With Every Breath (Slow Burn 4)

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 not 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.