Blood Shall Run (An FBI Romance Thriller Book 15) Page 20

  Elizabeth was going to need a girlfriend to help her out. She was fine with that.

  “We’ll be there tomorrow morning. Let’s keep this quiet because I don’t think Gabriel Rothschild is going to believe that this is a coincidence that I’ve got a hankering for beignets at the same time your wife is in the city.”

  He was well aware.

  “Doctor, thank you.”

  “Actually, call me Callie. I’m just heading out for a post childbirth vacation.”

  “Callie, I owe you one, and I’m sorry you have to leave your children. I know how hard that is.”

  She laughed. “Quinn will be glad to do it. We live in chaos. I don’t know how the hell you do it.”

  “Medication and beer.”

  She laughed. “I’ll have to remember that. See you tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll send you the information.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No, Callie. Thank you.”

  He disconnected the call. Well, that was done.

  Ethan was almost to the finish line. He only had to get his gear packed, survive the last two meetings, and then he would be on a flight to be by his wife’s side. What was coming was going to be a bitch.

  He could see it now.

  Elizabeth wasn’t going to enjoy him stepping in to handle this, but like it or not…

  She was going to need him.

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

  As he sat in the cool darkness of his apartment, he knew what would be coming. He’d studied her, and he was aware of how tenacious Elizabeth Blackhawk could be.

  So, late last night, he’d set the trap.

  Would he catch her in it?

  Maybe not, but either way, someone would find his little present. That might slow her down enough so that she wasn’t following the leads.

  He needed to buy himself time.

  He wasn’t feeling well, and the liver from the last woman wasn’t enough to keep him going. He was going to have to take the next step. It looked like he was going to need some blood.

  That taste from the hooker was still lingering on his mind. He could see it in a smoothie as it helped heal his dying body.

  The thought should gross him out, but he didn’t have a choice. He needed to live.

  That was the only way it was going to happen.

  This sucked, but tonight, under the cover of darkness, he was going to have to find another one.

  Then another.

  And another.

  It was his life or theirs, and he didn’t have a choice. The sickness was hereditary, and it took out his family.

  Now it was going to bury him too.

  The last thing he wanted was to be a shell of a man. He needed that liver and blood. He needed one more day of life.

  So, he would wait.

  When he heard it, he’d know.

  Then he’d be safe to go back out. It was a waiting game, and he only hoped he was on track.

  Elizabeth Blackhawk needed to make the next move. Then, he’d make his.

  It was a fight for his life.

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

  Saint Louis Cemetery

  Number One

  When they got there, Tony was hustling down the street. Elizabeth could see him coming towards them, but all she could think was that she really wanted to get out of the sun. It was hotter than hell out at this time of the day, and the last thing she needed was to burn to a crisp.

  She could feel her skin heating from the Southern sun, and it wouldn’t be long before she was hurting.

  Her Native partners would be fine with their tan flesh and genes.

  Her?

  She’d be a blistering mess.

  Plus, Elizabeth was still a little freaked out. She honestly had the feeling that she was being followed. It didn’t sit well with her. They were out in the open and sitting ducks.

  Who knew what kind of wackadoo they were working against?

  Just because her ME thought this killer bordered on compassionate, it didn’t make her buy it. Until her profiler told her that, she was going to make sure they erred on the side of caution.

  No one wanted to go home in a body bag.

  They had kids.

  For now, they were all wearing a bull’s-eye, and that, to her, was unacceptable.

  While she’d gamble with her life, she wouldn’t do that with anyone else’s.

  “Detective, let’s check out the crypt. Callen, can you watch our backs for us? Get Tony up to speed on everything that’s happened. We’ll regroup after I check this out.”

  “Sure, angel. Do you want me to call Ethan and let him know what’s going on with the priestess?”

  She thought about it. While she was all about keeping Ethan in the loop, this might not be something he wants to hear about. That priestess knew a little too much.

  “Let’s hold off on that. We’ll update him on all of this tonight when he lands. I want to see what our agents dug up first.”

  Callen knew why she was hesitating, and this time, he agreed with her. They didn’t need the big man going postal. Someone had to keep a level head, and being this far away would only agitate him.

  There was no point in freaking him out. Once Ethan was there, and he could babysit her, he’d be fine.

  “Okay, angel. I’ll update Tony.”

  Elizabeth motioned toward the detective. “Show me around.”

  Boone led her toward the crypts. He was about to set the scene for her, but she held up her hand.

  “Show me where, and say nothing else. I like to walk through blind. It helps me get into the head of the killer.”

  He could do that.

  “Here’s where we found the initial blood. A visitor to the cemetery saw it and called it in.”

  She crouched down and checked out the red stain on the corner of the crypt. “There are drag marks, so I’m guessing a body part hit here,” she said, pointing at the blood. Elizabeth thought back to the autopsies and what Chris had found.

  One had blunt force trauma to the back of her head.

  Yeah, that fit.

  “After she hit her head, she was pulled that way.”

  He waited for her to check it out. She was following the trail. Apparently, she was as good as her reputation.

  “Around the corner?” she asked, stopping at the last crypt.

  “Yeah, the first one on the right is where the bodies were found. He had them stacked in there.”

  “Show me.”

  He took the lead.

  Elizabeth followed him around the corner to the crypt. As they approached, she detected the scent of something that shouldn’t be there.

  It smelled like gasoline.

  It was faint, but it was out of place in a cemetery. No cars were going through there.

  Elizabeth looked down, and running from beneath the wrought iron crypt door was a wet stain.

  It registered.

  Only the detective’s hand was already on the knob, opening the crypt.

  She had seconds.

  “Get down!” she shouted, hoping Callen and Tony would be far enough away from the explosion. She slammed into Boone just as the inside of the crypt ignited behind her.

  The boom of gasoline going up was so loud, it rattled her body.

  As she fell, Boone was beneath her. The heat blew up around them, and the only thing she could do was hold her breath.

  And pray.

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

  He needed to burn off the mad.

  As he was walking around the street of New Orleans, he was so damn miserable. The rational part of Chris’s mind was already winning the battle over the anger.

  He’d said some pretty shitty things.

  The words he’d thrown out at Tony were comments that no one was ever supposed to hear.

  Yes, a part of him blamed Elizabeth, and he was ashamed that he did. Rational Chris knew she wasn’t at fault, bu
t he needed to point the finger at someone, and she was a damn easy target for his rage.

  He didn’t want to do it.

  Really.

  He just didn’t know how to stop lying to himself and the world. He wasn’t okay.

  He was scared.

  Before Cyra’s death, he had it all. Now everything was slipping away. His home was gone.

  His wife was dead.

  He was losing his best friend. If she left him, he’d crumble. There was no way he’d survive. Chris was holding on for dear life. He’d lost everything else, and she was all he had left.

  So why take it out on her?

  He had no idea.

  Chris was really screwed up.

  A part of him wanted to slap the stupid out of himself, but there was that little part that was screwing with him.

  Why couldn’t she save Cyra?

  She’d promised.

  Now that he’d let the cat out of the bag, he was pretty sure that he was going to pay for it. As long as he kept it in, Bethe would have a safe place, he’d have a family, and he could work on healing.

  Now, it was all in Tony’s hands.

  He’d said mean, vile, and horrible things about a woman he loved. Yes, he was mad at her, but she was his sister.

  She was all he had left in the world.

  Maybe they were right.

  Maybe he needed therapy.

  Everything seemed to be falling apart around him. The harder he tried, the more it crumbled.

  Chris didn’t want to mourn anymore. He wanted desperately to move on, not to make shitty comments, and to feel love again.

  He wanted to have those feelings for Elizabeth again, and he didn’t want to hide behind the lie that he was angry because of her coddling.

  He was angry because she broke her promise. It was the underlying reason for his rage.

  For the first time in fifteen years, she’d failed him, and it was when he needed her the most.

  That was why he hurt.

  That was why he wanted everyone around him to feel his pain. It was so wrong, and he knew it.

  He was ashamed.

  Hopefully, he could get back to the morgue, and Tony, before he said anything to Elizabeth. If he could tell him how he was wrong, maybe he could save what was left of his heart.

  Cyra had been his center.

  Bethe was now his world.

  But Elizabeth loved him when no one else could, and he was turning his back on their past.

  He wanted to have faith.

  He wanted to get her back.

  Taking a deep breath, he stared at the cemetery ahead. He pictured the one where his wife was buried back by her family. He left her there so she could rest in peace. He left her there so they could heal too.

  Now he missed her.

  “Cyra, what should I do? Help me,” he whispered, needing that sign. “I don’t want to lose my family. I’ve already lost the love of my life. Give me something big so I know I’m not screwing this all up. Give me a sign. I swear I’ll listen. If you show me, I’ll know you are safe, and that I’m to move on. Was this meant to be? Was this my path?”

  He waited, needing to believe that his wife was still with him. That she was waiting for him one day.

  Nothing.

  Still nothing.

  And as he was about to give up, he tried one last time.

  “Show me that I’m going to be okay. Prove that I’m not supposed to be angry anymore.”

  The words were barely out of his mouth when there was a large explosion not far from where he stood. The cemetery lit up with a big flame ball. It shot into the air, followed by billowing black smoke.

  Well, that was one hell of a sign.

  “I get it,” he mumbled.

  Being a Fed, he knew what he needed to do.

  He raced toward it, hoping no one was near those flames. If they were, they were dead.

  No one could survive that blast.

  As he rounded the corner, his whole world fell out from beneath him again.

  There was Tony and Callen on the ground. They were covered in ash and soot.

  Chris scanned the area. There was no Elizabeth.

  That didn’t seem right.

  Chris watched in horror when he figured it out. It didn’t take long for Callen to jump up and race right toward the fire.

  Chris stared at it.

  The truth registered.

  He wouldn’t be running into a fire unless…

  Unless she was inside the one crypt.

  “Jesus. I’m too late.”

  Chris didn’t want this kind of sign. He’d just lost the last part of his family. “Oh God! No!”

  Once again, he didn’t get to say goodbye.

  He was far too late.

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

  In his dark apartment, he heard the explosion. It brought him great pleasure. It was done.

  He didn’t doubt who had gone there.

  There was a good chance that it was Elizabeth Blackhawk or a cop rechecking the area.

  This would buy him some time.

  Any evidence in the crypt was now gone.

  Turning on the TV, he lounged on the couch waiting for the sun to go down. Then he’d head on out to ‘The Quarter’ and search for what he was looking for most in life.

  One more day to be alive.

  Too bad whoever opened that door wouldn’t get to be so lucky. Then again, it was always survival of the fittest.

  For him anyway.

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

  Callen was reliving one of his worst nightmares in his life. It was the one where their vehicle was blown up outside the B&B after they’d become a couple.

  This one moment was playing out again, and he didn’t believe he’d get another chance. He couldn’t get that lucky. As he raced toward where Elizabeth had been, he pictured his kids and telling them she was gone.

  Then Ethan.

  Christ!

  He wouldn’t make it. Callen knew his brother. He lived for Elizabeth. She was the light to their dark. Without her, Ethan would slide away, and Callen would be alone.

  Shit!

  Shit!

  Shit!

  He couldn’t breathe as that bone crushing fear filled him.

  There was rock and debris everywhere, and he couldn’t find his wife.

  He called for her over and over again, but to no avail. She wasn’t answering him.

  If she’d been inside…

  He knew the cold hard facts.

  She was gone.

  That explosion, while fast and hot, was now going out. The catalyst that set it off was finally burning off. All that remained was a small fire and no bodies.

  “Elizabeth!” Callen screamed, even as Tony and Chris raced toward him.

  “Fire and ambulance are on the way,” Tony said, staring in horror at what was left of the crypt. It was in pretty bad shape. The blast had been contained inside the marble, but it was cracked, jagged, and broken to its foundation.

  “Elizabeth!” Callen screamed again, hoping what had just happened didn’t actually happen.

  She couldn’t be gone.

  He couldn’t breathe.

  Oh God!

  He couldn’t breathe.

  What would he tell their kids? How did he tell them that he’d let their mother go down on his watch?

  Then he saw her hand.

  It appeared not far from the destroyed crypt. That single sign kick started his heart.

  Life came back. His wife was on the other side of another lower crypt.

  She was alive.

  Racing toward her, he dropped to his knees. There was Elizabeth, holding her hand over the detective’s arm. There was blood, but none of it seemed to be hers.

  “Jesus,” Callen muttered. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

  Yeah, she was well aware. At this rate, she was going to be the death of herself.

  They’d d
odged a bullet on this one, and she knew it. She could smell burning hair, and the girl in her prayed it was the detective’s and not hers.

  “Are you okay?” Tony asked.

  “I’m good,” she said, a wicked scratch on her face. “My shoulder is jacked,” she admitted. “It would have been worse, but I landed on the detective.”

  As if on cue, he moaned, finally waking up. “What the hell?”

  “Dorothy, we aren’t in Kansas, and the whole damn house nearly fell on us,” she said, checking his pulse.

  He tried to open his eyes. “I hate flying monkeys.”

  She started laughing. If she didn’t, she’d cry. They both survived.

  For now.

  Boone started coughing.

  Callen knew they needed to get away from the crypts. The firetrucks were coming, and there was still some acrid smoke drifting their way.

  “Tony, grab Lyzee. I’ll get the detective. Let’s get them back from the smoke. Chris can look at their injuries under the trees.”

  Tony did what he was told, following Callen’s directions. While Elizabeth was down, he’d be leading their team.

  “Chris,” Callen said, helping the detective to his feet.

  Chris simply stood there staring.

  He was pale and unable to move as Tony carried Elizabeth off. He was staring at her, and there were tears in his eyes.

  Suddenly, Chris wasn’t angry anymore. He’d asked for a sign, and Cyra had delivered. He’d nearly lost Elizabeth, but he didn’t.

  He’d gotten a second chance.

  “Doctor,” Callen said, trying to get him to focus.

  The man looked rattled.

  There were police and ambulance rolling up to the front gate. Callen placed the detective beside his wife. “Triage, Chris,” he said, touching the man’s arm. “Chris! Check on them!”

  Tony pulled open the kit he’d been carrying. “I have it, Callen, go handle the situation. We have media on the gate, and that’s always bad.”