All the King's Henchmen

by Morgan Kelley

  She had an issue with Chris being beaten on, and her too.

  This whole thing was a long line of issues that were coming to a head.

  Now.

  Here.

  This wasn’t a freaking third world country. This wasn’t a demilitarized zone. This was the United States, and she wasn’t going to take it.

  It wasn’t happening.

  The president’s henchmen or not.

  They’d have to beat her into compliance, and she had a lot of fight still left in her. Someone had misjudged their adversary, and it wasn’t her.

  It was time for some psychological warfare of her own. When in doubt, make them piss themselves in fear.

  “I wonder what will happen when Ethan Blackhawk, my husband, gets here?” she asked. “You recall him, right? He helps run the FBI. I hope your life is squeaky clean,” she stated, “or someone is screwed.”

  He looked worried.

  “Know who his best friend is?” she asked. “Oh, maybe his boss, Gabriel Rothschild. You know him, right? Big, bald, and meaner than a momma bear when you poke at her cub. In that scenario, genius, I’m the cub.”

  The man looked even more worried.

  “Oh, and then there’s my other husband. He kills people for a living. I hope you don’t disappear…”

  “SHUT UP!” he said.

  She smiled.

  “My husbands are going to eat you alive when they find my cold, dead body. I hope you get to court before they find you. When you kill me, he’s not going to jail—YOU are,” she said, pointing at the camera. “You’re going to be some sweaty man’s bitch. Don’t drop the soap in the shower, and I hope you know how to give a blowjob like you can kiss your boss’s ass—lots of tongue.”

  He put his finger on the trigger.

  Okay, maybe she went a little too far…

  “I suggest you do the autopsy,” the man holding the gun stated, still keeping his distance.

  Chris didn’t want to see her hurt.

  “I’ll do it. Put the gun away. If she gets hurt, I’m done. I won’t let you abuse her,” he stated, stepping in front of her and the gun—yet again.

  While Chris couldn’t fight them like she could, he would use his body to shield her. Seeing her hurt was horrifying, and he didn’t want Elizabeth to be injured. She was already favoring her bad arm, and her face was bruised.

  “Fine! Get it moving. We need this done NOW!”

  Chris heard the urgency.

  “Sweetness, let’s go,” he said as he took the scalpel away from Elizabeth and led her to the autopsy table to stand beside him. He didn’t want her anywhere near the man with the gun.

  It wasn’t only for her safety—it was for the Secret Service guy’s own protection. They’d poked the lion. It was going to get ugly.

  She was pissed.

  And they were desperate.

  That was a bad formula for a disaster in the making from both sides of the conflict. Chris needed to inject some calm into the situation.

  Despite her anger, Elizabeth went with him.

  The whole time, the suited henchman kept the gun pointed at her.

  Chris pulled on the latex gloves and began cutting the man’s clothing off of him piece by piece. He placed it in piles on the counter beside him for later. They would need to check it for trace if they were legitimately going to investigate this man’s death.

  IF they could investigate. This whole thing was jacked, and they were going to be fighting an uphill battle. They’d moved the body, and clearly, they didn’t want anyone to know he was deceased.

  They might get COD and TOD, but they weren’t going to be able to get an accurate view at who touched the body last since they likely did.

  “The vice president wants to make sure it’s the president,” the big man said with the gun. “Is it him?”

  Elizabeth opened her mouth and Chris rubbed his forearm against hers. She needed to stay calm, and he needed her to stay alive.

  For him.

  He could work at gunpoint, but he couldn’t work if she was taken from him. It would only be a matter of time before they knocked her out again, and they took her away.

  Then it would be bad. As long as they were together, they could do this.

  “I’ll need his dental records as a point of reference,” he stated. “I can’t do a visual, and I don’t think the president had any tattoos.”

  “I’ll get them for you,” the big man stated. “What else do you need, Doctor?”

  It appeared the Secret Service man was calming down.

  That was good for them.

  It looked like all he had to do was get this done, and, maybe, they could get out of there alive. He really hoped they didn’t plan on forcing Elizabeth to work this. That was going to bite them in the ass. She was a wildcard, and if they didn’t know that already…

  Oh, and plus, she hated the man on the table. They might want to ask her where she was when he was killed, instead of forcing her to work it. Chris wasn’t an investigator, but someone had to be thinking she did this.

  “Well, I need some answers as to the state of his body when he was found,” he stated.

  “I was there when he was found. Ask.”

  “His face is obliterated. What was over his head? I can see marks in the damaged flesh. Something was pressed into it.”

  The man didn’t speak at first. Finally, he conceded and answered him.

  “Oh, you’re good. There was something over his head.”

  Elizabeth rolled her eyes and flipped him off.

  “Yeah, we’re amazing and look what it got us. Ab-fucking-ducted. Aren’t we lucky to be good at what we do? You should only be so good at protecting people,” she stated, pointing at the dead man. “You know…like the President of the United States of America!”

  He pointed the gun at her.

  She stood there without flinching.

  “Go ahead. Pull the trigger and piss off your boss, or do you have to ask him as the stand-in president’s lap dog?”

  That’s when he got wise as to how to control her. There was clearly a motivating factor in the room, and it wasn’t her. She’d had the shit kicked out of her, and still, she was fighting.

  The doctor was the key.

  So, he moved closer to Chris and placed the gun against his temple.

  Chris closed his eyes.

  He wasn’t as fearless as her. He could picture the gun going off, and his brains all over.

  He swallowed.

  “Elizabeth,” he whispered, praying she’d take it down a notch—if not for her, for him.

  Chris was happy—well, before being abducted. He’d found love, he felt safe, and he had happiness. He didn’t want to lose that over an autopsy.

  He couldn’t lose her.

  She heard the fear.

  “If I were you,” she began, “I’d remove that loaded gun from his head. If it goes off, and you hurt, or kill him, I won’t stop before ending your life,” she warned. “Apparently, they didn’t teach you not to put your finger on the trigger unless you were absolutely ready to shoot someone.”

  “They taught me plenty. You missed the lesson on using your brains, mouth.”

  Oh, she’d been called ‘mouth’ before—and usually by a man who couldn’t compete with her.

  Next, it would be tits.

  Well, it was no holds barred. They weren’t going to threaten to kill Chris.

  It wasn’t happening.

  “Christopher,” she said, getting him to open his eyes and look at her.

  “Yes?”

  “Remember that time in Atlanta, when we went head-to-head with that cuckoo who held you at gunpoint?” she asked.

  He looked at her.

  “Yes, it wasn’t my fondest moment.”

  He knew what she wanted.

  Elizabeth wanted that gun. Chris hoped it didn’t get him killed. For now, he had to put his faith in her.

  Chris trusted her.

  “Shut up, both o
f you! Do the damn autopsy! When he’s done, you won’t see him until you finish investigating!”

  And there it was.

  The second he was finished, they’d hold him as leverage until it was done. That was how they planned on controlling her. They were going to make it something she couldn’t say no to. Yeah, they’d studied her.

  Well, hell, no!

  There was no way they were taking Chris away to use as a chip so she would perform. That meant she had to move now. She had to do this before he finished the autopsy.

  They had no choice.

  She stared at him.

  I trust you, he mouthed.

  His faith was in her.

  “Atlanta.”

  Chris looked down at the body, and the scalpel in his hand was flipped from one position to the other.

  It was now a weapon.

  It was now his weapon.

  Elizabeth watched him. Slowly, he moved his arm, and then suddenly, without warning, drove the scalpel into the man’s thigh. At the same time, she shoved the table with all she had, driving it into his body, so he moved the gun.

  The Secret Service guy howled in pain as the blade of the super sharp scalpel was embedded in his leg, and then again as the edge of the table was rammed into his gut.

  Elizabeth reached for the gun with one hand and struck him in the nose with the palm of her other hand. In seconds, she had him stripped of his weapon, and his ego.

  It was done.

  They were no longer the ones being held at gunpoint.

  “I told you not to point that gun at his head, asshole,” she said as she put her finger on the trigger and pointed it at the bleeding man’s face.

  “Christopher, honey, get behind me. I’m shooting to kill now. I’m done with this.”

  Then she pointed the gun at the camera in the corner, flipped the vice president off, and fired.

  It went dead.

  “Now, let’s see who comes in to stop me, dickwad,” she stated, pointing it at the bleeding agent. “You die first if they come in with guns,” she said, pointing it at the man’s head.

  He pissed himself.

  “Yeah, sucks when you’re the one being intimidated.”

  She punched him so hard, she knocked him out.

  Before she could say anything more, the door opened, and she pointed the gun at the woman who walked in.

  “Jesus,” she said, over the bleeding man on the floor. “Did you have to stab him in the leg?”

  Elizabeth’s finger went to the trigger, and she pointed it at the woman’s head.

  The game was up.

  They weren’t going to take Chris from her.

  No.

  Way.

  “Yeah, he’s on me too. Do you like to watch?” she asked. “Did that give the VP a hard-on?” she asked

  “You are impossible.”

  “Well, it looks like you lassoed the wrong bull,” she said, keeping the gun trained on her. “Next? If you keep sending them in, they’re dead, and you know me, Alfie. I’m good with a gun, and my temper is shot to shit.”

  Oh, they were aware.

  “Can we de-escalate this?” Alfie asked. This was EXACTLY what she saw coming when they brought this woman into the White House.

  The vice president was insane. It was safer to give a terrorist a gun at Guantanamo Bay than arm this woman in a room full of testosterone.

  “I don’t think that’s possible,” Elizabeth said, “unless you have a car waiting to take us to the Hoover Building. I want my gun, my badge, his watch, and keys. ASAP. I’m betting your agent had the standard fifteen bullets loaded into his sidearm. I have fourteen left.”

  “Can we start over? How about coffee?” Alfie stated. “It’s been a rough morning.”

  Chris stayed behind her, his one hand on her hip.

  “Start over? That’s funny,” she said, laughing. “We can talk. How about you tell me why you think you can hold us here against our will? Spill it.”

  “You won’t shoot me,” she stated.

  Elizabeth smiled as her finger was on the trigger. She absolutely would shoot her, and anyone else who came into the room at this point.

  “Then you didn’t do your research on me. I handled the president’s issues. Clearly, you’re an issue.”

  “We just need this handled. All you need to do is confirm it’s him, and then we’ll let the doctor go. You have to stay and help us figure this out.”

  Yeah, she didn’t buy that. Their agent already told her he was going away until it was solved.

  Nope.

  Not happening.

  “I’m not leaving without him,” she stated. “The game is up. You’ll use him as leverage.”

  Chris took a stand.

  “If I do get away, I’ll make sure I spill it to the news what went on here,” he stated.

  Alfie didn’t flinch.

  “Then your daughter will be sorry.”

  He gasped at the gall it took to threaten a child’s life. This was a horrible situation, and it just got worse.

  Elizabeth pointed the gun at the woman’s chest. If she shot her, she wanted her to suffer for what she’d just said.

  “Oh, you want to threaten our child? Okay. You just upped the game. It’s time to play it my way. My way is multiple autopsies and plenty of body bags. That’s how I roll. You’re next. Kiss life goodbye.”

  When push came to shove, she’d kill. Elizabeth had proved it before, and she’d prove it again. The line was crossed, and she’d shoot her way out of there.

  No one fucked with her kids.

  And Bethe…she was her child too.

  “Why do you have to be so damn difficult? We can’t let it get out that he was upstairs or that he wasn’t upstairs alone in that hotel.”

  “He’s never supposed to be alone except in his part of the White House. Your guys screwed-up. Now you’re holding us hostage and threatening a three-year-old little girl. That is NOT how you make friends with someone holding a gun! Are you suicidal?” she asked, “because I’m feeling very homicidal.”

  “Elizabeth, we need to know who did this. You’re the best.”

  “I’m also pissed because you did this the wrong way.”

  “Please. We haven’t released the news yet. His family doesn’t even know. Once it gets out...”

  She didn’t give a shit.

  They all heard the footsteps, and she expected the worst. Yeah, it was about to go bad.

  The door opened again, and in came the most amazing sight of her life. It was the cavalry. Ethan was the first one through the door.

  The second he saw her, his face said it all.

  “Jesus Christ! Who did that to your face?”

  Tears filled her eyes.

  “Secret Service, and they won’t let us leave. They’ve abducted us. Ethan…”

  He opened his arms, and she moved toward him. When she reached him, he held her against his body.

  Elizabeth wept.

  Chris moved toward him too when Ethan opened his other arm for him. They both were wrapped against him, and he was NOT happy.

  Gabe was not amused by any of this. When they got there, the vice president had tried to calm them, but it hadn’t worked.

  This was crossing a line.

  Now that he saw tears, he knew it had to be bad. Elizabeth didn’t just cry. She killed people, she kicked ass, but she didn’t randomly weep. She was beginning the adrenaline crash.

  And it was going to be a doozy.

  Gabe was pissed.

  “Oh, that’s not happening. Let’s go!” he said, getting ready to lead them out of there. “We are out of this mess. The White House can clean it up on their own.”

  That was good with them.

  Ethan released them, gave Elizabeth a kiss, and then shared one with Chris.

  “I have you. We’re going home.”

  Hallelujah.

  Chris began pulling off the gloves, and the vice president stopped him.

  “He h
ad a file on all of you. We don’t know where it is. If you help us find it, when we locate it, we’ll destroy it.”

  Ethan stared at him.

  A file?

  What was this jackassery?

  What could he possibly have on them? What? That they had four people in their bed? That was on the news. That they had a threesome that was kinky to most?

  Again, it was on the news.

  What leverage could he have that would intimidate them?

  The last time that kind of nonsense went on, it was J. Edgar Hoover, and look at the shitmess that created. It took years for the FBI to lose that reputation.

  “What?” Gabe asked.

  “The Butcher,” he said, making the symbol of a gun with his fingers and pointing it at his head. “Sound familiar?”

  None of them flinched.

  There was no evidence. Chris destroyed it, Gabe took the gun apart and dumped it in ten different cities all over the country, and no one outside their circle knew she pulled the trigger or Livy was raped.

  It was a bluff.

  Somehow, he’d heard a rumor, and that was all it was.

  “And if we don’t?” Gabe asked.

  Gordon stood his ground.

  “I’ll use it. Who knows what’s in it? All I know is we have to find out who did this in a building of people, all the while not allowing them to find out Damian Dean is dead.”

  “You want a freaking miracle?” she asked as Ethan protectively held her, and Chris, against him. “There’s no way ANYONE can do this without it getting out. You’re insane. This will be bigger than the Kennedy conspiracy!”

  He smiled.

  “You don’t have a choice, Mrs. Blackhawk. You’re the best, and you’re going to have to do this without the world finding out that he’s been murdered, or else.”

  Was this guy insane?

  Yeah, and he was running the country.

  * * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *

  Callen was in the air, and he was on his way home to help his brother find their wife, and Chris.

  Finally.

  It had taken forever to get a private jet out of Chicago. He almost tried to bribe someone at the airport to give him his ticket on a commuter flight.

  Yeah, that was how desperate he was. Callen was willing to squeeze his huge body into a coach seat to get home.