by Maya Banks
Shaking his head to focus back on Eliza, he shoved aside his dour thoughts about Dane’s role in Eliza’s life. He’d have plenty of time to find out everything that made Eliza who she was when he managed to crack the hardened shell that disguised the sweetest, most tender and understanding heart of anyone he knew.
As quietly as if he walked on panther’s feet, he inched closer so he had an even better view of just what the hell she was up to. Eliza was bent over her suitcase, arranging the boxes of ammo she’d carried out after the knives, grenades and C-4. Good God. Was it going to get worse? He shut down that train of thought as well because it could always get worse.
He found himself drifting off again, something that was not characteristic of him. It was that damn, infuriating woman’s fault. And yet the night he’d taken a bullet for her, he’d known that now she belonged to him. Or maybe he belonged to her. Did it really matter? They were connected on a completely different plane, something most people wouldn’t experience their entire life. Most people chased, waited and, with every growing day, grew more despondent until finally they simply settled because they didn’t want to spend the rest of their lives alone. Except Eliza, apparently. She was too self-assured and he could never see her settling for anything. It would take a strong man to take her on and it infuriated him that he positively itched with non-issued challenge. Come and get me.
They had at least that in common. He would never settle and he had no desire to marry until he found someone he couldn’t run over and make a meek mouse out of. He knew how rough around the edges he was. That he frowned far more than smiled. He had a temper and when sparked, it got ugly because he didn’t back down from a fight. Ever. That didn’t leave him too many options for marriage material. And he sure as hell didn’t want a damn trophy wife who was more interested in the size of his bank account than the size of his dick.
He and Eliza would never work. They’d be at each other’s throats constantly. She in his face. Toe to toe. Every goddamn thing would turn into a battle of wills. Yeah, he wanted to fuck her about a dozen times just to get her out of his head so he could stop thinking and worrying about her every goddamn day. She was too independent, too rash, too confident. Confidence was a trait he admired and respected and Eliza had it in spades. They were just too much alike. They were both control freaks and neither were people to ever be dictated to, and Wade was honest enough with himself to know that for the right woman, he could make small concessions. But when it came to her safety? All bets were off and he would do whatever he had to, even tying her to his damn bed if it kept her out of harm’s way.
And that was the other alarm screeching like hell in his head. Yeah, no secret Eliza wasn’t taking vacation. Not unusual for her to pack her gear and arsenal, because she never went anywhere unprepared, but this . . . this was different.
She was in a huge hurry and he could hear the soft curses under her breath as she tried to close the bulging suitcase. She’d never even be able to get it to her car. It weighed more than she did.
But he recognized that determination radiating from her. She’d never let a suitcase zipper defeat her because if it did, Wade was going to take great delight in tormenting her every chance he got that a zipper had kicked her ass.
Finally, her task was completed and then she took only a few moments to pull her long hair back into a ponytail, to Wade’s disappointment, because he had some serious fantasies about all that glorious, silken hair. No, they weren’t in the least bit compatible. They were all wrong for each other, and yet . . . Good things never came easy. They shouldn’t. Anything worth having was worth fighting for. He’d never be happy with a fucking doormat. A woman who was little more than a robot programmed to comply with his demands. Was that really what he wanted? Because right now he was thinking his life would be a lot more interesting if the woman he chose challenged him at every turn. Shit would definitely never get boring. He was used to winning. He expected to win. Always. But sometimes conceding victory was a victory in itself because the reward was all the more sweeter.
Jesus, but he was losing his ever-loving fucking mind. He forced his attention back to Eliza and what she was doing.
She collected her oversize purse—armed with even more weapons if he had to guess. Then she tilted both suitcases, holding on to the two handles, and began dragging them toward the door, strain evident on her face.
He swore softly again. Stupid fucking stubborn woman. Why did he have to be drawn to her and worse actually like and respect her. If he only wanted sex, then he’d go get laid and never even think of the woman again. But once he had a taste of Eliza, he knew once would never be enough, and she deserved better than a quick fuck from a heartless bastard.
He pulled up on that thought, because if he ever got between her legs, there would be nothing quick about him fucking her. If he thought a dozen times inside her would ever be enough to get her out of his system, then he was out of his fucking mind. Eliza wasn’t a woman a man could ever fuck and walk away from, and if they did, they were damn fools.
His breath paused and he melted farther back into the shadows as Eliza’s door opened and she lugged the two large suitcases to her trunk. Then she went back inside but this time when she returned, Wade’s jaw actually dropped. Hell, she could take out an entire city with the contents she very carefully arranged on the floorboard and then wrapped almost lovingly with a soft quilt.
No way in hell he was letting her leave without explaining to him exactly what the fuck had inspired this sudden need for “downtime.” Because she sure as shit wasn’t planning a vacation and the fact that she hadn’t confided in her team, people she was intensely loyal to and trusted implicitly, made his gut tighten with dread because whatever had prompted this was bad. Very bad. And no way was he going to let Eliza shoulder it alone.
He tensed, waited a brief moment for her to be positioned so he wouldn’t be spotted when he made his move, and then he slipped silently to her SUV so when she slammed the trunk she would see him. No gap in the range of sight could prevent her from sensing his presence. Thank God she hadn’t completely lost all vestige of common sense and the instincts that made her so damn good at her job. The minute she knew she wasn’t alone, the trunk slammed with enough force to shatter the back glass and he found himself staring down the barrel of a pistol that looked far too big for such a small hand.
“Funny way to greet someone who saved your life,” he said, heavy sarcasm lacing his voice.
He wanted her to think he was here just to piss her off and fuck with her because then it would be less obvious that he was studying her expression, her eyes and body language for anything else that set his what-the-fuck-o-meter off even more than it already was.
She looked . . . relieved?
What the fuck? This was getting more jacked by the minute. But her reaction was gone almost as quickly as it registered, leaving him to wonder if he was losing his mind.
He could swear she sagged the slightest bit. It registered as little more than a twitch, but he’d spent more time than he had liked studying her and getting to know her body language. What the hell was wrong with her? Why wasn’t she in his face threatening to hand him his balls? For that matter, why the fuck was she so pale, despite the brief relief she hadn’t been able to control that had flickered just once in her eyes. Eyes that moved swiftly beyond him, around him, everywhere but him, her chin lifting, almost like an animal scenting prey.
Or a predator. Or a person?
Evidently satisfied that whatever she was looking for was either there or not there—who knew with her—she lowered her gun and then gave him a scowl that lacked its usual authenticity.
“Don’t you ever fucking do that again,” she snarled. “What the hell are you doing here? Are you just trying to get shot? Jesus, Sterling, one would think I would be the last person you’d want to see again and yet you just keep turning up, and let me say, you’re about as welcome as a swarm of mosquitos.”
He stared di
rectly into her eyes, noting that where before she’d never had a problem staring him down with defiance that aroused the hell out of him, she wouldn’t meet his gaze. She glanced at his shoulder, his forehead, his ear and evidently his chin because she wouldn’t be looking at his mouth. He wasn’t that lucky.
He didn’t like this. This whole fucked-up, middle of the night meet and greet in front of Eliza’s apartment standing two feet away from a vehicle that could arm a small country. She wasn’t even giving him lip. Because the watered down version of “fuck off” he’d just received was pretty damn pathetic and hardly worthy of someone who ran as hot and fierce so deeply as Eliza.
He purposely assumed an insolent pose, crossing his arms over his chest and staring right at her, despite the fact she was so obviously avoiding his eyes.
“Don’t ever fucking do what again?” he asked calmly. “Check in on you to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, since we both know you don’t. And that you’re safe and that you don’t wake up every night with nightmares? You forget I’ve been up close and personal with you twice in the last two days, Eliza. I’ve seen you. I’ve seen what you’re trying and miserably failing at hiding. The people you work with may be blind fools, but I’m not.”
He made a show of checking his watch just to make his point that most people were in bed, asleep and not in their driveway about to go to war. He had to bite his lip to ask how long it had been since she’d been one of those people who were in bed, asleep, because she looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks and his blood ran hot with fury all over again. How had Dane not seen this? Or Caleb, Beau, Zack, anyone! Why had she been the one to request vacation time instead of one of her partners stuffing her in a safe house somewhere and then sitting on her ass, making damn sure she ate, slept and didn’t battle her nightmares alone. Partners his ass. A partner would have her back and not give a shit if her feelings got hurt or whether her pride got ruffled because her partner demanded she stand down.
Finally, her eyes flickered to his, the prolonged silence obviously making her uneasy. For that matter it was making him damn uneasy. He’d all but insulted the entire precious organization she worked for, and she’d usually defend them with her dying breath, and yet she’d acted as though she hadn’t even heard his scathing criticism. As the saying went, however, never look a gift horse in the mouth, so he took advantage and pounced, pinning her with his stare.
“Just how low are your reserves right now, Eliza? Fumes aren’t going to get you very far and that’s all you’re running on right now. I’d be surprised if you could make it down the block. If your goddamn agency is so sacred, then why the hell aren’t they taking better care of you?”
He almost wished she hadn’t looked at him. Almost. Because he was bombarded by so many conflicting emotions that it unsteadied him and he had to shift his weight to his other foot to cover his reaction.
Grief, fury, sorrow, guilt and . . . What the fuck? He wanted to roar it! What the ever loving fuck?
He swore long, hard and viciously in his mind. Rage hurtled through his veins and this time, he couldn’t control the flex of his fingers into tight fists, knotted over his chest. Red. He could swear he was seeing red. His jaw clenched, and he wanted nothing more than to go knock Dane on his fucking ass. And the rest of his pissant agency as well.
Fear. He saw fucking fear in this female warrior’s eyes. And a hell of a lot more. But fear was the one that clenched his gut and squeezed mercilessly. Fucking fear in Eliza’s eyes.
That more than anything decided the matter for him. He had come out of curiosity after Dane’s unexpected request and, well, because he’d been determined to follow up on the bullshit story she’d given him about Gracie’s supposed surprise—both excuses. He damn well knew it because he hated admitting how much he thought about her and he really hated the fact he’d grasp any excuse to see her . . . but Dane’s bizarre request gave Wade a solid excuse to run Eliza to ground. Since he hadn’t expected any of what he’d witnessed tonight, he’d firmly planned to call Dane the next morning and tell him to go to hell. Now? Oh hell no.
Fuck Dane. Fuck DSS. Fuck playing babysitter and shadowing Eliza only to report in to Dane because Dane was “worried.” This was his situation now because he was making it his. Eliza’s protection, needs and especially making goddamn sure she had nothing to be afraid of was, as of now, his sole objective. And Dane and his requests for check-ins could go to hell.
She was his. Not Dane’s. Not DSS’s and damn sure not someone’s teammate. Had no one been able to see, cared enough to see what this fierce survivor had suffered—was still suffering? And did they not realize that if Eliza was fucking scared, then it was bad? Not just bad. The worst.
He was so goddamn mad that he was precariously close to losing his shit right in the middle of her driveway. He wanted every last one of those bastards’ blood, especially Dane’s. Dane, her partner—no, family—according to Eliza’s words. Words still ringing in his ears. Dane had wimped out and sent Wade like an errand boy knowing how she looked and admitting he was “worried.” For something this precious and important, Dane was too worried over making his “friend” mad when he should have been more worried about having her at all.
The entire episode, his sudden insight and decision had taken no more than a tenth of a second. A hell of a short time for the course of his life to alter. And in just that nanosecond, Eliza recovered and her face became icy, chill radiating from her eyes.
She looked cool, unflappable, like the Eliza he thought he’d known. The one everyone else was supposed to know. But in the time a blink of an eye took, Wade saw something he was certain no one had ever seen or bothered to notice.
She holstered her gun and took a step forward until she was a mere twelve inches from him. She notched her chin up, defiance and fire glinting in her eyes. Too bad for her. That tenth of a second had meant the difference between him letting her walk away and him sticking to her like glue.
“You don’t know anything about me, Sterling,” she said in a cool voice. “Don’t ever make the mistake of thinking you do. Assumptions get people killed. Readiness, preparation, working to become the best. Those are what save not only your life but the lives of your teammates as well. We aren’t in this as every man for himself. We’re a unit. We’re . . . family.”
Something cracked in her voice at those last words and he had the strangest compulsion to simply wrap his arms around her and do nothing but comfort her and bury his face in her sweet smelling hair. The instincts he always relied on told him she was barely hanging on by a thread and would likely fall apart.
He reined himself in before she panicked and tried to kick his ass. Tried being the operative word. Right now he wished she would try to kick his ass because then at least he’d be familiar with this Eliza and not this kicked puppy version.
“I know a lot more about you than you think I do,” he said, his features going hard.
The lie rolled easily off his tongue, because he wanted to do something more to widen the crack he’d witnessed just moments before. It made him a complete bastard, but he’d never have this opportunity when her defenses were up and she’d shaken off whatever the hell haunted those soulful eyes. And it wasn’t like he couldn’t get the information he already claimed to have. He just hadn’t had a solid reason beyond his annoying preoccupation with her to intrude on her privacy in such an underhanded way.
His code or rather sense of justice may seem twisted or even criminal by others, but if it got the job done and the desired effect achieved, then he didn’t waste much time over useless emotions like remorse. And if it helped him get to the bottom of whatever the hell was making Eliza run like a scared rabbit, he’d hound her night and day until she conceded and let him in.
Because while he was raging about Eliza fearing anything, it infuriated him in equal measure that he was every bit as damn afraid, and this was not a familiar emotion for him. Cold. Methodical. Heartless. He’d heard them all and did no
t give one fuck. But Eliza had cheated death not once, but twice. Actually who knows how many other times he hadn’t been there to witness just how many brushes with mortality she’d experienced.
She was highly trained, determined, dedicated and wasn’t afraid to call or wait for back up. Her IQ very likely rivaled his, possibly even surpassed it, even if recent events had him muttering things like “fool woman” or “stupid female.”
Death would only be cheated so many times before claiming ultimate victory and Wade would be damned if it claimed Eliza as one of its victims.
If possible, after Wade’s casually tossed out statement, Eliza went even paler and she swayed on her feet, though she brushed his hand away when he reached to steady her. She took a hasty step back, slipping her slender but well-toned arms around her body in a defensive, protective measure.
This time she either didn’t have the forethought to steel her emotions and not react to his words, or maybe she simply wasn’t capable, because her eyes widened and once more fear chased through her eyes, leaving deep, unfathomable shadows in their wake, almost as if they were a permanent part of her, hidden by years of rigid training and only visible under extreme duress.
Goddamn it! Twice now he’d seen actual fear and . . . vulnerability. Twice! And he sure as hell hadn’t imagined them. He was too attuned to others, and even more so to Eliza, to his disgruntlement, always watching, studying and observing. Always looking for weaknesses.
His eyes narrowed as did his scrutiny because now he had one more shocking revelation to process.
Trepidation.
She was trembling. Barely discernible, but she balled her fingers into fists to control the slight jitter. Wade was going through his own gamut of firsts. Worry knotted his insides, and he was driven by a sensation he’d never experienced when it came to a woman. To simply haul her over his shoulder and do what came naturally to him. Take control. Take charge. And do whatever it took to get Eliza to confide in him, trust him, but most importantly to protect her from whatever the hell had her running in secrecy without telling any of her coworkers what the fuck was going on.
“I’ve got to go,” she whispered, darting quickly away and around to the driver’s seat. To Wade’s chagrin the passenger side door was already locked.
He pounded on the glass, marveling that he didn’t break it.
“What the fuck is going on with you, Eliza? You’re goddamn running and you’ve never had the damn sense to run from anything! Why are you so willing to fight for everyone else, at great risk to yourself, but not allow others to fight for you?”
She cranked the engine and he knew he was fucked. If he’d had more time, a quicker heads-up, hadn’t fucked around for so long before deciding to move in and stake his claim, she wouldn’t be packed and ready to run like a scared rabbit to God knows where. She would be solidly under his protection, in his bed, with no way of escaping. As it was, his options were down to two. Play chicken and hope she flinched . . . or she flattened him when she reversed from her parking spot.
He hurled himself across the hood and plastered himself against her windshield so they were face-to-face, so she could damn well see his fury as he roared at her.
“What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On!”
She cracked her window just enough so she could be heard without allowing him any way of accessing the vehicle.
“I don’t owe you an explanation for my whereabouts at any time,” she shouted back. “You aren’t my boss, so back off. No one else has a problem with me taking downtime so why the hell should you? God knows you were all about having someone sit on me and not let me out of the damn hospital bed and then you had to interfere in a mission that DSS had well in hand. My team believes in me. They trust me. Can you say the same?”
“Get this through your head, Eliza,” he said in a menacing voice. “This has nothing to do with me having lack of faith in you. We both know you’ve more than proven your skills, your loyalty and the fact that you’re willing to die for every member of your team. It has everything to do with the fact that while you’re so busy saving the world, covering your partners’ asses and taking out assholes who don’t deserve to breathe the same oxygen as the majority of the population, that no one is caring for you. No one has your back and I know damn well you’ve backed off your team and have been doing your job by rote. Being reckless, taking stupid chances almost as if you want to die. Here’s a newsflash for you. You can’t run from me. I have resources beyond your wildest imagination, and I’ll turn the fucking world over until you’re back where you belong. Alive. Well. And not in pieces. You got me?”
His face was plastered against the windshield and he was looking at her as fiercely as he’d ever looked at anyone before—man or woman. There was no mistaking his determination and that he meant every word he’d shouted. Even with her window partially opened, he wanted every single word to sink in to this beautiful, infuriating and stubborn as hell woman. One who inspired both respect and absolute terror in him despite his irritation over both.
She paled and swallowed hard, as if her throat were knotted and she could barely breathe around it.
“Eliza,” he said harshly, no longer even attempting to leash his temper or the bite in his voice. “Where the hell are you going and what the hell are you running from?”
She closed her eyes but not before he saw grief simmering into the liquid pools. She was unnaturally pale and one would think she would be showing signs of recovery after her ordeal, but all she looked was scared, vulnerable and unsure of herself. Three things no one would ever associate with Eliza, much less ever give voice to them. Jesus! How the hell could no one else see what he was seeing right now?
Then she leaned her head tiredly on the steering wheel where her hands still tightly gripped it. “I can’t tell you, Wade,” she said quietly, catching him off guard with her use of his first name. She’d made it a practice to put distance between them by calling him by his last name, as did most of the other DSS agents. And now, in the space of twenty-four hours, she’d used his name twice. He doubted she’d even realized it either time.
She lifted her head, resolve rigid in her eyes as she visibly composed herself. She stared at him with enough frost in her gaze to freeze a desert.
“I can’t . . . w-won’t tell you anything. Now get off my car!”
She emphasized her statement by pounding on the steering wheel so hard that he inwardly winced. Hell, she may have broken it, though he wasn’t sure if it was the steering wheel or her hand that wouldn’t have held up. If she thought to infuse strength into her statement, it was an epic fail, because all it did was make her sound and appear even more vulnerable and . . . lost. Fuck it all, she looked lost and forlorn. Like she had no options. No choices. As though her path had been decided a lifetime ago and every year had been spent in preparation for here and now.
But he’d caught her slip in speech and knew she was as aware of it as he was. She had said can’t, only to hastily amend it to won’t. Was the almighty Dane, the man she gave her unwavering loyalty to, fucking blind? Because if Eliza had stood in his office as Dane had said she’d done, and Dane saw what Wade was seeing now, hearing what Wade heard, then Dane should have cuffed her and sat on her until he pried the truth from her. It wasn’t as if DSS didn’t have invaluable resources in the wives of some of the DSS members. Especially Anna-Grace. Let Eliza weasel her way out of that.
“What won’t you tell me, Eliza?” he seethed. “You don’t have the goddamn sense to ask for help. You’re too busy trying to save the world without thought of protecting your own ass, and it’s obvious you’re scared and even more obvious you aren’t safe. Because you don’t back down. Ever. And any brainless twit could see that you know you aren’t safe.”
She erupted, her eyes blazing, hands in tight fists as if it took everything she had not to punch right through the window of the car door.
“It’s not me who isn’t safe!” she yelled.
For a moment he w
as dumbfounded. Eliza was calm and cool under pressure. He’d never seen her this rattled even when those sons of bitches had tormented her and waterboarded her like the inhuman savages they were.
She was furious. He got that.
She hurt. He understood that too.
She wanted vengeance. He could see it in her eyes. God, he wanted vengeance as well, and not the kind the judicial system did—or rather didn’t—dole out. But whether or not they lined up on the same side, she was damn well going to be behind him where she would be protected.
So what the fuck was going on here? She was definitely leaving town. But it sure as hell wasn’t on vacation.