Dane frowned, but as she’d known, he hadn’t argued. She knew she was fragile and it had nothing to do with the assholes who’d abducted her and tortured her. But it suited her purposes for Dane and all the rest to believe just that because then they’d look no further than the surface. She’d never asked for vacation time in all the years she’d worked for DSS. Since its inception, and even before, she and Dane had worked together in a much smaller personal security agency, taking jobs on a much smaller scale.

When Dane had been recruited by Caleb and Beau, he’d accepted with one condition. He brought Eliza with him. No negotiation. And so they’d made the move together and continued to work together, strengthening their already very strong bond.

It was why they had such a close working relationship. They could predict the other’s thoughts, movements . . . She choked back the suffocating, vile thoughts because she’d been about to compare her friendship with Dane, the only true thing she had in this world, to her relationship with Thomas, a man who had known her every thought, fantasy and deepest longing, and used them to manipulate her and make it so easy for her to fall into his lap with no resistance from her whatsoever. Never would she defile and disrespect Dane in that manner. He deserved so much better than the depraved, broken monster she’d become, still was, to guard his back. She just prayed her replacement would take that responsibility to heart and recognize how truly great a man Dane Elliot was and that they, like her, would be willing to lay down their life for him.

“How long?” Dane asked, momentarily confusing her because she’d been so caught up in her own thoughts.

She recovered quickly and glanced nervously at him, hoping he didn’t read too much into the length of her request. Then she shrugged as if she hadn’t put that much thought into it at all. “A month. Maybe six weeks. Provided y’all can do without me that long. Things are quiet right now but we all knows how that goes,” she said with a grin. “I don’t really have a plan. I just want to go where the wind takes me and enjoy the downtime.”

Dane studied her a long time as if determining the veracity of her statement. Just about the time her iron discipline was about to desert her and she started to squirm under his scrutiny, he once again struck her speechless.

“You managed to hide it well, Lizzie. Even from me . . . until recently,” he said in a painful tone that sounded almost hurt. As if the thought of her holding out on him had never once crossed his mind. “But they hurt you and not just physically though those sons of bitches inflicted plenty of damage. They damn near killed you. Far too close for my peace of mind. I still can’t forget that moment, Lizzie. When I thought we’d been too late. Goddamn it!”

His voice was thick with emotion, features blackening with rage and his eyes went as dark as obsidian, glittering with menace and so much pain and regret that it took her breath away.

“Swear to God, I wish to hell Gracie hadn’t been able to identify them or read their fucking thoughts so I could have killed them on the spot. And it wouldn’t have been slow, Lizzie. I would have repaid them for every mark they put on you. For every thought of terror they drove into your mind. And for making you doubt even for a moment that the people who care most about you wouldn’t make it to save you in time.”

“Dane,” she choked out, reaching up to touch his arm. “Do you honestly think I would have lasted as long as I did if I hadn’t known you’d come? You know what I went through and you know most people would have given up. Accepted the inevitable. Even prayed for the end so they could escape. I stayed alive because I knew you and the others would come, that you would have never given up, and I knew we would make every last one of them pay, not just for what they did to me. But for what they did to the other women. Never for a minute think I lost faith in you.”

He shook his head as if rejecting her absolute belief, her unwavering faith in him.

“Still, I should have seen how this affected you. I should have fucking sat on you and insisted you stand down when we took them out. Instead you were nearly killed and swear to God, my heart fucking stopped. I thought I was having a heart attack and if it’s all the same, I don’t ever want to go through that again.”

Her eyes narrowed because now she was getting pissed. She was asking for vacation, not for an analysis of her mental state—or lack thereof.

“Am I or am I not cleared for vacation?” she snapped. “Or do I need to remind you that I haven’t had so much as a day off in the entire time I’ve worked for you.”

Slowly he smiled and the worry and fear dispersed like fog being melted away by the sun’s rays. “Consider yourself on vacation as of five minutes ago. And Eliza? If I so much as see your ass within a mile of the office or poking your nose in one of our cases for at least six weeks, I’ll suspend you and double your vacation time to three months and I’ll have Isaac sit on you and, trust me, after you nearly getting yourself killed twice? No one would have to twist his arm to get him to take that job. He’d take great delight in being allowed to boss you around.”

Then he grinned slyly. “If that’s not enough incentive for you, I’d be more than happy, as part of their training of course, to have one or more of the new recruits keep you under lock and key.”

She made a face and rolled her eyes. “You’re all a bunch of Neanderthals. You just hide it under that smooth, polished preppy look you’ve got going on.”

He frowned and then outright scowled at her.

She threw up her hands in surrender. “Hey, vacation was my idea, remember? I have no intention of doing anything remotely work related.” Okay, it wasn’t a lie. What she had to do in no way involved DSS or anyone involved with DSS.

“I plan to find a nice beach house somewhere private where they have nice cabana boys who will bring me fruity, girly cocktails with little umbrellas in them, work on my tan and hopefully the scars will fade and by the time I come back to work, you’ll all be so sick of me and my attitude, you’ll promptly wish I had taken three months instead of half that,” she teased.

His scowl darkened further at the mention of her scars and she wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

“Dane,” she said, a hint of impatience but gentle understanding in her voice. “I’ll be fine okay? I’m not so stubborn that I can’t or won’t admit I need a break. It’s been . . . hard.”