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
