With Every Breath (Slow Burn 4)

His gut never steered him wrong and he’d known something was wrong but had also known his hands were tied because he couldn’t overtly act on that knowledge or he’d lose her. They’d all lose her. Calling Wade Sterling so at least someone would be looking out for her. All of that subterfuge because he’d feared losing her and if Gracie’s reaction, her bald statement, was true then he’d lost her anyway.

Goddamn it! He’d made an emotional decision and he never made emotional decisions. But with Lizzie, he had and he’d fucked up. He stared frozen at the envelope, terrified to open it but time was of the essence and he had to know what they were up against. Had to know if it was too late to rectify the biggest mistake of his life.

He fumbled with the paper, his hands shaking so badly it took several tries before he managed to get the letter out of the envelope and unfold it so he could read it. Everyone was tense, alert and expectant. Impatient. All staring at him and waiting, all fearing the worst.

He quickly scanned over Eliza’s handwriting, usually neat, elegant and feminine. What he saw now was barely legible, hastily scrawled words that he had to read multiple times to make sense of and, worse, in several places, the ink was smeared and what looked to be a tiny stain to the paper indicating that she’d been crying when she wrote it.

But when he forced himself to look beyond the evidence of her upset and sorted through the first several rambling paragraphs, what she wrote set in and his blood fucking froze. And then it unfroze because he felt it leave his body, draining as if he’d suffered a massive injury that sucked away his life’s blood.

His knees locked then unlocked and his legs shook. So badly that he sank into the chair he’d vacated when Gracie had burst into the conference room with a panicked, scared out of her mind expression that never looked good on any woman.

He vaguely noted his men’s reactions, a mixture of shock because Dane never lost his cool and was always steady under pressure. A rock. Unbreakable. And the other part of that mixture on the others’ faces was the gut-wrenching fear and worry that was rocking him to the very core, paralyzing all rational thought.

And then the room erupted into a chorus of what the fuck’s and yells and demands to know what the hell was going on. Worse, the one question he couldn’t answer. Is Eliza okay?

“Jesus,” Dane whispered. The only word he could manage.

Then he held up his hand for quiet and the room went silent, all eyes to him, expectant, angry, worried and pissed. Eliza was his, yes. But she was also theirs. She was his partner. Closer to him than anyone else at DSS. The only person he’d allowed that close. He’d hired her. Trained her personally, though her skills were already impressive. He’d just honed them and made them better.

But she also belonged to every other man assembled. Even Dex, Zeke, Shadow and Knight, though they’d only had the opportunity to meet her once before she’d taken leave. Judging by their expressions, she’d made an impression and they weren’t any happier about being in the dark than the rest.

Caleb and Beau bristled with fury, edging toward Dane, jaws clenched, eyes stormy.

“What the fuck is going on with Eliza?” Beau demanded, cutting off whatever his brother had been about to say because Caleb’s mouth opened and then promptly shut when Beau made his outburst.

“Eliza’s supposed to be on vacation,” Caleb said, opening his mouth again. “Or did you fill us in wrong?”

The insinuation that Dane had lied to them about Eliza’s leave of absence pissed him off and any other time he’d be letting Caleb know exactly what he thought of that insinuation, but each second wasted on bullshit was a second they weren’t getting to Eliza.

“I told you what she told me,” Dane said shortly, refusing to rehash the entire story. Especially now that it appeared none of it was true.

“It’s a goodbye letter,” Gracie said tearfully from where she stood wrapped solidly in Zack’s arms. “Oh God, Dane. She’s not coming back is she?”

Her words were a knife to his heart. He couldn’t imagine work—life—without Lizzie.

Gracie plunged forward, not waiting for the answer she already knew. Emotion thick in her voice, an obvious knot forming in her throat, she said to no one specifically, “She sent a check with the letter. Everything. Her savings. Told me to use it for my school, that she wouldn’t need it where she was going.”

Though he’d read the words, multiple times, they still punched a hole in his soul and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. Even if he wanted to. Had no idea what to say.

The others sucked in their breaths and unease lay heavy over the room at the ominous meaning of those words.

“And where is she going?” Zack asked gently, concern heavy in his features and in his tone. He too was maintaining a tenuous grasp on his composure but for his wife’s sake, he was handling her with care.

“I don’t know,” Gracie said desperately. “The postmark is Kansas. She talked of sins, and of blood. So much blood on her hands that they’d never be clean. That she had no hope of redemption but she vowed vengeance and she also swore that she’d never lead him to us, meaning she was leaving Houston and would never return. Said he could never know of us, that if he did, we’d all die and that she would die before ever allowing that to happen. She said she was as guilty as he was, had committed unpardonable sins and that the justice system had failed the victims, had failed her and she said she wouldn’t—couldn’t—allow him to go free. She . . .”

Gracie’s voice wavered and a fresh torrent of tears streaked down her wan face. She closed her eyes, her next words uttered so painfully that they were felt by every single person in the room.

“She asked me to tell all of you that she loved you. That we were the only family she’d ever had. That we were the only people who’d ever loved her and that she was going to make sure he never hurt any of us or any other living soul.”

She briefly covered her face as a sob escaped and then she looked up at Dane, her eyes red and swollen and so filled with grief that it was as if Eliza was already dead. Like Gracie suspected she was—or soon would be.

“Who is he, Dane?” she whispered.

“We have to find her. Now,” Beau said flatly.

Isaac and Capshaw firmly nodded their agreement. The others were quick to add their vehement vow to do whatever it took to bring Eliza home. Alive.