Slay Bells Ring (An FBI Romance Thriller Book 12)

by Morgan Kelley

  There was no better feeling.

  When he had finished filling her, his exhausted, and drunken form, collapsed on top of hers.

  Elizabeth didn't move.

  She couldn’t.

  There was two hundred pounds of sexy Native pinning her to the floor. All she could think was that she was infinitively grateful she had her tetanus shot. After rolling around on this carpet, she was going to need to be hosed down.

  When his breathing slowed, and she could feel the tickle of his eyelashes as he blinked against her skin, she finally knew it was time.

  “Ethan?” she called, shaking his shoulder.

  For a few seconds he didn't respond.

  “Handsome? Are you okay?”

  Slowly, he raised his head, still not speaking.

  If there were demons haunting him before, they were back and brought an army of friends.

  The battle was about to begin for Ethan’s soul.

  “Elizabeth.”

  She smiled up at him, wanting to reassure the fear in his eyes. Only, it was too late.

  There were tears.

  Her strong, tough husband was breaking, and she was helpless to stop it.

  “I’m sorry! Oh, Jesus! Please forgive me,” he slurred.

  She went to reassure him that she was perfectly fine, but there wasn’t time to get the words out.

  The self-loathing had begun. Ethan was trapped in what he’d done, and he wasn’t going to listen to reasoning. It was too late to reach him.

  “I just….I just raped you.”

  The words sat between them.

  Is that what he really thought happened?

  Elizabeth was horrified that he was viewing it like that when she certainly didn't call what happened rape. She called it hot sex, but how was she supposed to make him see that?

  The truth?

  She wouldn’t.

  “Ethan, I’m…”

  He didn't wait to hear anything else. It was like the anger was sucked away, pulled back into his body and replaced with something far worse, far more dangerous, and something so detrimental that it scared her more than a wild Ethan ever could.

  He was going to run.

  This was her biggest fear, and she had to hang on to him for as long as she could. Elizabeth had to make him see that she loved him.

  They were safe.

  She was happy.

  Before more could be said, Ethan Blackhawk was off her body, racing to the small bathroom.

  The door slammed.

  She could hear him retching the booze from his body. Staring up at the mirrored ceiling, she took in the scene.

  Somehow, this was going to end badly.

  She just knew it.

  Chapter Six

  Wednesday Afternoon

  Morgue

  When the sheriff arrived, and Callen still hadn’t heard from Elizabeth, he knew there was only one thing he could do. He was going to have to run this mess as he waited for his partner to return.

  While she was dealing with Ethan and that mess, he needed to stand up and do his job. That’s what the FBI paid him for.

  Granted, he wasn’t accustomed to handling this part of their teamwork, but how hard could it really be? He’d seen his partners do it often, and like it was second nature.

  He was sure he could handle it.

  This wasn’t his first day on the job. He’d been a Fed for a couple years now, and with that came enough knowledge to carry his own weight.

  As the sheriff stood there, Chris Leonard and Tony Magnus carried two trays from the cooler. When they placed them on an unused table, they waited for the Callen to give them the sign.

  Apparently, they were handing him the baton. He was running this mess.

  “We need you to take another look at the two victims and try to give us an idea of who they are,” Callen offered. “We have to have a starting off point, and you’re it, Sheriff.”

  “I don’t know if I can ID them,” he stated. “I’m not familiar with every person in town. I may not be able to help you with this.”

  They’d cross that bridge when they got to it. For now, he was the most logical choice. If Callen had to parade these two heads past every deputy and law official in town, so be it. He had a job to do, and these two victims needed a voice.

  “Sheriff O’Neil, just do your best and let me worry about the rest,” Callen stated. “Anything you can give us will be more than we have now.”

  He signaled to the doctors.

  At the same time, both men pulled the sheets off the heads.

  Immediately, he gasped in recognition.

  “Jesus! I do know them!”

  This was progress, and all the investigators in the room knew it. Now they could start working this case.

  “Who are they?” Chris asked, as the rest of the team got ready to run the searches.

  “He’s a local celebrity here. That’s Christian Bourdain and the woman is his fiancée Ann Kong.”

  Immediately, there was typing.

  Both agents, who’d just returned, began doing what they did best—research. Despite Elizabeth not being there, they knew what they had to do. Director Whitefox was now running this.

  “What do we have?” Callen asked.

  “According to his driver’s license, we do indeed have Christian Bourdain, age forty nine,” stated Broderick Seaton. He turned the tablet around for Doctor Leonard to make the visual ID.

  “It’s him,” stated Chris. “We’ll still contact the town dentist to get his dental records. The bosses will want us to double check it.”

  Johanna was working on the woman. She had the DMV records pulled up and was ready to go. “I’m going to say that we have Ann Kong, age twenty two. She has a distinctive face.”

  Chris checked it out.

  “I concur. Get the dentals, Merry. I believe we’ve ID’d our two victims.”

  “She’s young,” Johanna added.

  Callen whistled. “Yeah, she is. Fiancée, huh? Someone liked robbing the cradle to find a wife.”

  The sheriff agreed. “Christian has been married a few times. This wouldn’t be his first fiancée that never made it to the altar. He blew through women like they were nothing more than a box of tissues. He was a womanizer.”

  Callen made notes. He was going to have to share this later with Elizabeth and Ethan. She was going to be all over this like white on rice.

  “I didn't know they were even missing,” the sheriff stated. “I haven’t seen him around town, but I simply assumed he was celebrating the holiday.”

  “Does he have any enemies?” Dakota Rakin asked, hoping the man could give him something. “We need to know so we can investigate.”

  “Yeah, hold your horses, Marshal Rakin.” Callen immediately gave him the look. “Uh, FBI trumps the Marshals when it comes to questioning people. You’re supposed to be a fly on the wall. We investigate, and you bring in the bad guys. Let’s not forget our roles.”

  He shrugged. “I didn't want you to miss anything.”

  It took everything he had to bite his tongue, but somehow, he pulled it off.

  It was a Christmas miracle.

  “I think I can manage.” Callen focused on the local law. “Anyway, Sheriff, have you had any complaints? Some calls to his house? Anything that might give us a direction to work with?”

  He thought about it.

  “Not that I know of,” he stated. “It’s been quiet this past week.”

  “Why didn't anyone notice he was missing?” Brody asked. “It says here in the IRS records that he was a DJ. Surely, if they went missing days ago, he would have been missed.”

  Dakota stared at Callen. “How come he can ask questions?”

  “Again, FBI trumps Marshals.”

  As if to prove a point, Brody tapped his badge. He could see that the man was trying to irritate Callen, and he was loyal to his bosses.

  Dakota zipped it.

  The sheriff continued, “That’s easy. In town, the r
adio stations take a hiatus this close to the holidays. They play Christmas music all day long, so there are no live talk shows. He was likely on vacation.”

  Callen pointed at Johanna.

  “On it, boss,” she said. “I’ll call.” She moved to a quiet corner and began dialing.

  “That’s a handy trick,” Dakota said.

  Callen shrugged. “Elizabeth trained this team. They can do their jobs in their sleep. When we go out in the field, these are the people we like to work with.”

  He could see that. “She and the ME go way back. I think he has a thing for her.”

  Callen didn't acknowledge him.

  It didn't take long before Johanna was back. “He’s right. Christian Bourdain is on hiatus until January second. The station manager said he and his fiancée were taking a vacation. He just didn't know where.”

  “Well, he certainly didn't get there, did he?” Callen stated. Unless his trip was to some sick killer’s playground, and he somehow figured that wasn’t the vacation the man had in mind.

  Merry spoke up, “Director, do you want us to head to his house?” she asked, cueing him in on what Elizabeth would want them to do.

  “Yeah, we’re all going there. If the crime happened there, Elizabeth is going to want in on this. I’ll call her. In the meantime, pack up and head there. Johanna will give you all the address.”

  Chris covered the heads. “We’ll contact the local dentist for positive ID, and we’ll have confirmation as soon as he gets us the information.”

  Tony spoke up, “I’m going to strip the heads to make sure we have COD as exsanguination. I don’t want to take any chances. Chris noted there were hits to the skulls. I want to cover our bases.”

  Dakota picked up one of his files. “It’s a waste of time. Bonnie and Clyde don’t kill people any other way than making them bleed out.”

  Tony grinned. “First, on this team, you don’t make assumptions. If you do, Director Whitefox-Blackhawk will chew your ass up and forget to spit it out. We follow protocol.”

  Dak could see that she ran a tight ship. “I see.”

  Chris started laughing because he knew the real reason the anthropologist wanted the skulls.

  “That’s not the only reason he wants to do it. Tony wants to boil the heads or implement beetles,” stated Callen. “He’s a bone man. He’s got to get the flesh off somehow.”

  Both Dakota and Delaney looked a little grossed out. When Tony grabbed a big pot, one that might be used in a kitchen, they looked even more so.

  “I guess whatever floats your boat.”

  Callen wasn’t bothered by it anymore. “Team, head out. I’ll meet you there. No one goes in until Elizabeth arrives.”

  With that, he started out. In the hall, he pulled out his phone and made a call.

  When she answered on the second ring, he was glad to hear her voice. “We have the possible crime scene, and I’m calling to update you.”

  “How did you do that?” she asked. “Did you get an early Christmas miracle, Cal?”

  “I wish. The sheriff ID’d the heads. We have Christian Bourdain and his fiancée, Ann Kong. We’re heading to their house right now. Want to meet us there? I can send you the locations.”

  There was hesitation.

  Callen was confused. This had never happened before. Normally, when Elizabeth heard crime scene, she was all over it. She was a control freak, and when it came to the dead, she liked to drive the bus.

  Now…not so much.

  “What happened?”

  “Your brother is passed out. He drank himself into a Jack Daniel’s coma.”

  “Oh. He hasn’t done that in years. He doesn’t touch the stuff.”

  “Yeah, I’m aware. It wasn’t pretty, Cal. I can’t leave him right now, so you’re going to have to handle this. Can you?”

  He didn't have a choice.

  Elizabeth was right. Ethan couldn’t be left alone.

  “I have it. We’re just sweeping a scene. I’ve done it a few times.”

  “Thanks. Cover for me. Don’t give the team anymore gossip for the rumor mill.”

  “I won’t, angel. I’ll work it out. Is he going to be okay?” Callen asked.

  She wished she knew. In order not to worry him, Elizabeth kept the details to herself. “Yeah, by morning he will. Later, we’ll have to talk.”

  “No problem, Lyzee. When I’m done, I’ll bring us dinner, and we’ll crash there for the night.”

  She was glad Callen understood. She was blessed to have a man who got it. He loved Ethan too, and she didn't want him carried out of the roach coach. With their luck, someone would get their picture.

  “Thank you, my love.”

  His heart skipped. “I’ll bring the data with me.”

  She knew he would do her proud. Callen had come into his own as a Fed, and she trusted him.

  “Thank you for taking care of my brother,” Callen said. “He’s having a rough time with this.”

  She was well aware.

  “Oh, I’m going to take care of him when he wakes up. He may need a trip to the ER, so you can take him. They might arrest me for kicking that sexy ass of his.”

  Callen snorted.

  “I’m glad you’re amused.”

  “I’m not. I was just hoping that you’d hurt me next.”

  She laughed. “My pleasure, but watch your ass while you’re out there. I don’t want you getting abducted. You’re a crazy magnet.”

  He was well aware. “Be safe, angel. I’ll bring Chinese when I show up. Baby needs to be fed, and daddy loves doing it.”

  She was well aware. She was starving.

  “I love you, Cal.”

  He saw the Marshals heading his way. “I love you too, Elizabeth. You and my kids are the best things in my life.” With that, he kissed her into the phone.

  Yes, it was petty, but Callen wanted Dakota Rakin to see that she was taken. Elizabeth was his and Ethan’s, and there was no way in hell he was coming in between that.

  They were happy.

  He was going home as soon as this was over, and if he was lucky, they’d never see his face again.

  “Elizabeth?” he asked when Callen hung up.

  “Yes.”

  “Want to share stories?” he teased.

  “Want me to punch you in the face and laugh while you bleed?”

  He stopped smiling.

  “You don’t like to joke around, do you?” he asked the large Native man.

  Callen glared at him, his eyes going to slits, and a low growl emanating from his chest.

  “Never mind. I think I got my answer.”

  He certainly hoped so.

  When they arrived at the house, the tech team was already taking their gear out of the van. Along the street, there was an audience beginning to gather.

  Callen could feel the flash of cameras as he headed onto the scene. When his name was shouted, trying to garner his attention, he ignored them to drop his badge around his neck. It was time to get down to business, and he couldn’t be bothered with the media hounds.

  “This house is pretty far away from the other houses,” stated Dakota. “How did we get the following?”

  “It was likely the wagon train of Fed vehicles, and the three tech vans. People notice things. The media followed me. We always have a tail.”

  “Really? Why?”

  He laughed. “Ethan was abducted, and he survived. Since then, they’ve been focused on us. Then you can add in that we have a unique relationship. If that ever gets out, it’ll blow up.”

  That he got.

  “You better hope Gabriel Rothschild doesn’t find out. He’ll separate all of you. I hear he’s a ball buster.”

  “He is, but that won’t happen. He already knows about our marriage.”

  When Dakota went to ask more questions, Callen dismissed them. It wasn’t the time or the place, and honestly, he didn't plan on getting to know the man. He’d slept with Elizabeth, and that made him public enemy numb
er one.

  Pointing at the house, Callen drew his sidearm.

  “Do you Marshals know how to clear a house?” he asked sarcastically. “If you get shot, I don’t have time to take you to the hospital.”

  He glared at him. “We bring in fugitives. I think we can manage. You don’t have to be a condescending dick.”

  “Why not? It works for you.”

  Dakota opened his mouth but Delaney touched his arm. He zipped it, but he didn’t like it.

  Callen stopped at the door. Peeking in the window, he could see the blood all over the place. Motioning to the two agents, he sent them around back.

  They immediately understood.

  “I’ll boot the door, and then go left. You and your partner have straight ahead and right.”

  They pulled their guns and got ready. Turning, Callen put his back to the door.

  “FBI. We’re coming in!”

  Then, with the sole of his booted foot, he slammed it back into the wood. The lock couldn’t handle the hit and busted open. Callen spun and headed in, the Marshals not far behind.

  Inside, there was the stench of death, and Christmas music playing in the house. It was sick and twisted, if he did say so himself.

  As he moved through what had once been a dining room, he knew they had found the scene where the two people had been killed. The dining room table had make shift restraints, and he could see where Ann Kong had likely scratched the table to get away, or while she was in pain. Her clothes were strewn all over the bloody floor.

  Yeah, this was ground zero for their murders.

  “Clear,” he yelled, as he hit the surround sound power button with the nose of his Glock. The last thing he wanted was to hear Bing Crosby singing about a white Christmas as he stood ankle deep in someone’s blood.

  Delaney Moore shouted down from the upstairs. “Clear.”

  Finally, Dakota Rakin did the same.

  They rendezvoused in the kitchen. There, it was a shit mess. There was gore, blood, and mess everywhere.

  It looked like a massacre, and he wasn’t surprised. Mutilating and dismembering bodies wasn’t a clean job. It tended to leave a trail behind. Most killers, when they chopped people up, didn't want to get caught, so they used the bath tub.

  Not these two.