Page 2 of Lily and her Mercenary (CHANGING OF THE GUARDS)

Ryker O’Toole

D isguises are my specialty, but obsession is a new affliction. I adjusted the fake glasses on my nose and watched Lily Andrews sort through a stack of children’s books at the corner table of Vancouver Public Library.

“You’re getting sloppy,” Royal muttered at my side, pretending to browse a photography book. “This is the third time this week.”

I ignored him, keeping my gaze fixed on the young woman with blonde hair twisted into a messy bun. We’d been assigned to keep an eye on her, nothing more, but ever since that chance encounter at Marie’s coffee shop six days ago, I’d volunteered for every surveillance shift.

“She’s to be watched, not a crush,” Royal continued in a low voice. “Declan wouldn’t approve of your extracurricular observations.”

“Declan didn’t specify what detail he wanted. So, I’m improvising,” I replied, tugging at the tweed jacket that completed today’s professor ensemble. Yesterday I’d been a bearded hipster, and the day before a businessman with slicked-back hair.

I remembered our first meeting—how she’d turned from the counter with her vanilla latte, a ring of glitter glue shimmering around her lips like some bizarre cosmetic experiment. She’d caught me staring and laughed.

I had her blushing with my heated gaze running over her form, and I wonder if I could do it again as a professor. I watched as she gathered her books and headed for the exit. “Gotta go.” I closed my unread biography and pushed myself to my feet.

“Don’t,” Royal warned, but I was already standing.

“I’ll meet you back at the hotel,” I said over my shoulder. I started trailing her at a careful distance as she pushed through the library’s heavy doors into the drizzling afternoon.

She walked eight blocks to Happy Tails Animal Shelter, never noticing the man in sunglasses, that’s me, following her. Inside, I hung back, pretending to inquire about adoptions while Lily greeted the staff like old friends. They led her to a room in the back where kennels lined the walls.

One by one, she opened the cages and sat cross-legged on the floor as dogs of various sizes settled around her.

Then she opened a book and began to read aloud, her voice animated and warm.

The dogs watched her, some with heads tilted, others curled beside her, all attentive to the story of a lost puppy finding his way home.

I stood transfixed in the doorway, forgetting for a moment why I was in Vancouver at all, forgetting that Lily Andrews was merely a surveillance assignment.

At that moment, watching her surrounded by strays, reading with the same enthusiasm she must show her students, I realized I was in dangerous territory, the kind no disguise could protect me from.

Something warm expanded in my chest as I watched her. Nothing was said that she volunteered at an animal shelter, reading stories to abandoned dogs with voices for each character.

"Are you interested in our reading program?" A cheerful voice startled me from my trance. A shelter worker with a name tag reading "Mei" smiled up at me.

"Actually, yes," I heard myself say before my brain caught up. "It looks... therapeutic."

Mei beamed. "It absolutely is! The dogs love the human connection, and studies show it helps them become more adoptable. Lily's our star volunteer—the kids from her kindergarten class made those bandanas the dogs are wearing."

I glanced back at the room. Sure enough, each dog sported a brightly painted bandana with childish handprints and wobbly letters.

"We're always looking for more volunteers," Mei continued. "Especially male readers—the dogs respond well to deeper voices."

An opportunity was presenting itself—one Royal and Declan would definitely disapprove of. But something about Lily Andrews' reading to rescue dogs made me want to know more about her beyond the surveillance photos and background checks.

"I'd like to sign up," I said, removing my fake glasses and pocketing them. "I'm only in town for a few weeks, but I'd love to help."

As Mei led me to the registration desk, I caught Lily's eye through the doorway. She paused mid-sentence, her story momentarily forgotten as she smiled at me, not the wary smile of someone being watched, but the open, genuine smile of someone welcoming a fellow book lover into their world.

For the first time in years, I felt a flicker of something beyond the job. Something real. Something hopeful.

And then I panicked.

The feeling was so foreign, so unexpected, that my first instinct was to shut it down. Get out. Walk away. Stick to the plan.

I turned to leave when I felt its fingertips brushing my shoulder. My body tensed, hand instinctively moving toward the concealed holster at my hip.

"Excuse me?"

I pivoted slowly, coming face to face with green eyes I somehow knew before I'd even fully turned around.

She stood there, this woman with blonde hair falling across her shoulders, cradling what had to be the mangiest mutt I'd ever seen.

The dog's fur stuck out in tufts, one ear flopped while the other stood at attention.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but..." She tilted her head, studying my face with a curious intensity. "This might sound strange, but have we met somewhere before?"

My throat went dry. I was in disguise; there was no possible way she could put two and two together.

"I don't think so," I managed, forcing a polite smile.

The dog in her arms whined, squirming to get closer to me. Its nose twitched as it sniffed the air between us.

"That's weird," she said, adjusting her grip on the wriggling animal. "Rusty doesn't usually take to strangers. And I swear your face is familiar."

I should walk away. Right now. This wasn't part of the assignment. Connections were dangerous—fatal, even. But something about her made my feet feel rooted to the floor.

"Maybe I just have one of those faces," I offered, then immediately regretted extending the conversation.

She smiled, and something shifted in my chest. "I'm Lily, by the way. And this little troublemaker is Rusty. "

Shit. I’d already used Royal’s name the other day, so I couldn’t use it again. "Ryker," I said, before I could stop myself.

"Nice to meet you, Ryker. Are you going to start reading with us?"

She was still smiling. My mind flashed to the abandoned biography at the library, the stack of photos I’d taken of her and memorised since the day Royal and I had landed at the airport. The smart move would be to excuse myself. Disappear.

"I just signed up," I said, surprising even myself.

"Great! We could use more volunteers. The dogs have been making us read the same books on repeat." She laughed, and for a moment, I forgot every warning Royal had drilled into me.

"Maybe I can bring something new to the table," I said.

She adjusted Rusty, and I reached out instinctively, scratching the dog's chin. Its eyes half closed, content in her arms. "You seem like a natural," Lily observed. "Rusty's smitten."

Her gaze lingered on me, the same curious warmth from the coffee shop. The same openness that I hadn't encountered in years. I felt the weight of my deception, the false identities I wore like second skins. But all of that seemed to slip away as I stood there.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Ryker," she said, breaking the silence and shifting slightly. "I hope to see you back here."

I nodded, finding my voice. "You will."

Back on the street, I walked quickly, a mix of exhilaration and dread pushing me forward.

If she managed to attach my cover to the man at the library, I'd have to vanish.

It would raise too many questions. But the way she spoke to me, the way Rusty practically jumped out of her arms to get to me, maybe, just maybe, she bought it.

By the time I reached the hotel, the rain had soaked through my jacket. Royal looked up from the TV as I entered our room, an eyebrow raised. "You're back early. Did she finally shake you?"

I tossed my wet jacket over the chair. "I talked to her."

Royal sat up, sudden interest sharpening his expression. "Talked to her? You mean like..."

"Like a conversation," I said. "But she also saw me at the shelter without my glasses."

He whistled low. "That was bold."

I shrugged, trying to ignore the weight of Royal's eyes on me. "I'm just being thorough."

"Thorough," he repeated, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I ignored the bait, retreating to the bathroom. In the mirror, the reflection staring back at me was a stranger. This wasn’t me, who I was. For the first time in my life, after becoming a mercenary, I didn’t have the urge to kill someone.