Elizabeth could feel his body relaxing. “Are you going to survive?” she asked, snickering.
“Too early to tell,” he answered, still grinning. She was a dangerous storm, and he hoped he could live in its wildness for a long time, if not forever.
He was struggling with his emotions.
Never had he felt this immediate attachment and contentment that was flowing through his body.
Only just now with Elizabeth LaRue.
Then he felt the panic creep into his mind. Someone was out there stalking her and wanted what he was now laying claim to.
His emotions went from contentment to protectiveness. He had to keep her safe, no matter what the cost.
Over his dead body, was he willing to let go what he just found.
~ Chapter Seven ~
Saturday Morning
Ethan was the first to wake. It had been a long night; they would make love and then fall back to sleep, only to wake for more frenzied exploration. It was the joyous coming together of two people for the first, second, and third time. Now they would pay for it, as they were both going to be exhausted. It was so worth it, and he couldn’t help but smile in the mirror as he brushed his teeth.
It was beyond amazing.
His partner did what he asked, and his things were on the front porch. Early enough that they beat the newspaper, and he was grateful. He enjoyed clean clothes and his own razor. If he had to shave with her pink one, he might have just skipped it all together. After all, he did have some standards, and then he thought about it, laughing.
Who was he kidding?
He’d use her girly razor in a heartbeat. His mind just kept wandering back to her easy acceptance of his body and tattoos.
“Morning Cowboy,” she purred, walking past him, trailing her lips across his back and the tattoos she had just discovered as he was climbing out of bed. Just the feel of him was better than her morning cup of coffee. “I’m going to shower,” she said winking. “I’d invite you to join me, but you had to be out of bed so damn fast this morning.”
He laughed, enjoying her easy flirtation. “We were a mess. I needed a shower, some coffee, and to be downstairs for the glass man,” he replied, contemplating jumping back in the shower with her. All it would take is dropping his pants and...
“Too late,” she answered laughing, as she stepped into the steamy spray. Something about him heated her up again, and he was right. They had things to accomplish today, but Ethan in a pair of jeans, shirtless, with his tattoos out and his hair hanging free made her all warm inside.
“Damn it!”
“Maybe tomorrow,” she smiled again, ducking under the spray. Elizabeth hoped she wasn’t being too forward, and there would indeed be a tomorrow.
Ethan pulled Elizabeth out from under the water, surprising her. “Definitely,” he answered proprietarily, giving her a firm kiss on the lips. “I’ll go make the coffee, get the paper, and we can discuss the witch angle when you come down.”
“Okay,” she said humming in the shower, as she washed her hair.
Today seemed vastly better after a triple dose of Blackhawk.
Ethan filled the coffeepot, got out two mugs, and even emptied most of the dishwasher. It wasn’t easy, but he tried to find a home for all the items. Once done, he walked to the door and jerked it open to retrieve the paper, and in the process managed to scare a woman who was standing on the porch as she prepared to ring the bell.
“Dear sweet heavens,” she said, stepping back. “Who are you?” She looked horrified at the man before her. He had no shirt on and a plethora of tattoos across his chest and shoulders. He looked absolutely heathen with the tribal markings. He was obviously from a very bad upbringing, and was not someone Elizabeth should have half naked in her house. What was that girl thinking?
“Are you looking for Elizabeth?” he asked, leaning on the door frame, watching the man walking up behind the older woman. He had seen him before in town, and he had a sneaking suspicion that the man was her half-brother. There was a slight resemblance.
“Mom, he’s one of the FBI agents.” He held out his hand. “I’m George, E.L’s brother.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Ethan Blackhawk,” he answered, shaking his hand. “I just put coffee on, would you care for some?”
George smiled, walking into the house. The woman didn’t look happy, and the look she had plastered to her face screamed what she was thinking. He’d seen the look before countless times when people saw the real him, beneath the FBI exterior. Assumptions were made, and parents warned their daughters to stay away.
It was the story of his life.
Ethan knew he was about to face it again, when Elizabeth’s step-mother did the same thing. Suddenly, the warm joy he felt with Elizabeth LaRue was beginning to feel like cold icy claws, tearing into his happiness. Her family wouldn’t approve and once again a woman would have to choose, and he knew he wouldn’t be the winner. He’d been down this road many times before and was never the victor. The fear of losing the happiness he just discovered took over.
As if on some horrible cue, to make the entire situation worse, Elizabeth walked into the room towel drying her hair, oblivious to the visitors. “Hey, Cowboy, it’s your turn to make breakfast. I did it yesterday.”
“Lyzee, you have company,” he said softly, walking past her to get her brother a cup of coffee. He couldn’t help but watch her reaction to the scene being played out. It looked very compromising, with him shirtless, hair still wet, and her just out of the shower in almost the same situation. He wasn’t sure what she was going to do, this was her family after all, and he was a stranger in her home.
His body tightened in tension, as he braced for the familiar wounds of rejection.
Elizabeth looked confused, and then it all registered.
“Hello Abigale, how are you today?” she moved forward, kissing the woman on the cheek. Yeah, she saw the look of disapproval in her eyes, but she wasn’t her mother, nor was this her house anymore. She was a big girl, and being over thirty meant she could sleep with whomever she wanted.
The woman was angrily staring at Ethan’s chest. That alone told the tale.
As a teenager, Elizabeth remembered telling her dad she wanted a tattoo. Abigale made such a fuss, fighting with her father that it became more stress than enjoyment. It wasn’t worth her dad having to fight with the woman. The horrible things she said about people with tattoos rushed back, and she swore she’d hurt the woman if even one came out of her mouth and were directed at Ethan. To her step-mother, they were an affront to God, but to her they were sexy, especially across his body.
Elizabeth focused on her brother, who was saying nothing.
Good for him,
“George, how did you get a Saturday morning off from work?” She kissed his cheek, hugging him and then offered them a seat on the stools at the island.
“I sold my soul to the devil,” he said grinning, as he accepted the coffee.
“George LaRue!” interjected his mother, appalled.
He just laughed, patting her on the back reassuringly.
“Well then, to what do I owe this pleasure?” Elizabeth took the cup of coffee Blackhawk held out to her, and she went up on her toes to kiss him on the lips. “Thank you, Ethan.” The lines were back on his face, and she knew that was a bad sign.
Blackhawk nodded, still afraid to say anything.
“We read in the paper this morning there was a break-in here, and we wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt,” said George, simply.
“Some asshole threw a brick through my window, that’s all.” She pointed to her arm. “I got a little cut, but I’m fine.”
“Did you catch him?” asked Abigale, her gaze never leaving the FBI agent.
“Not yet, but we will,” answered Blackhawk. He was rewarded with a smile from Elizabeth and her arm around his waist. His heart skipped a beat, to be accepted so easily in front of her family. He had been pretty sure that she would wan
t to keep what happened between them a secret, especially after what happened when she got involved with her partner.
Part of him expected her to make excuses to her family, as to why he was there. Yet there were none. No explanations and no justifications were offered, just a kiss and her arm around his waist. She seemed to be at ease with him, and it made him relax. He could feel the seed of trust sprouting into something more with this woman.
“Would you like us to stay with you until you find him?” asked Abigale, sipping her coffee. “So you aren’t alone?” It spoke volumes, as to what she thought of Ethan Blackhawk staying in her house.
Elizabeth could feel him tense at the idea of being kicked out, and her own anger began to build. If the woman wanted to be hostile towards her that was one thing, but she wasn’t going to allow her to make Ethan feel uncomfortable. “As you can see, I’m fairly well protected.” She put down her coffee cup, and ran her hand protectively across his chest and the raven. Going one step further she laid her head possessively on his shoulder.
Blackhawk’s body began to warm. The caress and head on his shoulder were an incredibly intimate gesture. He put his arm around her waist, holding her to his side and praying she’d stay there.
“We just worry that you’ll be alone at night,” George added, concerned for his sister’s wellbeing.
“Oh, trust me, I’m very safe at night,” she purred, looking up into Blackhawk’s eyes. She could feel his body reacting and then relaxing. “Aren’t I, Ethan?”
Immediately, every ounce of worry was gone, all the tension was erased. “Yes you are, Lyzee.”
Elizabeth reassured her brother, “George, don’t worry. I have round the clock protection. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, E.L.”
“Now, if there isn’t anything else? I have to get some notes together and prepare for a briefing this morning. Ethan and I have a very busy day ahead of us.”
George nodded in acceptance, “Swing by for lunch later. We have your favorite on the menu today,” he said, going around and kissing his sister on the cheek, as she stayed attached to the FBI agent. “Bring the body guard too,” he said, winking. “Let’s get going, Mom.” He put out his arm for her. “E.L has this all under control. She’s tough like dad. We’re just getting in her way.”
Abigale LaRue walked out of the house, without looking back.
“I’m sorry, Lyzee. I went out to get the paper, and they were just there,” he said, apologetically. “I didn’t have time to throw on a shirt.” He motioned at the tattoos.
Elizabeth turned to him, taking his face in her hands, gently. “Ethan, you have nothing to worry about. Don’t apologize to me. Not for this, and not because of what they may, or may not, have thought. You're welcome in my home, and as long as you want to be here you’re free to stay,” she kissed him, reassuringly.
“Now, as for the shirt concern, I happen to love every single tattoo on your body. I think they’re sexy and fascinating. As far as I’m concerned, you could walk shirtless down the street, and I’d still think the same thing. They tell a marvelous story of your life, and they make me all hot and bothered. I especially love the raven in the center of your chest. It’s very you- dark and mysterious. I do believe it’s my favorite.”
He kissed her long and slow. “Thank you,” he whispered, breaking away. It completely amazed him how she just knew. He was worried about what people thought about the tattoos he had on his body. Most of them were done in his misspent youth, and he wished he could take that time back, but he couldn’t. Now that she was enjoying them, maybe Ethan would rethink his stance on them too. For years the raven tattoo had been the bane of his existence, giving him nothing but resentment for the last two decades. She had seen it in a completely different light, and he almost believed it now too.
It was amazing how she saw through it all.
“You still owe me breakfast,” she teased, laughing and patting him on the ass. “You're up, Cowboy.”
Blackhawk watched her walk away, and couldn’t help but feel very happy despite everything going on around them. After one night, she was willing to defend him fiercely to her own family. He was completely right about her.
When Elizabeth did something, it was with her full heart.
Suddenly, along with good fortune came the desperation to keep her with him a very long time.
Now that he found his treasure, he had to keep her.
It turned out that the man could cook- not gourmet chef cook, but like a bachelor in the FBI. He was more than competent, as he whipped up eggs, toast, and bacon for her. He even served her on the couch, as she poured over their notes and the glass man repaired the door. Breakfast was delicious, and she did the clean-up, since it was only fair. As she loaded the dishwasher, he spent some time on the laptop searching anything he could find about serial killings of witches. The only thing that popped was the Salem, Massachusetts witch trials in 1692. There wasn’t anything else; they appeared to be in uncharted territory.
“Find anything, Ethan?”
“Just more information on the original witch trials.” Blackhawk grabbed his phone and started typing a text message. “I’m going to wake Gabe up and make him help,” he grinned, wickedly. “I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help but torment him on the weekends. It’s one of my secret pleasures in life.”
Elizabeth kept reading. “He’s probably up, since they have kids,” she offered the information easily, as if it was common knowledge. “What?” she asked, when she looked up and he was staring at her.
Blackhawk didn’t know how to process the information. “How much do you know about Gabriel Rothschild, exactly?” He was curious; the man was an enigma at work. He was the boss, but other than that he kept his private life off limits to everyone. “He told us you were a good friend.”
“Pretty much everything there is to know. He’s right; we’re very close.”
“Everything?” he felt a wave of jealousy that they may have been intimate. Had she been that kind of ‘friend’?
Elizabeth laughed at the look on his face. “Down Cowboy, I don’t know if he likes boxers or briefs, if that’s what you’re implying, but I know his wife’s name. She’s my best friend. I can tell you all about his kids since they’re my Godchildren, and I even know the name of his shaggy dog, Bubba.”
He just stared at her both relieved and still in shock. “The Dragon Slayer has a wife, kids, and dog?”
Elizabeth laughed. “He’s a normal human being, Ethan. He has a life outside of the FBI. Gabe just keeps his private life quiet. Everyone should have a personal life.”
“I don’t,” he was being honest again. Just then he realized how pathetic it sounded even to him. He saw the sympathy in her eyes, and it unnerved him.
“Why not?” she couldn’t help but ask. She just slept with the man and she needed to know, and wanted to hear it from him.
Blackhawk stared at her as if measuring how much to say, and how much to keep to himself. Then he remembered how she protected him against her own family. Deep down he believed he could trust her. “When I was a kid, I was out of control,” Ethan began, sitting back. “I broke the law at every chance. They were petty things just to get attention, but they had consequences.”
Elizabeth climbed into his lap and put her head on his shoulder. She knew this had to bother him, the look in his eyes conveyed how much regret he was feeling. To offer him peace, she traced the lines of the tattoo with her finger, and then placed a kiss over it, and his heart.
“I broke so many rules that I forgot which ones were important, and which ones weren’t. I hurt my grandfather and broke my mom’s heart while she was alive.”
Elizabeth said nothing as he got it off his chest.
“My dad was never around and when my mom lost her battle against cancer, my grandfather tried to raise me. Unfortunately, I spent my time angry and getting in trouble. He lost custody of me and I was bounced from foster home to foster home. It wasn’t the best life
for a kid growing up. I had the impression I needed to be tough and abrasive to get what I wanted.” He couldn’t believe he was telling her this, since no one knew any of it. “I promised if I ever got out alive, I’d work hard. I’d be the best at being whatever I did, and never look back. I threw myself into being Special Agent Ethan Blackhawk, and nothing else mattered.”
“Gabe told me you were the best, but not to tell you, you’d get a big head.”
He laughed because that was typical Gabe. “Yeah, he probably did, and I undoubtedly would.”
“So why didn’t you keep that promise in your personal life?” she kissed his neck. “Let’s face it. You're funny, smart and incredibly sexy. Why aren’t you attached, Ethan?”
Blackhawk didn’t know what to say. Before the dreams began he was involved. It was just hard to explain to another woman that he was dreaming about some black haired, bewitching fantasy. So he did the easy thing. He just gave up, knowing he had to find her. Now that he had, Ethan had no idea what was next. “I could say the same about you,” he replied, changing the subject.
She tensed at the mild hostility in his voice, and she backed off. “You could, but I put myself out there, trust me. It just never ended well.”
Blackhawk wished she’d trust him enough to tell him what happened to make her run from the FBI, but he wasn’t going to push. They both had secrets; the only difference was Ethan was getting tired of running and being alone. Eventually, she’d stop running and he was going to be there waiting.
“Let’s just say, every time I fall in love, I get my heart broken, and leave it at that,” she closed her eyes, focusing on his cologne and scent.
Blackhawk dropped a kiss to the top of her head and wondered if she could ever fall in love with him. There was a little part of him that doubted if he was even relationship material after years of being just FBI. Women loved the allure of the bad boy persona, but they didn’t want that for the rest of their lives. They didn’t want a man who spent his time thinking about dead bodies and crazed killers. They wanted stable, predictable and someone without all the emotional baggage.
The Killing Times (An FBI Romance Thriller (book 1)) Page 15