With Every Breath (Slow Burn 4)

Observing her with her barriers down, when she thought no one was watching her, made him understand now why Dane Elliot had called him. He hadn’t quite known what to make of the phone call or the fact that a man who had obvious animosity toward him had basically humbled himself by asking for help. He’d never admit it in a million years, but he’d already planned an impromptu visit to Eliza’s apartment with every intention of finishing or at least going a hell of a lot further than the last two times they’d met. He was tired of dancing around. Dane’s call had just caused him to make his move in haste instead of executing a well thought out plan of attack. One that sealed any possible escape routes.

The idea that now one of Eliza’s team members was concerned after her two horrifying near-death experiences just pissed him the fuck off, and he rubbed at his chest to alleviate the sudden discomfort. What the fuck was he doing here as Dane fucking Elliot’s puppet? Wade could check up on Eliza in his own time. His way. His terms. And he sure as hell wouldn’t answer to anyone else like some hired lackey.

Why hadn’t he told Dane that his babysitting stint was over with and that if he was so goddamn concerned about Eliza to put a team on her? The little time he’d spent with DSS, he respected and admired them and their work. He secretly approved of their tactics and the fact they didn’t always do things by the book. Sometimes justice was best served by old-fashioned revenge.

He wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself, but neither was he willing to admit the truth to anyone else. He’d already made up his mind to keep a very close eye on Eliza Cummings and insert himself into her life in ways she would not be happy about when Dane Elliot had called. It just gave him the excuse to do what he was already going to do without admitting to his own reasons for doing so.

And so here he was, spying on a woman who hated the very sight of him. She was hastily packing and not paying any damn attention to anything else. He supposed he could at least give her a small semblance of credit for not having the lights on because that meant no one could see into the house.

And so it was in the dark that she worked with quick efficiency to pack her belongings and the alarm system wasn’t even on for fuck’s sake. He wanted to wrap his hands around her neck and throttle her for upending his well-ordered life from the moment she barreled into it and got in his face. He’d been fascinated. No, he’d been fucking obsessed from that moment forward. She’d dressed him up one side and down the other and despite her very real fury and loyalty to her teammates, Wade had never felt so compelled to kiss a woman in his life.

He almost had. But they’d had one clusterfuck of a situation going on and he’d had Gracie to protect, not to mention if he had so much as touched Eliza, she would have laid his ass out. Also, Dane would be on him before he could even push Eliza off and, well, then the rest of DSS would take great satisfaction in kicking his ass. Especially Zack, who had the most reason to harbor resentment.

Admittedly, the lights being off would prevent people from being able to see into her home, but the silent cloak of night didn’t hinder him in any way. His eyes, well accustomed to the dark and seeing what most others couldn’t make out in the shadows, could see her hurrying from room to room, tossing several suitcases on the couch in the living room and hurriedly stuffing clothing into them.

Hardly the actions of a woman who merely wanted a leisurely vacation and was in no hurry, had no worries, only where the wind blew her and taking some much-needed R&R. It looked to him as though after her “request” for vacation, she was getting out of town as fast as possible before any of her coworkers, or Dane, decided to pay her a visit to say their goodbyes. Odd behavior for a woman who treated the people she worked with as family, and if she truly was just taking some downtime, wouldn’t she want to say her farewells?

His eyes narrowed as he continued to watch from his post. Eliza was definitely packing for an extended trip. But not a single item of clothing was remotely suitable for a vacation at the beach or any other place of leisure. In fact, other than jeans, shirts, underwear, socks and a pair of tennis shoes, the rest were fatigues, lots of camo. Face paint. And, Jesus, lethal-looking knives that took up one entire side of one of the suitcases.

He was astonished, and he had never been a man who was easily surprised. He’d learned his lessons young and had taught himself to always expect the worst and never be caught off guard or surprised by anything.

Shit. There went that rule . . . again. Fuck!

Her latest addition to her suitcase was several flashbang grenades but what really worried him was the addition of very real grenades and, Jesus, a stash of definitely illegal C-4 of the likes no average civilian would ever be able to get their hands on; and if that wasn’t bad enough, there was also a shit ton of items one could use to build a bomb. Hell, she could probably build a nuclear missile. All she lacked was uranium. For all he knew, she had a stash of that somewhere as well. She certainly didn’t lack for anything in her armory. She was better stocked than most third world military units. Was she planning to go to fucking war?

That idea froze his blood and he felt the stirrings of something he wasn’t at all familiar with, having never experienced it, certainly not to this degree, but it felt like fear. And fear was not a weakness he ever allowed himself. Until now. Until her, goddamn it.

Most people either packed well ahead of time and lined their luggage by the door, got a good night’s sleep and then embarked on an early flight the next morning. Or they procrastinated and packed last minute, getting to the airport barely on time. And just how the hell did she think she was going to get on a plane with a large enough arsenal to build an entire army? She wasn’t dumb, so flying was out unless she had a private jet lined up. He’d looked into her finances and while she could live well on the generous salary DSS paid, she couldn’t afford shit like private jets. For that matter she couldn’t afford all the shit she was packing, even on the black market, which begged the question, how the fuck had she gotten her hands on this shit?

He didn’t disagree that the fool woman needed a lengthy vacation that included plenty of rest and recovery. He’d wanted to shake some sense into her stubborn head when she’d insisted on accompanying her team on the takedown of the remaining fanatics whose only objective was to take the women of DSS alive and subject them to unspeakable experiments and tests; even animals were afforded kinder treatment.