Dying to Love (An FBI Romance Thriller Book 18) Read online

  “Literally or figuratively.”

  “Literally. She needs his help solving the case. In the end, he finds her killer, she rests, and he moves on.”

  “That sounds good, so why the worry?”

  “There won’t be a lot of sex.”

  She smiled. “You don’t get enough?” she asked.

  “There is NEVER enough sex, but my first two books were filled with it.”

  “Do noir.”

  “What?”

  “You know, like nineteen fifties hardened investigators who chase the sexy dame, but the foreplay is hot enough.”

  He thought about it. “Really?”

  “Yeah, we ladies like that, and a lot of men will have their interest piqued. You can add in some dream sequences if need be. Ghost sex can be hot.”

  “Elizabeth.”

  She smiled at him. “You don’t have to say it.”

  Oh, he did. “Thank you. Not only for the idea, but also for the fact you’ve never lost faith in me. I’ll start writing it as soon as we close this.”

  “Well, you can pay me back.”

  He was intrigued. “What do you want?”

  “I think I’d like to have a sexy weekend away with you—just the two of us.”

  He laughed. “Uh, sold.”

  “I want you to go to that book signing in New York in two months. I want to go with you.”

  He glanced over at her. “Someone’s been reading my emails.”

  She snorted. “No, someone heard you telling your publisher that you had wifely obligations, and the kids. So, I want you to go, and I want to be Jackson James’s date.”

  He loved her. “Why?”

  “Maybe I get off on seeing you signing all those books, and all the women wanting you. Maybe, seeing you look all sexified turns me right on. Whether you know it or not, when you’re him, you’re different. I want to be your date that weekend.”

  He took her hand in his and squeezed her fingers. “I would love to have you as my date, Elizabeth.”

  Honestly, she was looking forward to it. Callen doing his night job was hot.

  The navigational system chirped out their destination.

  “He still lives in the same shithole,” she said. “I didn’t recall the address, but I remember coming here to get information from him.”

  “Is he decent?” Callen asked.

  “Hell no. He’s a dick who sells women. I’d rather deal with a rattler but the devil you know,” she stated.

  They got out, and there was media following them. Callen could feel them approaching, and he knew what was coming.

  “Elizabeth Blackhawk! Are you working the hooker killings?” some reporter shouted. “Are you chasing down the man who killed those two women and children?”

  She ignored his questions.

  “Are you going to stop him?” another asked. “Can you find and put him in jail?”

  Still nothing.

  “Are you going to be his?” someone shouted. “His one true love?”

  Elizabeth turned to focus on the crowds of reporters. That question was way off. They held all the information from everyone regarding the poems and flowers. There were only two choices.

  Detective Sheehan had spilled his guts.

  The killer was there.

  Callen scanned the sea of faces as he placed his body in front of hers out of protecting what was theirs. Over his dead body was anyone taking their woman.

  It wasn’t happening.

  Out of the ten reporters, and the crowd of people beginning to form, he couldn’t figure out who had spoken.

  “Anyone?” he asked his wife.

  She shook her head. When the person shouted out the questions, she was focusing on work.

  Not this.

  “Who asked that last question?” she asked.

  Callen pulled out his cell and began recording them recording her. He wanted to see if he could get their faces. They had software that could match them to driver’s licenses.

  If he was still there, they’d get him.

  They had to.

  No one answered her question. Instead, they looked around curiously at each other as they tried to figure out what had stirred them up.

  “I asked who said that?”

  Still, no one owned it.

  “Are you chasing another crazy?” someone asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Can you tell us what’s going on?” one asked. “Can you give us anything?”

  “We have five dead victims, and I’m going to catch whoever did it, and they will spend the rest of their lives in jail.”

  She stared right at the camera.

  “Can you promise that?” a woman asked.

  “Look at my reputation. That should tell you everything you need to know about how this is going to end.”

  They began chattering.

  “Now, GO!”

  They all started backing up. They knew her good mood only lasted so long. At some point, it would bite them in the ass.

  Callen led her toward the building.

  “He was here. I want you to go nowhere without me. Am I clear?” he stated. The tone in his voice left nothing to the imagination.

  “I hear you. He’s screwing with me.”

  Callen was aware.

  That’s what freaked him out.

  “He is not going to get you,” Callen stated. “He’ll have to go through me first, and I won’t be easy to take down.”

  She stopped him. “Listen to me. I’m safe. I’m the only one who will be. He’s playing to me. I’m his audience. Don’t stand in front of me—stand beside me. I can’t do my job if you won’t let me play the game.”

  “I hate this.”

  She did too.

  This kind of thing pissed her off to no end.

  “He wants me, so he’s going to try and woo me. Let me use that to my advantage.”

  “Okay, Elizabeth. I trust you.”

  “When we get in, ask Ethan. He’ll profile it. If he tells you what I just said, let me do my job. If he thinks otherwise, I’ll take precautions.”

  He agreed.

  “Thank you for meeting me halfway on this, Callen. I don’t need another battle on the horizon.”

  He got it.

  “Let’s do this interview.”

  Elizabeth knocked on the door. Then she kicked it with her foot. Finally, they heard footsteps.

  When the door was opened, there stood Gavin Weeks, and he looked like shit.

  “Rough night, Johnny Rockit?” she asked.

  He stared at her for a few seconds.

  “Do I know you? You look so familiar, but I can’t place you.”

  She flipped out her badge. “Think back about ten years to when I was younger, nicer, and put up with your stupidity because my bosses told me to do it.”

  “Miss Kitty?” he asked. Then he grabbed her and hugged her. “You still look hot as hell!”

  “Uh, hands off!” The last thing she needed was the media catching her hugging a pimp. God only knew what they’d come up with to sell papers.

  Callen cleared his throat.

  “Meet Mr. Hot as Hell, my husband, Director Callen Whitefox.”

  “I’d stop touching her if I were you, and I’d do it fast.”

  He stopped smiling.

  And touching her.

  “What do you need?” he asked. “It’s been a long time, Miss Kitty.”

  “Director Whitefox-Blackhawk, if you don’t mind. Miss Kitty was a long time ago.”

  Callen could tell from his face he did mind.

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  She was aware.

  “I’m here about Peaches.”

  “What about her?”

  Elizabeth pulled out her phone, flipped to the pictures, and then showed him.

  “Jesus!”

  “Who took Peaches out for some fun the other night?” she asked.

  “It’s ironic that you’re working this,” he said, ignori
ng her question. “You were one of them.”

  “I was undercover. I’m not actually a hooker. Ask him,” she said, jerking her thumb at Callen. “I don’t charge him for head and he gets plenty of pussy for free. That’s the opposite of hooker.”

  Callen held up his left hand and wiggled his ring finger.

  “Now how about answering my damn question before I hurt you? I’ll do that for free too. Again, not a hooker.”

  He looked scared shitless.

  “She got into a black car. That’s all I can tell you. I had five girls on the stroll, I had calls coming in, and I was scoping for the fuzz. You know how it is.”

  Yeah, she did.

  She’d worked both sides with FBI’s vice department when she was starting out. She’d played hooker and fuzz.

  She preferred the fuzz.

  “Was she upset? Was anyone bugging her?” Elizabeth asked, as Callen took notes.

  “No. She was fine. She was talking about her kid, how she wrote her ABC’s, and then she was gone with some John to get him off.”

  “Well, he offed her, and her kid.”

  “NO! Not that baby. That’s shitty! How does someone hurt a kid?”

  She had no clue.

  She had five of her own she was trying to get to adulthood without some killer hurting them.

  “People are assholes,” Callen stated. “That’s how. Help us catch him.”

  “I wish I could.”

  “Did any of the women who worked for you talk to Peaches? Maybe you can give us a name?”

  He hesitated.

  She knew why.

  He wasn’t going to give up his girls’ names. It was about the same as ratting them out. She was still a cop.

  “I tell you what. You come by tonight, dressed like Miss Kitty, and I’ll ignore you as you talk to them. I’m not big on helping the cops anymore. Your asshole friend burned me.”

  “Who?” she asked.

  “Detective Sheehan is a world class dick. I helped him, and he threw me and three of my girls into jail. They lost the paperwork, and he then forgot we were in there for a couple of days.”

  This was a slippery slope.

  “I’ll be there.”

  Callen stared at her like she’d lost her freaking mind.

  Elizabeth pulled out a card. “If you think of anything before tonight, call me.”

  They headed out.

  Callen was silent.

  When they got into the car, she looked over at him. “Okay, let me have it.”

  He tugged her into his body and forced her mouth to his. The kiss curled her toes.

  It was that damn hot.

  When he set her free, she was staring at him. “I didn’t see that one coming. What did I do to earn that? I think you just licked my tonsils.”

  “Are you insane? I get to watch you dressed as Miss Kitty. This is like all the sick perverted fantasies all rolled into one coming to life. Ethan and I both only heard about it. We have to make it up in our heads. I am going to get to see you in action. Holy shit! I may have a stroke when all the blood goes to my dick.”

  She snorted.

  Yeah, she didn’t see this one coming at all.

  “For the record, strokes are from a clot going up, not down, but anyway…I knew I loved you.”

  “As for it being dangerous, don’t get into any cars, and I’ll be parked across the street taking pictures,” he said, whispering the last part as he rubbed his hands manically.

  “What?”

  “Lots and lots of pictures…”

  “You’re not right in the head.”

  “Oh, I know. I get to watch my wife dressed as a hooker. This is the best day for me.”

  She was surprised.

  “Why are you so calm?”

  She was dying to know.

  “I am because this matters to you. I saw your face when you saw those dead children, and you need to get this guy. It’s about putting my shit on the back burner and letting you be the one who runs this.”

  “I may cry. I never saw this day coming. One of my husbands is trusting my judgment in the field. Holy shit! I may have the stroke.”

  He snorted.

  “You might want to hold up on the weeping. You may need the tears later. I’m sure Ethan won’t be nearly as calm as I am when you tell him.”

  “Maybe we just skip that part.”

  Callen laughed. “Uh, he’ll find out. Mr. Suit and Tie knows everything that happens in his kingdom.”

  He had a point.

  “Yeah, I’m well aware.”

  “Want to hit the next pimp?” Callen asked, grinning at her lecherously.

  She knew why he was all giddy and happy. There was no doubt what had him happy.

  “Are you going to smile all day?”

  He laughed. “You had better believe it, my sexy wife. If you stroll into the Hoover building dressed like a hooker, I may even have myself a party.”

  “You want to torment Ethan, don’t you?”

  He laughed more. “Yeah, yeah, I do. I want you to rattle his cage to see what kind of kinkery falls out.”

  “Want to pick out my slut wear for this evening’s adventure?”

  Callen leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

  “Are you okay? What are you doing?” she asked, getting worried.

  “Shhhhh! I’m praying. There is a god.”

  She punched him. “Drive, you perv.”

  He did what she said.

  Still, he wasn’t going to let it go. Instead, he started humming porn music. Today was going to be a damn good day.

  Miss Kitty was going on the stroll, and Callen was going to watch it happen.

  Hallelujah.

  Someone had been a good boy.

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

  Hoover Building

  When Gabe and Livy got to the office, they had missed Elizabeth. She’d already headed out to work the case. When Livy rolled into the morgue, to find her, she was met with icy silence from the ME.

  Chris pretty much ignored her.

  He didn’t give a shit if she was Gabe Rothschild’s wife or a Fed, herself. She’d crossed a huge line.

  He was pissed.

  When Livy asked where she was, he stared at her as he tried to stay calm. “Oh, I don’t know, working, like the rest of us stiffs.”

  Gabe glanced over at the man when he heard his tone.

  He knew why Chris was pissed, and in this case, he let it slide. It wasn’t because the man had once slept with Elizabeth, but because he was always there for her—when they hadn’t been.

  For that, he’d hold his tongue.

  Besides, he wasn’t planning on defending Livy’s actions. She’d gotten drunk and hit someone.

  The ramifications on that were huge.

  Upstairs, after leaving the morgue, they stopped outside Ethan’s office. Before heading to the door, Gabe stopped at Ginny’s desk. She stared up at him.

  “He’s busy.”

  “Word travel’s fast, I see,” he said. “Let me guess, he’s pissed.”

  She looked confused. “What?”

  “Is Ethan angry at my wife?” he asked, glancing over at Livy. It wasn’t like he could blame him. Had it been reversed, he wouldn’t have been so magnanimous himself.

  “Actually, Director, he had your nine o’clock meeting, your nine-thirty budgetary, and now he has the Metro Police captain and his detective in there. They are trying to remove Elizabeth from a case.”

  He grinned.

  It was like déjà vu. That exact thing had happened once before, and he recalled it going down right after another hooker case.

  “Well, we need to see him, so clear his meetings. I’m next.”

  He took a seat outside in the waiting area.

  Ginny buzzed him.

  “Mr. B, the head honcho is here to see you when you’re done. He wants me to clear your meetings. Are you okay with that?”

  There was a pause.


  “Actually, I’m clear for a while when I’m finished here. Tell the Director I’ll be done in fifteen minutes. Then I’m clear. Ginny, have coffee ready for us, and if Mrs. Rothschild is with him, have her personnel file pulled and ready.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Livy looked over at Gabe.

  “He’s going to make me work for it,” Livy whispered.

  Gabe focused on her. “You punched his wife. If that were me and someone had hit you, I’d have the person in cuffs, hanging upside down, and on their way to Gitmo. Consider yourself lucky that Ethan has less of a temper than I do.”

  She swallowed.

  “Is he going to fire me?” she asked.

  Gabe had no idea.

  This game was all in Ethan’s court, and he knew it.

  And he was glad.

  Ethan turned off the intercom.

  He was ready to continue.

  “Captain Jefferson, welcome to the Hoover building. I wish you were here for better circumstances. Since you run the homicide division at Metro, I’m sure this will be the first of many meetings we’ll have in the future.”

  The man nodded. “Thank you, Director. I was expecting to see Gabe. He and I have worked together before.”

  Ethan leaned back in his chair and smiled. The grin was feral. If this man thought he didn’t get the inference, he was a fool.

  Captain Jefferson wanted to play in the boy’s club—the white boy’s club.

  Well, he was out of luck.

  If this man thought he was worried, intimidated, or concerned, he was out of his mind.

  This was personal, but he couldn’t let it look that way. He would go down defending his wife, and no matter what, he’d have her back.

  They were a team.

  She was his to defend in this office building.

  “Well, Gabe is tied up. In fact, he’s going to be working out of the office a few weeks, so I’ll be the one you’re dealing with anytime something comes up. I hope that’s not a problem,” he said, leading forward.

  The man smiled. “No, Director. I’m sure we’ll work this out.”

  “You have the floor, Captain.”

  “I’m here because of your agent working these hooker cases. She’s had issues before with my detective. We feel that she’s prematurely jumped the gun by seizing this case.”