The next person you trust may be the last…

Lily Andrews was once the most sought-after undercover operative at Unit 67, a black ops agency buried deep within the US Intelligence community. But then her partner—and fiancé—turned rogue, leaving her for dead after a mission gone horribly wrong. Disgusted with 67’s attempt to cover up Jackson’s traitorous actions, Lily walked away from everything she knew and loved…and swore she’d hunt her ex down on her own and bring him to justice.

When the handsome, undeniably alpha Derek Moretti needs her help to pursue a ruthless sociopath who is putting advanced weaponry into the hands of terrorists, Lily sees her chance to return to 67 with her pride intact. She didn’t realize how much she’d missed the adrenaline rush of being undercover—or maybe that’s the heat that races through her whenever Derek is near. But soon Lily will have to choose between the vengeance she craves and the country she’s sworn to protect. And with the clock ticking down on a nuclear catastrophe, she knows that this time, if she’s trusted the wrong man, she won’t live to regret it…

Praise for Dead Don’t Lie

“Lean, evocative prose, tight plotting, a great love story and truly scary moments make Dead Don’t Lie a sure winner. I guarantee you’ll be up past your bedtime, sweating bullets. L. R. Nicolello is a wonderful new voice to watch. I can’t wait for more.”

—New York Times bestselling author J.T. Ellison

Praise for Dead No More

“Don’t miss this exciting mix of hot romance and black ops.”

—New York Times bestselling author Catherine Coulter

“Incredibly intense, beautifully written and drop-dead sexy, L. R. Nicolello’s Dead No More is a top-notch romantic thriller. It grabs you by the throat on the first page and doesn’t let go until the very last line. Nicolello’s storytelling gets better and better. You won’t want to miss this one.”

—New York Times bestselling author J.T. Ellison

Dead No More

L. R. Nicolello

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my best friend, partner in crime,

and absolute love of my life, Drew.

Loving you is so easy.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER FORTY

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

CHAPTER FIFTY

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

One Year Ago Wednesday, August 15, 10:00 p.m.

POUNDING FOOTSTEPS ECHOED off the walls in the empty back alley. The sleeper cell’s leader turned, saw her closing in and blindly fired. Lily Andrews dodged to her left, sidestepping the bullet as it whizzed by her. Amateur. She took a deep breath, pushed herself harder and closed the distance between her and Amed.

“Stay on him, Andrews. We can’t lose that briefcase.” Jackson’s smooth voice crackled in her earpiece.

“I got it. Driving him toward you now.”

Amed rounded the corner and raced across the busy New York City street. Lily shadowed his movement, car horns screaming at her as vehicles skidded to a halt. She jumped and slid over the hood of a Honda, her feet hitting the ground lightly before she fell back into stride. Amed tore down the alley hugging the Grand Hotel. There was no way out.

We’ve got you, asshole.

“He’s in the alley adjacent to the hotel,” she relayed to her partner. “Tell me that door is unlocked.”

“Affirmative. Coming into the front lobby now.”

Amed froze, cast a spooked glance over his shoulder and fired. The panicked shot went wide, hitting the brick wall to her left. He lunged for the hotel’s emergency exit and vanished. Lily followed, racing up the stairs. She peered around the landing wall. Amed thrust his open palm into the door on the next floor. The door didn’t budge. He cursed, turned and raced up the next flight of stairs, taking the steps two at a time.

She sprinted after him, closing the gap.

“There’s nowhere for you to go, Amed,” she yelled up the stairs. Her heart raced, pumping in time with each footstep. Adrenaline and excitement coursed through her veins. “Let me help you.”

Another bullet flew past her. This one closer. Shit.

“I take it that’s a no.”

At the next landing, he slammed into the exit door. It flew open—as Lily had known it would.

She stopped at the exit, hugged the wall and slowly pushed the door open. If her intel was correct, this guy was a rabbit, not a shark, so he’d rush to find a place to hide, not wait to blow her head off. Let’s hope they’re right. With a deep breath, she threw herself through the door, rolled and ended in a crouch, gun raised. Head intact, she smiled. Thank you, Intel.

A crash echoed down the empty hall. She pushed herself close to the wall. No one was supposed to be on this floor. And there was no way Jackson could have beaten them to the rendezvous location.

“Where are you?” she whispered.

“Coming up the front steps.” Jackson’s deep voice popped in her earpiece.

Lily’s eyes flicked to the end of the hall and back. “Proceed with caution. Our location may be compromised.”

“How? Wait for me.”

“Negative. We can’t lose that file.”

“Wait for me, Andrews. That’s an order.”

Another crash reverberated down the hallway.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” She got up and ran.

The hotel room door was propped open and Lily paused just outside, listened. Only silence met her ears. She crept in, softly breathing, back pressed against the wall as she made her way into the room. The mirror was smashed. Tiny, razor-sharp shards littered the carpet. A lamp was broken.

Her instincts screamed at her to get out.

Now.

She inched back toward the open door, but it banged shut. Her brain registered the soft pop of a gun silencer behind her. She dove for the chair, grabbed it and brought it down on its side as two more slugs zinged past her head.

Where was Jackson? Where was her backup?

The door opened and slammed again. The only sound in the room was her own thundering heart. She took a moment to gather herself and organize her thoughts. This mission was going to hell. And fast.

Flattened against the wall, gun up, she took a deep breath and peeked around the chair. Amed was sprawled out at the foot of the bed, his lifeless eyes staring back at her. The case he’d been carrying? Gone.

Then, in the broken mirror, she caught a glimpse of a fractured reflection—one she knew intimately. What the hell? Her throat constricted.

“Jackson?”

“Of course you would disobey my order,” Jackson said, his tone hard, clipped. “Are you going to show yourself, or do I have to talk to a chair?”

“That depends.” Her bewilderment boiled over to a hot rage. “Are you going to shoot at me again?”

He chuckled. Funny, how that deep sound used to make her smile. Now her skin crawled with apprehension.

“Lily, sweetheart. Why would I shoot my partner? My lover?” he continued in a voice as smooth as velvet.

A wave of nausea hit her. Not the I-want-to-puke sensation due to a simple stomach bug, but the debilitating sickness you couldn’t escape after riding the roller coaster one too many times. She trusted this man with her heart, with her life. The room spun, and she reached out her hand to steady herself. Had Jackson turned? Her mind tumbled over itself, fought against the inevitable. No. It wasn’t possible...was it?

Lily reached for the second gun strapped to her ankle. Her fingers brushed the cold metal, and she drew it out of its holster, simultaneously peering under the chair. She held her breath and flicked off the safety. The soft click echoed in her ears like a canon.

“Is that what this has come to?” he asked.

“Don’t give me that shit, Jackson.”

How were they having this conversation? Better yet, how had she not seen this coming? She’d sensed his distance and moodiness, sure, but chalked it up to the grueling hours on this assignment. Her mind raced, landing on sure tells that something had been amiss: the late-night calls, last-minute cancellations, occasional disappearances. She shook her head.

Son of a...

She should have seen those signs for what they were. But those damn green eyes of his got her every time, dulling her well-honed instincts.

Their romance was against Unit 67’s strict protocol. She knew it, Jackson knew it, hell, even the director of their top-secret government agency knew it. But when he’d hauled her into his office, she’d argued with him, promised to keep her romance with Jackson under wraps. Swore it wouldn’t impede her judgment.

When the director—who also happened to be her godfather—started searching for a new partner for Lily, she’d thrown the I-have-no-one-else card at him, which, no doubt, had been a slap in his face. Kennedy finally relented, agreed not to interfere with Lily’s relationship with Jackson, but threatened to bench her if she couldn’t separate work from play. She’d laughed, promised she had it under control.

Clearly, she’d been wrong.

“Stand up, Lily, or I’ll kill you,” Jackson said in a do-not-fuck-with-me tone.

Lily knew that tone, had heard it before, and he’d been good on his word. Shit. She checked both guns, took a deep breath and slowly stood.

Jackson leaned against the far wall, his weapon trained on her forehead. The kill shot he’d all but perfected. Her gaze landed on the silencer, and her heart seized.

She kept one hand hidden, raised the other arm, pointed her .45 at her partner—her fiancé—and prayed she wouldn’t have to pull the trigger.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m tired of putting my ass on the line for nothing but a pat on the back and a medal that’s taken away right after a classified ceremony.” He picked up the briefcase and took a step toward her. “Do you know what this formula is going for on the black market?”

“Give me the case.” She scanned the room with her peripheral vision, searching for an exit. The door was closed, and the window was shut—probably sealed tight. She was trapped. Just perfect. Choosing the closer of the two limited options, she edged toward the window and held up both guns. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Oh, but I do. The man I’m in bed with now will kill me, and slowly, if I don’t deliver this. Besides, I’m looking forward to an early retirement.” Something that resembled hope flashed across his face as he took a tentative step toward her, reaching out his free hand. “Join me?”

She’d heard that tone before, the quiet plea blanketed in bravado, when he’d all but begged Lily to say yes, to throw caution—and protocol—to the wind and accept his marriage proposal. And just like then, it about damn near split Lily’s heart in two. Then she’d agreed. Now...she hesitated, caught up in the past, in the promise of more.

He stopped, tilted his head and locked eyes with Lily. She tried to see past the darkness dancing in his green eyes, to the man she’d loved from the minute she’d been paired with him for her first mission.

On the streets of Paris, they’d played the part of lovers perfectly, and she’d fallen for him.

She’d soaked up his woodsy smell as he’d tucked her into his side. They’d meandered down the Seine, their target in sight. The feel of his blond curls running through her fingers. The stubble on his strong jawline scratching her as he pressed his face into her neck sent fire racing down her spine. Everything about Jackson drew Lily to his side—his rebellious spirit spoke to hers on so many levels.

That connection followed them from that first mission in France, to the next and the next, until there was no separation between the cover of the mission and their reality behind closed doors.

She blinked hard. No. The man before her wasn’t the man who’d been her partner for the past three years, and definitely wasn’t the man she’d pledged her love to and was set to marry next month. It was supposed to be small and intimate, just the two of them and a couple witnesses, but that was all she’d ever wanted. Now it looked like that would never happen. A tremor ran down her arm.

How could she have been so wrong?

“You know I can’t,” she said in a broken whisper, barely recognizable to her own ears.

A dull, blank shadow descended over his face, turning his handsome, model-like features into something grotesque, evil even, and he stepped back. “Or won’t.”

“I’m not going to play this semantics game with you, Jackson.” She leveled both weapons, aimed them at his heart, and put more pressure on the .45’s trigger. “I don’t want to shoot you. Just give me the case.”

Scorching fury burned out any nostalgia she’d had left for her fiancé. If he’d turned, he was the enemy.

End of story.

“You won’t shoot me.” He smirked at her. “You can’t.”

In another lifetime, he would have been right—she couldn’t have pulled the trigger. But time blew by at a blistering speed, and she was no longer the agent racing after a known terrorist hell-bent on destroying her country. She was staring at a skilled, narcissistic traitor, a sociopath who had no problem whatsoever betraying his partner or the cause he’d held dear.

And for what? Self-preservation?

She’d promised to defend her country against all enemies foreign and domestic.

The bullet flew past his head, nicking his right ear. Jackson’s hand shot up reflexively to the wound. Pulling his hand away, he glanced at his bloodstained fingers, stunned. Seizing that brief moment of dropped guard, Lily sprang and tackled him.

He recovered quickly and went on the defensive, flipping her over his shoulder. The .45 sailed from her hand. Landing hard against the scratchy carpet, his body tumbling down onto hers, Lily thrust her open palm into his throat, hoping to crush his larynx. She was off by a fraction. Nevertheless, he gasped and stumbled backward, struggling for air.

Pushing to her feet, Lily searched for an escape. Jackson had recovered from her attack and now stood blocking the door. She glanced at the window, weighing her options. Where was her freaking backup?

That moment of inattention was her undoing. With a roar, Jackson charged. She snapped to attention, sidestepping his assault. He spun and jabbed out his arm, his fist connecting with her jaw. Light exploded behind her eyes. As she blinked back the pain and squared off again, his other fist made contact with her lower back, just below her kidneys. Lily swallowed the cry in her throat, swung again. He deflected her fist and drove his into her stomach.

Lily tried to stumble away, doubled over in agony. But Jackson was faster, grabbing her by the shirt and lifting her off her feet. With a snarl, he slammed her into the window. It shattered. Knifelike shards of glass bit into her back. Pain ripped through her. A shadow crossed Jackson’s face—was it regret?—but quickly disappeared. She clutched his wrists. He pushed her hard until half her body dangled out the window.

“You should have said yes.”

“Don’t do this.” Cold panic encased every cell in her body. Dear God, he’s going to drop me. The blood in her veins crystalized. She tightened her grip. “Jackson, please. Don’t do this.”

“Sorry, Lil.” He twisted his arms, dislodging her hold, and let go.

CHAPTER TWO

Five Days Later Monday, August 20, 3:00 p.m.

SOFT BEEPING PULLED at Lily from the dark recesses of her mind. Where was she? She shifted slightly, then gasped as pain ripped through her back. She groaned and forced her eyes open. Bright light blinded her. Where were her reflexes? Why was she taking so long to move? She concentrated, tightening her focus on the room around her.

Ben’s tanned, weathered face hovered over her. Worry shone in his brown eyes, pulling his crow’s-feet even deeper. She wasn’t surprised he was here—wherever here was. In some serendipitous moment just before her parents had been killed in action, he’d sworn that if the unimaginable happened, he’d step in.

He’d been there ever since.

“Easy, Lil.” He leaned over and stroked her hair.

“Where am I? How long have I been out?”

He hesitated.

“How long?” The words came out in a pathetic squeak.

“Five days.”

“What?” How the hell had she been unconscious for five days?

“You’ve been in a coma. Intel screwed the pooch. Your backup ended up in the wrong place, on the other side of the damn city. When they finally found you, you were in seriously bad shape. You’d fallen from a three-story window, Lil. They had to shock your heart twice in transit.” He shook his head and looked away. “Jackson didn’t make it.”

“Didn’t make—” She choked on the words. Why did Ben think Jackson was dead? She clenched her fists. The bastard wasn’t dead. He’d betrayed them and slipped off into the dark.

“They found blood—Jackson’s, yours, Amed’s—on the scene. The team worked around the clock to piece it together. The mission was compromised. They knew you were coming. Killed their mule, tried to kill you. From the looks of it, Jackson put up quite a fight.” Ben rubbed his hands over his buzz cut, got up and paced. “They took him and the case. We tried activating his tracker, but they found and disabled it. The trail went cold. There was nothing we could do. I’m so sorry, Lil. We lost him.”

“I didn’t fall,” she whispered.

He turned and his eyes narrowed, the warrior he’d once been pushing to the surface. If Lily hadn’t known Ben since she was old enough to walk, she’d be terrified at the fierceness staring her down. “What do you mean, you didn’t fall?”

Why was her throat so parched? And why the hell was he staring at her as if she’d sprouted two heads in the past five minutes? Hadn’t he heard what she’d just said?

She reached for the IV in her arm and yanked at the tubes, desperate to get out of her sterile prison. She’d been down too long—she had to find Jackson. “I didn’t fall. Jackson threw me out that window.”

“You sure?”

Lily laughed and then cringed, the soft movement shooting daggers into her side. Damn, she hurt. “Believe me. I’m sure. I looked into his eyes as he dropped me.”

“He dropped you?” Ben’s face darkened, his voice stone cold.

“He said, ‘Sorry, Lil’ and let me go.” She pushed herself up and grit her teeth as pain poured over her, followed by a wave of nausea. She clawed at the tubes sticking out of her arm. “The case. Jackson had the case. Where is it?”

“Easy.” Ben caught her hands in his larger, calloused ones and held tight. “Are you absolutely sure it was Jackson who pushed you?” He frowned. “Your injuries were pretty severe. The doctors said they could have adverse effects on your memory.”

“My damn memory is fine.” Her voice rose, and she struggled against his strong hold. Why didn’t Ben believe her? She remembered everything, down to the tiny specks of brown that had shimmered in Jackson’s green eyes before he’d let her go.

Before he’d tried to kill her.

“Ben. Where is the damn case?”

“It disappeared. And until this moment, I thought—” He shook his head. “We thought that Jackson was dead. If he isn’t, then he’s gone to the wind, with the case.”

She stopped fighting. Jackson had betrayed them, betrayed her. He was a traitor, and she’d let him get away.

She’d failed.

The heaviness of guilt crushed her until she could barely breathe. She’d never been unsuccessful on an assignment before. Lily closed her eyes and slipped back into the welcoming darkness.

Jackson hadn’t died. He’d gotten away.

And she’d let him.

* * *

SEETHING, LILY PACED beside the director’s long window overlooking the city below.

“Let me get this straight. You want me to stand there, lie through my teeth to the team and pretend Jackson died a heroic death, when he actually betrayed this agency and our country?” That wasn’t the only thing he’d betrayed. She clenched her fists. She’d trusted Jackson with her life.

Worse yet, she’d loved him.

“You do remember he threw me out of a three-story window, right? He tried to kill me. I was in a coma for five days.” She stopped her march and stared out into the dark night. There was no way in hell she’d honor that man for betraying her country. No matter what the director wanted. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t do it. I won’t go to Jackson’s funeral.”

“It’s not a request, Andrews.” The director spoke slowly, quietly. “It’s an order.”

She spun around. “Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not. You’ll stand beside his grave, and you’ll mourn your partner. End of story.”

“With all due respect, sir, I—”

He lifted his hand and cut her off.

“Do you know what it would do to this place if people found out that our top operative turned? That we had a traitor within our midst and didn’t know it?”

Lily didn’t need to be reminded. Only the elite of the elite within the intelligence community made it through Unit 67’s doors, and only after being hand-selected, black-hooded and whisked away in the middle of the night.

There was no application, no interview process.

On paper, 67’s operatives embedded themselves among the rest of the alphabet agencies, but that was not their true directive. The small group of men and women Lily shared a building with had one common goal—to flawlessly execute their missions and allow the other government agencies to safely accomplish their jobs. Unit 67 was called in whenever the CIA didn’t want to get their hands dirty, paving the way for them to ride in on their white horses and step into the spotlight.

Their mission success didn’t make the news because humanity couldn’t handle the hidden darkness walking among them. Which suited 67 just fine. They were ghosts, even among the other spooks. Unit 67 didn’t exist to the world. And they didn’t make mistakes.

Ever.

Having a traitor working within their ranks highlighted a security breach, and they needed to know, needed to step up their individual games. Be more alert. Lily opened her mouth to argue again.

“No, Lily,” the director said firmly, shaking his head. “We wouldn’t survive it. To keep morale high, the others need to think he died in the line of duty.”

“He didn’t—”

Director Stephen Kennedy pushed to his feet, his face flush with anger. “Enough! That isn’t the point here, Lily. This place—your team—needs to see you shed tears for your partner. So that’s exactly what you’ll do. Consider it your greatest assignment yet.”

A perfect storm of emotions swirled in her head. She couldn’t let Jackson’s betrayal go, yet disobeying a direct order from her boss—godfather or not—wasn’t an option, unless...

A wave of regret hit her as she stared at Kennedy, but it soon passed as an ironclad resolve settled into her mind.

“Fine.” She walked to the door and reached for the knob. “But, sir, it’ll also be my last.”

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.

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