by Maya Banks
could feel the imprint of his cock, the heat and urgency through his slacks and the sheer material of her dress. It throbbed against her belly and freaked the hell out of her. Wade Sterling turned on by her? Or because of her. Or with her. Whatever the hell it was. Maybe he was one of those guys who thrived on adversity and got turned on at inappropriate times. Or maybe it had nothing to do with her at all. Maybe any female would do or maybe he just hadn’t got laid in a while. And then she nearly snorted at that idea. This was a man who only had to crook his finger to have his choice of pussy.
Swallowing the knot that had formed in her throat, wishing she could wipe at the sheen of perspiration at her forehead, she fixed her gaze on Sterling’s shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes. She did not want to see whatever was reflected there. She was sure she wouldn’t like it.
“So do tell, if you couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse to give Gracie that I couldn’t come at all without hurting her feelings, how are you going to not hurt her feelings by telling her I was here but had to leave?” she asked skeptically.
“Look at me, Eliza.”
The words rumbled out of his chest, vibrating over her skin until she shivered. It was a command. No doubt he was accustomed to issuing commands and having them heeded.
She shook her head, mutely, refusing to be one of his mindless minions who took orders and obeyed without question.
Instead of making the demand again, he moved one of his arms from around her and cupped her chin with his hand and forced it in his direction, tilting it upward so he could see into her eyes and vice versa. Still refusing, she lowered her lids, staring downward even though her head was angled upward and her chin was still in his firm grip.
He chuckled. Bastard obviously found her funny. She almost forgot about not looking at him and nearly sliced her eyes upward so she could cut him to ribbons with a look and words.
He rubbed his thumb in an up and down motion that surprisingly felt more like a caress. His hand was gentle, though she had no doubt he wouldn’t allow her to slip away from him.
“Why even make me endure this farce?” she hissed. “It’s obvious you aren’t too worried about Gracie’s feelings or you wouldn’t have offered to let me dance with you in exchange for not being up close and personal with Gracie.”
“Maybe I wanted you to come,” he said blandly.
“Bullshit,” she snorted. “You have no more desire to be in the same room with me than I do you. Remember? According to you, I got you shot, and you said never would be too soon to see me again.”
He chuckled again. “I was pissed at the time, and face it, Eliza, you’re trouble with a capital T.”
Her mouth opened to let him have it with both barrels but the music ended and suddenly she was free of Sterling’s grasp and oddly bereft of the warmth that had surrounded her these last minutes.
“I suggest you go now and act like you’re sick and in a hurry,” he said in a low voice filled with mockery. “I’ll make your excuses to the others.”
She wanted to glare or do something childish and grind her heel into his foot, but he was offering her an escape, and she’d be a damned fool to hesitate. The cretin could change his mind in the next second, just as yet another way to torture her. So she turned, prepared to make a very hasty exit, when Sterling’s hand shot out, his fingers curling firmly around her elbow, effectively halting her. She refused to give him the satisfaction of turning to face him, but his low voice reached her ears again.
“If I find out you lied about surprising Gracie with something regarding her school, you’ll answer to me,” he said calmly, though there was a distinct edge of threat in his voice. “I’ll be watching you, Eliza.”
She bit her lip and bolted, wasting no more time in her bid to be rid of the entire place. Gracie’s gift of ferreting out one’s deepest, innermost thoughts. But most of all him.
Because him keeping an eye on her was exactly what she feared the most. Thank God, in a little over twenty-four hours, she’d be in the wind. Away from the people she cared most about. Her friends. Partners. People she risked her life for every damn day and who did the same for her.
And, most of all, she’d be forever and permanently beyond Sterling’s very long and encompassing reach.
FIVE
ELIZA was on edge, trying not to let it affect the unflappable composure she’d perfected and was known for, as she waited for the latest “state of the union” meeting to commence so she could tackle the most difficult task she’d set her mind to today.
Lying to Dane and hoping to hell she was convincing enough to escape his legendary bullshit detector. Technically he was her boss, and to everyone except the Devereaux brothers—Caleb, Beau and Quinn—he was. But to Eliza he wasn’t as much her boss as he was her partner.
Everyone at DSS had someone they gravitated toward, worked well together with, and partnerships developed. It hadn’t been long after Eliza had been hired that Dane had tagged her as his partner, which had surprised the hell out of her and pleased her enormously.
Dane ran the show. He was the leader even if he wasn’t the one signing everyone’s paychecks. DSS was run by the Devereaux family, primarily the two oldest brothers, Caleb and Beau, while Quinn had been dubbed the geek and tech whiz who knew and ran all things computer and technology related. This was something that irritated and insulted Quinn to no end, but only Eliza knew this bit of personal information. Like the rest of the Devereaux clan, he was tight-lipped, extremely private and not one to share his feelings with anyone. None of them ever made public anything that would make them vulnerable, especially now that the elder Devereaux brothers had wives they loved and who were their heart and soul.
In an unexpected move, Quinn had approached Eliza—privately of course—and after swearing her to absolute secrecy, threatening to fire her—as if!—had she revealed his mysterious request. He knew and accepted with resentment that he wasn’t considered the ultimate badass alpha male his older brothers were, though he was several years younger and already exhibiting that annoying trait, even if he hadn’t yet recognized it. And he had asked Eliza to become his personal trainer. He knew her reputation. That she wouldn’t go easy on him and wouldn’t offer him platitudes because she worked, in a roundabout fashion, for him, or rather his family. And so on certain days, Eliza’s regular days off unless shit was going down, Quinn always found something that had to be done and would start spouting tech language none of the others could hope to understand, which meant they avoided him like the plague for the rest of the day, leaving him free for Eliza to put him through the paces.
And she had no mercy. Quinn would have been pissed, embarrassed and insulted if she had. He was often bruised, sore and limping when she finished with him, but she could see the fire of satisfaction in his eyes, even with the sweat, obvious fatigue and the fact that he’d just gotten his ass handed to him by a girl. And to his credit, he was improving. Quickly.
He worked hard, not just during his workouts with Eliza, but on his own time as well. And he never missed a session with her. Never made an excuse. She would miss those times between them, but she would ensure Dane would take over Quinn’s training when she left. Dane would never betray Quinn’s confidence and while Eliza was good—more than good—Dane was the best. There were no better hands for her to leave Quinn in.
Yeah, it suited Dane for Caleb and Beau to officially run the show even if everyone, Caleb and Beau included, damn well knew that it was Dane who called the majority of the shots. Dane was . . . well, he was a badass through and through. He had a persona that was impenetrable. Icy. No one could see past his carefully constructed guard unless he chose to let you in, and well, that was rare. She’d gotten a few glimpses, usually when women, or rather the women the men of DSS had claimed, had been endangered, nearly killed, certainly harmed.
She nearly laughed. Claimed was such an old-world, outdated term, not in keeping with her modern sensibilities, but then not so very long ago, she would
have proudly and without shame used that term for a monster who had certainly claimed her. She’d reveled in that sense of ownership. The idea that she belonged. That she mattered and was important to someone in the world after a lifetime of mattering to no one. Now it was only a source of never-ending shame because the claim Thomas had on her was sick, twisted and it was not love. Nothing like the claim Caleb, Beau and Zack had on their women. That was love. It was pure, beautiful and magical and it was the epitome of everything she’d once wanted more than she wanted to breathe and would have died for it. She nearly had.
She’d even caught a crack in Dane’s icy veneer when she herself had been the one in danger on their last mission. He’d come close to completely losing all vestiges of that legendary composure when she’d lain there so still after enduring unspeakable torture and it wasn’t known whether she lived or had died.
Until that Neanderthal Wade Sterling had inserted himself into a situation he clearly didn’t belong in. She scowled at the memory of just how he’d taken over. He’d picked her up, had held her, cradled her, actual concern dark in those mesmerizing eyes as though she had mattered to him.
She caught herself before she did something stupid like shake her head vehemently in denial of such a crazy, unwanted thought. But a nagging voice inside her, one she wanted to bitch slap and banish forever, innocently asked if she was so certain she didn’t matter to Sterling.
To get her mind off Sterling and to delay, for now, the overwhelming grief and dread of her impending meeting with Dane, she turned just enough so she could see Zack in her periphery, but made certain it wasn’t obvious she was watching him. The voice of Caleb droned on and on and she could see she wasn’t the only one impatient for the meeting to be done. Several of the people she worked with had bored, impatient expressions and the eyes of others were glazed over, obviously having tuned out the endless drone completely.
Her gaze slowly settled back on Zack and she went still, remembering to bring and adopt the same bored expression the rest of the team wore when he looked in her direction. Her heart plummeted because it wasn’t a friendly look. Not remotely. His expression was black and brooding. Yeah, he was pissed. But then she couldn’t blame him considering how protective he was of Gracie and then there was the fact that before that fucking phone call, she had been tight with Gracie. She’d been tight with all the wives. But especially Gracie, with whom she’d formed a special bond after all the shit that had gone down.
Unable to bear the anger and, worse, the disappointment in Zack’s expression she averted her gaze, shutting him out. She glanced in Dane’s direction, not feeling any better about the deception she was perpetrating. Guilt flooded her.
She shuddered, tears stinging her eyelids and she blinked them back, furious at her lack of control. And she should have known that if no one else would pick up on that nearly imperceptible slip up, Dane would.
He eyed her sharply, his gaze flickering over her as if revealing every secret she ever held, every thought she’d locked down permanently, never to escape and see the light of day again.
He moved closer with casualness that had her blinking because he made it seem unplanned, like he was growing weary of the prolonged meeting and was merely shifting his weight. He donned an impatient look, one he was famous for, one that said, “Are we done now?”
The others caught on and Caleb and Beau began the wrap-up and for a moment Eliza thought she was safe from Dane’s scrutiny. Years working for this man and she still made a rookie mistake by underestimating him.
“What’s wrong, Lizzie?” he asked in a low enough voice not to be overheard. “Is everything okay?”
She smiled brightly and if it was too bright, oh well, she was hanging on by a thread here and anything she could do in order to survive the coming private conversation with Dane once the others had dispersed, she’d latch on to with both hands and hold on to for dear life.
“Just wondering when the fuck our esteemed leaders became so goddamn long-winded,” she muttered, because it was such an Eliza thing to say.
To cover the brightness of her smile, she bared her teeth in a barely noticeable snarl, because that too was so her. “Don’t they have wives to go home to and make cutesy eyes at instead of wasting our time by covering shit we could recite in our sleep?”
Dane gave a light chuckle, relief flaring in his eyes, and she did a mental fist pump in victory. Getting anything over on Dane was cause for self-congratulation because the man did not miss a goddamn thing. He always had his eyes on every single person, his ears glued to every conversation, attuned to the slightest differences in tone, body language. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear the man was psychic because his powers were superhuman.
And it wasn’t as though DSS wasn’t accustomed to dealing with some pretty freaky shit. Pain flashed through her chest, temporarily robbing her of breath. The women that had married the men of DSS all had kickass powers. Powers that defied scientific explanation. But then Eliza had no problem believing in the extraordinary. Because the man who’d once held her in his thrall was nothing like these women. They used their powers for good. They were good. They were everything that was right in a fucked-up world, filled with monsters who preyed on the innocent. And Eliza had allowed this man in her life, had allowed him to give her all the things she’d wanted, craved, had never had in her young life and that made her every bit as guilty as he.
“Lizzie?” Dane murmured, so the others wouldn’t hear. “What the fuck is wrong and swear to God if you tell me nothing, I’ll wring your pretty neck.”
Oh well, it was now or never, and it wasn’t as if she had any plans of disappearing without a damn good cover story and telling the man she directly reported to that she planned a long vacation. He just didn’t have to know the reason behind her leave of absence.
He’d likely be relieved. None of them, especially Wade Sterling—just thinking of the overbearing ass made her teeth clench and put her in a foul mood—had wanted her involved in the sting operation to take down the last of the people hunting DSS, and in particular Ramie, Ari and Gracie. A request for vacation to recover from her “injuries” would probably be met with relief and an order for her to take as long as she wanted and not to hurry back to work.
She felt a moment’s guilt for deceiving Dane. She was leaving the comforting camaraderie that her position at DSS offered. The first true home she’d ever had. The justice system had failed her. It had failed the countless women Thomas Harrington raped and tortured and murdered. She still heard their screams at night when she closed her eyes. Many nights she couldn’t sleep for the sounds of torture playing over and over in her broken heart and in the shattered pieces of her soul. Knowing it was her fault. She had done this to so many women because she’d been weak and needy and too stupid to know that behind the face of kindness—of love—lurked a monster with abilities of unlimited power and a sick, twisted mind to utilize every psychic tool in his arsenal.
She quickly yanked herself from the past, knowing Dane was studying her, growing more pissed and agitated and worried by the minute. It was the last she was most concerned about because if he got worried and then she fed him a line about needing vacation, he’d never believe her. He’d put her under lock and key and suffer no remorse whatsoever until he found out exactly what was going on in her mind, and he wasn’t above using Gracie or any of the other women to ferret out any information he felt would keep Eliza from harm.
And she knew the women would gladly offer their help because they felt they owed Eliza. She’d been there when each of them had needed help. She’d risked her life to save them and would do so again without a single hesitation. They didn’t owe her a goddamn thing for doing her job even if they weren’t a job to her, but people she loved.
Damn it. She had to talk her way out of this fast.
She sighed and gave him her best “busted” look.
“I just wish they’d hurry the hell up,” she grumbled. “There’s something
I wanted to talk to you about after this come-to-Jesus meeting. Preferably in private.”
Left unsaid, but understood by Dane, judging by the softness that suddenly transformed his features from that piercing, concerned look to one more of simple question, he well knew that while Caleb and Beau owned and ran DSS and signed all their paychecks, Eliza was his. His team, his partner. The two were the closest of any two of the operatives who worked within the group, not as partners, though Beau and Zack shared a similar relationship, preferring to rely on each other rather than the larger group as a whole.
Which made what she had to do all the more painful because she was, in effect, betraying Dane. She was repaying all the faith he’d displayed in her, his respect of her, the fact that he treated her as an equal, a partner—with treachery and lying.
She tried to console herself with the fact that at the end of the day she’d rather have him alive and well, pissed, angry and never able to trust her again and for her to be out of a job than to confide everything to him and have him end up dead.
Because Dane wouldn’t back off. It wouldn’t be a matter of trusting her, or trusting her to know what she was talking about and believing the very real danger they were all in. But he would never leave her to face a monster alone. Never in a million years. Even if it meant going against every single member of DSS and quitting so Eliza wouldn’t face the danger alone. Dane would do it without a single regret.
He’d be at her side, taking her back, just like so many times before, and they’d either triumph together or die together. And Dane would die.
A wave of grief consumed Eliza. Because of a bullshit legal technicality and a smooth-talking lawyer, Thomas’s sentence had been reduced to ten fucking years.
Eliza wanted to scream until her voice simply broke. But she held it in stoically, knowing she was on borrowed time, and that when Thomas got out, and he would be getting out in a week, she wasn’t going to bring him down like she had the first time, counting on the justice system to protect her, to protect those women and seek justice for those he’d destroyed.
No, she was going after him and fuck the legal system and doing it the right way. This mission wasn’t righteous. It wasn’t even revenge. It was cold-blooded murder.
And that was why she couldn’t have DSS remotely involved. They couldn’t know. They could never know until it was all over.
Because once her mission was done, she wouldn’t resist. She wouldn’t run. She wouldn’t even hire a lawyer because she would be guilty.
She was going to kill Thomas Harrington and leave nothing to chance. She’d stand over his body until his body became cold and lifeless and then and only then would she call it in, allow herself to be taken into custody and she’d give a full confession to the murder of a man who’d taken so much from her. She was Thomas’s only surviving victim, the only one able to seek justice for all the women who couldn’t.
They were all dead. No one left, but her, to ensure their killer would never act out his depravities on another defenseless woman.
For the first time she realized that her surviving had a purpose. She’d lived while so many hadn’t. It had taken her a while to understand. To sort through her grief, guilt, shock and anger to realize that she’d lived for a reason.
And that reason was to seek justice for all the women who couldn’t.
She was fully aware of the consequences of her actions. The betrayal her team would feel as she turned away from the creed they upheld, followed, seekers of justice. That she would be branded a murderer, outcast. Her sentence would be swift. She wouldn’t plead not guilty. She wouldn’t cut a deal. She wanted the maximum allowable sentence for the crime she planned to commit. Not only planned but would see through to the bitter end.
Because even a lifetime in jail wouldn’t be long enough for her to atone for her many sins against so many beautiful, young, innocent women. Women whose lives had been traded for Eliza’s so that Eliza could live in her fantasy world of being a pampered, loved-and-adored beyond measure princess by a sadistic monster who wouldn’t know the meaning of love. A word—and the true meaning of the word—now that Eliza was acquainted with it, she was willing to do anything to protect, go to hell and back for. Never let evil taint the people she loved or let her love ever become a twisted macabre thing used to control and manipulate helpless, gullible people.
God save her soul. She winced even as she thought it. Because she had none. There was nothing to save. She was damned forever in the eyes of God and soon she’d be damned to the rest of the world, but worse, she’d be damned to the only people she’d ever allowed herself to truly care about. Their disappointment in her could very well do the one thing Thomas had tried to do—God, he’d tried—but she’d been too strong, too determined and fought every step of the way not to allow him to win. To break her.
This, the loss of the people she loved, would irrevocably break her when nothing else in her young life had been able to manage such a seemingly impossible feat.
“Before we wrap up, I’m introducing you all to the newest DSS recruits,” Caleb announced, yanking Eliza from her macabre thoughts.
Caleb made a sign and Beau opened the door of the meeting room and made a motion for the others to enter.
Eliza’s eyes widened when the group of four men ambled through the door. They were the epitome of badass and if she weren’t so deeply ensconced in worry and stressed out of her mind over her impending come to Jesus with Dane, her feminine appreciation would have kicked in full gear.
These were not your average guys off the street. They were legit. Professionals. Either ex-military or they had careers in cracking people’s heads with a healthy dose of intimidation to boot. In other words, they were fucking perfect additions to DSS. And if they’d already been hired, then Dane would have tested their skills and they’d met his requirements, which meant they were the real deal. Big, muscled, mean looking men who could handle themselves in any situation.
Beau took over then, gesturing toward a really tall, bald African American man, muscled with not one inch of spare flesh on his body, dressed in fatigues and a very tight fitting t-shirt that looked as though it was painted on.
“This is Dex,” he said, not including a last name or if Dex was a shortened version of his given name.
But Dex was seriously hot with intense eyes that studied as his gaze swept the room. Her girly parts sighed and purred, ignoring the order to stand down and not react, but who was she kidding? The room was already filled with hot guys and enough testosterone to float a barge, but with the addition of four mouthwatering specimens of pure alpha male? She was swimming in it.
He remained silent, merely offering a lift of his chin to indicate his acknowledgment of the already existing members of DSS. Beau wasted no time going down the line.
“This is Zeke.”
Once again, feminine appreciation fully intact, she took in Zeke’s appearance, noting that he wasn’t as tall as Dex, but then Dex was taller than all of them, including the current members of DSS. She put Dex around six-six but Zeke was only a couple of inches shorter, which still made him much taller than the average male.
His hair was black as midnight and hung loosely to his shoulders in an unruly style that said he didn’t bother with it and furthermore didn’t give a fuck. It had a shine that made it appear blue-black, like a raven, and coupled with bronze skin and features that hinted of Native American ancestry convinced her that he shared at least some of the blood of his ancestors. But his eyes were a startling crystal blue, a sharp contrast that made him a work of art that someone couldn’t help but stare at and appreciate.
He was a bit stockier than Dex, not quite as lean but no less muscled. He was just thicker and more solid, ropes of muscles over every body part visible. It didn’t escape her notice that he bore scars and likely more on parts that were covered by his faded jeans, combat boots and black T that was a little looser fitting than Dex’s.
It was hard to drag her gaze
from Dex and Zeke because damn . . . But then Beau continued on.