Pledging to Die (An FBI/Romance Thriller Book 11)

by Morgan Kelley

  The man’s mouth dropped open.

  “You can’t do that!”

  She shrugged, putting on the poker face. This wasn’t her first day at the rodeo. If this man thought she was going to play by his rules, he had a hard lesson coming.

  “You’re doing something illegal. Once Gabe comes out and admits there is an elaborate blackmail scheme, the FBI will bury it. You’ll be going to jail, and he’ll still keep his job. It all works out for us. You…not so much.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah, he might help. You can use all the assistance you can get at this point. I’d start praying about it, and fast.”

  “I just wanted to keep it quiet. This university has suffered a great deal. Can’t we come to an agreement?” he asked, seeing that he was screwed if he didn't play ball with the Feds.

  “Let us do our job. Keep your nose out of my business, don’t contact Gabe with your BS. If you do that, we’ll find the killer, and not have to worry about our hands being tied.”

  He closed his eyes. “Okay. Deal, but you spin this to protect the university. I’ve given my life to academia and the hallowed halls of this institution…”

  She cut him off, “And those hallowed halls are filled with murder, some rapists, and a hot mess. Trust me. You don’t have much to be proud of here. In fact, if I were you, I’d cut my losses and start sending out your resume.”

  He glared at her. “You’re an insufferable human being.”

  “Ethan, can you add that to the list? Put it between huge bitch and heartless killer. It might make me look better, and softens the blow.”

  Callen stifled a laugh.

  Here, Elizabeth had done exactly what she had planned. Now, they were going to run this the way they wanted.

  “Did you speak to Doctor Levitz?” she asked, waiting for the man to take a breath. He was bright red, and she hoped he didn't stroke out. He was one of the last people she wanted to perform CPR on. She’d rather make out with a snake. With her luck, if he died, she’d get blamed in the media for that too.

  “He’s in his office until two o’clock today. He wasn’t pleased that you pulled him in on the weekend, but I calmed him down.”

  She laughed, getting up from her chair. “My kids are at home without us, so I’m not pleased to be dealing with a killer instead of tucking them into bed each night. It’s a cross we all have to bear.”

  With that, they stood.

  “Keep me updated,” he demanded.

  She simply walked away. Outside, Callen and Ethan offered her a fist bump.

  “Way to go, Tex. See? Violence isn’t always the answer,” Ethan stated.

  “Who are you kidding? We all know that it depends on the question.”

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

  Agent Blaise and Flowers sat in the morgue office working on background checks. Earlier, Ethan Blackhawk had sent a text, asking that they do a search on a few people of interest. They were curious about the campus cop, Roddy Penson, and a student named Archy Saba.

  While being stuck behind a desk sucked, at least they were privy to what was going on.

  When Jason’s phone rang, he immediately recognized the number. “Are you okay?” he asked, getting worried.

  “I’m good,” stated Johanna. “I need your help tonight,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t rat her out to the Blackhawks. If this worked, they’d have a leg up, and Brody wouldn’t be in the house all alone.

  “With what? Elizabeth Blackhawk is riding me about doing anything that involves thinking. She has us on paper duty.”

  “I’m going to search the frat house tonight. You were right. We need to be proactive and dig deep into this one.” She left out the part about Brody.

  “Where’s agent Seaton going to be?”

  She didn't need to lie there. “He’s going to have his hands full with the party. I’m doing this while they’re all busy. I’m going to sneak in, search the rooms, and get out.”

  He liked how this sounded. It was very spy-like and one of the reasons he became an agent. They took matters into their own hands and drove the bus.

  “What can I do?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

  “I’ll go in with my com and tracer on. You’re going to have to be my backup. If something happens, you’ll have to warn Agent Seaton and call in the Blackhawks.”

  God!

  She prayed he wouldn’t have to do any such thing.

  This could go bad really fast, and that was the last thing she wanted.

  “I’ll have your back,” he offered. “We’ll record everything and keep our ears on you. You have nothing to worry about, Johanna. Worse comes to worse, we’ll take care of business, and then yank you out.”

  She was grateful.

  If it went bad, they could be there in five minutes. That was the only reason she was willing to risk it.

  “This better work or they’re going to go shit nuts,” Jason said.

  “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  “I’m proud of you, kiddo. You have some brass balls.”

  That was total bullshit. The only thing she had was someone she loved on the inside—alone.

  That made all the difference in the world.

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

  When they entered the professor’s office, it was clear that he was waiting for them, and he wasn’t in a magnanimous mood. As he sat there in his wool blazer, gently picking lint from the dark blue sleeves, his disdain showed.

  It was directed right at her.

  Before Elizabeth could speak, the man stood and introduced his guest.

  “This is Doctor Sarah Moore, and she’s an attorney. I feel better having someone here to represent me. No offense, Director, but I don’t trust that the FBI won’t twist my words up and try to frame me.”

  Wow!

  Paranoid much?

  He glanced over his shoulder at his teaching assistant. “David, you can head out. I’ll grade the rest of the papers before I leave for the day. Thank you for coming in to help out.”

  The young man left, his eyes never leaving Elizabeth Blackhawk.

  “Please, have a seat.”

  They took the three chairs in front of his desk, as Professor Levitz and his chosen representation remained behind it in a power position.

  Elizabeth had done this before, and she wasn’t new to people trying to out shrink her in an interview. Unfortunately for them, she had the big daddy of all psych men at her side.

  “What is it that you need to know?” he asked, calmly.

  “It was brought to our attention that all the women who went missing, and then turned up dead, took your class.”

  He shrugged. “I teach an entry level psych class. I told you that on the day you subbed for me. I didn't know them personally,” he offered.

  “Do you know Arman Smithfield personally?” she asked, hoping to get some reaction from the man.

  “No, but he does write some fascinating papers. That boy is narcissistic as the day is long.”

  “I know his father,” Doctor Moore stated. “We worked together before he took the bench. I can state for the record that it’s a family trait.”

  “Do you think he could kill?” she asked the man before her.

  Ethan watched him, studying everything he did. From the way he continued clicking his pen to distract Elizabeth, to him leaning forward when he spoke to add intimidation to his response. He was totally wasting his time.

  Elizabeth was accustomed to all these tricks. Ethan had made sure to teach her each and every one.

  “Before I go there, can we address something else?” he asked.

  Honestly, she didn't care, as long as they eventually went there. “Sure, what?”

  He glanced over at her husband. “You’re Ethan Blackhawk, aren’t you?”

  “Guilty as charged,” he admitted, holding out his hand.

  While it was rare for Ethan to say much in an interview, he was taking ov
er this one. While he trusted his wife, because she was one of the best out there, he knew this man would make it a million times more difficult. He could see it as he disrespectfully changed topic to control the situation.

  Yeah, this wasn’t going to fly.

  Without much movement, he tapped his wife on the leg, signally that he would run this.

  She didn't even bat an eyelash.

  Ethan was ready. He could tell by his pricy blazer, the designer glasses, and the elaborate pinky ring, he was going to be just as narcissistic as his one student.

  It took one to know one.

  “I have to say that it’s a pleasure.”

  Callen made notes, lifting a brow when Elizabeth backed down. He could feel them switch up roles, and he was curious why it was happening.

  That was new.

  “Thank you. I don’t get out of the office often,” he stated. “They like to keep me behind a desk, working on profiles.”

  He grinned. “I’ve read some of your psych evaluations. You must have extensive training to pull off some of those conclusions.”

  “Not really. I have bachelor’s degree in criminal justice. That’s all.”

  The man opened and closed his mouth.

  “But how do you…?”

  “Gut instinct. I live by it. Now, can you tell me what your professional opinion is of Arman Smithfield?”

  He leaned back in his chair.

  “It would help me out greatly. I need the impression of someone who’s read his papers.”

  The man softened.

  Elizabeth watched her husband work. This was so completely hot, that later, she was going to jump him seven ways to Sunday. It was hard not to focus on the brush of his inky black hair kissing his pricy suit jacket. Then again, it was the glint of the wedding ring that really made her wild.

  “We figured you’d be the best authority on him, and as you can imagine, it will be a pleasure working with someone with your expertise.”

  Ethan was running it.

  He had the egomaniac eating out of the palm of his hand.

  Callen gave her a look, and she winked at him. Maybe she’d have to let him run it more often. As she started thinking about his sharp cheekbones, the glittering eyes, and his wicked lips, Callen kicked her.

  Apparently, she’d been drooling.

  “He’s got issues,” stated the professor. “He thinks he’s a genius, unfortunately, he can barely write a paper. As for being a killer, anyone can be one. It’s only a matter of taking a life. Some would find it empowering.”

  Ethan listened to the man.

  “His father has definite anger issues,” Doctor Moore stated. “When he was still an attorney, he practically kicked the shit out of the prosecutor when the man alluded that he was a cheap knockoff of some Hollywood attorney.”

  Interesting.

  “What about Nels Lucas? They are always together, aren’t they?” Blackhawk asked.

  The man nodded. “You’d think there was something nefarious going on in that frat house.”

  Ethan lifted a brow. “That’s an odd thing to say. Do you actually feel that way?”

  He laughed. “I wouldn’t doubt it. Nels is about as smart as a box of rocks. He comes across as some brute in designer shoes. The man is more muscle than college material.”

  They were well aware.

  “I can’t believe that they may be involved with those four women’s murders.”

  “Five. We found the missing girl this morning,” Ethan corrected.

  He looked too excited.

  “Really?”

  Ethan pushed on, knowing that the man was right where he wanted him. “Yes, and that’s why we’re here. You were advisor to three of them. Why didn't you mention that?”

  He looked surprised. “Why would I? I happen to advise over twenty students.”

  Doctor Moore shrugged. “I happen to be advisor to the last girl. We divide the workload at this university. We’re assigned students by the main office.”

  Ethan nodded. “Did you know anything about the sex scandal?” he asked.

  The man laughed. “Yeah, we heard after the fact. Louis Cartwright was getting his willy wacked for A’s. Believe it or not, it’s not that odd in a university.”

  Ethan was at his max for the man’s smugness. “You say that like you’re proud, Doctor. That says a lot about you as a person. I’ll have to add that to my profile. Thank you for the insight.”

  He stared at him. “Wait! What do you mean?”

  Blackhawk stood. “Thank you for your time today. We know how it was a big inconvenience.”

  With that, they headed out.

  In the hallway, Elizabeth grabbed him by the hair and roughly pulled his mouth to hers. The kiss was insane, and it left Callen staring.

  When she set him free, his entire body sung in need. There was nothing like having his wife manhandle him in public. Call him crazy, but he needed to keep doing whatever it was he’d done.

  “Baby, what was that for?” he asked, running his tongue over his lower lip.

  She stayed against his body.

  “That was the sexiest display of power I’ve seen in a long time, Cowboy. Later, I’m going to let you interrogate me.”

  He laughed.

  “Uh, what about me?” Callen stated.

  “He can interrogate you too.”

  “Hey! That’s not what I meant!”

  She was well aware.

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

  Saturday Afternoon

  Morgue

  When they walked in, Chris Leonard was elbow deep in his autopsy, the other ME was by his side, and when he finally noticed they were there, he didn't look amused in the least.

  “It’s not Sunday,” he blurted.

  “Thanks, Chris. Here I thought I lost a day in the process,” she replied. “Chill out. I’m here to see our agents, not bug you about the body. I’ll keep my end of the deal.”

  He wasn’t sure what to say. “Seriously? You’re really not going to hassle me?”

  “Hell no. Why would I do that?”

  “Because you’re Elizabeth Blackhawk, and for you not to do it is scary.”

  “Well, if you’re going to be scared, let me solve that. What do you have?”

  The staff started laughing, knowing Doctor Leonard walked right into that one.

  “She’s very dead—now get out!”

  The three Feds laughed, heading into the other room. They knew better than to push the man. He was running on fumes just like they were, and no one wanted to see an ME meltdown. Doctor Legend was tied up back at FBI West, and Chris was all they had for the field work.

  Inside, they found the two agents working.

  “What do you have on Roddy Penson and Archy Saba?” she asked, hoping they’d had enough time to do their research.

  Agent Flowers pulled out her file. When her research partner gave her a warning look, she opted not to say anything about the previous conversation Jason had with his partner.

  “Roderick Penson is an only child. He was raised by his parents not far from here,” she began.

  “Okay, and?”

  “His father died when he was sixteen, and it looks like before his death, he was an alcoholic.”

  Ethan thought about it. “Any police calls to the house when daddy was on a bender?”

  Heidi nodded. “There were twenty seven in all over six years. They started when Roddy was about eight, and ended just before he turned fifteen.”

  Callen was curious. “We said that this killer hated women, but could he hate men too?”

  Ethan broke it down for his brother. “I’m going to bet that his mother was abused, and that our campus cop watched her live her life as a punching bag for her husband.”

  “Bingo. She’s in jail. The reason Roddy’s dad is no longer abusing women, and kids, is that he took a shotgun blast to the torso.”

  Elizabeth found that fascinating. “Can you get me the aut
opsy report?” she asked.

  Heidi typed furiously until she found what they wanted. “The local hospital has a database for law enforcement,” she said, passing over the tablet.

  “He was shot in the heart and midsection,” she said. “It resulted in massive organ trauma.”

  “Could he be taking dead women’s organs because his mother killed his father that way?” Callen asked. “That may be a new low when it comes to sickness.”

  Ethan thought about it. “It might, but I’m not sure. He’s taken eyes, right?”

  “Please, don’t remind me,” she said shuddering.

  “He’s also hacked up plenty of women,” he added. “That could be a shout out to his weak mother—the woman who gave him life.”

  There was one thing for sure.

  “He’s sick.”

  They all agreed with that.

  Ethan weighed it all in his mind. “We’ll put him on the list. When we do the interview, we’ll make sure to bring it all up.”

  “How about our pain in the ass reporter?” she asked.

  Jason took this one. “He comes from a good family. His father is a butcher, and his mother died when he was young. From everything I’ve seen, he’s not wild and out of control, he has good grades, and even won a few writing awards. It looks like he has a deep love of being a media vulture.”

  “Great,” she stated.

  “I’ll keep looking and cross reference them with the victims. Maybe I can find something that will tie them all together for you,” he offered.

  “Thank you,” she said, not missing that he was playing nice. It was like someone abducted her agent and left her a clone—one with a far better attitude.

  “You’re welcome, Directors,” he said, going back to work. “If you need anything else, we’ll be here working late. Just give me a call. I’ll be more than happy to run anyone else you need through the system.”

  “What?” she asked, wondering if she heard him wrong. Did he just offer to do something for the team?