With Every Breath (2 page)

“Cheryl has been working with a publicity firm and we have an extensive marketing campaign already launched, with newspaper, magazine, internet and television advertising. I dare say you're going to make quite a splash in the art world, sweetheart.”

Her lips rounded to an
O
and her eyes widened as she stared back at Wade. Then her nose wrinkled, her expression becoming one of doubt and dismay.

“That sounds awfully expensive, Wade! I could never afford anything like that.”

He shook his head and sighed. “It's called an investment, Gracie. One I think will net me rather large returns considering I'll demand exclusivity on your work and will receive commission on every painting sold. See? If I were doing this out of friendship or charity, then I wouldn't be such a bastard by demanding exclusivity and commission. The way I see it, you're going to make us both a lot of money.”

She laughed, some of the tension easing from her rigid stance. “Maybe you should be my manager as well. Lord knows I don't know a thing about arranging, well . . . anything. If I am even moderately successful I won't have the first clue how to handle my own affairs.”

“Which is why you have me,” he said. “You paint. I do everything else. I think we will have a mutually beneficial arrangement. Now, all I need from you is your guest list and you're done. I'll expect you to go home and practice that gorgeous smile. You're going to be an absolute hit, and I'll get credit for having discovered the next big thing in modern art.”

She donned a pensive look. “I don't have many. Everyone at DSS. Oh and especially Eliza.” Wade stiffened at both the mention of Eliza's name
and
the instant anxiety that was reflected in Gracie's features. “Do you think she'll come, Wade? Everyone is so concerned about her. She needs to get out more.”

“What's wrong with Eliza?” Wade demanded, though he disagreed that she needed to get out more. If anything the fool woman needed to stay in for once. Rest. Recover. Process the horrifying ordeal she'd experienced. None of which she'd done. Hadn't had time to do because she was too busy saving the rest of the world. Everyone but her own pretty ass.

Gracie looked even unhappier. “No one knows but they're all worried. She isn't herself. Hasn't been for some time but especially over the past several days. Everyone has been on tiptoe around her but you know Eliza. She's very private and extremely tight-lipped.”

“What the hell do they expect?” Wade snapped in a louder voice than he'd intended.

Damn it. She didn't even have to be anywhere in the vicinity and she still managed to rattle his iron composure. He needed to get laid. Work her out of his system and damn sure out of his every waking thought. The problem was, when he looked at other women with sex on his mind, all he saw was . . .
her
. And that pissed him off.

Gracie recoiled at the fury in his voice, her eyes widening in surprise at his vehemence.

Wade's jaw ticked with irritation and he held up his hand, ticking off points one by one on his fingers.

“Let's see. She gets kidnapped, tortured and fucking waterboarded. She came this close to dying,” he snapped, pausing to lift his hand and hold his thumb and first finger an inch apart before resuming once more. “And she doesn't even take a goddamn day off to rest and recover before she's back on the job and we go after the fuckers that hurt her,
you
and Ari. She damn near gets killed
again
, but I took the bullet meant for her. If I hadn't been there? She'd be in the ground right now. Does she take any down time
then
? Fuck no. She's back at work like nothing ever happened and
now
suddenly everyone is worried about her?”

He shook his head, his anger simmering like a cauldron.

“Is she sleeping at all?” he demanded.

Gracie blinked. “I-I don't know, Wade. How would I?”

“You can read her damn mind, can't you?”

Gracie flushed and Wade immediately felt guilty.

“I'm sorry, Gracie,” Wade said in a low voice. “That was uncalled for and a shitty thing to say. Damn it! That woman infuriates me.”

“I could read her mind if I ever
saw
her,” Gracie said quietly. “I think . . .”

“What?” Wade said sharply.

“I think she's avoiding me for that very reason,” she said with a frown. “It's like if I run into her or I go to the office to see Zack and she's there, she immediately finds a reason to disappear. What else am I supposed to think?”

Wade swore viciously under his breath. Oh yeah. The little hellcat likely did have something—a lot—to hide. Like the fact that she was probably running on empty and barely existing on fumes. He wanted to track her down and beat some sense into her, and he
would
if it weren't likely she'd kick
his
ass. Or at the very least rearrange his nuts for him. And well, he was finished with the little vixen. She was trouble with a capital T. If it were all the same, Wade was done with her and DSS and anything to do with them or their missions. He had enough on his plate without trailing after a brazen woman who was bent on saving the world while he had the unfortunate task of saving
her
.

Ungrateful heifer. She'd spit on him before ever acknowledging that he'd saved her snarly ass. Not even a thank-you. A fuck off, yeah. Thank you? No. Instead, all the thanks he'd gotten was that he couldn't look at another woman and see anyone but her. Couldn't imagine having sex with anyone but a petite, snarly-mouthed, sassy, short-tempered blonde. He snorted, causing Gracie to look at him with an odd expression on her face.

“Eliza is a coward,” Wade said. “She won't want to set foot in a place owned and run by me. After I took a bullet for her, she conveniently finds a reason to be elsewhere if I'm anywhere around.”

“Join the crowd,” Gracie said, a hint of hurt to her voice.

That settled it for Wade. Eliza could get over whatever was up her ass. No matter what the little spitfire was afraid Gracie would pick up from her thoughts, she would attend. He wasn't going to let anything or anyone ruin Gracie's night to shine.

“She'll be here,” Wade said grimly. “If I have to haul her here over my shoulder, she'll be here.”

Gracie immediately looked alarmed. “Uh, Wade, never mind. Really. Maybe we should just back off and give Eliza her space.”

“Don't worry,” Wade said silkily. “I won't really haul her to your exhibit over my shoulder.”
Liar
. “I just plan to have a perfectly civil conversation with Eliza when I
personally
issue the invitation to her.”

Or rather his ultimatum. For the first time when thinking of an impending confrontation with Eliza, he wasn't seized by annoyance. No, he was looking forward to pissing her off. And the best part? He might annoy the ever-loving hell out of her—the feeling was entirely mutual—but she damn well knew he didn't bluff. So she'd have no choice but to come of her own volition. Or suffer the indignity of being hauled to the event by Wade.

THREE

ELIZA
knew she'd been scarce ever since she'd received the call from the DA. She also knew she'd been avoiding her coworkers, which wasn't the smartest thing in the world if she didn't want them thinking, or rather knowing, what she was planning, what she must do at all costs. But the simple truth was she couldn't bear to face them. Shame was a living, breathing presence that encompassed her heart and soul.

The people she worked for epitomized all that was good. No, they didn't always do everything by the book. They broke the rules, but in the end, justice was served, and wasn't that all that mattered?

One of her bosses disarmed a monster who posed no further threat, but then that hadn't been true either. The bastard's psychic ability and the fact he'd created a link to both Caleb and his now wife, Ramie, meant that even behind bars, he could exert his will and control, making the couple's lives hell. He'd already used Caleb to hurt Ramie in a horrifying manner. The memory still sickened Eliza every time it came to mind. The only way to sever that irrevocable tie binding them to him was for Caleb to kill him. And he had. By putting a bullet through his evil, twisted brain.

Oh, they'd wiped down the scene. Made damn sure it had appeared as though Caleb shot in self-defense, planting a gun with no other prints into a madman's hand, finger on the trigger. It may not have been the
legal
or
moral
thing to do. But it had been righteous.

Just as her mission was righteous. Maybe not to the public, the police, the justice system. But to the women he'd tortured and killed? To their families? To Eliza herself? Yeah, it was righteous. She doubted the families cared how he paid, just as long as he did. People couldn't possibly understand or conceive the monster behind the polished, charming façade. But Eliza was acquainted with it better than anyone. Only she truly knew the depths of his evilness and it was only she who could end it all. Maybe that made her just as sick and twisted as Thomas was. Or perhaps it took evil to hunt evil.

Right now, the families of the victims had no doubt been told, just as she had been, that Thomas Harrington was being freed in a very short time. They were likely feeling every single emotion Eliza had felt—was still feeling. Betrayal. Rage. Sorrow. Grief. A deep sense of injustice. They had likely lost all faith in the justice system sworn to uphold the law and sworn to punish those who broke it. But they were helpless to do anything about it. They would dream of revenge and retribution. Of justice. But Eliza would serve it cold.

And this was where Eliza differed from the others who might entertain unholy thoughts of making Thomas suffer a long and painful death. She
could
do something about it. She
would
do something about it even if it meant her own death. In many ways she'd died ten years ago when she'd realized just how stupid and very naïve she'd been. So very gullible. She was as guilty and complicit in the murder of those women as Thomas himself and she'd never forgive herself for the atrocities committed. Yes, she had died and been reborn another woman. Eliza Cummings. She'd become Eliza and had embraced a new chance. The opportunity to start over. To make a difference. To help protect those who needed protection. To seek justice for those who couldn't. And somehow she'd managed to buy into her new-but-not-real new identity. What a fool she'd been to ever think she could atone for her sins and outrun her past. Death could only be delayed, not avoided.

In some ways . . . She stopped, frozen by the thought as it floated through her mind before she could call it back. Her heart pounded and her palms grew sweaty as she tried to open the door to her car. But she realized that thought had been there since the morning of the phone call. In the instant she'd made her decision, it had been there, only she'd ignored it, refusing to give voice to it. Refusing to acknowledge it because it made her weak, something she'd sworn never to be again.

But she had
deserved
to die with Thomas. And now, she was fully prepared for her death. It was her punishment. Justice being served, finally, to the fullest. Thomas had been the only one who had paid when he'd been sentenced to life in prison.
She
hadn't. But she'd deserved the same punishment and now that she'd sentenced him to death by her own sense of justice, not only was it likely she'd die taking him down, it was no less than she deserved. She embraced it with calm resolution. Didn't fear it. No longer would she try so hard to avoid the inevitable. Maybe then she would have a semblance of peace and maybe God would grant mercy on her soul for the sins she'd committed when she'd been little more than a child, powerless against the manipulation of an older more experienced man. No, not man. Psychopath. Monster. The kind that only existed in nightmares and horror movies.

The very face of evil.

Only he wasn't a nightmare. He wasn't fiction, some book or movie. He was very real.

She yanked open her car door and threw herself inside, backing from her parking spot at the DSS building just as she saw Dane exit the building. She made certain she didn't make eye contact with him, but she watched from the corner of her eye as he waved in a motion for her to stop. At least by not overtly glancing in his direction, she could plead ignorance when he asked her—and he would—why the hell she'd ignored him.

Oh hell no she wasn't stopping. When she faced Dane, she had to have her shit together and her best game face on. She accelerated a little too sharply, her tires barking in protest as she barreled from the parking garage. No doubt her esteemed leader, partner—Dane filled many roles at DSS—wanted to interrogate her and that was the last thing she needed. She had seen the looks Dane and the rest of her coworkers cast her way when they thought she wasn't looking. They were all filled with concern, making her cringe and guilt wash through her all over again. They all knew something was up and that she wasn't herself, but Dane would know better than anyone. She and Dane had worked together far too long and Dane never missed a goddamn thing.

The man had a way of making a person squirm with a look. No words were necessary. All he'd have to do is stare at her and she'd be blurting her confession with no prompting whatsoever and then he'd lock her up if he had to. No way he'd let her fulfill what she now considered her sacred mission. Her last mission. A mission that was more important than any other she'd ever undertaken.

She chanced a glance in her rearview mirror and grimaced as she saw Dane standing in the middle of the traffic lane to the parking garage, a frown on his face as he stared broodingly after her.

She couldn't avoid him forever but until she was ready, until she was composed enough to carry off the biggest—only—lie she'd ever told her most trusted friend, she would continue to brush him and the others off and run like a bat out of hell anytime one of them had the opportunity to get her alone.