Dead No More. L. R. Nicolello

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.