It was the truth. As much as Elizabeth liked playing Cupid, once two people came together, it was up to them to make it work. She set the path. She didn’t do the work.
Elizabeth had enough on her plate with five kids and two men. Cupid’s quiver was packed to the brim.
“Merry thought you were going to be crazy about it.”
She laughed. “Nah. That’s what I like them to think. As the momma duck, I watch my ducklings swim and do ducky things. I don’t intervene until some slippery serpent slides into the pond. I don’t mind other ducks. Ducks are good. Snakes are bad.”
He stared at her. “They say you’re the best the FBI has to offer, and yet that whole analogy left me a little lacking. Talk about hype.”
She snorted, offering him a fist bump. “Don’t believe everything you see on BNN. They make me out to be some superwoman. I’m just doing my damn job.”
He genuinely liked her.
It was hard not to, especially since they had Merry’s best interest at heart.
“Oh, and welcome to our crazy family. Just don’t break her heart, or that analogy will become your worst nightmare. My favorite pair of cowboy boots have snakeskin on them.”
“And that sounds more like the woman they portray on BNN.”
Elizabeth knew that she was probably going to lose her tech. Merry falling in love would definitely suck for her. After all, they’d just broken her in on the team. She was the best tech they’d ever had. Christina had been a gem. Merry…she was the pot of gold at the end of the freaking rainbow.
But she loved her team.
If they wanted to leave for love, who was she to stop them? She couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair. After all, she followed her Native to FBI West, and then he followed her back to Quantico.
Sometimes, when it came to the matters of the heart, you had to roll the dice and hope to get lucky.
She hoped Merry found her Prince Charming.
“We’re here,” she said, standing across the street from the suspect’s home. It looked like every other one, only they knew that the person who resided there was into some creepy shit.
“So wild guess here,” Elizabeth said. “He’s not keeping all those chickens because he likes pets, is he?” she asked, as the black birds clucked around the front yard.
Boone laughed. “Yeah, no. He’s using them for sacrifice. He’s likely bathing in their blood if he’s doing Juju.”
She thought about it. “So if he had a vat of human blood? What Voodoo could he whip up then?”
“If Voodoo was real?” he asked, knowing the woman was a skeptic.
“Yes.”
“Hexes out the wazoo and more bad shit than anyone who legitimately practiced the faith would think to do. If the spirits like an offering of some chicken hearts and blood, imagine what they’d do with human organs and blood.”
She didn’t have to imagine.
She’d tangled with a Satanist before, and he nearly took Ethan’s life.
Normally, she wouldn’t be fazed by the word ‘hex’, only Elizabeth had learned that with crazies, you had to watch your back.
“How do you want to handle this?” she asked.
He actually stared at her.
“What? Is there something in my teeth?”
“You’re the Fed.”
“You’re the Voodoo dude. I’m just a white woman in a Native world. You trump me on this one. I’m at lesson two of Shamanism—bark and herbs can be your friend. You’re more qualified than I am.”
She had a point.
“We should clear the perimeter first. If he’s inside, we won’t be able to get him out. Plus, we don’t really have any reason to enter his place. The word of a priestess isn’t exactly warrant worthy.”
“It’s not? Even here in New Orleans? You’ve got to be shitting me. I wouldn’t have thought it was up there with some shiny purple titty beads.”
He laughed.
“Sarcasm duly noted regarding our city and the spooky element who call it home. For the record, women who say ‘titty’ fit into this city just fine. Welcome home. Nawlins just adopted you.”
She was fine with that.
The city spoke to her. Granted, it was on a crazy level.
“Okay, let’s clear it. Want to separate?” she asked. If her men knew she’d even asked that, they’d flip out.
“Since he’s not a suspect but it’s only hearsay, let’s stick together. I’ll feel better. Plus, I don’t want your husbands kicking my ass. I need to keep an eye on you.”
“Really? Is it some Native code?”
“Yep.”
“I’m going to kick your ass and then theirs just for shits and giggles.”
He’d worry about that later.
As they approached the house, it got creepier. Before, they didn’t notice all the little bags hanging from the tree. They were tied there with what looked to look like little finger bones.
“I hope they were chicken bones at one time. I’ve had bad luck when it comes to dead women and children.”
He glanced over. “There’s a sentence that I never want the details on, Director.”
“Elizabeth. If we’re going to face down crazy, you get to use my name.”
“Boone. Now to answer your question, they are. Chickens are cheap, plentiful, and that makes them the sacrifice of choice.”
She loved chickens.
Baked, fried, sautéed, and even wrapped in bacon.
“You too, huh?” Elizabeth asked, snapping some pictures with her phone. Since the bags were outside, they could look all they wanted. Since they were on private property, she couldn’t grab one for the road.
Unfortunately.
“After I make the offering, I cook the chicken. Any self-respecting person would. Wasting a life that’s been sacrificed is insulting.”
“Uh, okay.”
There were so many things she wanted to ask him, mostly out of curiosity, but she had to wait. He had a serious look etched onto his face.
The man was focused.
As they rounded the corner of the yard, there was an arch not far away. At one time, someone must have liked flowers. It would have been pretty covered in roses.
Now…it had what looked like cobwebs hanging from it. Elizabeth was reminded of the cheap ones people put in their shrubs at Halloween. Someone was really taking the creepy element a little too far.
It felt staged.
As they approached, Boone was silent. He was scanning everything.
On the ground, right beneath the arbor was white paint, forming a circle. In it were all kinds of symbols. When he looked up, Elizabeth was near the arch.
“Stop!” he hissed, right before her hand came in contact with the threads. “Step back before the wind blows.”
She looked at him as if he was loopy.
“Why? The cobwebs aren’t real. I can tell they’re fake. I’m sure there are no spiders.”
Yeah, that was the least of their problems.
“He’s not only into Juju, but he’s a Bokor,” Boone offered, pointing at the symbols.
“What the hell is that?” she asked, dropping her hand as she took three paces back from the webs.
“He’s a master of using toxicology from nature to keep himself safe and do his spells. He’s put poison on the webs to keep out unwanted people. If you touch it, you’re going to be really sick, and depending on the poison, you could die.”
She looked at the circle, and then the cobwebs.
“Poison? Seriously? What the hell?”
“Yeah, he’s playing dirty. He’s warning people who practice Voodoo and the dark arts, but anyone else isn’t welcome here. I’m betting he also has some pet snakes.”
That was all he had to say.
She was more than happy to head out of there, and never return.
She hated snakes and dead eyes.
Backing up, Elizabeth wasn’t sure what to do. Crime and killing she got, but this…
“We need
a sample of that.”
Well, she wasn’t touching it.
“I’ll call Merry. She’ll need to run it for us to confirm. If he’s trying to poison trespassers, we have to put a stop to that.”
He looked pretty freaked out that the woman he was involved with was going to have to deal with it.
“She might be the only one equipped to handle this. Calm down. I won’t let her do anything that might get her hurt. Keep thinking about the duck analogy.”
Boone really hoped not.
He didn’t think he could bear to see her hurt—not his Merry. She’d already been damaged way too much. He had to keep her safe.
It had become his job.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
Landon Walsh’s
Home
When they finally arrived at the cab driver’s home, they were irritated by the trail of reporters lurking behind them. As the day progressed, they were getting ballsy and moving closer to their prey. It was irritating that each time they came to a stop, the cluster of assholes also stopped.
At one point, it had been funny.
Now it was driving him insane.
“Ignore them,” Callen said, seeing his brother getting twitchy. Ethan didn’t like the idea that they were distracted because of the flock of media.
Only this was part of their reality, and they both knew it. He was now the Deputy Director, and being that high ranked in a Federal office generally meant that he didn’t go out in the field. Instead, someone in his position would sit in their office and handled the issues that would pop up there.
The curiosity had to be killing most of the reporters when they saw him wandering the streets.
If Ethan Blackhawk was out working a case, without any security, that meant he had to be involved in something big.
Little did they know it was simply his love for the family that had him there. He didn’t want to be obsolete and a desk jockey.
He wanted to be part of the team.
“I feel off,” Ethan admitted, “and I don’t know if it’s the pack of reporters, a possible killer following us around, or just a rampant case of paranoia.”
Callen patted him on the back.
“Try and focus on the interview.”
Yeah, he had to do just that.
As they prepared to approach the man’s home, Ethan turned and glared at the reporters. The last thing he needed was them eavesdropping on an interview. They all took a step back to stay out of his way.
The less they knew, the better.
Well, they at least had a sense of preservation.
As long as they kept their distance, it was all good.
“Ready?” Whitefox asked.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
Callen knew he was up to bat, so after they checked out the perimeter of the man’s home, he knocked on the door. Ethan was right behind him watching his back. At this point, both men were anticipating what the man could tell them.
Was he part of this?
Or was he just inadvertently parked near the morgue?
When no one answered, they assumed that the man was sleeping. Callen moved closer and began banging harder to wake him up.
“Landon Walsh! It’s the FBI. We need you to open up. We have some questions we have to ask you!”
Ethan scanned the windows by the door. There wasn’t anyone peeking out. Maybe the man simply wasn’t home.
That would suck. He was their next best lead.
“We may have to catch him at work,” Ethan offered.
Callen glanced over, taking his eyes off the door.
Then, without any warning, it was ripped open, catching both men off guard.
Callen barely had time to turn his head when he was hit with what felt like a million volts of electricity. His brain couldn’t register what was happening as a violent wave of pain rushed his body.
Jesus!
His extremities went completely dead, and he could feel himself toppling backward over the rail as someone raced past him.
Well, shit!
This had gone bad, and fast.
Ethan saw his brother topple over the banister, and he knew the reason why. The man they were about to interview was trying to escape.
The Fed in him kicked in.
He knew Callen would be okay, once the surge of the Taser stopped. If he checked on him, they’d lose Landon Walsh. His top priority was to catch the man who’d just assaulted his partner and brother.
Leaping off the porch, Blackhawk gave chase. Ethan knew that he was at a disadvantage. He was wearing dress shoes and Landon Walsh…
Yeah, he wasn’t.
For the first time, in a long time, he wished he wasn’t dressed up. Now he saw why his wife preferred her attire.
This bastard was fast!
Blackhawk had to think smarter. So, to cut him off, he jumped the neighbor’s fence, cutting the man’s lead in half. When he rounded the corner, catching sight of the man who assaulted his brother, he stopped.
He was on the ground in a pile of limbs and cameras.
Who had stopped him?
He almost wanted to laugh.
The media had gotten in his way. There were reporters on the ground, they were tangled up with the suspect, and no one was happy.
Well, he was pretty damn amused by the whole thing. Maybe the jackals weren’t as useless as he thought.
“Thank you for your assistance,” he said, laughing at the mêlée. Pulling his cuffs from the back of his pants, he rolled Landon Walsh over.
The man moaned.
Screw him. He had zero sympathy.
“You’re under arrest for assault on a Federal officer. You have the right to remain silent. I suggest you go that route because you’re being recorded by the reporters you tried to mow down in your stupid race to get away.”
He yanked the man to his feet and dragged him back toward the house. When he got there, he noticed his brother was sitting on the step.
The sleeve of his shirt was covered in red.
“Please tell me you fell onto something red like paint,” Ethan said, saying a silent prayer.
Callen held up his arm. There, at his feet, was a huge shard of glass. “Do me a favor.”
“What?” Ethan said, yanking the protesting suspect when he tried to get away.
“Keep him away from me. I may kill him. This was my favorite shirt.”
Blackhawk totally got it.
This had nothing to do with the white button down shirt. Callen had a slew of them. This had everything to do with the shit that was going to hit the fire.
Elizabeth was going to ride tail over this one, and neither man was going to be safe, especially Blackhawk. Ethan had borrowed her partner, and put a ding in one of her favorite Indians.
Yeah, this was going to suck.
Big time.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
When Elizabeth returned to the morgue, with the detective and Merry in tow, she was in a pretty good mood. The sun was shining, her ME was back in decent shape, and she was able to work with the two men she loved most in the whole world.
In her book, this was a great start to her day.
As she strolled in, she was thinking about grabbing some lunch with the men in her life so she could brief them on what she’d found.
Instead, she was met with something that simultaneously pissed her off and scared her shitless.
Callen was sitting on a silver morgue table, his shirt was off, and Chris was wiping blood from his arm.
Elizabeth wanted to puke.
Seriously.
Now she knew how they felt when they happened across her after she’d been knocked around. It was enough to make her heart skip in her chest, and not in a good way.
“What the bloody hell?” she asked, heading toward Callen. When he looked up at her, he wasn’t smiling. In fact, there were stress lines around his mouth.
That was never a good sign.
Elizabeth tried to remain calm. The last thing she needed was a heart attack.
“He’s okay,” Chris said, throwing in a few stitches. “We had some glass in his arm, but we fixed him up.”
No one spoke.
They were all waiting for her to lose it. It wasn’t a matter of when, but how big the meltdown was going to be.
“Lyzee, are you okay?” Chris asked.
She stared from her husband’s arm to Chris’s fingers as he used the fishhook like needle to stitch up her Native.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
“Exactly how did you get injured? You were going to find a cab driver. That’s not exactly a rough gig.” She thought about what they’d encountered, and she was infinitely grateful that the men had gotten the easier job.
Who the hell knew what would have happened to him?
So much for lunch.
Elizabeth wanted to be sick.
When no one answered, she pointed at her anthropologist. Normally, he had no issue spilling the beans.
Instead of saying anything, Tony motioned toward the TV, mounted on the wall, as he turned up the volume.
She listened.
BNN was looping the feed of what had happened.
The news correspondent was giving an oral report of the situation as the video played.
It showed the two men heading toward a house.
Okay, that wasn’t odd.
Then Callen and Ethan were standing on some porch, and she assumed it was Landon Walsh’s.
Again, nothing out of the ordinary.
The reporter set the scene, playing it up for the camera. Elizabeth blocked out her idle chitchat as she focused on Callen on TV.
It didn’t take long to put the pieces together. Elizabeth watched as suddenly, the door flew open and Callen was hit with the prongs of a Taser.
His body did that horrific dance as all that electricity coursed through his body.
She actually gasped.
Then she was forced to watch as he fell backward over the rail to hit the ground.
Oh, but it wasn’t over.
Ethan then jumped off the porch, chasing after the suspect as he tried to escape.
Blood Shall Run (An FBI Romance Thriller Book 15) Page 36