With Every Breath (Slow Burn 4)

But his built-in alarm system was beating like a mother fucker because, despite the fact it would infuriate Eliza that her privacy wasn’t quite as carefully guarded as she liked to think, he knew a hell of a lot more about her impromptu vacation than even her overprotective watchdog/partner, Dane Elliot. Because right now? Along with that alarm system cutting into his every breath, his vision was hazy with fury and heat scorched over his body as he curled and uncurled his fists.

Vacation my ass. If this was Eliza’s idea of vacation—being a Rambo beach bunny—then the local economy of wherever she went would suffer because she’d scare the fuck out of everyone.

Although he had to hand it to Dane because the moment Eliza had breezed out of his office as if she hadn’t a care in the world, Dane had been on the phone with Wade and crisply outlined the situation to him.

Wade’s curiosity was instantly aroused—after he’d gotten over his rage of her blowing off steam with a fucking cabana boy—because Dane simply didn’t give a fuck and he was a bare bones man of few words. It was his show. He ran the business. But apparently, when something really mattered to Dane—which Eliza clearly did—he didn’t give a shit about putting it out there. And to Dane’s credit, when he, like Wade—now that he’d seen her—had observed whatever fucked-up excuse she’d given—he hadn’t bought her spontaneous, out-of-the-blue request for extended vacation time. Dane was in a very delicate situation, hence the phone call to Wade, which must have pained him to no end, because if he interfered either as a friend or employer, he’d lose Eliza’s trust and he knew her too well. She’d leave. She’d never stay and work under people who’d betrayed her. Even for her own good.

Hell, Wade hadn’t known Eliza a fraction of the time Dane had and even he knew that much about her. It would figure that after Wade had vowed to never cross paths with DSS again, that the cause of his injury—the reason for so many sleepless nights because he couldn’t stop thinking about her—would be the thing that brought him right back into their crosshairs. Or so he had tried convincing himself of. He was such a liar.

He wasn’t clueless when it came to women, and he knew damn well Eliza Cummings was every bit as much under his skin as the bullet he’d shielded her from. Yet another thing she’d been highly pissed about. Like he was any happier? His life would sure be a hell of a lot easier if he’d never met the blasted woman. He smiled ruefully to himself. Since when had he ever liked things easy?

As signals went, that one was pretty clear. Death was evidently preferable to having Wade anywhere in the vicinity.

But Eliza and Dane? As more than partners, and apparently close friends? Wade was very good at reading people and he’d never seen anything that hinted of Dane and Eliza having a romantic relationship. No sign that Dane was overprotective of her in the way a lover would lock her up if he had to—like Wade would if she were his—in order to keep her safe. The fact that Dane treated her like any other teammate, allowing her to assume the same risks as the others, told him that in no way Dane considered Eliza his woman. All he’d witnessed was a deep camaraderie, a sense of loyalty that was deeply ingrained in all of them. Each and every one of them would give his or her life for one of their family.

Family. That was what he hadn’t been able to put his finger on but what had niggled at his brain. It resembled jealousy, which was stupid because a man his age didn’t lower himself to the indignity of juvenile feelings like envy.

But DSS was family in every sense of the word. He’d seen them in action. Had gone into battle with them. And even if he had no desire to ever get mixed up in their crazy-ass missions, he could admit to being impressed by their expertise.

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.