Dead No More. L. Nicolello R.

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       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 СКАЧАТЬ