With Every Breath (30 page)

She knew the instant he saw her. Felt the sudden intensity of his gaze. He paused in his speech, his chin lifted as if looking beyond her so his gaze encompassed the majority of the crowd. But his eyes were fixed solidly on her. She felt a peculiar sensation, a flutter of awareness in her mind as if he were probing to find his way in.

And as suddenly as it happened, it was gone, and a slight frown marred Thomas's face before he quickly recovered and once again resumed his speech.

Relief and a keen sense of victory fizzed through her body like a bottle of champagne having the cork popped and the contents bubbling out and over. He hadn't been able to push past her barriers! She'd felt his attempt, something she'd never even been aware of before. She'd never felt or sensed anything at all when he'd accessed her mind all those years ago.

She was careful not to let her jubilation show and to temper her thoughts of victory and immense satisfaction. He would try again. Of that she had no doubt. And she'd give him that attempt. One more and then she was done here. She'd accomplished what she'd set out to do and she'd baited the trap. All she had to do now was hope he fell neatly into it.

She went rigid when she tuned back into his polished, very practiced recitation of expressing his thanks to everyone who supported him and who fought for him and believed in him blah blah. She'd zoned out until she heard her name. Or rather what used to be her name.

Her gaze caught his and for the first time she looked directly into his eyes, boldly, refusing to look away. And as he spoke, once again she felt that odd fluttering sensation in her head, sharper, more forceful than before. Pain sizzled through her head and she clenched her jaw against the nearly unbearable strain, but her thought patterns never changed, didn't deviate from what she was focusing on and none of her hatred for the man now saying her name had diminished in the least.

“It was with a heavy heart that I learned that Melissa Caldwell has been the recipient of so much ill will and has been treated poorly by the citizens of this town. I harbor no animosity for Miss Caldwell. I pity her, as you all should too, and she should be granted more understanding. You see, she was but a child then. A mixed-up, confused child who had no family, no home of her own and had been on her own with only herself to rely on since she was fifteen.”

Nausea welled in Eliza's stomach and it took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to vomit right there on the ground. She was shaking and this time, no attempt at controlling it was successful. She had to keep it together. She should leave now. Her objective had been achieved. But she was frozen to the spot where she stood, unable to turn away without hearing the rest.

Thomas sighed dramatically and affected a pained, sympathetic look of regret.

“She convinced herself she was in love with me,” he said, as if admitting to some heinous crime. “I fear I carry partial blame for that, though that was never my intention or desire. She was attacked on her way home from work very late at night and I happened on the scene and managed to fend off her attackers. I felt responsible for her in a way that an older brother would feel responsibility for his younger sister. I would walk her home because I couldn't in good conscience allow her to come to harm when she had no one else to look out for her.”

He ran his hand through his hair in faked regret.

“She mistook my kindness for something more and as a result she became obsessed with me. I tried very hard to let her down gently. I didn't want to hurt her or embarrass her in any way. I explained that even if I felt for her the way she thought she felt for me, it wouldn't be appropriate. She was far too young and I was much too old for her. I told her that she was too young to be thinking about the kind of relationship she wanted. With me,” he added with a grimace. “That she had all the time in the world and that one day she would meet the man meant for her but that I wasn't—could never be—him.”

He paused for dramatic affect and once more flickered his eyes in her direction, a thoughtful, puzzled look on his face. She had to act fast. No, she didn't want him fucking around in her head and yes, she wanted him to know he could no longer control her, but she didn't want to come across as hating him. She was here to convince him that she came for him. That she still loved him and wanted to be with him. The thought nearly made her gag, but she quickly swallowed and sent a slow smile aimed directly at Thomas, one she put everything she had into making sincere, welcoming, loving and hopeful.

Then, as had been his custom in the past, she made a fist and slowly raised it to her chest and then pressed it against her heart, knowing he would recognize the gesture immediately. And its meaning.

He blinked in surprise and then his eyes brightened and what looked like delight flashed momentarily. He didn't smile back. He couldn't be that obvious. But he sent her a smoldering look, one that was filled with hunger, want and need. Oh God. She couldn't take this a minute longer.

Thomas broke off in midsentence, and she got the distinct impression that what he said next was not what he'd originally planned or rehearsed. Originally he'd thought to crucify and vilify her despite his claim to wanting just the opposite. But whether it was the silent invitation in her eyes and the intimate gesture known only to the two of them or he in some way saw a glimpse of the girl he'd known as Melissa Caldwell, he changed his direction completely and did a complete one-eighty in his portrayal of her.

“I don't blame or fault Miss Caldwell for what she did. She did what was right, and she should be commended for having such courage when she was only a child. She saw a crime and she reported it and then she testified in court in her attempt to see justice served. Without a doubt, she had the best of intentions, and she should be admired for that. Unfortunately, she misidentified me as the man who committed those horrific and barbaric atrocities against those poor women. It is my belief that in her shock at witnessing the gruesome scene she inadvertently came upon that she identified someone who likely
resembled
me, honestly thinking and believing that it was me she saw that day. It was an unfortunate mistake, but an honest one. I do not believe for one minute that she maliciously launched her accusation at me out of spite or to seek revenge for my rejection of her romantically. I have forgiven her just as I have forgiven the police officer who tampered with evidence in order to make it impossible for me to receive a fair trial and so was subsequently convicted. It is my desire to put this entire ordeal behind me and move on with my life. Quietly and peacefully. I would respectfully request my privacy not to be disturbed. I think I am owed that much and it is all I ask. I have turned down the state's offer of restitution for wrongful imprisonment. I am not a vengeful man. My only desire is to start my new life as a free man and not have my privacy or life intruded upon.”

Eliza could stomach no more, and she needed to leave,
now
, before he concluded his nauseating play for sympathy and his brazen effort at manipulating the entire assembled crowd into changing their minds about him. He'd solidly put the blame on her shoulders and had blatantly insinuated that she was an obsessed, psycho, scorned woman out for revenge and because of her, an innocent man had been jailed while the real killer was still out there, free.

He'd reversed his position and changed his story after the odd exchange between them, but the damage had already been done, the seeds already planted. She needed to get out ahead of the crowd while they were still absorbed in his humble victim speech and he had them eating out of his hand. Otherwise, it could get ugly very quickly for her. It only took one person bold enough to decide she needed to be taught a lesson and the rest would follow like sheep. And if that happened, her team would be forced out of surveillance to save her ass, thus sending a huge, blazing neon sign to Thomas that she wasn't alone and she had badass backup.

She moved slowly to the side, edging cautiously, careful not to draw undue attention, halting her progress when there was a momentary lapse in Thomas's speech and then moving again when all attention was riveted on Thomas once more, his every word being hung on to by men and women, old and young alike.

She wasn't the only one who'd spent years honing her skills. While she'd been working diligently to strengthen her mental barriers so they were impenetrable and not vulnerable to a psychic attack, Thomas had evidently been honing his powers, making him more powerful than before and an even bigger threat. He held the entire crowd in his thrall, had them all eating out of his hand. They looked at him like he was a God. They gasped in horror when he brought up any injustice to him and frowned, glared and even booed when he mentioned anyone responsible for his being sent to prison.

When she was finally clear of the crowd lining the very front of the gathering, she expelled a sigh of relief but didn't make the mistake of letting her guard down or thinking she was out of the woods yet. She still had to make it to where she'd parked her car and that was a quarter mile away.

Head down, the hood of her jacket pulled over her hair, she strode in a straight line toward her vehicle. She should have felt jubilant and wildly victorious but her victory was hollow. She'd held her own against a master at bending people to his will and compelling them to do his bidding. He'd tried twice to slide into her mind and he'd failed both times. The second time, he'd used a hell of a lot more power and had doubled the intensity of his attempted assault. Her head ached vilely from the strain of fending him off and from the sheer force of his second attack.

But she'd won. She'd defeated him. She was no longer a weak, powerless pawn he used with little effort. Never again would she be anyone's puppet. She'd die before ever allowing anyone so much control over her every dream, thought or action.

TWENTY-ONE

THE
door opened before Eliza was close enough to put her hand on the handle to let herself in. Wade was there, his gaze fixed intently on her, worry reflected openly in his eyes. Without a word, he pulled her into his arms, wrapping them firmly around her, fully encompassing her in his warmth and strength. Before she even registered them moving, he had maneuvered them through the doorway, shutting the door behind them and then lifted her so her feet dangled inches from the floor so he could carry her farther into the house.

When they were in the middle of the living room, he eased her down until her feet were planted on the floor and he palmed her chin, tilting it upward so their gazes met.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

She closed her eyes, holding them closed for a long moment as she fought the multitude of conflicting emotions and tried to process and prioritize the information to give to Wade.

“Baby?” he prompted, stroking his thumb down her lips.

She forced her eyelids open and stared up at him, drawing strength from the silent support so visible in his eyes. Then she took a deep breath.

“There's so much,” she said wearily. “I'm not even sure where to begin.”

“Wherever you want,” he said softly. “However you want. I'm here. I'm listening. Whatever you need, I'll give.”

She leaned her forehead into his chest, resting it there as she simply absorbed everything about him. The way he felt. His scent. The thud of his heartbeat. How safe she felt in his arms. How she wished she'd never gotten that damn phone call weeks ago.

“I told you that I needed to be there today. And why I needed to be there. I told you the truth. I just didn't tell you the other reason it was so important for me to be there,” she admitted in a whisper.

She held her breath, waiting for his reaction, wondering if he'd be angry because he'd been nothing but honest and blunt with her. Brutally so at times.

To her surprise, he swept her up into his arms in an effortless motion and carried her to the couch. He turned his back and then simply sat down, her cradled on his lap as he leaned back, pulling her with him.

“If we're going to talk, you're going to be comfortable and you're going to be in my arms when you're talking,” Wade said.

Then he simply arranged her to his liking, tucking her shoulder underneath his so that the top of her head was nestled under the line of his jaw, pressed to the side of his neck.

The fact that his body language, the tone of his voice, hadn't registered the slightest change after her confession that she'd kept something from him gave her a strong measure of relief and the courage to forge ahead and not fear his reaction.

When had his approval become so important to her? When had it ever mattered to her whether she pissed him off or not? She was still struggling with the abrupt about-face their relationship had experienced and, in the back of her mind, there was a nagging worry that when this was over and she was no longer in danger, things would go back to the way they'd been before when they practiced reluctant tolerance of one another for the sake of their mutual friend.

But then she was far guiltier of being an ungrateful, childish bitch than he was of being an overbearing asshole. She'd never even
thanked
him for taking a bullet for her. For saving her life. Instead she'd avoided him when at all possible, and when avoidance wasn't a possibility, she'd been snarky, sarcastic and purposely needled him at every opportunity.

It hadn't bothered her then. She'd given it little thought. But now it ate at her. Her actions, her behavior and her treatment of this man
deeply
shamed her.

“You going to share, baby?” Wade asked, interrupting her self-castigation. “Not that I'm complaining about sitting here and just holding you, but you're obviously upset, and from what I saw and heard, you have cause to be.”

“You watched it?” she asked in a low voice.