With Every Breath (16 page)

“Shhh, Eliza,” he whispered, his lips pressed to her hair. “It's okay. You're safe now. I've got you. I won't let anything hurt you. If you believe nothing else, know that I'll never let anyone hurt you.”

She clenched his shirt, balling it along with her fingers into a fist and buried her face in his neck, the heated moisture of her tears wet against his skin. It was as though months, years, a
lifetime
of fear, stress, pressure had broken free after being so tightly restrained. She shuddered, her entire body violently shaking with the force of her sobs, and yet the silence was so eerie that it unnerved him. Her tears were wet against his neck where her face was still firmly planted, her hold on him as fierce as his was on her.

It was obvious she'd disciplined herself to hold it back, to never allow anyone to see beyond her meticulously constructed barriers, that even in grief, the strength of her self-imposed will refused to allow her to make a sound. Worse was the thought of her never having anyone to lean on, because he couldn't imagine her ever exposing so much of herself even to her teammates. People she
trusted
. And obviously not even Dane, because Dane was merely “worried” and had no fucking clue just how serious the situation was.

He trailed his lips over the top of her hair until they touched her clammy forehead and he nuzzled to her temple, murmuring soothing sounds because he was helpless as to what else to do other than let her know she wasn't alone. And her tears. God, her tears cut into him like a knife and twisted his heart in a way he'd never experienced.

“Baby, you're breaking my heart,” he whispered against her skin.

And she was. His heart felt as though it were about to burst out of his chest. He felt every single sob to the depths of his soul. Each time her shoulders heaved, it was like a fist to his gut.

He tensed when she lifted her head, fearing she'd try to bolt, but she slowly leaned back so her troubled gaze met his. He flinched at the raw grief reflected in her eyes. Jesus. What the hell had she been living with and for how
long
? Did this have anything to do with her abduction and torture? No, his gut told him this went much deeper, went much further back, which meant she'd carried her burden for God only knew how long. And that made the hole in his heart even larger.

She closed her eyes and a fresh trail of tears slipped down her cheeks that cut him to the bone. He maneuvered his body so that she was still in his arms but so he could frame her face, his palms brushing over wet skin.

“Eliza, talk to me. It's obvious you won't talk to the people you love and trust, so talk to someone who
doesn't
matter. Talk to
me
. But for God's sake you have to let go of whatever poison is festering inside you or it's going to consume you for good.”

“It already has,” she whispered.

He almost didn't hear her faint response and when it registered, his pulse stuttered. Sweat broke out on his forehead at the finality and defeat in her words. Eliza wasn't prone to dramatics or overreactions. She called it like she saw it and she wasn't a whiner or a complainer. Hell, he'd never met a woman in his life who was as determined as she was to demonstrate no weakness whatsoever, which is why this outburst was scaring the shit out of him, because she'd die before ever allowing that whispered admission to pass her lips.

And the resignation in her voice when she'd finally spoken?

A chill snaked down his spine, an odd contrast to the sweat on his brow. Because Eliza's subdued, dull tone was the sound of someone who'd
already
given up. Had accepted the inevitable—whatever that was for her. And he'd already figured out that she'd run like hell from Houston, not because she didn't trust her partners, but because she was protecting the people she loved, which meant whatever the hell was going on was serious trouble. The kind of trouble she was willing to sacrifice herself for to protect the people who mattered to her.

DSS had dismantled the entire organization that had done so much damage to so many lives, particularly to the women who belonged to DSS.
And
Wade, damn it. The game was over. He was staking his claim—had already staked it. Eliza was
his
and he'd take on the devil himself before ever allowing her to be hurt again. So if the bastards who'd tortured and then nearly killed her in the raid had been taken down and no longer posed a threat, then who the fuck was threatening her now? And if those twisted, sadistic motherfuckers hadn't scared her and made her back down then whatever was going on
now
wasn't good. It was the absolute worst kind of bad. Because this went way back if his instincts were right, and his gut never led him wrong. Eliza was fearless. Too fearless for her own damn good, and nothing scared or intimidated her. Until now.

If those fuckheads hadn't managed to intimidate Eliza and she'd gone after them like a ferocious guard dog after being tortured and fucking
waterboarded
, then what the
hell
could be worse that terrified her to this degree?

Eliza sagged and she was still trembling. Lines of fatigue etched her face, causing him to wonder if she'd even slept since the last time he'd seen her. For that matter it was likely she hadn't slept
before
the last time he'd seen her. She felt fragile in his arms and she was
not
a fragile woman. He doubted she'd even eaten because he could feel the weight she'd lost. Her fatigue beat at him. It was evident in her eyes, her face, her body.

This worried him and he was not a worrier. He didn't fear anything and had long ago accepted that what will be will be, but the cold hand of terror gripped him by the throat and he realized he wasn't just afraid. He was fucking terrified. He couldn't fight what he couldn't see, touch or know and, by God, he was going to find out what the fuck had Eliza scared out of her mind before the day was over.

“We're getting the hell out of here,” Wade said firmly. “And after we get the fuck out of this shithole where I can be assured you're safe, you're going to tell me what the hell is going on, and I mean everything, Eliza. And during this conversation, you're going to eat even if I have to hold you down and force it down your throat. Then you're going to get some rest because it's obvious you haven't slept in weeks.”

Her chin went up but the gesture lacked its usual tenacity.

“
You're
leaving, Wade,” she said dully. “Not me. I
won't
be responsible for another death. Never again. I have so much blood on my hands that they'll never come clean and I'll be damned if I'll add yours. You have to leave and forget I even exist. You don't know me. You've never met me. You forget
everything
about me.”

His temper flared and he was furious that she was so damned determined to protect him. What the hell? There were so many what-the-fuck parts of her impassioned statement, he didn't even know where to start. Blood on her hands? Only because he feared pushing her completely over the edge did he bite his tongue and not tear into her right then and there and demand answers to the dozens of questions festering in his mind. Reasoning wasn't going to work with her. That was obvious even
before
her falling apart moments ago. He'd seen her lack of rationale when she'd sped away from her apartment, leaving him sprawled on her concrete drive.

He didn't have time to take it slow and treat her with the soft touch he wanted so badly, and after hearing the fucked-up shit she'd just spouted, he had a lot of fucking questions he wanted answers to, but his first and only priority at the moment was ensuring her safety. So he did what it was he did best. He took matters into his own hands.

Before she could say or do anything further, he tightened his arms around her and abruptly stood and strode toward the front door.

“What the hell!” she yelled, slamming her fist into his chest.

Thank
God
. This was the Eliza he recognized. She wasn't too far gone. Yet. And he had to bear that in mind and handle her with care even while giving her no choice in anything.

“Shut up,” he clipped out. “You're going with me and if I have to handcuff your wrist to mine, swear to God, I'll do it.”

Her gaze turned pleading and that
really
pissed him off because she didn't ever ask for anything. And she damn sure didn't beg and everything about her expression, her eyes, was begging and he was so goddamn furious he wanted to put his fist through a wall.

“Wade, please,” she said, her tone turning urgent. Desperation fired in her eyes. And panic. He could literally see the wheels turning in her mind as she scrambled to figure her way out of the situation.

Four times. Four times now she'd used his name and he liked it a hell of a lot but not under the circumstances she'd used it. He wanted her to call him Wade because they were on more intimate terms, not because she was desperate, scared and falling apart. Let her try to figure a way out of him inserting himself into her situation. She was stubborn but he was more so. She could rack her brains all she wanted.

Too bad. He could still be gentle. A gentle
asshole
and get to the bottom of this mess. She could hate him all she wanted just as long as she was alive to do it.

“You have no idea what you're getting into,” she said in a terrified voice that only served to add fuel to an already raging inferno within him. “He'll kill you, Wade. You should have
never
come here! If you had just stayed in Houston, he would never have known you had any association with me. I can't let any more people die because of me. I
can't
.”

Her despair gutted him and he had to steady himself, be the jerk and run over her when she was at rock bottom when all he really wanted was just to hold her and comfort her. Treat her with the delicate touch she deserved, a touch he craved to render. But not at the expense of her life and no fucking
way
would she sacrifice herself for him. Did she honest to God think for one fucking minute that he'd hide behind her and let her take the fall for him? She didn't know him very well if that was the case, but he was going to remedy that in short order.

He clenched his teeth and lowered her feet to the ground beside the vehicle he'd parked in the back so she wouldn't see it right away. Without saying a word, he shackled one of her wrists with a firm grip while he opened the passenger door with his other hand.

When she began to struggle, he hauled her up against his tall frame, his arms a steel band around her slim waist.

“Don't fight me, Eliza,” he said tersely. “You won't win, and I'm not backing down. Someone has to protect you because
you
sure as hell aren't. And if you think I'm going to allow you to be a sacrificial lamb led meekly to slaughter in order to protect everyone else, get over it quick because it ain't going to happen. Now, what
is
going to happen, is that I'm taking you some place safe and you're going to eat and then you and I are going to have a long talk after which you're going to get some fucking sleep. I'll sedate your ass if I have to, so don't push me because I'm hanging on to my temper by a
very
thin thread.”

She opened her mouth and he promptly clamped his hand over it and proceeded to shove her into the vehicle. Using his arm across her body to hold her in place, he reached with his other hand into the glove compartment and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

Her mouth fell open and her eyes widened in dismay.

“Surely you didn't think I was bluffing, Eliza. Come on. You should know me better than that. When have I ever made hollow threats?”

He secured one cuff to her left wrist and then attached it to the center console. Then he withdrew, leaving her looking shell-shocked and so damn defeated that it took everything he had not to lose his shit right then and there. He stalked around to the driver's side sucking in deep breaths, trying to pull himself together as he slid into the driver's seat.

He wasted no time putting as much distance between the place she'd been staying and where he was taking her. To his surprise, she said nothing. She was completely still, her gaze rigidly fixed forward, her jaw clenched tight.

A sigh of relief nearly escaped him. At least she was no longer crying. He could deal with surly, pissed off Eliza. He had no idea what to do with fragile as an eggshell Eliza. A tearful, vulnerable, scared out of her mind Eliza. He was furious, not at her, or at least mostly not at her, but with what or who had put such fear in her eyes, who had broken one of the strongest women he'd ever known.

Taking advantage of her momentary silence, and to try to calm his murderous thoughts, he picked up his cell and punched the contact already brought up and waiting.

“This is Sterling,” he bit out. “We're coming in hot and I have no fucking idea what we're dealing with yet, so make damn sure the safe house is secure and I want extra security on around-the-clock surveillance. No one and I mean no one gets within a mile without us knowing, and any threat is to be dealt with immediately.”

“You got it,” Derek said shortly and then the line went dead.

Wade's men, like himself, were short on words and big on results.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her staring at him, a mixture of bewilderment and a complete what-the-fuck look on her face. He nearly smiled.
That
had gotten her attention.

“Who the hell are
you
?” Eliza whispered.

“The man who's going to keep your ass alive and make damn sure no one so much as touches a hair on your head. Except me.”

She yanked her cuffed wrist angrily, her cheeks puffing outward as she blew out her rage. Good. He needed her pissed off. Alive. Fighting. Anything but the defeated, resigned to her fate woman who'd fallen apart on him.