Now Forbes looked ill, especially since everyone who worked there was giving him the evil eye. He just committed work suicide. His career was officially over.
Blackhawk held out his hand to his wife, and they walked out together as the anger subsided.
“I have to say, Cowboy, that was the most amazing, sexiest display of anger and hostility I have ever seen. If you think my mouth was a deadly weapon that night, you wait until tonight when we get home,” she grinned wickedly.
Blackhawk grinned back. “Too bad I have to wait until I get home.”
Elizabeth Blackhawk did something so unexpected that it caught them both off guard. She stopped in the middle of the busy street, practically stopping traffic and grabbed the front of his vest. “Nah, you don’t have to wait, Cowboy,” she said, and then kissed him.
Completely surprised by her public display of affection, he went along for the ride. It was long, slow and so full of lust that he felt his body temperature rise to combustible levels. Blackhawk completely forgot where he was, and if he remembered he might have been mortified. His whole body tensed with need as his wife kissed him senseless.
When Elizabeth broke the kiss, she looked up into his eyes and grinned wickedly. Everything around her had stopped during the kiss; she didn’t hear, see or feel anything but the man in front of her. Now it all came crashing back. Horns resumed honking, men were whistling from car windows and traffic continued past them.
“Holy shit Elizabeth!” They hurried off the busy street. “What the hell was that?”
Elizabeth just looked up at him innocently. “That was an assault by a deadly weapon in public. Get out your handcuffs and book me, Ethan.”
When he just stood there staring, open mouthed, Elizabeth simply started laughing. “Let’s go back to the office.”
He still didn't reply.
It was a good day when she could throw Ethan Blackhawk off balance.
Way off balance.
* * *
The killer read the morning paper and there was Sheriff Blackhawk in all her whore-like glory.
The voice had been so right about her.
She was just like the others, and he was justified in taunting her. Now he would get her, and cleanse Salem of her vile sins.
At first there was guilt, but now, there would be no remorse. She was a sinner, and the only way to make a sinner repent was to make them feel the wrath of God.
Tonight, death would claim her husband, and she would understand that God has the final say in who lives and who dies. She was powerless to stop it all.
Tonight the Indian would be cleansed in blood.
* * *
Elizabeth’s chest tightened as they entered the morgue. It was a solemn place, and she knew seeing Sara Bishop on the slab would be very difficult. Already the guilt was bubbling up, and she knew she didn’t protect one of her own. Getting through this was going to be very hard, and she expected tears.
What Elizabeth didn’t expect were her deputies waiting for her when she walked in the door. The three of them were sitting on the bench, somber and patiently waiting for their boss to arrive.
“What are you three doing here?” Elizabeth inquired, still holding her husband’s hand.
“We didn’t want to make you do this alone,” said Tyrell. “We all want to see her together, as her family.”
Elizabeth understood and she hugged each one of them, glad to see they had obeyed and were vested up. Leading them to the elevator, she couldn’t help but reminisce that just a week ago, there had been a good memory here as she had been kissed by Blackhawk. Now she was using it to say goodbye to a friend.
Life had so many twists and turns that it astounded her.
In the morgue, Elizabeth entered first to find her deputy was resting peacefully on the slab.
Where she thought there’d be tears, instead it pissed her off. Such a waste of life, hopes, and dreams. Before she even talked to Doc, Elizabeth walked over to the woman who served under her and was her friend.
She would miss her.
Elizabeth took her hand in hers, and made her a promise. “I’ll get him for you, I promise Sara.” The tears filled her eyes, as she brushed one of Sara’s curls from her cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t keep you safe, I’ll carry this forever,” she whispered to Sara’s deaf ear.
Blackhawk watched his wife, and he knew she was hurting, but he had to let her work through the pain in her own way. He patiently waited until she returned to his side. “We’ll get him, baby.”
Elizabeth simply nodded, watching each of her men take a turn saying goodbye. They were a family. Tyrell placed a kiss on Sara’s forehead and whispered something in her ear. Tony held her hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles as tears threatening to fall. Then Christopher touched her cheek, saying nothing out loud, but his face speaking louder than words.
She moved towards each man to offer them support.
“Guys, go home. Crash for a couple hours and get some rest.” Elizabeth waited for them to look at her.
“I won’t sleep again,” answered Tony.
“I know the feeling,” she hugged the men, watching two of the three leave. “Tony, go home.”
Tony wiped his eyes. “Don’t end up here, Lyzee,” he said finally.
Elizabeth knew both Tony and her husband were thinking about it and honestly, so was she. “I have no intention of dying.”
Tony hugged her and kissed her on the top of the head. When he whispered in her ear, she nodded.
“It’s okay. Now go home.” Elizabeth watched him walk away.
Blackhawk moved back to her side. He wanted to know what the man had said to his wife.
“He wanted to tell me he was sorry, just in case,” she answered, causing her husband’s body to go tense.
“You aren’t dying. I won’t let you!” Just the idea made him want to lose his mind. Elizabeth lying on that table shook him to the core and made him want to go on a rampage.
“It’s okay, Ethan. I’ll be okay.”
Blackhawk held onto her tight as he began praying silently in his mind to anyone he could think of to keep her safe. He really wished he listened to his grandfather, back at the reservation. It might have come in handy right about now.
Elizabeth couldn’t look at her deputy anymore. It was tearing her up inside. “Tell me Doc, did she suffer?”
The older man had watched the entire thing, touched by the love they all felt for each other, and now he wanted to offer Elizabeth Blackhawk a little peace. “No, she took a strike to the back of the skull. It hemorrhaged, and she never woke up. Her last moments were peaceful.” He was glad for both of the women. “I won’t have tox back, but I honestly believe, he came across her, and made his move. She has no defensive wounds, and she had to have known him, or she would have been wary.”
“No sexual assault?”
“No, she was clean. Except this time, we found wood chips made of pine in her hair.”
“Doc, how long until we get more information back on the trace?”
Doc shrugged. “It’s on its way to Quantico.” Without pausing, he changed the subject. “I saw the paper. It’s a bad thing, Elizabeth.” He used her full name, almost like a father would.
“I’m aware,” she answered, honestly.
“You going to be okay?” Doc asked her, but he was looking at Agent Blackhawk.
“I’m okay. Ethan is more upset than I am. I’m used to being smeared, but that brings us to this, someone in your office took that pic. Only your techs were in here, and I was where Sara is now,” she pointed.
Blackhawk got that sick feeling again at her words. He prayed if they had to die, he went first, so he wouldn’t have to come down here and say goodbye. He met her eyes, and she must have understood. She moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing him reassuringly.
“I’ll look into it, Lyzee,” he promised. “You look tired. Make your husband take you home, and get some rest. Those are
the doctor’s orders.”
Before she could protest, Blackhawk took her hand. “Good idea,” he pulled her along. “I want to look at that diary, and then I want to look at my wife.”
Elizabeth wanted to think about the victims a little more. She knew she was missing something, but her husband looked distressed and she opted to comfort him. Work could wait until morning.
The entire way home, all Elizabeth wanted to do was take the vest off, but Blackhawk was adamant they remain on until they entered their house. Ethan was afraid the killer would be waiting in the trees to pick her off as soon as she opened her car door. Patiently, she waited, giving him that little bit at least. She nearly laughed as he tried to protect her all the way into the house with his own body.
Blackhawk was very serious and that made it funny. If the killer had a rifle and scope, he’d take head shots, and the vests wouldn’t matter, but she kept that to herself. Ethan Blackhawk was already worked up. No point making him downright out of his mind.
Inside, he locked and bolted the doors and then drew the blinds all around the house. Closing plantation shutters, Ethan wasn’t willing to take any chances, and he wanted to do everything possible to keep her out of the scope of a rifle. While he was locking down the fortress, she poured them each a glass of wine and carried it to the couch to wait for him.
She began flipping through the diary of Kathy Cory. It turned out to be one more dead end. It only listed a prospective meet up time with her girlfriends and they were going to smoke and drink. There were no specifics, and all she learned was Kathy Cory liked to party, and she did so frequently. It fit with her theory of women with ‘loose morals’.
It made her sad, because the young girl was just out enjoying life. No one should die because of that.
Blackhawk checked every window, door, and corner in the entire house. It was locked down, and he would shoot anything that tried to enter. He wasn’t risking her life. As Ethan went downstairs, Elizabeth was sitting on the arm of the couch facing the patio, as if something was bothering her.
“You look perplexed.”
“I just scanned the diary, and it said she was just going out to hang out with friends and drink and smoke.”
“That’s it?”
“Yep,” she tossed it onto the table and pointed at the vest. “Can we get out of these things now?”
Blackhawk laughed, as he assisted her in getting free from the vest. In return, she did the same for him. Blackhawk carried them to the front door and dropped them there, so they would be the first thing they grabbed on their way out.
“Hungry baby?” he asked.
“No, morgue diet plan,” she answered, sliding into the couch. “You?”
“Same here, I’m looking forward to a break from the morgue for a bit.”
“Want to drink lots of wine and make out?” she suggested. When he hopped over the couch with the bottle in his hand she nearly snorted.
Blackhawk winked and pulled her into his lap. “Come here Mrs. Blackhawk, I want to kiss you,” he leered, wiggling his eyebrows lecherously. He also wanted to remove the sadness from her eyes since losing her deputy. His plan was to distract her the entire night.
Elizabeth relaxed into his arms and noticed the offensive hair tie was back. “Wait, I can’t do this,” she said sitting back up.
“Huh?” Blackhawk looked confused. “What’s wrong?”
Pulling the tie from his hair, she whipped it across the room. As he laughed, she began running her fingers through the silky black strands. “Now everything is perfect. You may commence making out,” she whispered, as he bit her lower lip.
It felt wonderful to just hold her in his lap on their couch. The need for her overwhelmed him, as he deepened the kiss until they were both breathless. “I missed you today,” he said, nibbling on her throat and earlobe. “I also owe you for that assault in the middle of the street.”
“I missed you too,” she said, flicking open the buttons on his shirt, running her hands lovingly over his raven tattoo. “Feel free to have your way with me, Mr. Blackhawk.”
“That kiss today was pretty spectacular, Mrs. Blackhawk,” he added, as she moved to straddle his body. “And had we been alone, I would have taken you up on the offer of arresting you.”
Elizabeth leaned into him and whispered into his ear. “You should have told me before we left my office. I would have brought my handcuffs and a prison jumpsuit home. We could have played ‘interrogate the naughty criminal’.” She noticed his whole body tensed, and she swore she heard him swallow.
“Very intriguing Elizabeth,” he whispered back, as his hands started roaming beneath her clothing. “I think we’ll have to investigate that further.” His lips started wandering her throat.
“Oh and Ethan?”
“Yeah baby?”
“When you were in high school,” she paused and bit his earlobe, because she loved when he moaned for her. “Did you ever want to have sex with a cheerleader?”
“All the time,” he said, continuing his way to the other side of her neck. “Just like every other full-blooded male in the world. Why?”
“I was a cheerleader and in case you’re interested, the outfit still fits. I saw it in the closet upstairs in my old room.” Now she had his full attention, his whole body hardened beneath her. It was that power that made her want to push him further and further, like a drug. She slid her hands into his hair and pulled him towards her, to control the kiss. It was hot, erotic, and he moaned into her mouth at what she promised was to come.
He slid his own hands to her ponytail and set it free, lots of curls dropping around her shoulders and down her back. Just the visual of her in a cheerleading outfit drove him incredibly crazy. Moving fast, he flipped her off his lap, so she was trapped beneath him on the couch; it was her turn to moan, as his mouth made a trail down her neck to the v of her shirt.
And then it happened.
His phone rang and they both paused.
“Oh my God, someone hates me,” she laughed, as he sat up off her body, and gave her the look. It was the apologetic one that said ‘blame the job’.
“Blackhawk,” he answered, watching her grab the wine bottle and move to the bottom of the stairs. She put it down and pulled off her t-shirt, tossing it at him. Standing there in just her unbuttoned jeans that were riding low on her hips, and a lacy bra that barely contained her, she was making it damn hard to concentrate. He tried to focus on the person talking on the phone.
“I’m going to go get into bed, Ethan. I’ll wait for you. If you don’t show up, I will start without you,” she insinuated and then laughed at the look on his face. Taking the wine, she headed to their room.
* * *
The killer watched the house through the scope of his rifle and prayed the FBI agent would exit at some point. The minute he did, he was dead. It was time to strike at the heart of the sheriff, with one perfect shot to the man’s brain. Now if they both exited, then they both would die.
But the Indian had to go first.
She needed to see the end result of her witchery.
He wanted to watch the look on her face, as her husband crumbled to the ground, dead.
He would wait them out. It was still early and if they didn’t come out by morning, he would have to find a pawn to draw them out into the open. The voice always advised to have a plan B, and this time he did.
* * *
Blackhawk scribbled some details down on paper, and contemplated his options. He could go upstairs, climb into bed with his sexy wife or run out to the station. The state police were bringing James Dansforth there. It wouldn’t take too long, just a few hours. Then he remembered the day they had, and he made a decision he normally wouldn’t and it surprised even him.
“Tell the state police hold him until morning. One of our guys will come pick him up. I’m buried in paperwork here.” He hung up the phone and redialed his team to give them pick up instructions.
Then he tossed the phone o
n the couch, and ran up the stairs.
Tonight was going to be about Elizabeth and nothing was pulling him out of the house until morning. All that he could think about was her in the cheerleading outfit.
Yeah, tonight was going to be about making up after their fight. It was time for his wife and his newly found personal life to take center stage.
It wouldn’t kill him to be a husband first.
Elizabeth was pretty sure he’d come upstairs, but then again, he was a work-a-holic, so it was fifty-fifty. She lit some candles and slid into some lingerie she had bought, but never had the chance to wear.
All that was left to do was wait.
Sitting in the center of their bed with the wine bottle in hand, she hoped her husband would find her. When Elizabeth heard him scramble up the stairs, she grinned in accomplishment.
Score one for the wife, work zero.
The look on his face, as he rushed through the door, was priceless.
There she sat in the center of their bed in some black see through concoction and a wine bottle. He thanked the sex Gods, that he made the right choice. “You waited for me.” It was a statement, and his voice held surprise.
“Of course I did, I can’t start the party without you,” she leaned over, putting the wine on the bed stand and patted the bed next to her.
He rushed at her, not even thinking twice. He barely managed to unclip his gun and badge before pinning her beneath him. She smelled amazing; she must have put on something from one of the glass bottles on her dresser. If possible, he wanted to smell nothing but that all day long.
“Now husband, where were we?” she purred, sliding her leg up his thigh and licking his earlobe, pulling gently with her teeth.
“I was getting undressed and you were promising me some easy sex with a cheerleader,” he answered, trying to concentrate, but she had busy hands, and they were everywhere.
The Killing Times (An FBI Romance Thriller (book 1)) Page 40
