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.
“This is Shadow,” Beau said, indicating a man about Zeke’s height, maybe an inch shorter. He had a quiet look about him and his features were solemn, giving nothing away. He had tats spiraling up both arms and she wondered whether he had tats in other places as well.
His hair was shortly cropped, military style, though a bit longer than regulation. Spiked on top, the color of chestnut. His eyes were green, lighter than Zack’s, but he had a piercing gaze that pinned each of the DSS operatives as his attention moved to each in turn. When he got to Eliza, he stared what she thought was a longer time than he’d spent studying the others, but then she was paranoid. It wasn’t as if he knew anything about her or rather only what Dane or Beau might have said and neither were indiscreet so their conversations had likely been confined to her skills and capabilities when it came to the job and she knew Dane had her back and would have made it clear she could handle herself.