Dead Shall Speak (An FBI/Romance Thriller Book 10)

by Morgan Kelley

  “Well, you screwed yourself now, Deputy,” she stated. “Just by shooting at us you earned yourself two counts of attempted homicide. Plus, you murdered your boss. That’s going to be life in prison for killing a cop.”

  “That was an accident! I was aiming for you and your baby!”

  Ethan saw red and slammed him off the SUV. The sickening thud caught everyone’s attention.

  “Oops,” stated Chris Leonard. “He looks a little off balance. Maybe you should lay him on the ground. He might fall again.”

  Callen wanted him to fall down a large staircase into the hottest pit of hell.

  Maybe he’d help him…

  “I want a lawyer,” he stated, bubbles forming in the blood gushing from his now broken nose. “I’m going to sue the FBI for brutality.”

  Elizabeth looked around at the Feds. “Anyone see him being brutalized?”

  Tony shook his head. “No, he fell.”

  Jaxon pointed at the man’s shoes. “I think his shoelace is untied.”

  Chris made a tsking sound. “We should test him for drugs. He looks out of it and wobbly.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. We’re going to call this one in,” she said, pulling out her phone.

  “My deputies will let me go! Then I’m coming after you to avenge the sheriff.”

  Chris pulled the zipper back on the body bag, revealing the man’s half missing face.

  Deputy Waverly began puking.

  “Yeah, this isn't my first day at the rodeo, Davvy. I’m turning you over to the state police. They can book you and handle this mess. I’m not an idiot. You redneck crazies flock together.”

  Ethan yanked the man up by the arms and pulled him toward his vehicle. “Don’t puke in the Denali!”

  “I’ll get this mess under control,” stated Chris. “You three need to get changed. You’re covered in sheriff bits.”

  They needed to drop Callen off anyway.

  Elizabeth pointed at her team. “I want all of you in that building with the doors locked. This is bound to piss off some of the people who work with these men. I don’t need to be worrying that they’re coming here to enact revenge.”

  They understood.

  Ethan spoke up, “Under the circumstances, I think that maybe we should skip the river today. We should hit up the pizza place, and then work the details a little more. I don’t want us out traipsing in the woods.”

  Yeah, he didn't want his pregnant wife out there either.

  That just screamed tactical error.

  No one disagreed.

  “Okay, stay inside until we get back. Don’t open up for anyone but the state police, and we’ll escort you back to the hotel later.”

  “Agents Seaton and Madden are out in the field,” Chris stated. “You better warn them.”

  She motioned toward Merry. “Call them. Tell them do the interview and head back here. I don’t want anyone wandering this freak fest town alone.”

  The woman pulled out her phone.

  “I’m glad you’re okay, Directors,” she stated, making the call.

  Yeah, the sentiment was mutual on that one.

  They found the man at his job.

  At night he may be a thug, but during the day he was a produce clerk at the one grocery store. When they approached him, he genuinely looked surprised, then interested.

  Not in the case, but in the woman before him.

  It didn't take long to lure him outside where they could talk privately. The last thing they wanted to do was discuss a case in front of a town full of gossiping hens.

  Once alongside the building, he lit up a cigarette.

  “So, baby cakes, what do you need from me?”

  She stared him down. If he really thought that she’d be freaked out by a little innuendo, he had another thing coming. She was a Fed. She could harass with the best of them.

  “We have some questions for you.”

  “Yes.”

  Agent Seaton lifted a brow at the man’s response. “Yes, what?”

  “I was talking to baby cakes. I’m available for a date tonight. Tell me your address and I’ll give you a ride. Then, if I’m a really bad boy, you can give me one.”

  Brody wanted to kick the shit out of him. “Not happening,” he muttered.

  Johanna pushed on. “Do you work for Mr. Wilfred Monroe?” she asked.

  The man shrugged. “I do lots of odd jobs. Sometimes, Mr. Monroe needs things handled.”

  “Like when you kicked the shit out of Clarence Rickert?” she asked.

  He grinned. “Does that turn you on, baby? I have to say you look sexy in that gun and badge. I wouldn’t mind seeing you in only that at my place. Although, come to think of it, my dick is a great accessory. It goes with anything,” he stated.

  Broderick was ready to lose it.

  “Yeah, that’s a definite no. You’re not my type. I like men who don’t break the law.”

  He laughed. “I break bones, baby cakes. That’s so much hotter.”

  She didn't miss a beat. “So, you’re admitting to giving the man a beat down?” Johanna asked, making notes in her tablet.

  “He told me that some shit bag was trying to diddle with his baby girl. As a friend of the family, I had an obligation. I wanted to make sure Magdalene was safe.”

  “And now she’s dead.”

  His face went somber. “Yeah, that sucks. She was a good girl. I feel bad for Mr. Monroe. He loved his daughter.”

  Brody took over. “Word on the street is that the night she went missing, you were playing pick up at ‘The Mad Hatter’ with his daughter,” he stated.

  “Nah! You got that wrong. I was doing Mr. Monroe a favor. I saw his baby girl in there, and I was trying to talk her into going home.”

  “Your home or hers?” Johanna asked.

  He grinned wickedly. “Maybe mine first, but then I would have brought her back to theirs.”

  Brody hated the way this man was looking at his partner. He wanted to poke his eyes out.

  He just might.

  “So, you worked for Mr. Monroe as his muscle, and you just admitted to us that you were trying to get into Magdalene’s pants. That makes you a suspect to her murder.”

  He shook his head. “Bullshit, baby cakes. I hit on her. I tried to talk her into leaving, but I didn't have anything to do with her dying.”

  “Yeah, suspects never lie,” stated Brody.

  “Ever,” added Johanna.

  “Listen, I have an alibi. I went home with some babe I picked up in the bar. We spent the night bangin’, and then she left in the morning.”

  “I’ll need her name and number,” stated Broderick.

  He rattled it off. “Magdalene was too high maintenance,” he admitted. “I like my women low key.”

  “How do you feel about women with dark hair and blue eyes?” she asked.

  “Nah, I like blondes myself. Or better yet, I like them to have your hair color.” He then patted her on the ass.

  She tried to remember not to punch anyone. If she did, Ethan Blackhawk was going to feed her to his wife.

  “If you touch me again, I’m going to break your fingers.”

  She wouldn’t have to. Brody was pretty sure he was going to snap and lose it at any second.

  “Yeah, yeah, that’s my bad, Agent Baby Cakes.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  Brody fought for control. “Have you ever seen these women?” he asked, holding up his tablet as he tried to do his job.

  The man inspected each one.

  “Yeah, this one is the babe at the pizza place. She smiles and is sweet as pie.”

  “Ever date her?” Johanna asked.

  “Nah, she turned me down.”

  Yeah, that was a shocker.

  He pulled off his baseball cap and ran his fingers though his ebony hair. “If you’re done, baby cakes, I have to get back to work. Look me up later. We can party.”

  He winked, and then headed past her.

  Joh
anna said nothing as she headed toward the vehicle. Once inside, she glanced over at her partner.

  “He was a total dick.”

  Brody just nodded.

  “But I guess being a dick doesn’t make you a serial killer.”

  He shrugged, starting up the vehicle.

  “Are you okay? You’re not talking and you have that crease in the middle of your forehead. That usually means you’re pissed off.”

  “Oh, I am.”

  Johanna hated to see him this worked up.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  He shook his head.

  She placed her hand on his arm. “Brody, talk to me.”

  Everything in him was a storm. He wanted to peel the flesh off the man for talking to her like that, and when he put his hand on her, Brody was livid.

  While she may not admit it yet, he knew the truth. Johanna was meant to be his. He could feel it all the way to his toes. Watching that man touch her, call her baby cakes, and flirt, was too much to take.

  Now she was touching him.

  It was a recipe for disaster.

  “Brody?” she asked again.

  He snapped. Turning toward her, Broderick Seaton did something violent. He yanked Johanna against him and kissed her.

  Mouths crashed.

  She gasped.

  He pillaged.

  All the control was gone as his lips sought hers to devour everything she had to offer. When her hands went to the front of his shirt, he swore he was going to explode right there.

  He wanted her.

  There would never be enough of Johanna in his life. They may be young, they might be partners, but he knew the truth.

  Brody Seaton was in love.

  She couldn’t breathe. The kiss was melting the polish off her toes, that’s how scorching hot it was. Johanna knew that kissing him in the front seat of an FBI vehicle was a bad idea.

  Hell, kissing him was a horrible idea.

  With each tangle of tongues and lips, she fell more for him. In the end, he’d get hurt.

  Brody would be damaged.

  They’d ruin what they had.

  She was just about to pull away when she got a whiff of his cologne.

  It called to her.

  “Joey,” he whispered, diving back into the kiss.

  She wanted to forget everything but him.

  Then her phone rang.

  Pulling away, she stared deep into his eyes. “We can’t keep doing this.”

  Yeah, he was aware. This was torture. He wanted something far more permanent. Only, he didn't know how to get it. It was like Johanna was just out of his reach.

  Brody couldn’t speak.

  Johanna picked up her phone and answered it. “Yeah, Merry?” she asked, her eyes never leaving her partner’s face. His brown hair was a mess, and she supposed it was from her wandering fingers.

  Shit!

  Her whole body flushed as her brain went there.

  “Okay, thank you. We’re heading back now.”

  Hanging up, she glanced over at him. “Someone just tried to kill Elizabeth Blackhawk. We have to get back to the morgue and play babysitter.”

  He started the engine. “This isn't over, Joey.”

  “Brody,” she stated.

  “No. It’s not over.”

  What was she supposed to say?

  She was damned if she did, damned if she didn't. All she knew was that either way, it was going to make both of their lives incredibly complicated.

  Heaven help them both.

  ~ Chapter Seventeen ~

  Monday Mid-Afternoon

  Waking in his bed was scary.

  Bonnie Anston was terrified that when she opened her eyes, he’d be there waiting for her. At first, when he asked her out, she’d been excited.

  Finally, a guy noticed her.

  It wasn’t easy walking through life being a wallflower. In fact, it sucked.

  Yet this wasn’t what she wanted.

  As he drugged and raped her, she wanted to escape. Unfortunately, his words echoed in her mind.

  ‘Don’t make me hurt you like the others.’

  Then she thought about the news coverage she had just seen. This man was crazy. There was no doubt in her mind that if she even made a break for it, he’d take her life.

  That couldn’t happen.

  Bonnie knew she needed to bide her time. For now, she had a plan. She was going to make him trust her. Then, when she could get away she would make her escape, or better yet, she’d kill him.

  Yeah, she could see herself doing that. She would pick up the biggest object she could find and beat his head in.

  Over and over, she’d hit him until he wept like she did at the continual assault.

  That gave her an iota of peace.

  At that moment in time, it was all she had to keep carrying on. Her plan would have to be enough to carry her through this. If he wanted her to play wife, so be it. She’d do it to the best of her ability until her moment of revenge came. Then, she’d take his life without batting an eyelash.

  Looking around the room, it was more a dungeon. The windows had bars, the curtains were drawn, and she was prisoner in his sick and twisted world. She was so afraid. Everything she had before getting in his truck was now stolen from her. Bonnie tried not to weep, even though that’s what she wanted to do.

  Right now, she could be at work, smiling at the people around her. She could be free and among the living.

  Instead, she was teetering on the cusp of life or death, a puppet to his sick whims.

  Bonnie prayed for strength.

  She prayed that she didn't end up like the others. The last thing she wanted was to be nothing more than a name on a tombstone in the local cemetery.

  She wanted her freedom back. If she could get that one wish granted, she’d never look back. It would be a new beginning for her. She’d travel.

  She’d find happiness.

  She’d cut all the meaningless ties that held her back.

  All Bonnie needed was a miracle.

  She sobbed.

  The odds weren’t in her favor. Who was she kidding? Bonnie knew it was one hell of a long shot.

  All she knew was that the FBI was in town. They’d keep looking for her, right? That was her only hope at this point. Well, that and killing this bastard. How naïve she’d been. He looked so innocent, kind, and gentle. Who would have thought that this man was a bastard?

  A killer.

  A sicko.

  Certainly not her, or she never would have got in that truck for their ‘date’. Taking inventory of the room’s contents, there was a chair, the mattress she was currently resting on, and a little table with water. That must be how he was drugging her.

  She made a mental note to get him to stop drugging her.

  It was the only way.

  For now, she’d swallow the revulsion and play nice. If he kept her medicated, Bonnie wouldn’t be able to fight back.

  As she listened to the silence of the little cabin in the woods, there was no sound. He must be at work. He was gone for the day.

  Well, she needed to work out a plan.

  If she was going to live, he had to die.

  Closing her eyes, Bonnie prayed for a miracle. “Please God, send someone to help me. Amen.”

  With that final word, the tears came.

  She was powerless to hold them back as she knew what was coming.

  It was her death…or his.

  * * *

  All three of their phones were continuing to go off. While they would look down, no one would answer them. Gabe was on the hunt and they couldn’t be bothered.

  That wasn’t actually true.

  They didn't want to be.

  Elizabeth had the option to lie to him, but that went against everything she believed to be right. So, if he managed to catch them, she’d be forced to tell him the truth—Oracle and Jagger Armstrong were in the wind.

  Then, he’d need the details.

&nbs
p; He’d want them.

  No, Gabriel Rothschild, the dragon slayer, would demand them.

  With the leak somewhere in their midst, that was a bad idea. So, for now, until she heard back from the Marine, there had to be avoidance. It was for the best.

  Gabe wouldn’t stroke out, and she wouldn’t be forced to lie to risk the entire operation. The FBI wasn’t safe, and she couldn’t forget that.

  Her allegiance was to the blue and gold, but her compassion was with the woman who was being hunted.

  It was a tough position to be stuck in.

  Elizabeth couldn’t win on this one. So, she had to pick the side that would give her less guilt in the long run. That meant Avalon’s safety had to come over family ties.

  In the hotel room, they bagged up their clothes to turn over for the state police investigation into Sheriff Carlton’s death. It would be a relief to get the blood splattered clothing off and into something less gory.

  When they walked into the hotel, everyone around them stared. Elizabeth wasn’t sure if it was because a pregnant woman looked like she had just escaped a killer in a movie, or if it was because Ethan Blackhawk had just done his media conference the previous day.

  It was a toss-up.

  All they knew was that the reporters were staying out of their way, and that was a good thing. Once they got wind that the sheriff was in a body bag, the shit would be hitting the fan.

  Oh, there was a maelstrom coming.

  It was only a matter of time.

  As they got ready to leave, Callen didn't look too happy at the prospect of being left behind. Elizabeth would have preferred to keep their team intact, but she couldn’t risk him. It was easy to see that Callen was babying his arm, despite his assurance that it was perfectly fine.

  “Do you want to get mad now or later?” she asked, giving him the option. She’d rather get it over with so later they could curl up and be a happy couple.

  He sighed. “I hate when you do that.”

  She found that amusing. “Yeah, I know, Callen James. That’s why I do it. It’s called disarming a feisty combatant with my charm.”