Blood Shall Run (An FBI Romance Thriller Book 15)

by Morgan Kelley

“If you didn’t have anything to do with it, why not just answer our questions?” Johanna asked, helping her partner out.

  “I met up with a girl.”

  Well, that was a little more logical. They weren’t surprised that in a tourist city, he was out chumming the waters.

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know her name. In fact, it’s names. This is the party city of the country. People come here to get drunk, flash their breasts, and get beads. I found some women who like cops and beads. It was a little break from the doldrums of watching a morgue.”

  Johanna made notes.

  “Do you like beads?” he asked, pulling a string from his pocket.

  She laughed. “No. I don’t. I’m more into jewelry,” she offered, holding up her hand, signaling she was married.

  “Oh, I see.”

  Brody hoped so or he was going to kill the man.

  While they were outside the FBI building, Johanna always wore her ring, and this was one of those times he was damn glad she did.

  When the cop backed off, Brody didn’t have to say a word. His girl could handle herself.

  “So, random hookup, huh?”

  “I’m a guy. Sue me.”

  Brody could already see this was going nowhere. The man was going to be vague. He needed to switch it up.

  “One last question, Mr. DuChamp.”

  “Officer,” he corrected. “I carry a badge just like you, Agent. I deserve some respect.”

  Brody didn’t buy that.

  This guy was a dick. He was still checking Johanna out and that made him lose the last shred of respect he had for him.

  “Sure thing, Officer DuChamp. Here’s what we need to know. Have you seen anyone who has been acting odd at the morgue office? Is there anyone you think could be a suspect or would want to remove bodies from the premises?”

  He seemed to lighten up. Obviously, he liked having them ask his opinion.

  Officer DuChamp pondered it. Finally, he gave them a secondary lead.

  “Come to think of it, there’s one guy who works there, and he’s relatively new. He’s odd.”

  “Odd?”

  “Yeah, he’s all vampire Goth, and he gives me the creeps. He’s a little too…”

  “What?”

  “I guess a little too touchy feely with the bodies. He seems to get off on getting them ready. I walk the halls there, and I can hear him talking to them. He’s always washing them, brushing their hair, and being…odd.”

  Yeah, that was a little weird—not the cleaning them up part, but the conversation part.

  “What’s his name?”

  “It’s Max Howell. He’s about your height, likes to wear all black, and looks like he sleeps in a coffin. I wouldn’t doubt that there’s one in his bedroom. He’s more freak than anything else.”

  “So he likes playing Dracula?”

  “He likes something that’s not kosher, that’s for sure. I’d start looking at him.”

  “Officer, thank you for your help,” Broderick Seaton stated, holding out his hand to shake the cop’s.

  They’d somehow managed to keep it light, and Brody didn’t hurt the man for ogling his wife.

  It was a good interview in his opinion.

  When the woman inside began raising hell all over again, Officer DuChamp had to go. “I swear she’s a pain in my ass. I need a vacation from her.”

  He headed back inside, and Johanna started laughing.

  “What’s funny?”

  “I was thinking about the look on the boss’s face when we tell her about Max Howell. She’s going to either be amused or beat some sense into him.”

  It could go either way.

  “We better run him. This could be entertaining. Maybe she’ll let us watch the interview.”

  Oh, one could only hope.

  Elizabeth Blackhawk was going to lose her mind when they said the word ‘vampire’.

  How could she not?

  It was just so damn absurd.

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

  Cops and reporters were never friends.

  It went against the laws of nature and society. Yes, there were times they used each other for a common goal, but they were never friendly.

  It was like a cat and mouse being BFF’s. It wasn’t likely to happen, and eventually someone was going to be dinner. In the case of Elizabeth Whitefox-Blackhawk, the reporter would be the hapless victim each and every time. After the shit they’d put her family through the last year, she was more likely to cut them off at the knees than offer them any help.

  Hate was a strong word, but it was damn close to how she felt.

  “Director Blackhawk,” the woman called. “I’m Natalie Harding from ‘Good Morning New Orleans’. Can you answer some questions?”

  Already, after only hearing her opening spiel, she wanted to punch the brunette. Elizabeth couldn’t help it. The second she saw a camera, her instinct was to be the world’s biggest bitch. When she saw someone with bleached out fake teeth, it made her want to remove them one by one.

  She must have looked ready to kill.

  Callen’s hand was now on her lower back, a reminder to her that they needed to keep this case low key. The citizens of New Orleans didn’t need to freak out.

  There were days she hated her job…this was it.

  “Sure. Ask away.”

  Callen was surprised she reined it in. He fully expected her to jump the blonde and use her head as a punching bag. If anything, Elizabeth was predictable when it came to the media or women trying to poach her men.

  He was starting to believe that he was definitely going to be getting that tattoo. Elizabeth was incredibly calm. Maybe it was the city. It had tamed the savage FBI beast.

  “Can you tell us what you’re doing here in our fine city, and where your husband is?”

  Although the cat was out of the bag regarding their relationship, the media had yet to be able to get them to confirm that she and Callen had more than a partnership in the field.

  That’s how they wanted it.

  While not denying, they weren’t confirming.

  “We’re taking a break and doing some window shopping before lunch.”

  The woman looked surprised. “You’re not working a case?” Natalie asked again, holding the microphone in Elizabeth’s face.

  It was clear she was trying to provoke her.

  Well, she wasn’t going to win this one. While Elizabeth wanted to kick her ass, she’d kill her with kindness.

  It was far more evil in the long run.

  “Well, we’re standing in front of shops, and I’m buying, so I’m pretty sure that’s shopping.” She pointed at the one building with souvenirs in it. “Unless they call it something else down here.”

  Callen was amused.

  She was going to play with the woman, much like that cat and mouse. There was no doubt who would win this round.

  “Where’s your husband?”

  “If you’re referring to Deputy Director Blackhawk,” she began, still not giving them any dirt about her and Callen, “then he’s back at Quantico doing FBI things.”

  The woman stared at her.

  It was like she was trying to figure her out.

  This amused Elizabeth.

  “If you don’t mind, we’re going to shop a little bit,” she said, heading across the street. “Cal, play along,” she whispered so only he’d hear her.

  Oh, he wouldn’t miss this for the world. It was sexy watching her screw with some unsuspecting person—especially when it was a reporter. They made their lives a living hell, risked their children, and were one of the reasons Bonnie and Clyde had stalked them.

  She pulled a hat down off the rack and put it on Callen’s head. Then she did the same for herself, all the while the reporter and cameraman recorded them.

  “Uh, can you take a picture for us?” she asked the reporter. “I’m not a fan of selfies.”

  The woman looked confused.

&n
bsp; “Why?”

  “So we can document our trip?” Elizabeth added, smiling sweetly at her.

  Natalie Harding juggled her microphone as she took the camera. After snapping the picture, she handed it back.

  They checked out the picture. Callen had given his woman bunny ears behind her head.

  It was totally them. She was putting this one on their mantle at home. It would remind her of their trip to New Orleans.

  Oh, and screwing with a reporter…

  “So, you’re really just sightseeing?” Natalie asked her.

  “No, we’re shopping.”

  Elizabeth picked out a few trinkets for her kids, and they headed inside to pay. When they came out, the woman was standing there.

  “Where to next?” she asked, proving that she intended to follow them.

  Elizabeth could play along. “I was thinking coffee. What about you, Callen?”

  “I’m kind of peckish. I could use a snack. I only had beignets this morning. I’m a big man. I need some protein.”

  The reporter stared at them, her mouth hanging open. This wasn’t the kind of story she’d intended to get.

  They were boring.

  They were a normal couple.

  It was pissing her off.

  Elizabeth didn’t let it go. “I guess we’re going to grab something to eat too.”

  The reporter tapped the cameraman on the shoulder. “Turn it off, Jim. This is a waste of time. She’s got to be screwing with us.”

  “Aren’t you joining us for brunch?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Will you answer my questions?”

  “Sure. You wanted to know what I was doing, and it’s shopping. You were concerned with Ethan’s whereabouts…he’s in DC, and you wanted to know our plans. We’re hungry. I think that’s about it, right?”

  She glared at her.

  “What’s your gimmick?”

  Elizabeth had been dealing with the media a better part of fifteen years. There was no way she was going to buy that the woman wasn’t mic’d up and ready to transmit anything she said. So, she’d make it count.”

  “Really, there’s nothing go on, but I will let you in on a little secret.”

  Natalie lifted the microphone and her eyebrows at the same time. “Yes?”

  “I plan on getting a little onesie for our baby. Maybe you can tell me if you know where they sell them. You know the kind babies wear? I want one that says ‘My momma vacationed in ‘The Big Easy’, and all I got was this lousy onesie’. Know where I can get one?”

  The woman glared at her, turned on her heel, and then headed toward the van. When it pulled away, Elizabeth wasn’t fooled for a second. She crossed toward the coffee shop.

  “Aren’t we meeting the detective?” he asked, looking at the time.

  “Text him and tell him we’re running late thanks to a reporter.”

  “She’s gone.”

  Elizabeth sat, ordered them coffee, and put on her sunglasses. “She’s at your ten o’clock around the corner. They’re watching us, so keep it easy going and no kiss-y face. I’m going to win this one yet.”

  “You’re going to wait her out.”

  “Yes, yes, I am.”

  “And that’s why people hate you,” Callen stated, grinning wickedly.

  “Yeah, I know,” Elizabeth replied, taking in the scenery as if she was on vacation.

  “You kept your cool too.”

  Elizabeth sipped her iced coffee. “Yes, yes, I did.”

  “That’s so hot. It’s totally worth how you screwed with her. I will willingly get that tattoo on my ass. I back out of the bet. I’ll get one as soon as we’re home.”

  She laughed. “You’re funny, Cal. It’s like you think you ever had a chance.”

  He grinned.

  He was well aware.

  Elizabeth Blackhawk didn’t go down easily, and especially not without a fight.

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

  Morgue

  Hot damn!

  He was in ‘The Big Easy’.

  Tony Magnus was pretty damn happy to be working with the team. Truth be told, sitting in the lab was as boring as hell. Yes, his wife was still in DC, and he missed her, but still…

  He loved his job.

  After he got the cab from the airport to the city morgue, he sent a text to his partner in crime that he’d arrived.

  There was no reply back.

  He found that odd, but if Chris was elbow deep in a body, he wouldn’t have the time to return a reply.

  So, Tony moseyed on in, and what he saw was enough to make him stop in his tracks.

  Christopher Leonard was sitting on a stool, his head braced on his arm as he took a nap. Around him were copious amounts of coffee cups, energy drink cans, and all his tools.

  This was all wrong.

  Not so much that his buddy had been drinking coffee and energy drinks, but that he’d not put his tools away, or cleaned up after himself.

  Chris Leonard was one thing.

  A neat freak.

  This was a problem.

  Tony knew what was coming. He and Elizabeth had been bracing for it. At first, when Chris returned to work, he’d been stoic. He’d kept a stiff upper lip about Cyra’s murder. They’d tried to talk to him about it, getting Chris to get it off his chest, but to no avail, he was simply close lipped.

  He refused to let anyone help him. It was like he was intentionally pushing them out.

  Because of that, this is what they saw coming.

  Chris was on a one-way track to self-destruction. It was easy to see the hatred, the anger, and the self-loathing he was feeling. It was also easy to see that at some point, he was going to lose it.

  All they could do was be there for when it happened and hope for the best. If they were lucky, they could pull him out of this mess.

  If not…

  Well, he couldn’t even go there.

  They couldn’t fail. There was a lot on the line with this one. They were doing battle for their friend’s soul. It was being swallowed by guilt and hatred.

  As he put his gear down, he quietly crept around the room, cleaning up the mess. If another body came in, they’d need to have a fast response time. Being unorganized wouldn’t help.

  Just as he put the last tool away, Chris began waking up. When he saw Tony, he didn’t speak. Instead, he looked around for his energy drink.

  “What happened to my…?”

  “I tossed it. You need to head to the B&B and get some downtime. You’re a mess.”

  Chris wasn’t having it.

  “I missed you too, Tony,” he muttered, digging in his medical bag for another can to get him through the rest of the day.

  “Chris, head out. I’m here, and I’ll call you if something comes it, okay?”

  He still ignored him.

  When Tony grabbed his arm, trying to get his attention, Chris lost it.

  He exploded in anger.

  “What the hell is your problem?” he shouted. “Why does everyone give a shit about me being tired? I don’t need a goddamn nap! I need to be left alone!”

  Tony took a step back.

  It looked like the shit was going to hit the fan right about now.

  “You do need a nap, a sedative, and possibly someone to smack the shit out of you. Look at you, Chris! You’re on a path of self-destruction.”

  He wanted to be calm, but this had pissed him off.

  Chris needed an intervention, and if it meant losing his best friend, he was willing because ultimately, they might lose him anyway.

  “I don’t need a nap! I run this lab. I can handle it.”

  Tony pulled out his phone. “You either go get horizontal for a few hours, or I’m calling the boss lady. She’ll boot your ass back to DC, and you’re going to be getting a psych evaluation in the freaking morning. If you think she can’t do it, I’ll fucking help her, Chris. You’re killing yourself, and you need help.”

  He pushed the man.
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  “I don’t need shit from anyone. I’m fine! I have total control. I’m not some baby you need to coddle! You’re just like her! You’re making me insane!”

  While he thought they were coddling him, it was the opposite. They were walking on eggshells. Everyone in the lab kept their mouths shut as he started making simple mistakes. No one pointed out when he began calling people the wrong names. He’d called Merry by Christina’s name a few times.

  No one was coddling.

  They were waiting for the explosion, and it appeared here it was.

  “I hate everyone for making me feel like I’m broken,” Chris said. “You used to be my friend, and now you and Elizabeth are acting like babysitters.”

  Well, he needed them to do just that. Chris was worse than a toddler at this point. He was a loose cannon with a smoking fuse.

  No one knew when the blow up was coming.

  Tony was watching the man lose it. Thankfully, Elizabeth wasn’t here. He didn’t want to watch her be his target. She was carrying enough guilt over not stopping Lily Sanderson from stealing Cyra’s life.

  This was the last thing she needed.

  He’d carry the brunt of this for them.

  “You do need a keeper, Chris. Your eyes are bloodshot, your hair is a hot mess, and you’re wrinkled. You aren’t the man you used to be. You’re slipping, and we can’t stop it. We want to help you, but you have to let us be there.”

  He shoved his beloved medical bag across the table, knocking everything over.

  “Fuck you, and fuck her. Both of you can go to hell! I’m fine. I know what’s best for me. When I get back, I’m taking my daughter and moving out. I don’t need you two breathing down my neck. You don’t understand. You don’t get it!”

  “Then tell us. Help us understand! We want to get it, Chris, but you won’t tell us what you need. We’re confused as to what to do for you.”

  “You didn’t lose Jaxon. Elizabeth saved her when she was taken. Elizabeth didn’t lose Ethan. She saved him when he was taken. No one saved my wife. No one kept Lily Sanderson from burning her in our home. Her body was destroyed. I couldn’t even say goodbye to her. You have no idea what I feel inside. You don’t know what this is doing to me, so stop pretending. She failed me. She didn’t save my wife when she promised me she’d keep my heart safe.”