Читать книгу Dead No More - L. Nicolello R. - Страница 15
ОглавлениеWednesday, 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.
