All the King's Henchmen

by Morgan Kelley

  She was aware, and she didn’t blame him for the anger. She had it too. It lived in her.

  “I’m betting you saw the news,” she stated as she sat there. He sipped his coffee and didn’t really react.

  “Scott?”

  Finally, he answered her.

  “Yes, I have.”

  “This interview is tied to that. I was raped by the President of the United States.”

  Saying it sucked.

  Saying it to a man who should have already known sucked even more. It showed how one-sided their relationship had been. Had he been hurt at work, she would have found out why. Harmony would have taken care of him.

  Only, he didn’t feel the same about her.

  There was no reaction.

  Her words seemed to bring ambivalence.

  “I assumed. When you came home that day, I knew it had to be him. I recalled you telling me about your meeting. I’ve hated that man for a long time. He destroyed us.”

  “Yeah, he did,” she said, giving him that. Only, that wasn’t the truth. They destroyed it. Two people could either make-or-break a relationship, and, unfortunately, they’d done the latter.

  Here was her proof.

  “You’re still angry.”

  “Yeah, I am. Seeing you has brought this all back.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You were so angry, Harmony. I was angry. I couldn’t find the strength to reach you. You wouldn’t tell me about it. You wouldn’t talk about it. You shut me out.”

  “Cut her a break,” Max stated. “She was raped. It’s not about you,” he stated.

  For the first time, the man seemed to even notice him.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  Max was the man who wouldn’t let him dump this all over Harmony. He was the man who would protect her when Scott had dropped the ball.

  Max flipped out his badge and said nothing else.

  “You are riding with the Feds, huh?”

  “You know the marshals and FBI work in conjunction with each other.” As for the man, personally, she didn’t know what she was doing with him. One night did not a relationship make. Harmony was still waiting to see what Max wanted.

  “I guess.”

  He sipped his coffee and contemplated the woman in front of him.

  “We had a good thing, Harmony. The rape fucked us up. You wouldn’t let me touch you, and you didn’t want me to comfort you.”

  That wasn’t true.

  She wanted someone to do it, but Scott wasn’t the right person. She kept thinking about what Max had said. As a cop, he would have known. He would have fought for her.

  Then she looked at Scott.

  He was a cop. He didn’t bother even trying. In fact, he quit so easily. He didn’t even try to get through to her. That was on him. That was his part of this. Had he really tried, she would have let him.

  “I’m sorry, Scott. I’m sorry that I have to do this. You know the president has been killed. Where were you Sunday night? The Capitol police worked that function. Were you on duty?”

  He laughed.

  “You think I killed him? Well, I didn’t. I wish I did, but I wasn’t there. I was home.”

  “Scott.”

  “I’m angry, Harmony, but I’m not a killer. That you think it, shows you didn’t know me.”

  He tossed his donut.

  He’d lost his appetite.

  “I don’t have an alibi if that’s what you’re trying to get out of me. I know how this works. You think I waited six years to kill the man?”

  “Yes.”

  Harmony didn’t lie. She gave him that. It was the only thing she could give him.

  “Well, I do have only one thing to say about it.”

  “What?”

  “May he burn in Hell. You were my one. You were THE one. I was going to propose two weeks later on Valentine’s Day, and I would have loved you forever. I hate him, your job, and that day. I really do. My life has NEVER been the same again.”

  He stood.

  “If you want to talk about this and try to work through it, we should do it privately. You know where I live. This was way off base. I am working, and you should know I wouldn’t do this.”

  He grabbed his coffee and headed past them.

  She sighed.

  “Be right back,” Max said, as she watched the man she once loved drive away. He was beyond angry.

  Then again, could she blame him? She’d been angry for a long time too. Until recently, she hadn’t seen it, but then Max had opened her eyes.

  Was she sad about her relationship ending?

  Not really.

  It wasn’t meant to be. Had it been, he wouldn’t have run. Scott would have stuck with her through thick and thin. He was a coward, and she was glad he’d left.

  As she sat there, Max came back with two coffees and a bag.

  He sat.

  “Here,” he said, handing her a coffee. “You looked like you could use this,” he said, desperately wanting to keep her heart safe. The man was an asshole and didn’t deserve her. He hadn’t even bought her a coffee.

  She was a lady above anything else, and a man didn’t act like that.

  Period.

  “Thank you, Max,” she stated.

  “It’s no problem.”

  She stirred her coffee as she thought about everything tied to the case.

  “He definitely could be the killer.”

  Oh, she wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. The man was still harboring one hell of a wicked grudge. He was plenty pissed.

  “I know, Harmony.”

  She wanted to be ill.

  “The president could be dead because of me, and so could that hooker.”

  “Harmony.”

  “It’s true. Somehow, this could all be my fault. I didn’t stop it years ago. Had I, then a lot of people wouldn't be victims. Had I not been a coward…?”

  He didn’t buy that at all. The fault laid at the feet of the killer, and not the person who had been his victim. Max may be young, but he knew right from wrong.

  Harmony hadn’t done anything.

  “Let’s take a break, eat our donuts, and talk,” he stated, handing her the bag. “I think we both need a little break from that interview.”

  He knew he did. Max wanted to beat the hell out of the man for putting that misery in her heart.

  “You bought me a donut?” she asked. “Really?”

  “Of course I did. For the record, and it may not be my place, but he wasn’t right for you.”

  “How do you know?” she asked, curiously. She already knew that, but she wanted to know what he was thinking.

  “He ate in front of you. A gentleman will buy a lady a coffee and treat her like she’s a priority. His momma should be ashamed of herself. She didn’t raise him right.”

  She smiled at him as he handed her the brown paper bag with the offering in it.

  “Is it chocolate?” she asked.

  “Oh, crap. Is that your favorite?” he asked, enjoying the way she smiled at him. Harmony’s smile took his breath away each and every time.

  That’s how he knew.

  Scott wasn’t right for her, but he was. Max was pretty damn sure of it.

  “It is,” she said, reaching into the bag. Inside, she found two chocolate donuts.

  Her heart skipped.

  God!

  He knew her so well. In one day, one night sleeping together, and being connected as partners, he knew her so damn well. She didn’t think Scott knew she liked chocolate donuts, and they’d been a couple for a year.

  “Apparently, they are my favorite too,” he admitted.

  That was love, and she knew it. For the first time in a long time, Harmony felt loved and safe.

  This man tied her up in knots.

  “Thank you.”

  “Well, you do like your sweets.”

  She leaned over and kissed him.

  “No, I meant thank you for being a gentlema
n. I really am glad I met you, Max.”

  Oh, he was too.

  It was amazing that gone were his nerves. Around her, he only felt one thing.

  Peace.

  And Max loved it.

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

  Fort Whitefox-Blackhawk

  Wednesday

  Afternoon

  When they got home, Wyler was sitting at the kitchen counter, feeding TJ in his bouncy seat. The baby was covered in baby food. It looked like they’d done battle in a carrot-filled field, and neither had won.

  As they dropped their things on the counter, Wyler smiled at them.

  Then he broke into a fit of coughing.

  Yeah, someone was coming down with a cold—or something.

  Immediately, she thought about Chris.

  “Dad, you need to see a doctor,” she stated, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

  “I’m good, sweetheart,” he offered. “I think I caught something when I took TJ to the doctor for his shots. Doctor’s offices are like public toilets.”

  “Yeah, you have little shits all over the place,” she said, without missing a beat.

  Callen laughed.

  “And you wonder why our kids talk like a bunch of sailors on furlough. It’s genetic.”

  Oh, she was well aware.

  “Callen James, there was never any doubt where they got it from. We all know they got it from me, but they are also sweet and kind. I’ll take a few calls from the dean of that school to have kids like that.”

  Yeah, he would too.

  Elizabeth kissed TJ on the cheek.

  “Mmmmm…carrots. I was hungry too,” she teased. “My little Native munchkin looks good in orange. Oddly, your brothers almost ended up wearing it in jail.”

  Wyler laughed.

  He was glad they were home. It was nice to talk to someone who was over the age of seven.

  “He loves them. He’s on his second jar. Someone likes food,” he said, pointing at his other son.

  Callen was biting into a muffin.

  “WHAT? A guy has to eat,” he said, kissing TJ on the top of the head. “It’s not like you can run all day on coffee and stripper glitter,” he said, as his father brushed some off the back of his pants.

  “I don’t want to know what you sat in,” he stated. “In fact, with you two, I’m scared shitless to know.”

  She laughed.

  “Very wise, Mr. Blackhawk,” she said, as he smiled at her. “Your sons are incorrigible. I’m outnumbered.”

  He found that funny.

  “Yes, it’s all them, Elizabeth.”

  She winked at him.

  “As long as I’m still your favorite, I’m good with you basically telling me I’m to blame for their misguided ways,” she teased. “It couldn’t be genetics.”

  There was a war whoop from somewhere in the house as the kids who were too young for school raised some hell.

  “Rigggghhhtttt,” she stated.

  That made Wyler chuckle. His gene pool had some wildness in it, and apparently, from the G-string he found in the couch, some perversion.

  He pulled it out of his pocket and held it up.

  “Oops, there it is. I misplaced that,” Callen stated. When they both looked at him, he grinned. “To the victor goes the spoils. Don’t judge.”

  She wouldn’t. She recalled the battle that had been waged on the living room sofa. It had been epic. She’d lost more than her britches that night.

  “Anyway, what are you two doing home so soon?” he asked.

  “We are taking a break. I have to work later tonight. I’m going to interview a stripper.”

  “You said interview, right? Not be one?”

  Callen laughed his ass off.

  “See? It’s not just me who knows what you’re capable of, Elizabeth. You’re a bad girl,” he stated, waving her G-string like a freaking flag.

  She grabbed it and shoved it into her pocket.

  “You strip one time, working a case, and none of the men in your life will forget it.”

  Wyler shook his head.

  “Furloughed sailors, a stripper mother, and everyone’s packing a gun—these kids never had a chance. I’m fighting a losing battle.”

  She laughed.

  “I’m going to change, then stare at a whiteboard. I have to start looking at the players in this screwed-up drama.”

  Wyler watched her walk away.

  “How’s she doing?” he asked.

  “Good. She’s avoiding the media, and she’s trying to find this killer.”

  “Is she in danger?” he asked. “You know how the crazies tend to follow her home.”

  He pointed at Callen.

  “Oh, well, the apple dropped right at the foot of that tree,” Callen teased. “You know since you live here too.”

  Wyler laughed.

  “Go take a break. Everyone was gone before I even got up this morning.”

  Yeah, he was aware, since they never came home the night before.

  “I’ll make you some sandwiches to take with you,” he offered.

  “Dad, we’d be lost without you. I love you,” Callen stated. “Thank you for taking care of us and the kids.”

  He hugged the man.

  “I missed most of your life. The least I can do is pitch in now when you all need me, and I love you, too, son.”

  Callen dropped a kiss onto his infant brother’s head and chased after his wife.

  When he got to their room, she was rustling around in her closet.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I need to get into something comfortable. It’s going to be a long night. I need my older boots. These aren’t broken in yet.”

  He understood.

  “Okay,” he said, resting back on their bed as he yawned. He would close his eyes for a few minutes. He was beat.

  As he laid there, it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. He was in that delightful place between out cold and almost there. A nap was always a good way to recharge.

  That’s when he heard the familiar, telltale click.

  Opening his eyes, Callen tugged on his wrists, but they were cuffed to the headboard, and his wife was standing there in front of him.

  In the stripper outfit from years ago.

  His dick went rock-hard.

  “Oh, Jesus,” he muttered. “I hope this is NOT a dream, and I’m about to be ground on by a sexy stripper.”

  She let her hair down.

  Literally.

  She was well aware that they all had a hair fetish. Callen loved when hers ran across his body. Well, it looked like he was going to have some fun.

  “God! I love when you do things like this,” he said, as she shook her ass.

  “Did I ruin your nap?” she asked, as he checked out her body.

  He laughed.

  “Oh, I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” he stated. There was no way he was passing this up. While they had a pretty exciting sex life—when his wife pulled this costume out…

  Yeah, he was going to really get lucky.

  “Ready, Callen James?” she asked, shaking the beaded costume that had once made him so hard he’d jerked off thinking about it nonstop. That had gotten him through many a miserable night when he’d been traveling as the liaison for the FBI.

  Now, it was going to get him through the day.

  Hell, yeah!

  “I’m never ready when you put that on,” he stated. “Ethan has a Miss Kitty fetish, and I have a dirty stripper fantasy. I’m a pervert. My father is right.”

  That made her grin.

  While they should be working, Elizabeth knew things tended to come to her when she wasn’t working. This distraction would clear her mind.

  She pulled off his boots.

  “We want you to be comfy for what’s coming,” she admitted.

  Oh, so did he.

  Then she unzipped his jeans, with her teeth. Her hands were on his thighs, and his whole body felt it.
There was that electrical shock to his system.

  His dick jumped.

  “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this,” Callen admitted. “Make me pay, stripper girl.”

  Elizabeth pulled down his jeans and tossed them onto the floor. Then she straddled his body, so she could work on his shirt and tie.

  “Bless you,” he muttered, as she rubbed against him. “This hits just about all of my fantasies.”

  She ran her nails down his chest.

  “And there is the last one,” he said, as he moaned in pleasure as her nails left that kiss of pain.

  “Callen James, want me to rock your world?” she asked, tugging on his tie.

  “Yes, rock my world.”

  She slid down his frame and pulled his boxers roughly off of his body. His fully erect dick bounced as he was set free.

  “Yesssss,” he hissed as she was focused on that part of his anatomy. “Come on, baby, ride my dick!”

  Oh, in due time.

  When Callen got wild, she got wet. The way he could up the heat, talking dirty, made her want to do just that.

  When she stroked his dick, his whole body shook.

  “Want a blowjob, Mr. James?” she asked, touching her breasts with her free hand.

  Did he ever?

  “More than you’ll ever know,” he muttered. “Yeah, slutty stripper, touch those tits for me.”

  She got wetter.

  Callen could make her crazy. When that warm, whisky-tinged voice got raspy with lust, she was putty in his hands. He was just dirty enough that she was intrigued. She unhooked the top of the Native American stripper costume, and her breasts fell free.

  He moaned.

  “I’ve been a very bad boy. Punish me.”

  So, she did.

  Elizabeth focused on his erection, working him hard. She made his eyes cross with each stroke of her mouth and hand. As his body shook, she took him right to the edge.

  Then set him free.

  He groaned.

  Callen was so close, and she knew it. His woman was driving him insane with her womanly wiles. Now, he was horny, his balls ached, and he was seconds from losing control.

  “More!” he demanded.

  “More what?” she asked.

  “More of your mouth. I want to cum,” he growled, trying to pull his arms free.

  “Well, if you promise to rock my world,” she said, taking him back into her mouth.