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“I don’t really give a fuck what you think, Eliza. Get that through your head. You’re not getting rid of me, so get over it. Maybe we should call Dane and get his opinion. What do you think? I’m sure he’d be interested in your choice of vacation destination.”
The color leeched from her face and for a moment he thought she was going to pass out. Fuck. Yeah, this was as bad as it got. He’d been ninety-nine percent sure that Dane had no fucking clue what was going on with Eliza, and with that reaction, the one percent still out for jury made it unanimous.
“You can’t,” she whispered. “Wade, please. You don’t understand. He will kill every single one of them. Are you hearing what I’m saying? Because I’m not making this shit up. I’m not exaggerating nor am I overreacting. Anyone and I mean anyone I care about, anyone who has had any part of my life in the last ten years will die. I am the only one who can stop that from happening. You have no idea what he’s capable of. If you call Dane, then they’ll all rush up here and go straight to their graves. But it won’t end there. He’ll go after Ramie, Ari and Gracie. And I’ll die before I let that happen. Do you want Gracie to die because you’re being an interfering asshole?”
Wade laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Have you lost your mind? Do you honestly think this asshole, whoever he is, has a chance against Ari? She’d kick his candy ass to hell and back. That’s provided he ever got past me and the rest of DSS.”
Why the fuck was Eliza so goddamn afraid of one man? She kept saying “he.” Over and over. Like he was God, an unstoppable force. Invincible. Untouchable. And why did Dane or any of the others not know anything about someone who was a threat to everyone Eliza cared about? He was seriously starting to consider that Eliza had been more emotionally traumatized by her ordeal than anyone—even Wade—realized, because this—she—the whole damn story just sounded . . . crazy. And Eliza was anything but crazy. She was smart, could take care of herself and her teammates and she had confidence in spades.
Or at least she did.
But now, the Eliza he thought he knew, was nothing like the woman staring at him with grief, sorrow and fucking fear in her eyes that gutted him every time he witnessed it. And he realized he didn’t know her at all. It was also apparent that none of the people she worked with, trusted, risked her life to protect and had their back no matter the risk to herself, didn’t know fuck all about her either. They only saw what she wanted them to see.
She had secrets, deep secrets she’d never shared with anyone, and worse she had demons she also had never shared with another living soul. And if it was the last thing he did, he was going to ferret out every single one of those secrets and demons and then he was going to do whatever it took to remove the fear and the shadows so evident in her eyes and he’d personally take care of the demons that haunted her and he didn’t give a damn whether she liked it or not.
TEN
GRACIE pulled into the parking garage of the downtown building that housed the offices of DSS and recklessly slammed on her brakes, opening her door before she’d even got her car into park. Clutching the envelope in clammy hands, she bolted out and headed for the stairwell at a dead run, leaving her keys, purse, everything behind in her car.
She knew everyone was in the office this afternoon to discuss a new case they were taking on, which was good since she wouldn’t have to wait for everyone to filter in but bad for the new case because Eliza took priority. Nothing was more important than saving her.
Anxiety took firm hold on her as she entered the elevator, making her fingers fumble and hit the button for the wrong floor, which thankfully was above the DSS offices so she quickly hit the right one and sucked in a deep breath, battling the sting of tears as the elevator began its ascent.
When she burst into the reception area, Zack was waiting, a grim, intense expression on his face. Not surprising since he would have tagged her arrival on the security cams and seen she was in distress.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded, pulling her into his arms, his entire body rigid, his hands and eyes roving over her body as if searching for a sign of injury.
“Where are the others?” she asked, ignoring his question.
His look became puzzled. “In the conference room.”
“Let’s go,” she said firmly, pushing her way past him.
“Gracie.”
She ignored him, struggling to keep it together.
“In the conference room!” she shrieked, her entire body shaking uncontrollably.
His earlier look of worry and confusion turned to a look that would scare even the baddest-ass person alive. He gave her a clipped nod but tucked her hand gently into his and followed her toward the conference room.
When they entered, everyone was there and standing, alert, concerned and wary. Angry. Not at her but at whatever had caused her upset. Four of the men she didn’t even recognize, though she vaguely recalled Zack mentioning new hires.
Her gaze found Dane’s and his expression gentled though his eyes were full of worry.
“It’s Eliza,” she blurted. Thrusting the letter in his direction, she said, “She’s on a suicide mission!”
And then she burst into tears, no longer able to maintain any semblance of her composure.
Even so, she didn’t miss the initial shock reflected on an entire room full of men’s faces rapidly dissipate to cold fury nor the fact that a tangible sensation of a dozen pissed off, worried, ultimate alpha warriors sizzled and crackled as if an actual flame had been lit.
And oddly, Dane paled, guilt flickering in his eyes and he looked as though someone had just punched him in the stomach. He looked absolutely sick. As sick as Gracie was when she wondered if she was too late and Eliza had already been taken from the people who considered her family.
Dane took the wrinkled envelope from Gracie’s shaking hand, dread filling his entire soul. Flashes of the way Eliza had been acting prior to her asking for downtime—a vacation he knew was bullshit—repeated over and over in his mind. Their last conversation echoing in his ears and him knowing—fucking knowing—that Eliza wasn’t telling him everything and the helplessness that had gripped him, remembering the sensation of her slipping through his fingers, knowing she was pulling away—had been pulling away for days leading up to her official sit-down with him in his office.