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

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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.

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.

She noticed the file in his hands and sighed—it was just as tiny as hers. “What did you get?”

“Not much.” He tossed it on the table. “At least nothing that anyone with a computer, internet access and a normal IQ couldn’t have stumbled upon. My guys are still working on it, but they need to be careful. You?”

Lily wasn’t surprised. Gaining information about this guy had been trickier than she’d imagined. Which begged the question: Who was he? She pulled out the small file she’d scrounged together, handed it to Ben. “I couldn’t risk back-channeling into 67’s computer mainframe yet—”

“Smart.”

“—but my facial-recognition software got a hit early this morning. Our pretty boy is one Derek Moretti, retired Air Force pilot, now supposedly working as an FBI forensic psychologist for BAU. Interesting cover story, but I, for the record, would have gone with something a little more...” Lily took a sip of her latte and set the mug down, searching for the appropriate word. Finally, she looked up and smiled. “Badass.”

“Badass?” Ben deadpanned back, a single eyebrow raised.

Lily swirled the liquid heaven around in her mug, her mind drifting back to Derek. Obnoxious. Ballsy. Gorgeous. Arrogant. They all suited him, or what Lily knew of him, anyway, but to define Derek Moretti in a single, neat little package? Yeah, there was only one word in the English language that summed him up.

She raised the mug to her lips, took a sip and met Ben’s gaze over its orange rim. “Badass.”

Ben shook his head and flipped open the file. “What do you think he wanted?”

She pursed her lips, then shrugged. “Not sure.”

“Do you think Director Kennedy sent him as a cleaner?”

Lily doubted Kennedy wanted her dead. The director was just as determined to get her back into his court as she was to ignore him. But if for some reason she’d fallen completely out of grace with her former boss, and Kennedy wanted her eliminated, she’d be withering away in some undisclosed location or sinking to the bottom of the ocean with a bullet in her head, not drinking a latte.

“No...” She let her voice trail off as she studied the printout of Derek staring into the surveillance camera on the table.

Black Ops? Definitely. Part of 67? Probably. Sent by the director? She didn’t know, which bothered her. But a simple FBI profiler? Yeah, right. And she was the queen of freakin’ England.

Ben peered over the edge of the file, his brown eyes searching her face. “Think this guy will approach you again?”

“Yes, but on his own terms, in his own time.” She took another sip of her steaming drink. “Until then, have your guys stay on it to see what they come up with, and I’ll work on burrowing down on Derek.”

“Be careful not to trip any internal security measures.”

“Ben—”

“I know.” He held up his hands in mock defense. “I know who I’m talking to, but sometimes even the best need to be reminded they aren’t invincible.”

Lily winced. No one needed to remind her of that—the nightly reoccurring dream of her free fall did that just fine.

Ben looked at his watch, pushed back from the table and rose. “Need to finish this conversation later, my regulars will be here any moment.” Rounding the counter, he started prepping a new pot of drip coffee. “Just be careful, Lil. He already got the drop on you once.”

“Don’t I know it.” Lily rubbed her shoulder. She’d been out of the game for far too long. “Apparently I’m a little rusty.”

Ben glanced up, his face solemn. “Or he’s just that good.”

“I’d rather think I’m rusty.” Considering he was that good made her feel as if a million ants scurried over her. No one got the drop on her. Or at least they never had before.

She needed time to figure out her mystery man’s next move before he made it. And to clarify the raging thoughts sparring in her head. She’d woken up still annoyed that he’d found her, yet wanting him to find her again so she could differentiate the truth from the bullshit...and get a second look at him, if she were being truly honest with herself.

“Mind if I jump behind the counter after I’m done with this?” She raised her latte. “I could use the mindless—”

Ben shot her a glare. “It’s not mindless.”

“Come on, B. Compared to what we’ve been trained to do? This is mindless. I’m not knocking it. But really?” She enjoyed teasing the tall ex-ranger, even if it was as dangerous as poking a sleeping, cranky lion. She couldn’t resist—putting a smile on that hard, windswept face was a challenge she’d been tackling since she was five.

“It’s not mindless,” he muttered.

In Lily’s opinion, the day the doctors delivered their devastating news to Ben was the day Unit 67 lost their greatest asset. A piece of shrapnel from his last encounter in the sandbox lodged too close to his heart for the doctors to safely remove. One misplaced jostle, and Ben was a goner. Given their line of work, he’d had no choice but to hang up his guns. If not for that news, Lily was positive he’d still be out in the field, or at least training the next up-and-coming agents.

She took a small sip of the molten liquid. She loved him. He was family. She’d do anything for him. And how could she not? He’d saddled up when most people had stepped out.

Lily got it. Many people didn’t know how to deal with grief, couldn’t handle the searing heartbreak of tragedy. Most reverted to awkward conversations, eye avoidance and painful silence. Or simply vanished.

Not that she could blame them.

Death was a bitch.

But Lily would be forever indebted to that big, bald and way-too-serious man who’d stepped in when she’d lost everything...and stayed.

* * *

ONCE SHE’D DOWNED her drink, Lily set up behind the coffee bar and took orders. As she handed a skinny vanilla latte to a young girl, the door chime dinged and Derek Moretti walked in, flashing a grin her way. A strange sensation fluttered in Lily’s stomach as he walked up to the counter, flipped open the menu and perused it.

She flicked her gaze to the seating area and searched for Ben. He’d want to know that their profiler had found her. Again.

Ben leaned against the back wall, looking warm and approachable in his navy cable-knit sweater and worn jeans, chatting it up with some of his regulars. They were nodding their heads in agreement with something he’d said. Lily sighed. There was no way to get his attention. Great. So much for that idea.

“What are you doing here? What do you want?”

Derek looked up from the menu and set it down. An easy grin curved his lips up, deep dimples forming in both cheeks. “Easy. You.”

“Oh, yeah?” Lily propped her hip against the counter, crossed her arms and couldn’t help but smile back. His sheer proximity was chipping away at her resolve, despite her best intentions to remain aloof.

He reached out his hand. “Derek Moretti. But you already know that, don’t you?”

She studied Derek, then sighed. No use being rude. Leaning forward, she reached out her hand. He wrapped his fingers around hers and gently squeezed. Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t been touched in...well, she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched her, other than George and Ben, who clearly didn’t count.

Derek’s hand was large and covered hers completely. Calluses rubbed against the soft skin of her palm. His touch was possessive, yet gentle, and a wave of security washed over her. She’d all but forgotten the warm feeling that seeped through her body at the simplest human touch—a man’s touch. The flutter in her stomach returned with a vengeance.

Don’t squirm. Don’t squirm.

Without letting go, he cocked his head to the side and quietly studied her. Lily blinked, trying—and failing—to break the pull he had on her. What was hiding behind those blue eyes? And why couldn’t she resist their draw?

Hell no. Human touch or not, she couldn’t go there. Not ever again.

The last man she’d let in tried to kill her.

Lily extracted her hand from his grasp. The flutter died out, followed closely on its heels by a dull, empty ache. “I’m not interested.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to propose.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

But it did matter. And she was interested, very interested. In the man silently studying her, in the way every cell in her body sizzled whenever he was near and in whatever he was after.

“Well, maybe you’d reconsider—” He reached behind him, and she tensed automatically. Derek quickly held up his hands. “Whoa. Relax. I’m just reaching for my wallet.”

“Course,” she muttered as a flush burned her cheeks.

Derek pointed at his wallet. “May I?”

“Of course, sorry about that.”

He pulled out a business card, placed it on the counter and slid it across. “When you’re ready to listen, call me.” He smiled softly, turned and headed for the exit. Without looking back, he waved as he left the café.

Lily picked up the card and spun it between her fingers. What are you after, Derek Moretti? She chewed on her lip and watched him through the front windows, unable to deny the effect he had on her. Everything about him, down to his swagger, made her squirm like a hormonal teenager.

“He want to read you in on a case?” Ben approached her, hands pushed into his sweater’s front pockets.

Lily quickly shoved the card into her back pocket and shrugged before reaching for a rag to rub down the counter. “Even if he is, I’m not sure I’m interested.”

“Why?”

“Come on, B.” Lily glanced over at the old couple and lowered her voice. “The last guy I worked with tried to kill me. Remember?”

“I know, Lil.” He went to the espresso machine. “But not everyone is Jackson.”

Ben was right. Not every man on the planet was a traitor, and there was no trying to skirt him—he knew her better than she probably knew herself at this point. Lily blew out a sigh. She was interested. She just didn’t know enough about the man who’d just blown into her life to do anything about it.

Yet.

* * *

LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Lily sat in the corner of Ben’s café and enjoyed another tall latte. A shadow passed behind her closed eyes and Lily slowly opened them, expecting to see Ben towering over her. Derek smiled down instead. For the second time that day, Lily found herself drowning in the endless sea of blue staring down at her. It stole the air from her lungs.

She set down her mug. “Oh, for the love of God.”

“Hello again.”

“Apparently you have a death wish.”

“Just doing what’s necessary.” A slight smirk crossed his face as he dragged out the chair across from her and sank into it, leaning onto his elbows. “And you and I both know you won’t draw a gun on me.”

“After your little stunt yesterday? And just showing up here? Twice?” Lily eyed the man sitting in front of her. “I’d consider it.”

“You loved it, and no, you won’t.”

He had her there—she had never pulled the trigger based on emotion, nor would she ever. The heat of his lips flashed through her mind, as did the searing memory of his body pressed against hers, and she felt a tingle up her spine. If he’d left that kind of impression when he’d hijacked her, what would he do if she willingly went into his arms?

She shifted in her seat, ignoring the bizarre and very vivid mental picture. “How do you know so much about me?”

“You know the answer to that.” He pushed his chair onto two legs, laced his fingers together and propped his head back.

“I told you I wasn’t interested, so why are you back?”

“Yes. You did.” He grinned and let the chair drop to all fours. He leaned forward. “But here’s the deal. Your reputation precedes you, even after going to ground. Believe it or not, you’re still 67’s best asset, and I need your unmatched ability...to become someone else.”

Her eyebrows arched. “Really.”

“I’d gather the information myself, but I can’t risk blowing my cover. So my hands are tied.” He shrugged, laced his fingers again and returned to his casual pose. “We need the intel to crack open a case, and I need to protect my asset. As much as I’d like to think I’m invincible, I know my limits.”

What? You’re not superhuman? Lily opened her mouth to let her internal monologue out to play, but Derek held up his hand, sending her a dry look. “Let me finish before you shoot me down.”

She clamped her mouth shut.

“As I was saying,” Derek said, a hint of laughter in his voice. “My client is too high a government asset to roll the dice and play Lone Ranger on this. So here I am. All but begging for your help. Which, for the record, I don’t do. Ever.”

“I’m not working for 67 anymore. Does Kennedy even know you’re here talking to me?”

“Did the director know every asset you pulled in while working an op?” Derek countered without missing a beat.

Lily studied the man in front of her. “Fair enough. But why not pull in someone else who’s still on 67’s payroll?”

“Easy. I don’t need anyone else.” He settled into his chair and drilled her with his steely gaze. “I need you.”

She squirmed in her seat. Wow, she needed a life. Or a boyfriend. Or both. She knew he meant her skills, not her body. But still...

“Well?”

She cleared her throat, banishing the sexy thoughts romping through her brain. “I’m done—”

He reached across the table, grabbed her hands and grinned at her appealingly. “Please. Don’t make me beg.”

The same jolt that rushed through her the last time he’d touched her surged again. She slowly withdrew her fingers from his grip, but couldn’t help noticing the thrill of the game rush through her. He’d piqued her interest, captured her attention and drawn her in.

How had this stranger managed—in less than twenty-four hours, no less—to do exactly what Director Kennedy hadn’t been able to do over the past thirteen months?

“What do you want me to do?” She sat back. “If...I’m interested. Which I’m not saying I am.”

Yeah, right. Who was she kidding? Clearly not the man sitting across from her, who was doing his best—and failing miserably—to conceal the grin that spread across his face. A deep dimple appeared as his smile grew. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her own grin from escaping onto her lips.

“I want you to do what you do better than anyone—get close to my client’s partner, Rowland James.”

“That’s it?” She tipped her head to the side and eyed him. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more to this story?”

“Because there is.”

His transparent, candid nature both fascinated and shocked her.

Derek glanced around. “But I can’t go into details here.”

And there it was: the tight-lipped, possessive behavior she’d grown tired of before walking away from the agency. “Why not?”

“First, you haven’t agreed to anything yet. Second, and more important, there are too many ears.” He crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side. “Would you go into details now, in this place?”

He’d nailed her. She’d never talk a case here—not with so many unknown people. And she wouldn’t share everything with him, even if they worked together. She wouldn’t do that again.

Not after last time.

“Fair enough. But at least throw me a bone.”

“We’ve intercepted some chatter that might or might not involve a national security breach. I can’t get close enough to Rowland to confirm or refute the chatter. My IC team is working around the clock, but they continue to come up empty. He’s a bit of a ladies’ man, and I figured...”

“You figured what? That I’d whore myself out to get information?” Lily’s face—and temper—flamed, all thoughts of Derek’s charm and sexiness gone. “Clearly you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

She got up, knocking the wooden chair against the desert sand-colored wall. Her whole body trembled with anger as she glared down at him. “Forget you found me. If you don’t, I promise you, you’ll regret it. I mean it, Derek. Don’t underestimate me. I’m not the same woman that you’ve read about in my file.”

Without another word, she stalked toward the door and slammed it on her way out.

CHAPTER SIX

Tuesday, September 16, 3:00 p.m.

WELL, THAT WENT WELL. Derek rubbed the back of his neck and watched Lily through the glass window until she got to the streetlight and rounded the corner, disappearing from his line of sight. He chuckled. She was going to make him work for her involvement, but he was up for the challenge. That brunette bombshell was totally worth it.

The file he’d pulled on Lily didn’t do her an ounce of justice. Not in her capacity. Not in her looks. Not in her feistiness. He’d enjoy working with this one—if he could get past that barrier she’d constructed around herself.

He reached for his phone and dialed.

“Is she in?” Director Kennedy asked without preamble.

Typical. Derek ran his hand over the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t say that, no.”

“What happened?”

Throwing out the “ladies man” card with her was a jackass move. Derek should’ve known it would rub Lily the wrong way. Nothing in her file indicated that she’d ever used sex to complete a mission. At first he’d scoffed at that. What agent didn’t use sex as a weapon, even as a last resort? But after watching her over the past few months and building his own jacket on her, he imagined that aspect of her to be true.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “She might or might not have walked out on me.”

“I told you she wouldn’t be easy to bridle,” the director snapped. “The girl’s got more sass in her little finger than most people have in their entire bodies. She can’t—make that won’t—be manhandled.”

“I definitely misjudged the sass quotient,” Derek muttered. Which was the understatement of the century. Lily Andrews was a firecracker of epic proportions. He’d never seen anyone—aside from his feisty Irish mother—go from calm to boiling in a single breath. If Lily wasn’t such a vital part of his case, he would have laughed at her explosion...and enjoyed the view as she left.

But he needed her. Without her, this mission would go to hell and he’d be screwed.

“Don’t underestimate her,” the director said. “She’s your equal. Treat her as such, and she’s yours. Don’t, and she’s as good as gone.”

“Yes, I gathered that.”

Kennedy sighed into the phone. “Hate to tell you this, but if Lily walked on you, you might have lost her for good.”

Derek wasn’t about to let her off the hook that easily. He just needed to regroup. “I haven’t lost her.”

“What’s your next move?”

“Circle around. Come at her from another angle.”

“Good luck, and keep me posted.”

The line went dead.

Derek tossed the phone on the table. His 67 cover within the intelligence community as a profiler with the BAU wasn’t his first choice, but he’d learned how to read people better than anyone he knew—and Derek had picked up on the tightness in Kennedy’s voice. Why? What was eating at him?

Derek scrubbed his hands over his face. He craved movement, a shift, anything that would get him closer to completing his mission and moving the hell on. After his recent experience in Seattle, Omaha lacked the adventure he thrived on.

But Director Kennedy had specifically asked for him.

Turning down a “request” like that wasn’t an option, not as a 67 agent. So here he was, landlocked in the middle of the country, spinning his wheels like a freaking hamster on a wheel, going nowhere fast. And it was getting old.

His mission in Omaha was a bit more complicated than what he’d just revealed to Lily. And when she’d asked if Kennedy knew Derek was speaking to her, he thought he’d blown it. The fifteen seconds she took to contemplate his response were the longest seconds in his life. He wasn’t there to gather intel on Rowland James alone—the director had specifically asked Derek to keep an eye on Lily—to ensure she didn’t inadvertently stumble into the crosshairs of a killer—issuing a gag order on that latter half of Derek’s happy little assignment from hell.

Simple enough, right?

Hardly.

Nothing was simple when it came to Lily Andrews. He knew what haunted her long into the evenings. What pushed her to pace in front of the tall windows of her loft late into the night. And he couldn’t blame her. Losing a partner to treason, and having no answers to the million questions whirling around, would shake even the toughest, most seasoned agent.

He’d tracked and memorized her mundane routine within a week: Keystone Café, running trail, shooting range, home. She’d switch up the order occasionally, especially after burning the candle into the early morning hours, but never the activities.

Which Derek appreciated.

It simplified his objective: keep watch over Lily.

The only problem? The more he watched, the harder he fell. Which was trouble. Lily was trouble. Without knowing it, she’d gotten to him, settled into his bones and turned his world upside down.

He looked up, caught Ben’s steady gaze and nodded in his direction. The tall, bald man didn’t return the gesture. Great. How was it possible that he’d pissed off both of them? Derek could engage with a tree. He knew no stranger. It was part of what made him so good at his job, yet here he was grasping at straws.

Time to do some serious damage control, because he’d just crashed and burned. Twice. Derek rose from his chair and made his way over to the counter.

Ben didn’t move.

Derek knew exactly who was staring him down, and Unit 67’s infamous Benjamin Tinsdale was not the man you wanted to go up against in a brawl. Of any sort. Derek swallowed his grin. Now was not the time to go toe-to-toe with this alpha.

“Good work on the shop.” Derek glanced around. “I like it in here.”

Ben crossed his arms over his barrel chest, tucked his hands under his armpits, didn’t smile. “What can I get you?”

Fantastic. He’d significantly angered this mountain of a man when he’d ticked Lily off. “Doppio macchiato.”

Ben turned toward the espresso machine, glanced into the mirror behind the coffee bar and watched Derek as he pulled the caramel-colored shots. “Be careful with that one.” He spoke in a low, deliberate tone.

What the hell? Derek caught that underlying threat. He hadn’t expected Ben to go there. This guy wasn’t messing around. Derek filed that away and switched gears. “It was just a friendly conversation.”

“Yeah, and I’m the fucking Dalai Lama.” Ben passed Derek his coffee. “I’d advise you to find someone else to have a friendly conversation with.”

Derek handed Ben a five-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

“That wasn’t a suggestion, Moretti.”

The hair bristled on the back of Derek’s neck. Legend or not, Ben was no longer active and had no say in what Derek did or did not do on a case. Derek took a deep breath, toned down the internal sarcasm before he answered the man glowering at him. He needed Ben on his side, not as an enemy. Might as well learn to play nice. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

Like hell he would. With the undercurrent at ARME Industries rapidly shifting and the tension between his boss and Rowland James heating up, Derek really needed to read Lily in on this case. And sooner rather than later.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Tuesday, September 16, 8:00 p.m.

WHAT A NIGHTMARE. Every time Lily closed her eyes, she could see the blue of Derek’s. She could feel the warmth of his hands, his lips. Her heart raced at the sheer memory of his touch. She sat at the baby grand, her fingers flying over the smooth ivory. Her form of therapy. When everything around her seemed to fall apart, she’d lose herself in the soft melodies of Chopin. As her fingers raced, her mind flew to the past.

To who she had been.

She was 67’s best agent. And how could she not be? Both her parents had served Unit 67 before their untimely—and classified—deaths. Though it had snatched Lily’s family from her, she’d never given leaving this life a second thought—she’d been part of the black-ops world since her birth. It was part of her, entangled in the deepest recesses of her DNA. Had she been studied by psychologists, she would have blown the whole nature versus nurture argument straight to hell, because she wasn’t just one, she was both. She knew it well, becoming another person. Transforming to learn vital information, in order to protect and to serve.

Lily had loved every second of it.

Until Jackson.

The lonely melody of the piano matched her mood.

She let the last note slip quietly into the night, then reached for the goblet of Merlot and let the tart liquid wash over her tongue. She closed her eyes and opened her heart to remember her father’s calm voice. Once an agent, always an agent, sweetheart.

Lily swirled the crimson liquid in her glass. She wished things were different. But they weren’t. She wished she were different.

She wasn’t.

Dakota leaped to his feet, growled and rushed the front door. Setting the wine down, Lily grabbed the .45 sitting on the edge of the piano and flipped the safety. Gun drawn, she moved to the wall monitor and peered into the screen. George’s face stared back at her. Strange. Why hadn’t he just called up? She lowered the gun and pulled open the door. “George, what’s up?”

He held out his hand. “Another note from our friendly little stalker.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass.” She took the note, her curiosity sparked. “What did he say this time? Another apology?”

“He walked in with roses—”

“Roses?” Lily managed to choke out.

“I pitched them.” He smiled, his dazzling white teeth a stark contrast to his deep brown skin, and winked. “Didn’t figure you’d want them.”

She snorted. “You figured right.”

He grew serious. “He wanted to see you. I told him you weren’t available. The guy simply nodded, handed me the flowers and asked that I make sure you got them.”

“Ballsy.”

“I talked to Ben.”

Lily’s eyes narrowed. Of course they’d talked. They were both former 67, but the lifetime commitment that most agents made ran true in both men. Unit 67 trained them to be lone rangers, to think on their own and for their own, but every so often, a tight-knit group of lone rangers banded together—and Lily had found herself in the middle of one such phenomenon.

George—giant, scary-as-shit George—decided Ben Tinsdale, his newest trainee, was part of the family when the twenty-something, pissed-off ex-ranger had shown up at Unit 67, hell-bent on avenging the death of his unit. Ben had been looking for a fight, but instead, George introduced the young warrior to Lily’s parents, and just like that, a family of misfits had formed. It wasn’t unusual for them to check in with each other, especially when it came to her.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. And I don’t like it, or this Moretti guy, for that matter. This place—” George gestured into her loft “—has been off the radar far too long for some maverick to come along and jeopardize life as you know it.”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Lily leaned against the door frame and let him talk. The man was worse than a Sidewinder missile when he’d locked on to something. Which, by the determined look in his eyes, was now.

“George, I know.”

“Your father would be livid to know his daughter’s safe house had been compromised.”

Oh, dear lord, how long was he going to go on about this? She’d figured Derek dropping in on her would rattle George just as much as it had her, but she was a grown woman...and a trained operative. “I get it. And I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, are you going to?”

“I don’t know.” And that was the honest answer. She didn’t. “But it beats the alternative.”

“Which is?”

“Sitting on my ass for the rest of my life. I loved my life, loved everything about it, and though I will be forever grateful for you and Ben, I can’t sit back and do nothing. Jackson may have boxed me into this corner, but maybe this thing with Derek is my ticket back into the game.”

“Do you trust him?”

She considered that for a moment. “Kennedy may be on my personal shit list for making me stand over Jackson’s fake grave, but I still trust him. If he sent Derek here, then he trusts him, and one thing I know about Kennedy is that he knows how to read people.”

“Except Jackson.”

She cringed. That would always be the one black mark in all their files. “We all fell for Jackson. I can’t fault the director for that, not when I fell for it, as well.”

“I still don’t like it.”

Lily pushed off the door frame, stood on her tiptoes and kissed George on the cheek. “I hear you.”

He nodded and grunted an acknowledgment, turned and walked away.

She shut the door, then reached for the tiny note tucked in the envelope. Tugging it out of its hiding place, she read the smooth, controlled handwriting.

For the second time in just as many days, I apologize. I didn’t mean to insult your character or your intelligence. If you aren’t interested, I understand. But if for some strange reason you are, you know where to find me.

Derek

Lily flopped down onto her oversize white sofa, let its soft, brushed microsuede envelop her. As angry as she was for the disruption in her quiet—granted, ridiculously mundane and yawn-inducing—life, a feeling that had been a stranger to her for the past year reemerged.

Excitement.

Suddenly feeling energized, she stalked to her room, threw the note onto her bed and went to work on her computer.

She spent several long hours back-channeling into 67’s computer mainframe, researching and vetting Derek Moretti, filling the recesses of her mind with every detail she could find as her eyelids grew steadily heavier. She finally signed off her computer, padded to the bathroom and flicked on the lights, and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

“You took an oath to serve and protect.” She dared the soft hazel eyes returning her gaze to disagree. “Who are you kidding? This is your chance to get back to the life, and work, you love...without having to crawl back to the director with your tail between your legs. You’d be an idiot not to take it.”

* * *

DEREK WAITED UNTIL the lights in Lily’s loft went off before moving from his perch. He yawned and stretched, then checked his watch. Two-thirty. Damn, woman. No rest for the weary, eh? She had no doubt spent the past several hours drilling down into his file as far as she could go—which, knowing her, was down to whether he wore boxers or briefs.

Rubbing his hands over his face, Derek walked into the kitchen, searched for a glass and, once finding a clean one, filled it with water. His computer had pinged every time she’d broken through the next level of his encrypted files. It had only taken her four hours to track down just about everything. He downed the water and set the glass on the counter.

He hoped she liked what she saw. If she didn’t, his mission was dead in the water.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Wednesday, September 17, 10:00 a.m.

LILY STUDIED HER MARK from the trees along the running path, hidden within their shadows. Dakota sat obediently on her right side. She reached down and stroked the soft fur on the top of his head. He pushed her hand with his wet nose. Her eyes wandered behind her dark, oversize, oval sunglasses, traveling down Derek’s powerful back to his defined legs. With every stride, his quads tightened and straightened. The muscles in his back strained against the running shirt, which was dark from sweat.

She had to admit, she enjoyed the view.

Derek turned and ran toward her. Dakota got up as Derek stopped in front of Lily.

“Morning, sunshine.” He smiled at her, then bent down and rubbed Dakota behind the ears. “Hey there, handsome.”

Dakota nuzzled Derek’s neck and Lily’s mouth dropped open. What the...? She’d never seen Dakota take to another person like he’d taken to Derek, not even Jackson. She trusted her dog’s intuition more so than her own...he’d never gotten into bed with the enemy. Dakota nuzzled Derek’s neck again and she cleared her throat. “I’m here to talk to you about your proposition, Derek.”

Looking up, he grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.” Straightening, Derek ran his hand through his short brown hair and tipped his head toward the water. “Walk with me?”

They veered off the running path and headed toward the river walk, making their way to the farthest bench overlooking the river. Lily peeked up at her companion. At five-nine, she wasn’t short for a woman, but his large build dwarfed her and—yep, damn it—he was still as smoking hot up close as she’d remembered. Sinking down onto the worn wooden bench, she turned slightly to keep her line of sight open.

“I see you haven’t lost your instincts.”

“No, I haven’t, which is the only reason I’m willing to listen.” She crossed her legs and bounced her right foot. It was a bad habit she had when she focused, one she’d never been able to break, no matter how much she’d tried. “There are no ears here, so start talking.”

“No, there are not.” Laughter played in Derek’s eyes. He hooked his hands together and leaned his head back. “I work directly for John Elsworth, CEO of ARME Industries—”

Lily stopped bouncing her foot and whistled. Nearly every advance in modern warfare and weaponry during the twenty-first century had its genesis within ARME’s walls.

Derek glanced at her. “Heard of him?”

“Not him, no.” She shook her head. “But I wouldn’t know my stuff if I didn’t know that ARME is our leading weapons manufacturer.”

He lifted his face toward the sun. “Exactly. ARME and John are one and the same. When one is threatened, the other is, and vice versa. I’ve been working this case undercover for almost a year now as Elsworth’s security adviser.”

“Unit 67 has you working as a glorified security guard.” Lily smirked and went back to bouncing her foot.

“Easy, tiger.” Derek gave her a sideways glare. “Not all assignments are the glamorous kind.”

“Ain’t that the truth. But I can’t help it—just calling it how it is.” She shrugged and winked at him.

He did a double take, his eyes growing wider at her unexpectedly playful response. Seeing him caught off guard only made Lily want to laugh that much more—served him right. He caught her eye and they stared at each other for a moment. The wind fluttered, whipping her dark hair around her jaw, and he smiled, his expression softening. Lily sat back. Wow. Time to rein it in, Andrews.

“Sorry, please continue,” she said, smiling wryly.

“There’s been chatter that his COO, Rowland James, is working behind the scenes on certain business deals that could put the company, and subsequently the family, in harm’s way. My objective has been twofold—protect Elsworth and his family, and gather as much intel on Rowland James as possible to put him away and neutralize any possible national security threat.”

“Wait.” Lily’s brows pinched together. “Couldn’t the local cops take care of protecting his family? It seems a bit extreme to bring in black ops for babysitting duty.”

Derek hesitated.

The muscles in Lily’s shoulders constricted. She didn’t have time, or the mental energy, to walk into anything with less than complete transparency. Fair? Hardly. But he’d come after her. The ball was squarely in her court, and she wasn’t waiting around to see if Derek would play nice. Not this time. She jumped up.

“Lily. Wait a minute. Where are you going?”

“If you won’t be honest with me, then this partnership—or whatever you want to call it—is over.” She turned to leave.

He reached for her hand, wrapped his fingers around her wrist. She jerked away and glared at him.

“Read me in. Now. Or I’m gone.”

“Damn, woman. You’re impatient.”

She was running on a short fuse, no doubt. She tilted her head to the side, stared him down.

He sighed. “Rowland James is a known associate of multiple enemies of the state—”

“What?” She paced, her mind crunching Derek’s information. She glanced over her shoulder and frowned. “Then why in the world is he allowed anywhere near ARME?”

“He hasn’t broken any laws. Until he trips up and does something quantifiably targeting the United States, our hands are tied.”

“Why can’t John fire him?”

“It’s not that simple. Over the last two years, Rowland has been quietly buying up stock and currently owns 30 percent of ARME’s stocks. The board would have to have a majority vote to oust him from his position, but he could still use his controlling interest in the company to get some of his own people on the board.”

She shook her head. That made sense, but damn, she hated political bullshit. “Unbelievable. And the rest of this happy equation?”

“As you already know, ARME is one of our government’s leading suppliers for all things military and its top research facility. If John was out of the picture, Rowland James would be the most likely candidate to replace him.”

“Which is a huge problem.”

“Exactly. He’d have complete access to all of our top-secret projects.”

Now everything made sense. Lily sat.

“Obviously, that’s something the US government would like to prevent—at all costs. That’s where you come in.” He motioned toward her. “Not to whore yourself out, which is crude, by the way...”

Lily cringed, her cheeks growing warm. Though it had saved her on more than one occasion, her Spanish feistiness also got her in just as much trouble. Case in point? Yesterday.

“But with the way you’ve been trained...get inside his inner circle, find the evidence we need and put him away. Permanently.”

“If this Rowland James character is so hard to get near, how do you propose I do it without raising his suspicion?” Lily reached for Dakota and stroked the soft hair on his ears. Without giving Derek a second to respond, she continued slowly. “Because he will be suspicious.”

“All we have to do is find the right opportunity for you to be in the same room with him, and he will come to you.” Derek turned, pinning Lily with those damn eyes of his. She all but forgot to breathe. “Guaranteed.”

Bouncing her foot, she tried her best to push back the flutter in her stomach. Her nerves tingled in anticipation. “And when will such an opportunity arise?”

“Saturday night. There’s a black-tie event at the Joslyn Art Museum for the who’s who of Omaha. Rowland will be attending.” Derek stared straight ahead. “How’s your calendar looking Saturday?”

Her calendar was wide-open—had been for months—but she shook her head. “I can’t just waltz into this event and saunter up to someone like Rowland. It’ll raise too many red flags...if I can even get close enough to him.”

“I know. That’s why I’m going with you as your date.”

“Wait. What? You’re going...” The bouncing halted. Lily glanced over at Derek, who silently stared out over the river. She tried to play it cool, but the idea of spending an entire evening with Derek was surprisingly appealing.

“John has a previous engagement and asked me to go in his place.” Derek looked over at her. “Care to join me?” he asked softly.

This was exactly the type of mission she lived for, craved...missed desperately. And having Derek as her partner for the evening wouldn’t be so bad, either. Lily prayed she could maintain a poker face. No need to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d roped her into this mission hook, line and sinker.

“It’s in three days. That’s not a lot of time to prep.” She shook her head and began to rattle off the imperative information she needed. “Bodyguards, arrival times, accessibility...”

“So I take it you’re in?”

Her second chance looked back at her, his gentle eyes burning away all her defenses. Lily looked out over the river and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. This was the opportunity she’d hoped for—after not knowing, not acting, and walking away.

Redemption.

With one word, her entire life would change. She just didn’t know whether it was a good change or not.

Only one way to find out.

“Yes.”

CHAPTER NINE

Wednesday, September 17, 6:00 p.m.

LILY HAD BALKED at meeting at Derek’s place, which had been a relief. He’d rolled the dice by dropping in on her at the river and gotten lucky. Very lucky. Taking up shop just across the street from her was a different matter entirely. He hadn’t quite figured out how he would have explained that one away if she’d accepted his veiled offer.

Somehow, he doubted Lady Luck would have been on his side twice.

As he juggled the large file box, Derek pushed open the tall glass door to Lily’s building and headed into the grand foyer, the white marble floor reflecting his shadow, and glanced around. He’d spotted the cameras, both seen and unseen, the first time he’d walked in.

Today, their locations were different. He couldn’t help but smile. Nice job.

The doorman stared at Derek, his black eyes hard and searching, reminding him of an enormous Maasai warrior he’d once met on one of his 67 trips to Africa.

“I’m here to see Lily Andrews, penthouse.”

The old man glared at him. “Yes. I’m aware of that.”

Though the information wasn’t in Lily’s file—which irritated the shit out of him—it hadn’t taken Derek long to piece together that both George and Ben had a background similar to his own. Ben Tinsdale was a no-brainer. The man was a legend within Unit 67.

George, on the other hand, was a bit of a mystery.

Derek had watched the massive black man until he was certain. There was no denying it, in the way George moved, and with his access to Lily and Ben. It screamed that something was missing in the papers that chronicled Lily’s short life—he definitely played some role in her life in Omaha, and quite possibly even before.

He quickly read the situation. The big man staring him down had gone from DEFCON 5 to DEFCON 1 overnight. Time to diffuse that ticking time bomb.

Derek dropped the file box on the counter and reached out his hand. “Let me get straight to the point here, George. I’m not the enemy.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Jury’s still out on that one.” George grabbed Derek’s hand and squeezed, hard. “But let me get straight to the point, too. I’m watching you.”

Derek locked eyes with the man trying to crush his hand bones and smiled. “No doubt.”

George let go and tipped his head toward the elevators. Derek silently made his way to his waiting ride and resisted the urge to shake his hand until after the elevator doors closed.

Damn, that old man had the grip of Godzilla.

* * *

LILY’S FRONT DOOR swung open before Derek could knock. Impressive. Cameras downstairs. Monitor upstairs. What other surprises did this woman have up her sleeve? He was sure there were plenty, and he hoped to uncover every single one of them.

“Hey.” Her brown hair was pulled back into a high, messy ponytail. She wore a black tank and matching yoga pants. There wasn’t a spot of makeup on her olive skin.

She was beautiful.

His stomach tightened. Focus, Moretti.

She glanced at the box of case files in his arms and grimaced. “This is the part I could’ve lived without.”

Stepping back, she let him through the door, then closed it tightly behind them.

“You and me both. But there’s no getting around it. We have less than three days to bring you up to speed, and we need to put together your file. Rowland will vet you, so we need your identity to be airtight.”

“I thought you might say that,” Lily said, grinning. “I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared into her bedroom for less than sixty seconds, then reemerged, balancing her open laptop. “Already started.”

Of course she had.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was exactly why he wanted—needed, really—Lily on this case. She knew the outer workings of this game just as well, if not better, than he did, and a solid, unbreakable file was crucial to the success of their mission—and essential to keeping her alive.

She set the computer down on the island and turned it to face him. “Take a look. Rowland is your guy, so feel free to add whatever information you feel is pertinent.”

Derek set his box of files next to the computer and silently scanned through her backstory, checking for any inconsistencies. He found none. “Impressive.”

She leaned against the counter, an embarrassed smile lighting her face, and shrugged. “Thanks.”

“Now we bring in the big guns.” He reached for his phone and punched in his security code.

“Wait, what? What are you doing?”

“Testing to make sure this thing holds.” He punched in a number he knew by heart, held the phone to his ear and waited, grinning at the sight of Lily’s scrunched forehead.

A soft, feminine voice answered on the third ring. “Hey, D.”

Derek smiled at his baby sister’s nickname. Alexis didn’t call any of her brothers by their given name, hadn’t since she was old enough to talk.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Confusion swept Lily’s face, and her brows arched in a silent question. He threw her a wink. She turned away, color rushing her cheeks. Derek turned his attention back to the other woman in his life. “You have a second?”

“For you? Always.”

“Great. I need red.” Red was their term to go secure on any line. His genius baby sister had figured out a way to scramble their calls without needing a special phone. It had saved all the Moretti brothers at one point or another.

“Go ahead,” she said, her voice high with excitement.

“I just sent you a file. I need you to run a background check on it, see if you can find any holes or discrepancies.”

“Easy peasy.” Her tech skills were legendary and highly sought-after. She’d been able to hack into the FBI database without leaving any type of footprint since she was fifteen. Vetting Lily’s cover story would be child’s play for Alexis. “When do you need it done?”

“Yesterday.”

“How about thirty minutes?” she countered.

“Sounds perfect. I’ll wait for the call.” He hung up and pocketed his phone.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Lily said. “Who was that?”

“My baby sister, Alexis.”

Lily’s mouth popped open. “You sent my encrypted file to your sister?”

“Easy, tiger. There’s no one else on this planet that I’d want to make sure your file is bulletproof. Trust me.”

“Okay, but we’re going to need something stronger than water tonight.” Lily headed to the kitchen and called over her shoulder, “What do you want, Merlot or Guinness?”

Derek followed her movement with his eyes. What he wanted to drink didn’t matter, not when he was in the same room with Lily. Especially not with her walking around with that tight black getup hugging her curves just so, no matter how he looked at her.

She stood on her tiptoes and reached for a glass on the top shelf, her shirt riding up, exposing her soft yet tight stomach. Oh, shit. “Guinness.”

Lily obliged and rejoined him at the island, handing him his chilled beer and staring down at the overflowing box. He took a sip of the frothy liquid and watched as she grabbed half the case files and, bypassing the table, plopped herself on the floor. Without a word she spread the files out, arranging them and rearranging them, and finally made herself at home on the floor among the information.

As she caught her lower lip between her teeth, he couldn’t help but stare. She flipped through Rowland’s folder, stopped, turned back a page and frowned. Tossing the file aside, she bent forward and stretched for a file just beyond her reach. The neckline of her tank fell open slightly, revealing a sexy, black lace bra. Derek did a double take, staring at the soft feminine form playing peekaboo with his libido.

He scrubbed his hands over his face and swallowed hard, unable to focus. He couldn’t believe he was in the same room with Lily instead of watching her through a scope. He cringed inwardly. That sounded creepy. He took a swig of his beer. It was the truth, though, wasn’t it?

What had started as a simple mission directive—keep an eye on Lily Andrews—from Director Kennedy months ago had turned into something more. Much more. At least for Derek. He’d have to be a dead man not to notice her sex appeal, her strength and dogged determination, or how—despite the shit life had handed her—she attacked each new day with a fresh vigor, which surprised even Derek.

But he wasn’t dead.

He was alive and kicking...and every cell in his body went on full alert whenever she was near.

Now he wanted to know everything about Lily—not just what he could see through a scope. He wanted to know what made her tick. What went on behind those mesmerizing hazel eyes when they locked on to a target. It was almost as if a nebulous star had exploded within them: a rich chocolate hue warmed to a honeyed gold before giving way to an exotic teal green. He glanced over at her and was surprised to see her quietly studying him. For a moment, he got lost in the vibrancy of her gaze.

Color kissed the tops of her mile-high cheekbones as she looked away.

Yeah, he wanted to know everything about her, all right. He took a swig of his beer. But was the feeling mutual? How much would she let him in? Would she be honest with him about George? Ben? Jackson?

“Tell me about your doorman.”

Lily’s head snapped up, and she slowly set down the file in her hand. “George? Why?”

She reached for her glass and took a sip.

“Because he’s one of us.” Derek kept his tone casual, curious to see what tale she’d weave. He could easily go to the director and gain access to both men’s files, as it pertained to the case, especially now that Lily was part of it, but Derek posed the question to see how much of the internal wall she’d constructed he’d be able to dismantle. He wanted—needed, really—Lily to share, let him in. To trust. So he pushed harder. “So is Ben.”

She choked on her wine. Carefully placing the glass down, a nervous laugh escaped her lips. “You don’t miss much, do you?”

“Part of what makes me so good at my job.” He winked at her, then grew serious. “But what I don’t understand is how they ended up here. As a doorman. And a coffee-shop owner.”

Lily traced her finger around the top of her wineglass. “Would you drop it if I said they were family friends?”

“Not a chance. Start talking, babycakes.” Derek froze. Shit. He hadn’t meant to call her that. It had just slipped out.

A tiny smile twitched at her lips. Derek caught the twinkle in her eyes and his hopes rose slightly. Maybe his slip of the tongue was exactly what he needed to break down her invisible barrier.

Her brow arched and she drilled him with her eyes, the playful smile widening. “Babycakes?”

“Let’s just circle back to George and Ben,” Derek muttered into his beer.

She laughed, the sound light and airy, then brought the wineglass back to her mouth, taking a small sip. Setting the glass down again, she let out a sigh. “Can’t you just ask them yourself?”

“And miss out on watching you squirm? Nah. I’d prefer this approach.” He tipped his head up in a quick nod. “Start with George.”

“Not everything is going to be unlocked to you. I know that might shock that handsome little brain of yours, but some things are outside your clearance.”

My clearance? “You’re kidding—”

She lifted her hand in the air, and he swallowed his comeback. “No, I’m not. And I’m not trying to be a bitch about it, either. There are just some files buried so deep it would take you a million lifetimes to cut through the red tape and secrecy wrapped around them. Better to leave some things alone.”

“But you know.”

She looked away.

Gotcha, babycakes. He winced a bit. Damn it. He needed to get that, whatever that was, under control. If the director even suspected that Derek had a thing for the irresistible brunette sprawled out on the floor, he’d be jerked from the case so fast his head would spin.

Unit 67 didn’t tolerate relationships, end of story.

“Red tape and secrecy aside, George hasn’t lost that touch. I know he’s one of us.” Derek locked his gaze with hers and refused to blink. They sat in silence. Neither moved. Neither breathed. He bit back a laugh, then smirked at her. I can do this all day, babyc—shit. Knock it off, Moretti.

Lily jumped up and stalked to the kitchen. He followed and leaned against the counter, watching her. What trigger had he just pushed? She reached for the bottle of Merlot and poured herself another large glass. As she swirled the crimson liquid, she stared off into space. Derek studied her closely, fascinated. Where have you gone?

“I didn’t just stumble into this line of work,” she said in a quiet voice. “I was born into it. Literally.”

Derek’s eyebrows arched. That wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. Recruited? Yes. Born into it? No. What was this? The mob?

“I know that sounds dramatic and all, but it’s not. Both my parents were black ops.”

Derek nearly choked on his beer. Her parents were black ops. Well, wasn’t this pretty little story getting stranger by the second? Derek took a deep breath. No wonder he hadn’t been able to gather any intel on her earlier years; her mere existence was against protocol.

She leaned against the opposite counter and took another sip. “George trained them. He’s been around a long time. He’s family. End of story.”

Bullshit. The more Derek tugged at the thin golden string that was Lily Andrews, the stranger her story unraveled. “Not likely. Keep talking.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Not sure what more there is to say. He’s like the grandfather I never knew, never had.”

“Go on.”

“My folks being together was frowned upon, just as it is now.”

He grimaced. Wasn’t that the truth.

“Envision everyone’s surprise when they not only got married, but then had me.”

“I can only imagine.” Derek crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head, dumbfounded. When had that ever happened in the history of 67? Oh, that’s right, never...or at least that’s what they’d all been led to believe.

Her lips curved as she peered at him over her glass. It took all of Derek’s willpower not to close the space between them and kiss her. Talk about being frowned upon. She’d probably punch him. The director would definitely track him down and shoot him.

Derek reached for his beer instead. “So, where does Ben fit in?”

Lily’s face softened.

“He and my folks did a long-term undercover op together when I was about five, and shortly after they returned, he became my guardian whenever my folks were out of the country on business.” She walked to the sofa, sat and tucked her feet underneath her. “When I turned eighteen, he read me in.”

“He read you in. Just like that?” Why would a seasoned black-ops agent read in a teenager? He eyed her as she tapped a fingernail against the side of her wineglass.

“I blame my folks for that one.”

Derek frowned, waited for the smile to follow her words. Silence blanketed the room. “Not following.”

“They were gone a lot. I kept busy learning all things computer-related...and the art form of watching. I hated being left alone all the time. Hated even more when they lied to my face about where they were really going the week of my birthday. And I got mad.” She shrugged. “So I hacked into their computer.”

Derek choked on his Guinness. “You broke into a classified computer.”

“Yes.”

“Lil...”

“And then I relentlessly peppered Ben with a million-and-one questions about my folks until I pushed him to the point of breaking. He couldn’t lie to my face when I had hard evidence to support the questions.” She looked up and smiled. Damn, she was beautiful. She shrugged. “I can be persuasive at times.”

“No doubt,” Derek replied, laughing.

Lily wrinkled her nose again. “So like I said, I didn’t just stumble into this line of work. Ben and George made a vow to my parents. If anything happened to them, they’d watch out for me.”

She looked up and the floor just about fell out from under Derek. Tears pooled at the edge of her eyelids. Raw emotion ripped across her face as a sad smile that never made it to her eyes tugged at her lips. “Just after my eighteen birthday, something did.”

Her bottom lip trembled and she looked down. Without hesitating, Derek moved next to her. When she didn’t move, he reached down and rested his hand on top of hers. “Hey. Sorry for pushing. You don’t—”

“No, no. It’s fine.” She withdrew her hand and wiped her face. “Wow. Sorry. It’s been over ten years. I thought I’d locked that away.”

“Hey.” Derek tipped her chin up. “You never get over it, Lil. It’s what keeps us human.”

Lily’s bottom lip trembled and she caught it in between her teeth, looking away. Derek recognized her need to shut down the emotions. It was the only way to stay sane. He would know—he’d done it himself more times than he’d care to admit. He moved back, giving her space.

She took a deep breath. “The official report is that they lost control of their car while on the autobahn in Germany, which we both know is a load of crap. No matter how much digging I do, I can’t unlock the classified file, but I know it was a mission that went south. Ben and George, well, they kept their word, even though I was technically an adult by then, and they’ve watched out for me ever since.”

“As a doorman and a coffee-shop owner?”

“Ben once told me coffee beans smelled better than blood.” She raised her eyes to Derek’s. Golden flecks danced within a sea of green and brown. A sad smile pulled at her lips. “How can you argue that?”

He reached out and gently stroked her cheek, wiping away a tear. “You can’t.”

And he couldn’t. Combat was shit. Necessary, but shit nonetheless, and the aftermath of it was lasting. Derek would never change the path he’d walked, but it took a long time—if ever—to get the smell of blood out of his nostrils.

It never escaped his mind.

She stared at him for what felt like an eternity, searching. For what, Derek didn’t know. But as far as he was concerned, she could search for as long as she wanted—he had nothing to hide.

Well...Derek swallowed hard.

Her lips curved slightly as a small, sad laugh escaped. “No, you can’t. So you smile and support it, especially after they’ve given up so much to support you.”

“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 tonight 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.”

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