ve got?”
Derek cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear and reached for a black-and-white photo of Rowland and Lily from the gala event the other night. He hated seeing them together. Acid rolled in his stomach and he tossed the photo down in disgust.
“Rowland is a coldhearted, sociopathic bastard whose single apparent weakness is beautiful women, and Lily is already playing to that. And something about Lily’s direct, forthright manner is drawing him in. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. It’s almost like he’s found an equal player, and it’s become his Achilles’ heel.”
“I don’t like it. Pull her.”
Derek sat back as if he’d been punched. Why the hell would they pull Lily now, when she’d just gotten close to Rowland?
“Sir?”
“Pull her.”
“There are questions that she can—”
“I don’t want more questions, damn it.” Kennedy’s voice rose an octave. “I want answers.”
Derek lurked forward in his chair. “Then pulling her is ludicrous. Sir, with all due respect, you asked me to bring in the best, and I did. She’s just getting started. Give her time.”
The director sighed. “Fine. But when I tell you to pull her, you do it. No questions asked.”
The muscles in Derek’s neck relaxed. Thank God they’d dodged that bullet. Where was this reaction coming from? He knew that Lily held a special place in Kennedy’s heart—she was his goddaughter after all—but come on. Pull her? Derek had never seen Kennedy try to yank an agent while on a mission.
It was impulsive. It was emotional. And it was fucking dangerous.
How would Lily respond to this monkey wrench? Doing recon on someone from the watch list was one thing. Getting up close and personal with a known terrorist was quite the other.
And that was just the tip of this screwed-up iceberg.
Derek wanted to punch something. He hated playing things so close to his chest, detested keeping Jackson’s whereabouts from Lily. He knew she searched for him, for closure. But orders were orders. Derek hoped she never found out, that he’d never be tied back to this bullshit. If Lily ever found out that her ex-partner might be working with Rowland, she might never forgive Derek for roping her into this case, for pulling her closer to the man who’d betrayed her.
Who’d tried to kill her.
Watching Jackson had been the third and final of Derek’s objectives. He’d been sent to see how far Jackson took the sale of the formula after he’d gone dark, after he’d tried to kill Lily. Did Derek want to know the extent that Jackson was involved? Probably not. Still...
“How deep do you think Jackson is involved with this, sir? Is he part of Dům Hrůzy? Could he be the reason Rowland has been able to elude us and get past us so far?”
The director hesitated.
“Sir?”
“We aren’t certain. That’s part of your assignment. To ascertain that information, without tipping your hand to any of them. Jackson, Rowland or Lily.”
A high shriek shattered the silence. Derek jumped up from his chair. “Sir, I have to go.”
“Keep me posted,” Kennedy demanded and hung up.
Derek pocketed his phone and, reaching for his .45, threw open John’s door. His boss sat perched on the edge of his seat, coiled to spring and wearily looked up at him.
“What is going on, Derek?”
“Not sure. But I’m about to find out.”
Another scream pierced the air. John’s face drained of all color and his eyes widened. Derek looked toward the outer door connecting them to the hall. He pointed to his boss. “Stay here. Lock the door behind me.”
He yanked the door closed, waiting for the soft click of the lock and quickly moved to the outer door connecting them from whatever had pulled those screams from Alyssa, John’s assistant. He slowly opened the door and peered out. She sat frozen at her desk, white as a ghost and trembling. Derek cleared the room, then moved quickly to her side. “Alyssa, what in the world is going on?”
“It’s Helen.” Alyssa pointed to the screen on her desk that monitored the foyer. “Something’s wrong with her.”
He took one look at the screen and sprinted for the emergency exit. Slamming his open hand into the door, he tore down the steps, taking them two at a time.
He burst out of the emergency door and raced toward Helen, waving his hands at the bystanders gawking at their coworker convulsing on the floor. “Get back! Get back! And someone call 9-1-1.”
Derek skidded to a halt and dropped to his knees, reaching for Helen’s neck, desperate to protect her head from bouncing off the white marble floors any more than it already had. He took one look at her and his heart sank. Pink foam bubbled at the corners of her mouth. Blood streamed from her nose and ears. Her eyes, wide with fright and pain, rolled back into her head and her blue irises vanished.
The circle of ARME employees tightened around him and Helen, and righteous anger burned at him. Did these people have no souls? “Get the hell back. Now. Or do you want to be next?”
They crowd scampered backward, horror flashing across most of their faces. Derek looked back down at Helen, trying his best to stabilize her flailing body when a soft, scared voice broke through the chaos.
“Derek?”
He glanced up and into the ashen face of Gina Elsworth. Oh, shit. What was she doing here? “Ma’am, what are you doing here?”
“I’m early for a dinner date with John. I thought...” Her voice shook, and she cast a quick look at Helen, tears filling her eyes. Her hand fluttered at her throat. “I thought I’d surprise him.”
Derek hung his head. Of course she did. Sweet, innocent Gina. Always looking to please her older husband, be the perfect wife and mother.
Movement to his left caught his attention. A thin man with glasses, clutching his leather briefcase to his chest moved toward the glass double doors. Derek jumped to his feet, whipped out his gun and pointed it at the man.
“Stop. Now. No one leaves.”
The thin man froze midstep, his glasses sliding down his nose and his face turning pale. Good. Serves him right. He shoved his glasses back up his nose and shuffled back to the small group, head down.
“Mrs. Elsworth.” Derek looked over his shoulder. Arms limp at her side, Gina stood above Helen’s still-shaking body, her face blank. “Gina! Look at me.”
She jerked as if he’d slapped her and raised dazed eyes to him. “I... What...?”
“Gina. Listen to me,” he commanded in a low, calm voice. “I need you to call 9-1-1.”
She nodded, reaching for her small handbag and digging out her phone. With trembling fingers, she typed in the num
ber and held the phone to her ear.
“Please. Hurry,” Gina glanced over her shoulder at Helen. “We need an ambulance...”
Derek shoved his gun back into his holster, knelt next to Helen and, stabilizing her neck, bent close to her ear, careful to avoid getting any of her blood on him. “Hang on, Helen. It’s going to be okay. I got you. It’s going to be okay.”
For a brief second in time, Helen came to. She looked directly at Derek, her eyes pleading with him to save her. His blood ran cold. She knew. Then the moment of clarity vanished as another convulsion wracked her body.
He knew it, too—Helen was as good as dead.
* * *
LILY’S PHONE VIBRATED ANGRILY. She glanced down, recognized the number and hit decline. Again.
“Is everything all right?”
“Of course.” Lily pressed the linen napkin to her lips, folded it and tucked it next to her plate. The vibrations started again. She looked up and shrugged one shoulder. “Rowland, my apologies, would you mind if I take this call?”
He smiled, though light never reached his eyes, and waved his hand. “Not at all. Hopefully there isn’t some sort of emergency.”
Lily grabbed her phone and pushed back from the table. It better be a freakin’ emergency. “I’m sure it’s nothing like that. I’ll be right back.”
She made a beeline toward the softly illuminated sign in the back of the elegant restaurant. Pushing her way into the restroom, she waited until the door shut behind her, cocooning her in silence, before reaching for her phone.
“There better be a good—”
“It’s Helen,” Derek said, without so much as an acknowledgment. “She’s dead.”
“What?” Lily slumped against the bathroom counter. That was the last thing she’d expected to hear. “When?”
“About an hour ago. When I got to her, she was curled up in the fetal position, convulsing and foaming at the mouth.”
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