Elizabeth Bevarly - Express Male

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 had he seen her try to carry off a persona like this. Mild. Unobtrusive. Compliant. It didn’t suit her at all.

“Good to have you back, She-Wolf,” said the second man, an agent whose code name was Zorba, thanks to his Mediterranean heritage. “Though it would have been better if you’d come in on your own, instead of having to be dragged back.”

Lila’s expression changed at the man’s use of her code name, a slip Noah noticed with some satisfaction. Maybe she was finally going to give up the lame pretense, and then they could start talking in earnest about why she’d taken off, where she’d been and what the hell she’d been doing while she was gone and prior to her disappearance.

“She-Wolf?” she echoed, her voice edged with irritation.

“I thought you people were convinced I was this Lila person. What’s with the She-Wolf? What kind of name is that?”

Noah almost smiled. Oh, yeah. Lila was about to reveal herself. Even backed against the wall—literally—she could still snarl.

Zorba looked at Noah. “Gonna be a long night, I see.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Zorba,” Noah said, not taking his eyes off Lila. “If anyone can make her crack, you can.”

Her eyes went wide at that, and he smiled with satisfaction. She’d been out of the game too long if she was revealing herself that easily. Then again, this was probably all part of her game. Since she kept insisting she was someone else, she had to pretend to be scared of what was happening to her. Smart agent. Excellent actress.

“Go ahead and get started without me,” he told Zorba.

“I need to get cleaned up and find something to eat. I’m starving. You hungry?” he asked Lila.

She didn’t seem to know what to make of the offer. After a small hesitation, she said softly, “A little.”

“Too bad,” he told her. “You’ll get nothing until you tell us what we want to hear.”

And without awaiting a reply—or a dagger in his back, which was the most likely response from Lila Moreau—he left the room.

“NOW, LET’S TRY this again, Lila, starting five months ago. We know you went to the Nesbitt estate to make contact with your partner after knocking Romeo unconscious and taking his clothes. But that was the last time anyone saw you. Where did you go after that?”

Noah bit back a growl at hearing Zorba ask the question again. Four hours after bringing Lila to the OPUS interrogation facility, she was still insisting she was someone named Marnie Lundy who’d grown up in Cleveland and held down two jobs, one for the department store where he’d picked her up tonight and one teaching piano to schoolchildren.

He’d actually laughed out loud at that. The only reason Lila would get near a kid would be to have it for breakfast. And the only way she’d get near a piano would be to cut the wire for garroting someone later. Not that OPUS had ever called on her to be an assassin. But she sure as hell had all the right moves and qualities to make a good one.

During a break in the interrogation, when Noah and Zorba had stepped out of the room, the other man had suggested they bring in an OPUS shrink, on the outside chance—the way outside chance—that Lila really had gone off the deep end this time. She’d been out in the cold for five months, all alone, without any of her usual tools or contacts to help her. She’d lost her mother just prior to her disappearance, and although Noah knew there was no love lost between the two women, the death of a parent could still have a powerful impact on a person. Lila’s past was troubled—to put it mildly—her background unstable—ditto. Throw all of that into a pot and it made for a toxic stew that might undo anyone. Even Lila Moreau.

Reluctantly, Noah had called in not just a shrink, but also his superior officer from OPUS headquarters in Washington, D.C. Although Noah headed up the Ohio unit, there were interstate implications with this, and he felt obligated to alert the big guns to what was going on. Especially the biggest gun of all, He Whose Name Nobody Dared Say—mostly because nobody knew what it was. After all, he was the one Lila had reportedly tried to kill.

Now, both No-Name and the shrink had arrived and been briefed on what was going on. The psychiatrist, a middle-aged woman with salt-and-pepper hair cropped short, code name Gestalt, had joined Noah and Zorba in the interrogation room, and He Whose Name Nobody Dared Say was watching from another room on the closed-circuit TV.