“Don’t do it, Christopher. I’ll kick your ass.”
He knew that was total BS. Elizabeth would find a way to help him if she really thought he was that hard up.
“I love you, Lyzee. I’ll watch the kids tonight if you need to work on the Callen mess.”
“I love you too, Newton, and thank you. Ethan will be home. I think Callen needs a little alone time. It’s been a hectic couple of weeks. Someone needs to keep the Natives from getting restless.”
“I’ve never wanted to be less Caucasian than I do at this very moment.”
“We’ve been there and done that, Doc. For all of our best interests, stick with your whiteness. You have enough problems sporting those boxers,” she said, getting out of the elevator. “You can’t handle my chaos again.”
That made him laugh because it was likely true.
“I’m here if you need me,” Chris offered. “I hope you work it all out with Callen. Alone time might just work.”
Yeah, and so did she.
Alone was best so when she groveled, no one saw it but him. The mere idea that they were at odds was making her day suck.
“Pass on the assignment to the Seaton/Madden team. I’ll check in bright and early tomorrow.”
“I’ve got you, honey. See you then.”
Elizabeth turned off her phone and scanned the hallway on the fourth floor. It was time to get to work.
Heading toward Lucy Goodwin’s room, she knocked on the door. It didn’t take long to hear footsteps heading her way. She really hoped this woman could shed some light onto the whole situation.
Elizabeth was thinking about what she’d found when searching the Goodwin residence.
It made her heart hurt.
She hoped her relationships never came to that. It would kill her if it did. She loved being married to Ethan and Callen, and she had to believe they were soul mates.
If she lost either of them, she’d be losing half of herself.
When the door opened, Lucy was pretty much what she expected. She was around Elizabeth’s age, but she’d been molded, trimmed, and plastic-ified.
Someone had a few dates with the surgeon’s knife.
“Yes?”
She pulled out her badge and didn’t say a word.
“I know who you are. Reggie from downstairs called up to warn me that you were headed this way. Why don’t you come in?” she suggested.
Elizabeth tucked her badge face out, beside her sidearm. She wanted it clear of her blazer, simply because she was watching her own back.
For all she knew, this woman could be a killer. Maybe dumping her security detail was a bad idea. Then again, this woman was pristinely dressed, her hair wasn’t even a mess, and she didn’t look like she’d been mourning her husband’s death.
That was interesting.
“Is this about Richard?” she asked, taking a seat on the large couch.
“Yes, ma’am, it is. I’m working on the case.”
“I prefer miss,” she said, cutting her off.
Elizabeth would prefer empress, but she didn’t get what she wanted, so this woman could kiss her ass.
Yeah, someone was accustomed to getting her own way.
“Anyway, can you tell me what happened, ma’am?” she asked, purposely using the term.
The woman glared at her.
Elizabeth waited. She could tell already that this woman was a little too self-absorbed. She wasn’t going to kowtow to her need to be treated as if she was the center of the universe.
That wasn’t her job.
“I was away shopping, Marta called, and she said that Richard had drowned in the pool.”
“Is there anyone who can corroborate your alibi?”
The blonde stared at Elizabeth. “Are you suggesting that I killed my husband?”
“I’m suggesting no such thing. What I’m doing is trying to clear you of this. So, tuck that attitude away and just answer my damn questions.”
“I’ve heard of you.”
“Great. I was worried that I would just be a nameless investigator out there in the big scary world.”
“They say you slept your way to the top and are banging two brothers.”
Elizabeth wasn’t shocked.
She knew what people said about her, Ethan, and Callen. The funny thing was that if she were the boss, she’d still be the villain. People always thought the woman was the gold digger.
This was part of the issue she was having with Callen’s money. It made her feel like one.
“Yeah, well, don’t believe everything you’ve heard, unless it’s that I’m a bitch. You can bank on that, Mrs. Plastic.”
The woman made a huffing sound.
Yeah, someone spoiled this one until she was decayed to the core. She may look refined, but she was rotten inside and out. Elizabeth was good at reading people.
“Feel free to carry on,” she stated.
“As for the corroboration, no, I don’t have anyone who can verify where I was. I was out shopping and by myself. I needed some time away.”
“Do you know anyone who might want to hurt your husband? Well, beside you?”
She glared at her. “What’s that mean?”
“Well, his room was free of sex items except for condoms, but yours was a cornucopia of kinky fun. I’m betting you both were getting off, but not with each other.”
“That’s amusing coming from you.”
“Yeah, I have two hot men banging me. You have a drawer of vibrators and anal beads. Way to insult me, Mrs. Goodwin. I suggest you just play along, and we’ll get this over with as soon as possible.”
She glared at Elizabeth.
Honestly, she felt sorry for the woman. She was living a lie, and that had to suck. It was crystal clear that she was on her way to bitter old hag.
“So how long have you and your husband been estranged in the bedroom?” she asked.
“That’s not your business.”
“Listen, in my world, there are only so many things that gets a person killed—jealousy, lies, lust, greed, or stupidity—are at the top of the list. Something got your husband murdered. I have to figure out what so that means EVERYTHING connected to him is officially my business.”
“Why don’t you ask his side piece?”
“Name?”
“Oh, she fluffs his pillows every night, and I mean that in the most perverse way possible.”
“Marta Jones, your maid?” she asked.
“Yes. He flaunted her all over the house while I was home. He has sex with her in his office, what used to be our bedroom, and once on the kitchen counter. That’s disgusting.”
She’d once had sex with both men on the kitchen floor. She wasn’t one to make a comment about that. In fact, there weren’t a lot of places that they hadn’t come together wantonly.
Multiple times.
“While he was flaunting his mistress, what were you doing?” she asked.
“I was spending his money. There was no way in hell I was going to let him cheat on me and then walk away. We don’t have kids. I’d get a pittance in alimony if we divorce.”
“And now you get it all.”
“Yes, yes, I do.”
“Okay, can I ask this?”
She stared. “What?”
“Was anyone hitting him up for fifty thousand dollars? One of our other victims was writing checks.”
“Not that I know. He and I didn’t speak. Marta, that skanky whore, was our intermediary. How ironic was that?”
Oh, it was something all right.
“How long was Marta involved with him?”
“About a year. I found him diddling her on the counter and that was before last Christmas.”
“I’m going to call the Plaza in New York, Mrs. Goodwin. If I find out you’re jacking me around…”
“I’m not. Yes, I get all his money, but what else was he going to spend it on? That stupid art of his? His books? At least I got the last laugh. I’m going to fire that whore
Marta, and I’m going to enjoy every second of it too.”
Elizabeth was finished there.
The woman was so angry, bitter, and hardened that she wasn’t even going to mourn the fact that the man she used to love was murdered.
How did it get to that point?
There had to be so much hate in her. Elizabeth couldn’t imagine ever feeling that way about Ethan or Callen.
“I’ll see you out,” Lucy said, heading back toward the door. “If you need to speak to me again, please do so through my very well paid, bitter, woman hating attorney. You and I have nothing more to discuss.”
Yeah, she wasn’t shocked.
When she exited the room, the door slammed behind her. It almost made her jump.
Someone was bitchy.
Then again, if she found her husbands getting their dicks handled by another woman, she’d flip her shit too.
It was understandable.
Heading toward the elevator, she rode it up to the penthouse. It felt weird going there. Yes, Ethan often got them the best room in the hotel when he wanted to woo her, but this was Callen.
It felt odd.
He was her down to earth guy. She could have a beer, kick off her boots, and be herself with him.
Being in that suite made her feel…off.
She only hoped that when he arrived she could explain it to him. When she headed into the room, everything she’d asked for was on the table, along with a big fat bill.
She laughed at the total and then forged Callen’s signature.
If he got mad, she was blaming Ethan.
After all, he told her to spend it.
She really hoped Callen meant what he said about it being their money.
Be careful what you asked for because it might come true.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
Hoover Building
Violent Crimes Unit
Callen was pacing.
His nerves were shot. No one seemed to have a clue where Elizabeth was, and he was a nervous wreck. She’d gone off the grid almost two hours before, and he didn’t know how much longer he could handle it.
Granted, no one was after her, but still…
He wanted to be sick.
This was all his fault.
He’d gotten angry and over something so stupid that it didn’t really matter. It was only money.
His.
Hers.
Theirs.
It was a stupid thing to fight about.
If she hated it, he’d let it accumulate in an account and never touch it. Their kids could have it for all he cared.
He’d sell his truck, get his old beat up one back, and let it go. The last few hours without her were hard to handle. Callen couldn’t imagine a lifetime without his Elizabeth.
When he heard footsteps, he glanced up.
It was his brother.
Well shit.
Wrong spouse.
“Yeah, well, don’t look so damn disappointed. I love you too,” he teased.
“Did you find her?”
“Yes.”
Ethan did more than that. He’d had a call from his wife, and she needed a night alone with Callen. She needed to patch up what she’d torn apart, and he got that. Later, he’d get some alone time with his wife to compensate.
She’d already promised more kinky sex than his heart could handle. It was worth it.
“Where is she?”
“She’s at the Fairmount. She skipped the potential crime scene and she’s there interviewing Lucy Goodwin. If you hurry, you can catch her.”
He grabbed his sidearm and badge from his desk. He could do more than hurry. Callen would run his ass right out the door. He didn’t care what tried to stop him.
He’d barrel through them.
“Thank you, Ethan!”
“Let her explain, Callen. She’s never let us down before. You have to trust her.”
He was well aware.
Callen raced out of the Hoover building and to his truck. He ignored the media starting to swarm him. He was only focused on one person.
His wife.
Hopping into his ride, he floored it as fast as possible to get out of there. In fact, he did something he rarely did. He hit the lights to get people out of his way.
And here he thought equipping his truck would be useless.
Now he was glad he did. Sirens made it a hell of a lot easier.
All the way there, he kept thinking about how to apologize for his irrational anger and fear.
He needed a miracle.
Tonight, he’d need it.
When he arrived at the Fairmont, he raced inside the building only to be stopped by some man in a suit blocking his way.
“Mr. Whitefox, this is for you.”
He stared down at it. “What is it?”
“We were notified you were coming, so this is a key. You’re here to see Mrs. Blackhawk, no?”
“It’s Mrs. Whitefox-Blackhawk,” he stated. “That’s her full name.”
Callen didn’t care if the world knew.
He was beyond hiding it anymore. In fact, fuck them. It was time he owned a lot of things in his life, and the most important was his relationship with Elizabeth and Ethan.
“For the record, since she’s the topic of conversation, not only is she my brother’s wife, but she’s my wife too.”
The man’s eyes went big.
“Now…move.”
He did what he was told.
Callen hustled it toward the elevator, and he was sure he was quite the spectacle. There was nothing like a large Native man hightailing it through a classy joint. That alone was likely to get him on the news—never mind his statement.
Honestly, he was fine with that. If he could fix what was broken between himself and Elizabeth, it would be worth it.
Hell!
He’d give them a freaking interview if they wanted one. At this point, nothing was off limits as long as he had her back.
In the elevator, his phone chimed.
‘Give me one last night to be who we were, and I’ll be whoever you need me to be in the morning.’
Callen didn’t understand it.
It was cryptic.
What the bloody hell did Elizabeth mean by that? It was her phone, she’d disappeared, and now he was walking into this blind.
Callen didn’t like it one bit.
At the penthouse, he shoved the key into the door, unsure what he was going to find. When he walked in, he was surprised.
“Elizabeth?” he asked, scanning the surroundings. Something was definitely off.
Way off.
“Callen, we need to talk.”
It was then that his heart bottomed out. This couldn’t be good. Those were the scariest words ever to be uttered by a woman—let alone a wife.
And he knew it.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
Fort Whitefox-Blackhawk
Friday Evening
Ethan was damn glad to be home.
The best part of the day for him was that he was going to get to see his kids. Tomorrow was Saturday, and that meant he was free of meetings. The next two days, he could help his wife do her thing.
He was looking forward to that. Ethan didn’t mind working all weekend if it meant being part of the team again. It was the only way he could help her, and still keep his duties as Deputy Director in check.
From the back seat of his Lincoln Town Car, he wrapped up his day with some emails to his boss and the President of the United States. When he heard his name, Ethan glanced up to see what his driver wanted.
“Mr. Deputy Director, what do you want me to do? Will you need me this weekend?”
Personally, he didn’t, but Ethan had a plan.
Technically, his escort was off duty. “It’s the weekend, Colin. I’ll drive myself.”
“Sir, is that safe?”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll have my family with me, but I could use you a
little longer tonight if you’re not too busy.”
He explained.
“Certainly, sir. I can handle that for you.”
The man parked the flashy ride and opened Ethan’s door. “Have a good weekend, sir. I’ll see you early on Monday. I’ll be out here.”
He was good with that.
As he headed inside, he could hear the chaos going on around them. There were five kids running around like maniacs, and Christopher Anthony was crying.
“I have him,” he said, scooping him out of Maeve’s arms. The second he did, the child calmed down. He must have recognized Ethan’s calming voice.
“Hello, sir. Welcome home,” the Irish woman said in greeting.
“Ethan,” he corrected, as he left kisses all over Christopher Anthony’s fat cheeks. “I’m off duty.”
She smiled at him and brushed some red curls back from her face.
“Sure thing, Ethan. What would you like for dinner tonight?”
Ethan caught Cat as she raced at him. Honestly, he didn’t give a shit what they had. He was simply happy to be home, off duty, and glad that Elizabeth and Callen were fixing their issue.
“Pizza, princess Cat?” he asked the little girl as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Yes, Daddy. I like pizza. Can I have pepperoni?” Cat asked, nuzzling his cheek with her own.
His heart melted.
This tiny girl could have anything she wanted. Ethan was wrapped around her little finger.
“Pepperoni pizza it is.”
The mere mention of their favorite food stopped the mayhem going on around them. Ethan was amused.
Their hellions were food motivated. If you fed them, they would quiet down.
“Would you like me to order it or make it here?” Maeve asked, trying to straighten herself out. She was a hot mess.
Ethan could tell they’d had one hell of a day. The tribe had run them ragged. Maeve looked like she’d been run over by a brood of maniacs.
“We’re going to order in, and as a matter of fact, both of you get out.”
“What?” Wyler asked, as he picked up cookies from the floor so the dogs didn’t eat them. “You’re kicking us out?”
Act of Blood (An FBI/Romance Thriller ~ Book 16) Page 12