Dead No More. L. Nicolello R.
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