Express Male. Elizabeth Bevarly

Express Male - Elizabeth Bevarly


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like anything.

      She was about to turn around, to ask faux Randy what she was supposed to do next, but he was climbing into the shower stall right behind her, something that made the words get stuck in her throat. She opened her mouth to scream—well, it was as good a reaction as any—but he reached beyond her, pointing what she thought was her car-key fob at the soap holder.

      Okay, now that was just plain weird.

      Weirder still was the fact that one of the plastic shower walls suddenly went sliding to the left, revealing a cubby on the other side. The walls of the cubby were lined with metal, something that looked like brushed aluminum, and when she looked to the left, she saw a flight of stairs heading down. She closed her eyes for a second then opened them. Nope, it was definitely not a hallucination. Sometimes a shower stall wasn’t a shower stall. What this one was, though…

      “Go on,” faux Randy said from behind her.

      “Go where?” she asked.

      “Down the stairs.”

      She was going to jokingly ask him if that was where he kept his torture chamber, but was afraid it might not be a joke at all. He must have sensed she was about to refuse—and she was—because she felt the gun press into her back again. She sighed and stepped cautiously into the metal cubby and looked down the stairs. There were about fifty or sixty of them, emptying into a well-lit hallway below. Whatever was down there, faux Randy hadn’t built it by himself. It was too perfect a construction for it to have been completed without some kind of sophisticated technology.

      “What’s down there?” Marnie asked, really, really hoping he didn’t reply, My torture chamber.

      “Lots of people who have been looking for you,” he said.

      “Lots of people?” she echoed, puzzled. That actually might be good. Unless they were all like faux Randy.

      He nodded. “Lots of people. And lucky you, Lila. One or two of them might even be happy to see you.”

      CHAPTER FOUR

      NOAH TENNANT TUCKED Philosopher’s manuscript under one arm and pressed the gun more insistently into Lila’s back. He honestly wasn’t sure which of the two was the bigger prize. Hell, he’d been that close to collaring Sorcerer tonight, too, and had only let the other man escape after making the split-second decision that Lila was worth more. Had Noah run after Sorcerer, she would have disappeared back into the netherworld where she’d been living undetected for the past five months. And they couldn’t have that.

      Sorcerer had a habit of popping up again from time to time. Not so Lila. When she dug in, she stayed there. Noah had decided to seize the moment and grab her now, because he might not have another chance. Frankly, he was surprised she hadn’t used that split second to make her own escape. Or, even more characteristic of her, clean his clock and then make her escape. Lila Moreau could do a lot of damage in a split second. Nobody knew that better than Noah.

      Still, had he succeeded in bringing in her, the manuscript and Sorcerer, he would have been promoted to the position of All Powerful Emperor of Everything Without Exception So There. And that would have looked great on a résumé.

      “I’m not Lila,” Lila said. Again. “There’s been some terrible mixup somewhere. My name is Marnie. Marnie Lundy.” She’d said that several times tonight, too. Though how she could honestly think Noah would ever believe that was beyond him.

      “Walk, Lila,” he said emphatically, “and keep your hands where I can see them.”

      He jabbed the gun into her waist again to urge her down the stairs, not hard enough to hurt her, but hard enough to let her know he was willing to pull the trigger if she tried anything stupid. And he was, dammit. She’d pissed him off plenty in the past, but never like this. What the hell kind of game was she playing? She knew better than to try and pass herself off as someone else to anyone in OPUS, especially Noah. Hell, OPUS had created her. And Noah had been her senior agent at one point. He’d been more than that for one night, but that was something he did his best not to think about these days. Bad enough it had happened in the first place.

      When he’d received the intel last night that she was in the middle of Lauderdale’s department store hanging up underwear, Noah’s first impulse had been to send every agent they had to bring her in right then. He couldn’t imagine what could possibly be going on at that store to have attracted her attention enough to not just bring her out of hiding, but put herself on display. Then he’d reminded himself that Lila was efficient and expeditious when carrying out an assignment—whether it was one OPUS gave her or not—and he made himself wait. And watch. Now that Philosopher had passed her the manuscript, it all made sense. But having Sorcerer, a rogue agent they’d been hunting for years, show up within moments of the transfer…

      Well. Suffice it to say it looked like all the rumors about Lila going rogue, too, were true. But Noah was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. For now. There weren’t many in the Office for Political Unity and Security who were willing to do that.

      With a heavy sigh that could have meant anything, she lowered one foot cautiously to the first stair. Step by step, she descended with her arms kept at shoulder height, Noah never allowing more than an inch of space to separate her and his gun. At the bottom, she hesitated, even though there was only one direction into which they might travel—forward. Before them was a long hallway dotted on both sides by metal doors all the way down. The two of them appeared to be alone, but dozens of people worked in the facility around the clock. Just because the day came to an end didn’t mean an OPUS workday ended. The Office for Political Unity and Security never slept.

      “Walk,” Noah said again.

      She moved forward slowly, her arms still held out by her head. It was good that she was being so cooperative, but he had no idea why she was being so cooperative. He’d seen Lila take out ten men twice her size in one evening. That she had accompanied him here without a fight was nothing short of astonishing.

      As they made their way down the hall, the only discernible sounds were the soft hum of the air conditioner and Lila’s shallow, uneven breathing. Her hands were trembling, and she stumbled more than once as they walked. If he didn’t know better, Noah would have thought she was genuinely terrified. Which was laughable, because Lila Moreau wasn’t afraid of anything. Least of all OPUS.

      “Stop here,” he said when they arrived at the door he wanted. She did so without hesitation. Without a fight. Without so much as a curse. “Turn the knob and go inside,” he told her.

      Again, she followed his instructions, leading them into an empty interrogation room. Still training his gun on her, Noah closed the door and thumbed a green button on the wall, to announce their arrival. Within seconds, the door opened again and another agent entered the room.

      Noah nodded once at the man in acknowledgment, who nodded silently back in reply. His dark eyes widened, and his shaggy black eyebrows shot high when he noted the extent of Noah’s injuries, until he obviously remembered it was Lila Noah had just brought in. Noah didn’t bother to tell the man it was Sorcerer, not she, who’d inflicted the damage. No reason for the other man to let down his guard.

      By now she had retreated to the opposite corner of the room. She stood with her back pressed against the place where the two walls met, hugging herself tight, as if she were trying to hold herself together. Her eyes, an incredible aquamarine that Noah had never seen on any human being but her, were wide with what looked like fear—yeah, right—and her entire body seemed to be shaking now.

      For the first time, he noted her attire; the slim gray skirt, the pale blue top and sweater. Her hair, darker blond than it had been the last time he saw her, was wound atop her head in a loose bun, except for a few stray pieces that had fallen free, probably during her scuffle with Sorcerer. She wore no makeup, and her legs were bare, her feet encased in chunky, ugly shoes. It was a remarkably bland getup, worn obviously because she didn’t want to attract attention. Noah had seen her outfitted in everything from black camouflage to designer evening gowns to perform her job. But never


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