Slay Bells Ring (An FBI Romance Thriller Book 12)

by Morgan Kelley

  He needed more of a sport.

  Killing was becoming mundane.

  “How?”

  She told him the details, leaving nothing out. His eyes brightened, and even twinkled when she described her plan. The two people she offered up would be perfect. They would make their names end up in lights.

  The woman alone would make her famous. Add in the man, and they would make history.

  “You just saved my holiday,” he admitted. “I didn't think there could be a more perfect gift, but once again, Bonnie, you found something I would love.”

  She knew him well.

  “We can watch her. She’ll be the best one ever. By the time it’s over, she’ll be begging to die.”

  He pondered all the possible scenarios in his mind. She was the perfect specimen. She was fit, beautiful, and loved. The family would weep at what was lost.

  It was ideal.

  “Bonnie, I think you’re an evil genius. You’re the perfect partner in all of this. I’m so glad I found you.”

  She beamed even more. “I was made for you. There’s no doubt, my darling. Together, we’ll rewrite history. There will never be anyone quite like us.”

  “Merry Christmas, my love. I just want to make you happy.”

  Oh, she was.

  When he kissed her softly on the lips, his body stirred, coming back to life. Yes, he’d used the woman in the other room before he destroyed her, but he wanted more. Her wicked, wicked plan had given him that surge of adrenaline. His Bonnie always made him wild with lust.

  That’s how he knew she was the one.

  The second they came together, rolling through the blood of the dead, they began their journey of destruction. Her soul was just as black and evil as his.

  Bonnie was perverse, and he loved that about her.

  “Are you done with your task?” he asked, hopping down from the counter.

  She finished the last bow and glanced over. “I am, my darling.”

  “Good.”

  Without warning, he struck, slapping her so hard the sound echoed in the room.

  Bonnie’s startled gasp turned him on. “Clyde, please! No!”

  He wouldn’t stop.

  Clyde couldn’t. Bonnie was at his mercy, and while the woman in the other room hadn’t fulfilled his craving, she would.

  Bonnie was his other half, and she understood that he couldn’t be gentle. It just wasn’t in him.

  From the floor she whimpered, as he towered over her. There was a gasp as he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her into his ‘workroom’. Once there, she was assaulted by the smell of death.

  It was everywhere.

  He’d made a mess of them.

  “I have to have you,” he hissed, throwing her on the bloody table before he climbed on top of her smaller body.

  She didn't fight.

  With Clyde, you couldn’t.

  It only made him angrier, and that meant there would be more pain.

  As he ripped his pants open, she knew what was coming. He tore at her clothes until she was naked before him. There was no doubt who would be dessert after his evening’s fun.

  “Beg,” he growled, giving her no choice as his hands went around her throat to begin.

  She barely got the words out before he began using her. “Please hurt me, Clyde.”

  She knew exactly what he craved.

  It was hard.

  Rough.

  Unforgiving.

  Each time he did this, Bonnie wasn’t sure if it would be their last. It was part of the rush.

  It was the adrenaline.

  Living on the edge had its risks.

  As he forcefully pounded himself into her body, choking the breath from her lungs, they slid in the blood.

  It coated them.

  The red glaze of expelled life from their victims only added to the eroticism of it all.

  He continued taking her, even as her eyes rolled into her head. It didn't slow him down.

  If anything, it pushed him closer.

  He watched her teeter between life and death, and he found what he craved. He controlled whether she lived of died. He got to play God with her.

  It set him off.

  Clyde exploded in orgasm, pouring hotly into her. His breath was labored, and he was on the edge. Before he would relax, he needed to see if she was alive.

  Slapping her, he pulled her from unconsciousness. There was that wave of disappointment that she didn't die too. Then again, there was always the next time.

  That thought alone filled him with pleasure.

  As her eyelids fluttered, he grabbed her by the hair again, only this time—for a kiss.

  His lips found hers, and he took what he wanted, not caring that she was shaking.

  “I love you, Bonnie,” he whispered, letting his softening erection slide out of her blood covered body. They were a mess, but he loved that about them. Only she could satiate the hate and anger in his belly.

  Only his Bonnie could keep him happy.

  She stared up at him, trying to stay calm. She knew what she was expected to do, and she couldn’t fail.

  “I love you too, Clyde.”

  It was as if the switch was flipped. He was up, and off her body, before she knew what was happening.

  “We have work to do. You need to deliver those presents and the notes, and I have to get rid of these scraps of flesh.”

  She let him lift her off the table. Once more the monster was at bay, and she’d bought herself some time.

  “Chop chop, Bonnie. We have a celebration to begin. The next one will be even better, I promise.”

  She let him lower her to her feet. There was carnage from their mating, sticking to her body.

  It was a grotesque reminder of what they were.

  They were killers.

  And they had a mission…

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

  Tuesday Morning

  Harmony Falls, SD

  Black Crest Reservation

  Callen Whitefox was homesick.

  It wasn’t surprising since he’d been trapped on this particular reservation for over a week and a half.

  The Natives were three days past restless, and they were threatening to take the law into their hands. That was the worst case scenario and would no doubt make his life a living hell.

  The revolt was coming, and he couldn’t let that happen.

  With Christmas so close, he really wanted to end this little uprising, so he could make his way home to his family. The last thing he wanted was to be trapped on a Rez for the holidays.

  If he was stuck there over Christmas, there would be hell to pay. First, he was going to kick some Native ass, and it definitely wouldn’t be pretty. While they might not celebrate the holidays, he certainly did.

  More importantly, his wife and children loved this time of the year, and he needed to be with the ones he loved.

  What Callen wanted was to be home with them, holding his family close as they prepared to celebrate the birth of Christ.

  That made him snicker.

  Yes, it was funny to him, but it wasn’t like he didn't celebrate it when he was a kid. Charlene would give him great gifts—like used hypodermic needles, maybe a bite of her food if she felt like feeding him, or if he was really lucky, her boyfriend of the day would kick the shit out of him in lieu of getting a Christmas tree.

  Why buy a pine, when you could buy a dime bag? That was his mother’s motto. Even after all that, he still longed for the normalcy that his woman and children brought him.

  Callen wanted to be in the middle of their tribe’s chaos. He craved having his children climbing all over him as the dogs ran wild. When Elizabeth would get exasperated and scream, it only added to it.

  Ethan would smirk.

  Wyler would egg them on.

  You hadn’t lived until you’d seen Kanje and Sungila tear through the house with tinsel stuck to their fur.

  Now that was the holidays. />
  And Callen couldn’t miss it.

  Since his childhood was filled with absenteeism from his parents, he vowed never to let that happen to his and Ethan’s kids. Unless there was a nuclear holocaust, or zombie apocalypse, his ass was going to be firmly planted on that couch for the approaching holiday.

  He wouldn’t bail on his kids.

  It wasn’t happening.

  Granted, his brother was at home, but he wanted to be there too. They were a team, and it wasn’t right that half the male unit be MIA.

  It seriously sucked for him.

  So, as he got ready that morning, he was willing to toss his job to keep his word to his kids. Callen had already told CJ, EJ, Cat, and Charlie that he was going to be there the entire week before the holiday.

  They had so much to do.

  The days before the holiday were just as important as the actual day itself. There was a tree to find and cut down, decorations to hang, and presents to wrap.

  He also had to find a gift for the woman who owned his heart. That was the hardest part of all.

  Then there was the promise he’d made.

  He vowed to his little ones that he’d make it, so he couldn’t let them down. If it meant tanking his career, so be it. Callen was willing to do anything to keep his promise. A man was only as golden as his word.

  In this case, he was a freaking mint. Call him Fort Knox because he was putting his woman and kids first. They expected him to wrap this up, and he would come through.

  Today, he was telling the Natives to kiss his ass, wait until after the holiday to raid the white man, and give him a freaking break.

  He deserved it.

  It was Christmas for Christ’s sake!

  Everyone should be with family and that included him. Maybe before Elizabeth had become his wife, he wouldn’t have thought that he was worthy, but that had all changed. Callen understood now that his past didn't have any influence on his future. While it helped make him, he had total control of the outcome.

  He was his own man.

  That made Callen laugh.

  That one breakthrough had taken weeks of therapy to grasp. Now that he got it, he was ready to move on. At that point in his life, he was in a good place.

  He had a good job.

  His brother and he shared a remarkable woman.

  And their kids were perfect.

  Speaking of which, he was still trying to get Elizabeth pregnant. Of all the shitty things being away meant, that was probably the part he hated most. With each day apart, there was on less day where his Native sperm sought out her egg.

  Maybe he’d lost his damn mind, but he needed to complete this mission. All the pressure was on him. This would be their last child, and he had to get it done.

  Honestly, Callen was shocked that she changed her mind about having another baby. From the second they found out she was pregnant with Charlie, she’d been adamant that there would be no more kids.

  Then she changed her mind.

  It was like a Christmas miracle.

  Well, one in the making. Callen still had to knock her up, and being this far away wasn’t making it easier. Video sex, while engaging, and sexy phone conversations while fun weren’t getting it done.

  He had work to do over the holiday season.

  Callen Whitefox had his own little gift to deliver.

  After returning from the campus murders, the three of them sat down and discussed it. Callen believed there would be some pushback from his brother. After all, he was getting screwed out of another child. Instead of fighting it, Ethan took one for the team. If there could only be one more baby in their house, he was satisfied with it being his brother’s.

  After all, he had his son and daughter.

  Being the big brother, and always wanting to protect Callen, he opted to say he was finished on the kid front.

  It was a huge gift.

  Yes, Ethan wanted more, but just because he liked a tribe.

  Callen needed this to help heal. The second that was out in the open, Ethan had given him one hell of a gift.

  He owed his brother one.

  As soon as the discussion was over, so began the fun.

  Only, it wasn’t as easy as Callen thought it would be. It was a fairly simple process, right?

  Get the girl.

  Get her naked.

  Get your sex on.

  For the last couple months, he had been trying to knock Elizabeth up, but still nothing. It wasn’t for a lack of trying.

  Hell!

  He’d find her doing the most mundane things like folding laundry, sharpening a pencil, or just thinking, and he’d attack.

  Callen had mauled her in their offices, car, home, and in the backyard as she weeded the flower bed.

  Ethan found it funny.

  Elizabeth was amused.

  Callen was simply frustrated.

  For some reason, no matter how much he jumped her, the position they did it in, or the time of the day, she still wasn’t pregnant.

  It was making him nervous.

  For a while, they thought they had pulled it off, but then she was spotting, and he was disappointed.

  That was two months ago, and since then, no luck.

  Deep down, Callen was worried about how much time he had left. Oh, his swimmers had plenty of life in them, but this was about Ethan.

  It was no secret that neither man liked ‘bagging up’ before the big bedroom event, and he feared Ethan would get sick of it or simply forget.

  If he got Elizabeth pregnant, Callen would be heart broken.

  This was his last shot.

  If he couldn’t sire another child, he was pretty sure there would be a hole in his heart.

  There was also Lyzee’s contract.

  Post pregnancy, they were getting fixed. Yes, that was the cost of this last child. The two men were going in to get their junk altered, so their baby making days were long over.

  He shuddered at the thought.

  What was even scarier was that his woman had a contract drawn up. Ethan had read it over, trying to find a loophole, but their wife was tricky.

  She’d sealed off any avenues.

  They were stuck.

  It was a huge price to pay, but in Callen’s mind, it was so worth it. A chance to have a daughter with Elizabeth and then shooting blanks?

  Yeah.

  It was a no-brainer.

  He was sold the second it was on the table. Now he only needed this to happen.

  So, as a little extra security, while he dressed for the day, Callen prayed to his grandfather. Wherever he was, hopefully, he’d hear Callen’s wish.

  “Please knock Elizabeth up.”

  It was the wish that would keep on giving, and he knew it. If Callen could have this one thing for Christmas, he’d be good the rest of the year.

  Well, most of the year.

  Six months.

  Three max.

  Screw it. There was no way he could keep that promise, so why go there?

  As he stared in the mirror, Callen ran his hands over his face. He was going to shave, but then he’d be stuck there a little longer.

  No.

  He was dashing out of there and heading home after breaking the bad news to the restless Natives. He’d shave later—when he was home.

  The thought of hitting the road in the next hour made him happy.

  As Callen stood there, he pulled his hair back and braided it down his back. This was a relatively old fashioned council, and if you were Native, you looked and acted like one.

  So, he was going to make sure he didn't piss anyone off on his last day.

  This was a fine line, and he was walking it.

  When he was done with his hair, he took in his handiwork.

  Elizabeth did it better, but she was hours away, and he was shit out of luck.

  For now, he was on his own.

  Besides, the council might overlook his crappy braid since he still had long brown hair, the chocolate colored eyes
, and the tan skin of a Native.

  Plus, there was his secret weapon.

  Tattoos.

  Who knew that the chief and the other men would be impressed by the ink on his arms? Apparently, they liked a negotiator who had the markings of a Native brave from long ago.

  The second he heard that tattoos were a plus, he raced right out and got another.

  The most recent one he’d only gotten his second day there. It was part of Elizabeth’s Christmas present. For his woman, he’d gotten some major ink.

  During his down time, as he was missing his Lyzee, he took a picture to the local Native artist.

  He tattooed him.

  The outcome, if Callen did say so himself, was amazing.

  Elizabeth was going to love it.

  Ethan was going to have to up his game.

  Honestly, this one inking made up for the countless tattoos that his brother had. Callen was about a half dozen behind, but this one was worth at least ten. His entire rib cage was done, and it hurt like a bitch. Callen was convinced that there was no greater pain in the world.

  He was hoping Elizabeth would see it and kiss his boo-boos.

  Callen grinned as he buttoned his white shirt. That was his plan all along.

  It would get him some lip lock time with his sexy woman, and he couldn’t wait.

  As he finished dressing, he pulled on the heavy winter coat. He may look like the FBI’s Native Liaison, and someone who rose up above it all, but underneath it all, he was still one of them.

  There was a little guilt about leaving.

  He came from that exact impoverish upbringing where he was called ‘redskin’, ‘buck’, and ‘dirt-worshipper’ by every Caucasian who ever crossed his path. It started when he was integrated into the public school systems, and continued right through college.

  That humiliation didn't break him.

  It made him, and it created the person he’d become at work.

  He couldn’t help but feel bad that he was leaving, but he could always come back after the holiday. It wasn’t like he was bailing on his heritage—just some Native insanity.

  Well, it was time to get it over with.

  Callen sighed as he opened the front door. Guilty or not, he was getting the hell out of Dodge.