Revenge has Come (An FBI/Romance Thriller Book 19) Read online

  “Let’s enter,” Quinn stated. “You’ll need these. He bought it in the entryway. It’s a bloody mess.”

  They all slipped on the protective booties, and Quinn entered first, hopping over the large lake of blood.

  “Yikes,” Sarah stated. “That’s…something to come across.”

  “You should have seen it with the dead body in the middle of it. The killer liked setting a scene. That was clear from the way the body was left.”

  Dakota didn’t doubt it.

  Already, this scene was beginning to remind him of the ones all around the country. The DC ones were still not following the pattern, but he was okay with that.

  He could smell Bonnie a mile away, and his hunter instincts were going off.

  Bonnie got off on the drama. That was totally her thing as was the head being staged.

  “Was his noggin found beside the body?” Dakota asked, crossing his fingers.

  “Not right by the torso, no. It was sitting on that table right over there. When the victim’s father entered the house, he saw his son’s head staring at him.”

  “Jesus,” muttered Sarah. “She’s insane. She’s one sick ticket. We have to catch her.”

  Dakota gave her a look.

  He didn’t want to give too much away. As far as this man was concerned, this was a case he was going to hand off without a second thought.

  In fact, he wanted this cop to go away—like now. Dakota couldn’t wander around if he was being watched. The trick to tracking Bonnie was to really take it all in. She would leave subtle clues.

  He just had to find them.

  “Where is the letter that called out Elizabeth? I need to see it to verify if this is really Bonnie or a copycat,” he asked.

  Quinn motioned for him to follow him. They headed into the marble filled kitchen. “There,” he said, pointing at the one wall.

  He read it, and his pulse actually quickened.

  ‘First of six. This one’s for you, Elizabeth Blackhawk.

  —Bonnie.’

  Yeah, this was right up her alley. A head was cut off, and she’d left a calling card.

  He took a few pictures with his cell.

  “The FBI’s office has this all recorded. You can get copies from them,” Quinn offered.

  Yeah, no he couldn’t.

  There was no way he was going to get to work this one with her. Elizabeth would flip her shit for him even being there. She’d been called out and tagged as the winner who got to chase the crazy.

  No, he needed to document everything.

  “You know how the FBI is. They can be slow at sending. I can work with these in the car,” he stated.

  Quinn let it go.

  He was making a mental note of everything this guy did, and he was going to report back.

  “Did she leave anything else?” Dakota asked. “Was this all that was found?”

  “We didn’t do a search. We saw Elizabeth’s name, we contacted the FBI Director here, and then you were called.”

  Perfect.

  He could head this one off at the pass.

  “Okay, then I think we need to head to FBI West. I want to talk to Doctor Legend to get his information on the victim.”

  Quinn didn’t object.

  In fact, he wanted the man out of there. He wasn’t feeling it for this guy. Something was up.

  He’d bet his boots on it.

  “Good luck, Marshal Rakin and Marshal Valley,” he stated, pulling off his booties at the door.

  Dakota needed one more thing.

  “How long will the police be locking down this place?” Dakota asked. His mind was spinning as he tried to adjust his plan of action.

  “Probably until morning. Once Doctor Legend gives us the okay, we’ll pack it in. We have to hand it off to someone. Unlike the Feds, we have a smaller budget, and I have a few other cases sitting on my desk.”

  He smiled.

  Hopefully, when they handed it off, it would be to him. Now, if he could figure out how to wrangle this one away from Elizabeth. Maybe if he downplayed it, she wouldn’t come out of hiatus.

  Maybe.

  “Again, thank you, Detective Gaines,” he said, as he and Sarah headed toward the police line.

  Quinn watched them go. Pulling out his cell, he made a call.

  Oh, he wasn’t going to call Director Lane.

  No, that wasn’t happening.

  He knew exactly who to give this information to, and why. The phone rang twice, and he heard her voice.

  “How’s my sexy cowboy?” Callista Carter-Gaines asked, as she answered her phone.

  “Hey, baby, I miss you.”

  “Yeah, I miss you too. I’m en route back from DC. Ethan left to head to Salem, so I can come home.”

  Quinn had that feeling. There was no way Ethan Blackhawk was just taking a vacation while there was turmoil in his family.

  “Did you leave the FBI building yet?” he asked his wife hopefully.

  “I’m in the parking lot right now. Why?”

  “I need you to head back in and take a trip to the boss’s office.”

  “Gabriel’s?” she asked.

  “Yeah, his. Something is up, and I want to make sure we cover Ethan and Elizabeth’s backs.”

  That had her attention.

  “What’s going on?”

  He told her everything.

  “That’s suspicious. The Marshals don’t work homicide cases. They get sent out by judges to bring in people charged in crimes, and I remember his name. Ethan mentioned it in therapy. That’s the man who wanted to marry his wife. She dated him after Christopher Leonard.”

  Yeah, his gut had been right.

  He was way off base.

  “I can tell that he lied to me. I know sneaky when I hear it,” he stated. “Something is up.”

  “Why don’t you call the FBI?” she asked. “This isn’t like you to not be proactive and jump into the fray.”

  He was aware.

  “I’m not one hundred percent sure the guy is up to something. It’s a gut feeling. I’d like to keep this one off the record a bit.”

  She got it.

  “I can get in to see Gabe, but I’ll miss my flight. I won’t be home until tomorrow.”

  He was okay with that. “I think we need to do this for the Blackhawks.”

  Callie trusted her husband’s gut.

  He was a damn good cop, then an excellent sheriff, and now an astute detective.

  “Okay, babe. I’ll message you later. Stay safe, sexy. Don’t get hurt. That makes me upset.”

  Quinn grinned. “Yes, dear. I’ll behave. See you tomorrow, Callie. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  They hung up.

  As Quinn was heading back to work, he felt better. At least he’d done something about it. Now he’d sit back, wait to see what happened, and maybe do a little research of his own. There was nothing wrong with asking all kinds of uncomfortable questions.

  Oh, his new ‘friend’ was screwed.

  US Marshal Rakin had rubbed him the wrong way.

  And that had pissed him off.

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

  FBI West

  When he got to the FBI building, he was astounded how big, shiny, and intimidating it was. While Dakota was accustomed to heading to the Hoover building in DC, this place…

  It was something.

  It was slick as spit, and that reminded him of Ethan Blackhawk to the T. He’d built this kingdom, and all Dakota hoped was that the ties to it had been broken when he’d gone back East. If not, this was going to be very uncomfortable for him and his partner.

  This Blackhawk-free moment was the only chance he was going to have to pull this off.

  Getting into the parking lot was easy.

  His credentials got him past the gate. It didn’t take long for the guard on the shack to scan his badge and see he was legit. He was given access to the shiny monstrosity.

  As th
ey parked, Sarah was checking the place out.

  “It’s freaking amazing.”

  “Yeah, it was built as a hub, but honestly, it’s flashier than the DC building. This place is insane,” he admitted.

  “Have you been here before?”

  “No. Elizabeth Blackhawk and I have a history, so I avoid her husband as much as possible.”

  Yeah, and for good reason.

  He had a mean right hook.

  “A history?” she asked. “As in you worked together?” she asked hopefully.

  “Well, we’ve had cases that crossed paths, but we had a personal relationship.” When she didn’t say anything, he continued, “We dated for a while, and I, at one point, asked her to marry me.”

  Sarah bristled. “Didn’t work out, huh?”

  Dakota didn’t look over. He didn’t even realize the woman was staring at him. Had he, he would have seen the anger.

  The frustration.

  The irritation.

  “No, we went our separate ways. She was the one who got away. Had I known she’d be this badass, I would have tried harder,” he teased.

  Sarah took it all in.

  So, he liked badass.

  She could be that. If that would get the man beside her to open up, see her for who she really was, and contemplate something a little more serious between them, then she’d do it.

  Hell!

  She’d shave her head if that was what it took.

  “Let’s get this done. I want to get in and out with the information if possible. The less time we stay here the better.”

  She followed.

  Inside, they were stopped at the door by security. Again, he flashed his badge, and they were given visitor passes to access the morgue and boss.

  It seemed way too easy, but who was he to question it? Maybe the Feds were playing nice.

  Inside the main foyer, he stood in the center of the floor on top of the FBI emblem. The place was done in hues of blue and gold, and again, it reminded him of the polished Blackhawk.

  The place was plush.

  Yeah, the man had built something pretty damn spectacular.

  When Dakota heard footsteps, he immediately went on guard. As a man headed their way, he didn’t recognize him.

  “Heads-up,” he warned his partner. “Keep the information to yourself,” he practically whispered in warning.

  “Who is he?” Sarah asked.

  He had no freaking clue.

  Dakota took that moment to check him out. He was impeccably dressed and wearing a vibrant red silk tie. The little flag lapel pin set off alarms.

  He’d seen it before.

  On the President.

  On Gabe Rothschild.

  On Ethan Blackhawk…

  Shit!

  This was going to be the…

  “Welcome to FBI West, Marshals. I’m Director Miles Lane. I’m in charge here. I was buzzed as soon as I heard we had other visitors in the building.”

  Well, so much for a sneak attack.

  Even though the man knew their names, he did the reintroductions. He had to be on his best behavior so they could fly under the radar.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, sir. I’m Marshal Dakota Rakin, and this is my partner Marshal Sarah Valley. We thought we’d pop in and continue verification for ‘Operation Bonnie and Clyde’.”

  Yeah, and to dig up any dirt he possibly could.

  The man sporting the suit smiled. “Excellent. Let’s go to my office and talk.”

  That was exactly what he didn’t want to do. Granted, this man had called them to come in, but he was likely going to ask all kinds of questions that would lead to more questions—the kind he hoped to keep under wraps.

  Shit!

  Shit!

  Shit!

  Not only would that be bad, but the whole thing was a waste of time. With each moment that they were distracted, there was a higher chance that they would lose this case to a Blackhawk—specifically the pretty one in cowboy boots.

  “Sure,” he said, trying to keep his voice even.

  At his secretary’s desk, the director got her attention. “Jessifer, honey, can you get us coffee?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, getting up to do just that.

  Inside his office, Miles Lane took a seat and offered the large leather couch to the two US Marshals.

  “Now, let’s be frank. Do you think this is Bonnie?” he asked. “Even though she didn’t torture her victim?”

  Apparently, the man had been vetted into the file, despite it being need to know and sealed for only three sets of eyes.

  That wasn’t good.

  Now this man knew what she was like, and that made him nervous.

  His gut was screaming.

  Still, he wanted this case more than he wanted to breathe. Bonnie had tied him up, tortured him, and nearly sexually assaulted him. On top of that, Clyde had raped his partner, Debra Moore, and then killed her while he’d been forced to listen.

  This was about revenge.

  Plain.

  And.

  Simple.

  He wanted Bonnie’s head on a platter, and he wasn’t talking figuratively.

  Dakota was grateful his partner was letting him do all the talking. That was for the best.

  “That’s what I’m here to figure out,” he admitted. “My boss knows I’m the expert at tracking her. She’s been my case for the last year.”

  He listened.

  “And?”

  “And I’m going to evaluate and pass it on to Elizabeth Blackhawk.”

  “She’s on the injured list. She has a broken arm,” he stated, as the man tried not to look away from him. Miles knew that was key.

  He was hiding something.

  He might not be Ethan Blackhawk, but he was damn good at running this place. He did it by the rules, with no leeway, and no apologies.

  “I’m still to find the information, and then vet her in. That’s what I plan to do.”

  He wasn’t buying it.

  “Okay. You’ll need to head to autopsy then. I hear that Doctor Legend has the victim on his table.”

  “That would be amazing,” he offered.

  Miles glanced over at the door when his secretary knocked. “Our coffee is here.”

  “I’m actually good,” Dakota offered.

  Yeah, the man was in a hurry. He could see it. That set off alarm bells.

  He was going to get to the bottom of this if it was the last thing he did. Miles didn’t like BS in his building. It had taken a while to clean up the staff and reset the boundaries. Ethan Blackhawk had been too easy on the teams.

  He ran his ship differently.

  Now it was going to shine through. Before long, he’d be sitting in DC as a Director of the FBI.

  This was his penance.

  “Okay then, Marshal Rakin.” He focused on his secretary. “Jessifer, can you walk them to autopsy? I have a call that I’m supposed to be on in the next five minutes. If I miss it…”

  “We can head down on our own,” Dakota offered, cutting him off. “I’m sure she’s really busy.”

  Yeah, that was NEVER happening. There was no way he was allowing two strangers to wander his domain. This was his house, and they played by his rules.

  “She doesn’t mind, do you?”

  Jessifer smiled at him. “Nope. I can do it, sir,” she offered, walking to the door. “This way, Marshals.”

  They followed.

  As soon as Dakota was out of his office, Miles picked up the phone to follow chain of command, and he dialed Ethan Blackhawk.

  It went to voicemail.

  He left a message.

  Miles suspected there was something up. If this was, indeed, Bonnie, the case file had been flagged. This was going to be headed straight to the Blackhawks and out of his house. He didn’t want the mess of that unsolved case on his desk.

  He was all about perfection.

  Miles wanted the place to shine.

  They were going
to become the new gold standard in the FBI.

  If he had anything to say about it.

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

  FBI West

  Autopsy One

  He was on the phone with Gabriel Rothschild, and that was enough to rattle a person to their core. No one wanted the big boss calling them, but Zane knew it had to be important.

  “Sir, what can I do for you?” he asked.

  “Doctor Legend, you have a victim on your table, right?” he asked. “There was a beheading?”

  “Yes, sir. I was just about to start the autopsy. We did trace, and we’re getting ready to handle it.”

  “Don’t.”

  He was confused.

  “Pardon, sir? You don’t want me to handle the autopsy? I don’t understand.”

  Gabe wasn’t shocked.

  “I want you to stall for me. I need some time before you open that man up.”

  Zane didn’t know what the hell to say.

  “Really? Why?”

  “I’m going to clear it with your boss, but there’s something fishy going on in Damascus. I was just handed intel that the US Marshals are snooping around on the potential Bonnie case, and before you open that man up, I need to figure out what the hell is going on,” he stated.

  Zane got that.

  “Sir, if that’s what you want.”

  “It is. Just don’t open him yet, and if anyone asks—anyone not in the FBI—stall.”

  He could do that.

  As if timed perfectly, the door to Autopsy One opened, and the big boss’s secretary entered with two strangers in tow.

  Talk about timing.

  “Excuse me, Doctor Legend, but Director Lane asked me to bring Marshal Rakin and Marshal Valley down here for information on the autopsy.”

  Shit!

  Gabriel Rothschild had nailed that one. It was almost as if the man had a sixth sense.

  “Um…okay.”

  He didn’t know what to say to cover this. His mind was racing a million miles a second. He was pretty straight laced—especially when dealing with his career.

  Now he was going to lie.

  On the phone, he could hear Gabe.