* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
Across Town
To say that he was angry would be an understatement. He’d taken that girl the previous night, and when he’d worked so hard to screw with the Feds, how’d he been rewarded?
With a rotten liver.
What the hell was he supposed to do with that? He couldn’t dehydrate it, and he certainly couldn’t make it into protein powder. It was a waste of his time.
As he pulled the last piece of liver from his storage container, he shoved it in the blender. As he added some of the blood and protein powder to make it palatable, he was at a loss.
He had to find someone else.
He didn’t have a choice.
The blood wasn’t really helping him. While he thought he’d feel a buzz from it, he didn’t.
Maybe it was because she was a hot mess.
It was funny how the woman looked good on the outside but was rotten on the inside—and after he’d set such an elaborate scene to mess with the Feds.
What a waste.
Well, tonight he’d have to head back out to hunt in ‘The Quarter’. He didn’t have a choice. There would have to be another one taken so he could prolong his life.
It was getting harder and harder. The prostitutes on the street were scared, and they were getting wary that they were in danger.
He’d have to be trickier.
Smarter.
Meaner.
It sucked, but this was part of his existence.
Hitting the button on the blender, the liquid whirled to life. It looked like a dark red shake with streaks of brown.
It was all that kept him alive, and he knew it.
Dumping it into a glass, he headed toward the windows to look down over the street. The tourists were out and about, celebrating life.
Like he should be.
It wasn’t fair that he was going to die.
All he could hope was he’d find the right woman tonight, that she was healthy, and he could flip off the FBI in the process.
He drank his shake.
And laughed the entire time...
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
B&B
Blackhawk Room
Back at their room, they ordered pizza and set up the white board. They were going to have to get a lead from their profiler since the other ones had led nowhere.
While they waited for the detective to arrive, Ethan wanted to see his kids. He missed their chaos, and it always centered him. Pulling out his tablet, he held it up for his wife to see.
She squealed like a kid herself, and it made him happy. She was a damn good mother, and here was his proof. The look she got just thinking about their little ones made his heart so very content.
“We should see if the Natives have overthrown the boss. We know it’s only a matter of time.”
Callen leapt the couch and landed beside Elizabeth. “I’m betting dad has it under control. The man is crazy just like them. He thrives in the madness.”
Elizabeth didn’t disagree.
You had to be insane to take on all of their kids.
As Ethan sat, he pinged their other tablet.
Instead of Wyler, three other faces showed up. There was CJ, EJ, and Cat.
“Babies,” Elizabeth said, kissing the screen once for each of them. “Where’s granddad?” she asked.
Cat lowered her voice. “He’s kissing Maeve like daddies kisses you.”
Callen snorted. “Well, momma is fun to kiss.”
“Where are you?” Ethan asked, noticing it was dark and they were huddled together.
EJ grinned. “Hiding and shopping.”
The three of them looked at each other.
“Shopping?” they all said together.
“We buy toys,” Cat said.
It was hard not to laugh. Kids today were so much more tech savvy.
Ethan made a mental note to put a password on the tablet. He could only imagine the damage those three were capable of inflicting.
“You are in the house, right?” he asked. Deep down, he wasn’t worried. There was security outside.
They wouldn’t get far.
All three of them smiled their toothy grins. “Yes.”
Well, at least they didn’t have any weapons or lighters. It looked like the house was still standing.
“CJ, how are Charlie and Christopher Anthony?”
The boy shrugged. “I sold them.”
Callen started choking on a beer. “What? What do you mean you sold them?”
Elizabeth started laughing. “He’s not serious. The boy probably put them in a toy box. Relax.”
Callen shook his head. “This family is sick. They have to get it from you two.”
“How’s Bethe?” Ethan asked.
Cat pulled out a notebook and pretended to read it. “At eight she cried. At twelve she pooped. Now she’s napping.”
“Kitty Cat, I love you,” Elizabeth stated. “You make momma so very happy.”
“I love you, momma.”
Then the kids went quiet.
“Shhhhhhh,” whispered CJ. “It’s the fuzz. We’re caught and going to jail.”
Ironically, that wasn’t likely going to be the last time those words were uttered when it came to the Whitefox-Blackhawk children.
THAT they got from their fathers.
All three of them started giggling, trying not to make a sound. It was funny as hell watching life from their kids’ perspectives. When the closet door opened, they saw Wyler’s boots.
“You three think you’re funny? How about I punish you and make you eat so many cookies you get sick!”
“Cookies!” they yelled, running from their hiding place to get their snacks.
When Wyler’s face came on the screen, he was smiling. Then he stopped.
“What?”
They began making kissing sounds. Then they began singing his least favorite, juvenile song.
“Wyler and Maeve, sittin’ in the tree. K. I. S. S. I. N. G.”
He sighed.
“Jesus. What did you do, bribe them? I am the adult here, and I shouldn’t have three nosey little cops ratting me out to the fuzz.”
And that explained where they got that term.
Elizabeth giggled. “Hey, Dad, how’s tricks? By tricks, I mean that sexy Irish babe you’re chasing down. You know, the one who makes a mean scone.”
He winked, giving her the Blackhawk grin.
She pretended to swoon.
“I choose to plead the fifth, especially when it comes to my woman-molesting sons. Nothing I can do will top that.”
Ethan and Callen fist bumped.
“Anyway, you three, more importantly, how are you?”
They saw how happy Wyler appeared, so he must have taken Ethan’s advice. That was worth everything to them. They only wanted him to enjoy the years left in his life.
“We’re good. How are you?”
He looked around. “Can I talk to Elizabeth for a second?” he asked.
The boys stared at him.
“What?” they said together.
“I need a private conversation with my daughter. Is that so odd?” Wyler inquired.
He knew they were going to make a big deal over it. Had he had time, he was planning on calling Elizabeth, but the time, and kids, got away from him.
“Are you okay?” Callen asked. “Is something wrong?”
He didn’t say anything.
“It’s okay, Dad. You can speak your mind,” Ethan offered.
“I wanted to talk to her alone because you two will bust my ass. She’s my favorite, and she knows when to be serious, and when to joke around.”
She grinned. “Yeah, I do, but I promise, Dad, they’ll behave.”
He sighed. “I need a night off when you get home—preferably a Friday night.”
“You have plans?” she asked.
“I’d like to make them, if you know what I mean,” he eluded.
“A sleep over?”
“A date,” he said, pointing at Ethan. “This is why I wanted to talk to Elizabeth without you two chuckle heads here. You two maul a woman. I want to know how to romance her, since I’ve never really done it before. Elizabeth will be serious and help me. I don’t know if I should trust any advice that comes from either of you.”
“We both caught her, didn’t we?” Ethan asked.
“Son, listen to what you just said, and then think about it and how it applies to a normal relationship.”
He laughed.
His father had a point. They were involved is a very sexy threesome.
“For the record, she likes dick,” Callen said, earning one hell of a punch to his side, “or possibly not after that really stupid comment from me.”
Elizabeth grinned.
Men were trainable with the right motivation. Sex or an ass kicking worked each and every time.
“Callen, I’m not interested in jumping into bed with Maeve. I want to take her out and be romantic. It’s been so long since I tried to do this. I know you two hornballs won’t steer me in the right direction.”
She snickered.
“I’m romantic,” Ethan stated.
“Me too.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Yeah, they try. Dad, here’s what you need to do. The date needs to be memorable.”
“Sweetheart, I’m sixty three. I’ll be lucky if I remember it. Keep it simple for an old man.”
She laughed. “Okay, well, let’s look at the woman. What do you know about her?”
He thought about it.
“Maeve is all about Ireland.”
“That would be one hell of a date,” Ethan offered.
“Well, taking her there would take more than one night, and frankly, you three can’t live without me. I have six kids downstairs, and they need me. I want a romance, but my grandkids and you three come first. I did it the other way once, and it didn’t work out.”
“Dad.”
“No, son, hear me out. I want to start something with her, but I need you three to know that my family comes first. This is something to ease that loneliness I feel. I need a companion, but I still need my kids and grandkids more. This may not lead anywhere.”
He was right.
Elizabeth knew what to do.
“The botanical garden has a display. It’s an Irish countryside. It’s lush, green, and it’ll make her feel at ease. Then you take her to an Irish pub, have authentic Irish food, and just be yourself.”
He memorized what she was saying. “Okay, then?”
“You walk her to her home, and if she invites you in, you say no.”
Both men looked at her.
“Really?” Callen and Ethan said at the same time.
Even Wyler looked confused.
Telling the Blackhawk boys to turn down sex because there were other important things was like telling them the Earth was flat and the sky was neon colors.
There was no way it could be true.
“Yes, really. Maeve isn’t some tawdry piece of ass. She’s a lady. She likes to feel special, and him not sealing the deal on date one will do that. It’ll show her that you’re a gentleman.”
Wyler trusted her. “Okay, then what do I do?”
“At the door, you kiss her goodnight, tell her if she’d let you, you’d like to meet her for breakfast in the morning. You bring her flowers, and a picnic in a park.”
He grinned. “You’re good at this.”
“I’m a girl. It’s a gene thing.”
Both men stared at her. They realized something. Neither of them had done anything even remotely romantic in…two kids.
Did it bother her?
Ethan lifted a brow. That would have to change.
“Will this work?” Wyler asked. “The last woman I had a meal and drinks with was Callen’s mother, and we all know that was beer, nuts, and a roll in bed.”
If it bothered Callen, he didn’t even flinch.
“It’ll work. Trust me.”
Wyler relaxed. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
“No problem.”
At the knock on the door, they knew it was likely the pizza or detective.
“Dad, we have to go. Hold down the fort.”
He blew them a kiss.
When Elizabeth got up to go answer the door, Callen touched his brother’s arm. “We suck.”
He knew what he was talking about without his brother having to go into details.
“Until this moment, I didn’t realize how much. I don’t know if she told dad that to give us a hint, or if she was genuinely trying to help him out.”
“We need to fix that.” Callen thought back to the evening they’d shared when they arrived in New Orleans. She said she didn’t need him to buy her anything, but she never said she didn’t need romance.
How did he miss that?
“We need to make this right with our girl.”
He was right.
Ethan had a plan. Later, they’d implement it.
“We lucked out, boys,” she said, walking in with two pizzas and a detective.
The men grabbed the food, and she grabbed a beer for each of them. When she returned, the men were sitting on the couch with a spot between them.
Apparently, they wanted to eat and work.
That worked for her.
“I messaged my partner. He was just waking up when I did, and he’s heading here, so we can start without him. I’ll catch him up to speed.”
They were good with that.
Ethan handed them each a slice on a plate. “We can eat and profile. I don’t need my tablet. This one isn’t going to be all that easy.”
That didn’t bode well.
“Okay, Cowboy, what can you tell us?”
“Our killer is arrogant. He’s plucking women right off the street, plus he feels secure enough to head to the morgue not once, not three times, but five. He’s playing a game, and it’s a big one.”
They could tell.
“The last victim was a message to you, Elizabeth. He wants you to try to stop him. He’s sick enough in the head that he is enjoying it. This is about him and you. It’s about his needs over your desire to stop him.”
“Is that why he’s aggressively focused on her?” Callen asked.
“Yes. He’s killing women, and here is one trying to stop him. Whatever he’s taking the organs for, it must be important.”
“Is this a Voodoo thing?” she asked. “Do I need to worry there’s some sicko coating himself in blood to make me stop?”
He wasn’t sure.
Really, there was no way to tell.
“That’s a very hard question to answer.”
“Tell me what your gut says. I’ll take that to the bank each and every time, Ethan.”
He thought about it.
“I don’t think so. If this was a religious thing, there would be more.” Ethan glanced over at the detective who was chewing as he watched him. “Do you have an altar?”
“Yes. It’s a very sacred thing. All my hopes, dreams, and energies are focused there.”
“Why aren’t we finding one?” Ethan asked. “If this was about Voodoo, wouldn’t the killer want to make sure we knew it? Hell! We’re in New Orleans—Voodoo capital of the United States.”
That was odd.
The last time they dealt with a Satan worshiper, they had found the victims on an altar.
“I think he’s yanking our chain. In Voodoo, we may use a chicken, and it’s blood, but not the liver.”
This was getting more and more confusing.
Elizabeth got up and started pacing back and forth. She was staring at the board, working things out in her head.
“Is she okay?” the detective asked.
“It’s her process.”
He was good with that. Most of the detectives he knew had one when they were trying to solve things.
“He’s not afraid of us, so he’s crazy.”
“We
ll, he’s taking livers and blood—Hep C blood no less—so that’s the definition of crazy in our book. He’s got nothing to lose.”
She really wished she knew where this was headed. “So, he’s focused on me.”
Unfortunately.
“Yes,” Ethan said. “When he flipped you off, he wanted you to see that recording. He wanted you to start thinking about it and tie yourself up in knots.”
“So, he’s making me run in circles.”
“I think he’s watching you as you try to do your job. He’s going to get off on it. You’re one step behind.”
“What about the priestess and Kaleb Meeks?”
“I don’t know if they fit into this. I really can’t tell. Our killer isn’t giving us much in the way of evidence.”
She stared at her husband. “Age?”
“Younger is my gut instinct, since he seems sporadic, but he’s not making mistakes. I’m going to say that he’s midway between thirty and fifty.”
She thought about it. “Ethnicity?”
“Most of the victims have been white, and we all know that serial killers tend to hunt their own ethnicity, unless something in their past has made that the aberration, I’m going Caucasian on this one.”
Elizabeth scribbled a number on the board. “He’s not going to be old. I can feel it. He’s going to be in his forties at the max. Callen, pull up the video footage.”
He did.
“Watch as he carries her toward the door. He’s not struggling, but it’s not easy. Let’s look at the victim.”
She pointed at the last hooker’s picture. “She was a little shorter than me, right?”
“Yes.”
“Stand up, Callen, and, Detective Savage.”
They did as she asked.
“We can tell that the person is somewhere between their heights. Now, Callen, pick me up like he’s holding the victim.”
He threw her over his shoulder.
As she hung, she kept talking. “Walk around the room just like this,” she said, playing dead weight.
He did, and with ease.
“Callen is early forties, and in excellent shape. Our killer isn’t in as good of shape.”
“Maybe his bulk offers him more strength,” the detective offered.
“How old are you, Boone?”
“I’m thirty-five.”
Blood Shall Run (An FBI Romance Thriller Book 15) Page 39