Dead No More

CHAPTER THREE

Thirteen Months Later Monday, September 15, 4:00 p.m.

LILY FELT CAPTIVE in her own skin. The longer it took her to find Jackson, the worse the sensation became. It had been thirteen months to the day since she’d dangled three stories above the pavement and stared into his face before he let her go. She’d kept her word to the director and walked—and had hunted Jackson ever since. To end that horrible chapter and get her old life back at Unit 67. The life she loved and missed every second of every single day.

She couldn’t escape the mental imprisonment she found herself in, no matter what she did to combat it. So, on a daily basis, she took to the wide dirt path along the Missouri River snaking through Omaha and ran until her lungs gave out.

To clear her mind, her thoughts, her mood.

Endless months of searching had resulted in nothing but dead ends. Frustration and anger ripped through her veins as one foot after the other pounded against the well-traveled trail. Jackson couldn’t have just disappeared. People didn’t vanish into thin air. They always left a trace. Always. She just had to find it.

Her legs screamed at her to stop and her breath came in soft gasps as Lily eyed her fellow joggers. On cue, they moved left or right, as though somewhere deep within their subconscious, a tiny voice screamed not to have any contact with her, to get away from the impending danger.

A man approached from behind and ran next to her. She stumbled, regained her footing and picked up her pace. He matched it. Stride for stride.

Lily stole a quick glance at him. Dark stubble peppered his strong jawline. Short brown hair clung to his perspiring forehead and defined muscles pressed through his damp shirt. Everything female about her perked up. Damn. He’s sexy.

He also blocked her only escape route...unless she wanted to take a swim in the Missouri River to her left. Which she didn’t.

She picked up speed again.

So did he.

“Thought you could use a running buddy.”

“Not interested.”

“You know, they say women shouldn’t run alone.”

She snorted. This man had no idea what she was capable of. “Go away.”

“Not going to happen. I need to talk to you.”

Lily slowed to a stop and shoved her hands to her hips, glaring at him. “Look, I appreciate the Midwest friendliness, really, I do. But I don’t take to strangers interrupting my life, and especially my runs. Now. Go. Away.”

“I’m not a stranger.”

“Like hell you aren’t.”

She turned to leave.

“I do know you, Lily Andrews.” His voice sliced through the dusk air. He pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head and pinned her with piercing blue eyes that made the clearest Caribbean water look dull. “Your reputation precedes you. I know you were 67’s best black-ops agent before you went quiet. I know that you moved to Nebraska to escape...”

As the stranger rattled off classified information, the irritation drained out of her, replaced by a white-hot rage. Who was this guy? Another 67 agent? How else would he know so much about her? She’d never seen him at Langley, so he had to be embedded in another agency. DEA? FBI? She refused to believe the alternative—that she’d been burned—and focused on searing his image in her memory.

Lily backed into the tree line, scanned the running path. Reaching behind her, her fingertips brushed the petite gun tucked against the small of her back.

The man mirrored her movement, almost as if he could read her mind, knew her playbook, and stepped closer. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

She gripped the butt of the gun. All her senses were on high alert. Why would 67 come after her now? A year after she’d walked? Did Kennedy honestly think the raging fire in her belly would have snuffed out? A soft crunching behind her pulled at her ears, and her muscles coiled. She cast an uneasy glance over her shoulder, calculating the impending risk.

Nothing but a bunch of young high school kids.

“Get your hand off that gun, Lily.” He stopped talking and let a group of joggers run past. “A Mexican standoff in public all but guarantees you’ll blow your safe haven to hell.”

He had a point. She tipped her chin toward him, carefully watching his movements. “You first.”

A grin spread across his face, and a deep dimple appeared. He raised his arms in surrender.

She stepped back and put distance between herself and the handsome stranger. “I don’t know who you think you are, but stay away from me. I won’t ask again.”

“Just hear me out.”

“Hell will freeze over first.” She pulled the gun out and let it hang by her side. It was an extreme gesture, but he’d rattled her.

His eyes widened, but so did his grin.

Lily cocked the hammer back. “Run. You have five minutes to be out of my sight. Or I’m coming after you.”

“As tempting as that thought is...”

She increased the pressure on her trigger. “I told you to run.”

“And I told you that a standoff wasn’t necessary.”

Before she could respond, he sprang and tackled her onto the ground, straddling her. She reacted instinctively, bringing her gun up to aim. He hit her at the wrist joint and sent the weapon tumbling into the tall ornamental grass planted along the running path, hiding it from view. Grabbing her arms, he pinned Lily beneath the bulk of his body. She gasped and struggled against his ironclad hold.

He moved his mouth to her ear. “Don’t make a bigger scene than you already have. We have an audience. Follow my lead or we’re both going to spend some time behind bars.”

Follow his lead, my ass. She fought hard, desperate to put some space between herself and this brute of a man. He cocked his head and grinned down at her.

“Don’t forget I asked nicely.”

Asked nice—

The stranger lowered his head and brought his lips to hers.

Lily froze. Every nerve ending in her body fired spontaneously—and without her consent—as he deepened the kiss, pulling a sensual reaction from her that she hadn’t experienced since Jackson. It hummed within every fiber of her being. What the hell? She tried to twist away, but he pressed down harder, the heat of his body seeping into her coiled muscles, coaxing them to relax, to let go.

To trust.

Not able to break his iron grip, Lily did the only thing she could think of.

She bit him. Hard.

With a surprised yelp, the stranger jerked back and stared down at her as if she’d lost her mind. Maybe she had—she’d drawn blood.

“Is everything okay here?” an older woman asked, eyeing them suspiciously. Her male running companion reached for his phone.

Lily’s eyes flickered between the couple and the man on top of her. He licked away the drops of blood on his lip and gently increased the pressure against her wrists as he spoke softly in her ear. “Damn it, Lily. Sell it. Make them believe I’m your lover.”

Of course. That was why he’d kissed her. It was the perfect cover with so many public, prying eyes. She forced her muscles to relax, hating that this stranger invading her personal space was right.

“Lovers’ spat,” Lily muttered, glaring up at him.

The man straddling her pressed his lips to hers again, looked up and shrugged, feigning sheepishness.

Lily wanted to kill him.

The older woman shook her head, muttered something that sounded like “stupid young people” and walked off. The man with her laughed as he pocketed his phone, put his earbuds back in and followed his companion.

Lily wrestled against the stranger’s strong, but gentle, hold. “Get off me.”

“Are you going to behave?”

She glared up at him.

Chuckling, he rolled off her and stood.

Scrambling to her feet, Lily dug around in the tall grass until her fingers landed on cold metal. She scooped up her gun, letting it hang by her side. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Who was this guy? A shudder swept through her, followed closely by fiery heat that sucked the air out of her lungs.

“I see today isn’t a good day to chat.” He took a step back, put on his sunglasses and flashed her a grin, sending her heart into overdrive. “I’m out.”

Before she could respond, he turned and joined a passing group of runners, melting into their small pack.

* * *

SHE BIT ME.

After seven years of covertly working as a black ops agent for Unit 67, Derek Moretti could safely say that no one had ever bitten him—until today. That was one for the books.

When she’d turned on him, he’d all but forgotten to breathe. She wasn’t as tall as some of the other female agents he’d worked with, but she’d held her ground as she glared up at him, the wind whipping strands of brown hair around her delicate face. Her hazel eyes flashed as she’d shoved her hands onto her slim hips. He couldn’t tell if it was anger or the sun that had kissed the tops of her cheeks, coloring her olive skin to a rosy pink, but he didn’t care.

She was drop-dead gorgeous...and hell-bent on killing him, a fact Derek couldn’t ignore.

Curiosity curled in his stomach like a warm fire when he’d taken the now-familiar running path along the river. Lily Andrews in the flesh. What would she say? How would she respond? After months of reconnaissance work, watching her, studying her, he’d conjured up a handful of scenarios. But her biting him?

Yeah, he hadn’t seen that coming.

But then again, none of Derek’s scenarios had involved tackling Lily to the ground, pinning her beneath him—at least not this time around. That was a different fantasy, for another time...maybe.

He chuckled to himself briefly, then stopped as the searing memory of her body beneath his flashed through his mind. Her body had been hard, yet soft in all the right places. Just the sheer awareness of her underneath him, at his mercy, left him momentarily frozen, wanting more. He doubted she’d felt the same—in fact, he was pretty positive that he’d seen fire flash when she’d turned those hazel eyes on him.

The woman was a freakin’ tigress.

No doubt she’d meant to deter him, but her feistiness did exactly the opposite—it entranced him.

Clearly the kiss had taken it too far. But how could he resist? The woman was a knockout of epic proportions. Derek reached up, touched his fingers lightly to his still-throbbing lip and smiled. Yeah, that was definitely not the response he’d hoped for.

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.