he slipped silently to her SUV so when she slammed the trunk she would see him. No gap in the range of sight could prevent her from sensing his presence. Thank God she hadn’t completely lost all vestige of common sense and the instincts that made her so damn good at her job. The minute she knew she wasn’t alone, the trunk slammed with enough force to shatter the back glass and he found himself staring down the barrel of a pistol that looked far too big for such a small hand.
“Funny way to greet someone who saved your life,” he said, heavy sarcasm lacing his voice.
He wanted her to think he was here just to piss her off and fuck with her because then it would be less obvious that he was studying her expression, her eyes and body language for anything else that set his what-the-fuck-o-meter off even more than it already was.
She looked . . . relieved?
What the fuck? This was getting more jacked by the minute. But her reaction was gone almost as quickly as it registered, leaving him to wonder if he was losing his mind.
He could swear she sagged the slightest bit. It registered as little more than a twitch, but he’d spent more time than he had liked studying her and getting to know her body language. What the hell was wrong with her? Why wasn’t she in his face threatening to hand him his balls? For that matter, why the fuck was she so pale, despite the brief relief she hadn’t been able to control that had flickered just once in her eyes. Eyes that moved swiftly beyond him, around him, everywhere but him, her chin lifting, almost like an animal scenting prey.
Or a predator. Or a person?
Evidently satisfied that whatever she was looking for was either there or not there—who knew with her—she lowered her gun and then gave him a scowl that lacked its usual authenticity.
“Don’t you ever fucking do that again,” she snarled. “What the hell are you doing here? Are you just trying to get shot? Jesus, Sterling, one would think I would be the last person you’d want to see again and yet you just keep turning up, and let me say, you’re about as welcome as a swarm of mosquitos.”
He stared directly into her eyes, noting that where before she’d never had a problem staring him down with defiance that aroused the hell out of him, she wouldn’t meet his gaze. She glanced at his shoulder, his forehead, his ear and evidently his chin because she wouldn’t be looking at his mouth. He wasn’t that lucky.
He didn’t like this. This whole fucked-up, middle of the night meet and greet in front of Eliza’s apartment standing two feet away from a vehicle that could arm a small country. She wasn’t even giving him lip. Because the watered down version of “fuck off” he’d just received was pretty damn pathetic and hardly worthy of someone who ran as hot and fierce so deeply as Eliza.
He purposely assumed an insolent pose, crossing his arms over his chest and staring right at her, despite the fact she was so obviously avoiding his eyes.
“Don’t ever fucking do what again?” he asked calmly. “Check in on you to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, since we both know you don’t. And that you’re safe and that you don’t wake up every night with nightmares? You forget I’ve been up close and personal with you twice in the last two days, Eliza. I’ve seen you. I’ve seen what you’re trying and miserably failing at hiding. The people you work with may be blind fools, but I’m not.”
He made a show of checking his watch just to make his point that most people were in bed, asleep and not in their driveway about to go to war. He had to bite his lip to ask how long it had been since she’d been one of those people who were in bed, asleep, because she looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks and his blood ran hot with fury all over again. How had Dane not seen this? Or Caleb, Beau, Zack, anyone! Why had she been the one to request vacation time instead of one of her partners stuffing her in a safe house somewhere and then sitting on her ass, making damn sure she ate, slept and didn’t battle her nightmares alone. Partners his ass. A partner would have her back and