Blood Shall Run (An FBI Romance Thriller Book 15) Page 4

  Ethan Blackhawk was her husband, and they made this climb together. She wasn’t a gold digger. She was a damn good agent.

  That’s why she needed a case.

  It was time to prove it to the masses. If she didn’t get some relief from the boredom, she was going to do something to get attention, and no one wanted that.

  Lastly, she was worried about Chris Leonard.

  He was making her work for it.

  The man was a hot mess.

  While he looked better on the outside, Elizabeth could see right through it. Chris wasn’t doing well at all.

  He was barely holding on, and she didn’t know what to do to help him. Elizabeth had tried everything.

  All that was left was tough love, and she really thought if she put on the pressure, he’d crack.

  He may have convinced himself he was fine, but she knew the truth. They’d been a team for fifteen years, and she knew him when he was starting out.

  He was more rattled now than before.

  Losing Cyra had done that to him, and she got it. If anything had ever happened to Ethan or Callen, she would have been in the same boat, maybe worse.

  She shuddered at the mere thought.

  Yeah, Elizabeth got it.

  Still, Chris needed therapy. Only he was too damn stubborn to do it. At some point, he was going to have to requalify, and that was when she was going to kick up the tough love.

  Elizabeth was going to force him in for a psych evaluation. While he might hate her for it, in the end, it would be the best thing for him. She knew the man she called brother, and she owed him for this mess.

  She had her hand in it.

  While he didn’t blame her, she hated herself. For now, her focus was on Chris and how to fix this mess.

  First step?

  Chris needed to get help.

  He wasn’t doing himself or his daughter any favors by trying to bear the brunt of this alone. He was breaking under the pressure. Each day, he looked worse. She’d found herself sneaking candy bars into his pockets and medical bag just to make sure he got some caloric intake.

  He wasn’t eating.

  Sleeping.

  Talking.

  Laughing.

  He was falling apart.

  Then again, he wasn’t the only one.

  With all the stress on her shoulders, it was a miracle that she had any time to be a mom. That was the best and easiest part of her life. With Wyler, and their new housekeeper, Maeve, everything was running smoothly.

  The kids were behaving, Wyler was playing super granddad, and Elizabeth could focus on work. The move across the country didn’t damage them. In fact, they were thriving in their new environment.

  Kids were resilient.

  That’s what she tried to tell Chris.

  Speaking of kids…

  As she stretched and slid out of bed, her phone chimed. It was Gabe, and she had to hope it meant there was a case. As she read over the message, he gave no details away.

  ‘Meeting in my office at Quantico at nine. Be there or wear my boot in your colon.’

  Well, hell!

  That could mean just about anything. After all, she’d been riding tail in the lab, and by now, if he didn’t have a stack of complaints, it would be a freaking miracle.

  HR was likely going to be waiting for her.

  Heading to her closet, she inspected her choices in clothes. What she wanted was to slip into some jeans, boots, and a simple shirt.

  What she was going to do was dress the part of an FBI lackey.

  It sucked.

  The prospects of comfort were bleak.

  At FBI West, they were the big dogs. Ethan didn’t care if she wore cowboy boots and jeans. In fact, it got him hot and bothered. Well, here, it was a different story.

  There were rules she had to follow.

  One.

  She was Ethan Blackhawk’s wife, and the media was all over that. She couldn’t look like a slob while he was a power player. He was freaking Deputy Director, and that meant she had to play power wife.

  Two.

  Gabe put his foot down.

  He wasn’t budging on this. Even when she worked under him years ago, he wouldn’t let her dress down. He was all about the job, and he was taking this very seriously. The only time she could break out the boots was if she was in the field.

  And that was why they needed out of Quantico before she killed someone. Skirts and heels were brutal.

  Shit!

  This sucked.

  Elizabeth had been outmaneuvered by Gabe when she forgot to bargain her wardrobe into the equation. Not that he would have let her anyway, but it would have been worth the try.

  She really hated dressing up to impress the agents. Once out in the field, she could go back to being badass Elizabeth Blackhawk, and not the poster child for designer duds.

  Hell!

  She looked like a female Ethan.

  It was horrifying.

  Pulling her clothes out, she figured she might as well play the game. At lunch, maybe she could seduce one of her knights in Kevlar to play some sexy office games. They could escape for a couple of minutes to a broom closet to…

  She shook her head.

  Callen wouldn’t say no.

  Ethan…yeah, she’d have to really work for it.

  Pulling on her well-tailored suit, Elizabeth made sure to put extra work into it. While Gabe controlled what the world saw, he couldn’t police her britches.

  She laughed.

  He couldn’t be the panty police.

  If she had to look lame, she might as well go all the way to scandalous in the undergarment department.

  After all, she had sexy men to impress.

  Yeah, she was bored out of her damn mind.

  Here was the proof.

  When she had slipped into her heels, applied lipstick, and fixed her hair, she was ready. It was time to face the family, and kiss all her little baby birds goodbye.

  Heading down, the kitchen was filled with mayhem. CJ was getting ready for preschool, EJ was having a fit because he wanted to go, too, Cat was following them around with a notepad and crayon pretending to take notes, Charlie and Bethe were eating breakfast in their highchairs, and Maeve was feeding their youngest, Christopher Anthony.

  Man!

  Their house was bedlam.

  This was exactly why she said no more kids. Who knew they’d pick up Bethe along the way? It amused her that technically, Timothy had been right.

  He’d told her he saw six babies in her future.

  And there were indeed six kids in her kitchen, and in her heart. The old man nailed this one.

  She started to laugh.

  That got Wyler and Maeve’s attention.

  “Sweetheart, you look beautiful. Which of my sons are you trying to torment today?” he teased.

  She snorted. “None. I’m trying to keep Gabriel Rothschild from blowing a cowboy boot gasket. If I try to sneak in with anything but this travesty, he’ll send me home to get changed. He’s very high school principal like that.”

  “You love tormenting him. I’m shocked.”

  Yeah, she really did. “I superglued his mug to his desk. Baby steps. I want to frustrate, not kill. One will get me in trouble, the other in jail.”

  Wyler grinned. “I love you. You’re the daughter I always wanted.”

  “You love me because I don’t get in trouble. Who are you kidding?”

  She had a point.

  Maeve carried the baby to her boss. “He’s right, ma’am, you look lovely,” she said, her voice tinged with Irish. “Would you like to feed Christopher Anthony?”

  She took her son and the bottle.

  Of course she would.

  How could she say no to that?

  Her little Native bundle of joy made her smile, and she loved snuggling with him. She’d nearly lost him, and her life. He was her miracle.

  “You can call me Elizabeth,” she corrected the housekeeper. “You don’t have
to be formal. After spending all day in this mayhem, just point at me. I’ll totally get it if you forget how to talk.”

  As if timed perfectly, Cat sucker punched EJ when he tried to steal her crayon.

  Wyler had to break them up.

  “Oh, I don’t mind, ma’am. It’s how my mother raised me. You’re the boss.”

  It was funny how they’d gone to extremes. Bly had been belligerent. Maeve was by the book.

  Where the hell was Mary freaking Poppins when she needed her?

  She could use a spoon full of coffee to make the insanity go down.

  Truth be told, Elizabeth liked Maeve Murphy. She came highly recommended, and she was only a little older than Ethan. Her resume was full of high profile families, and most of them were federal officials.

  CIA.

  Homeland.

  NSA.

  And a few she couldn’t talk about.

  The woman knew how to keep her mouth shut, and Elizabeth liked that about her. Privacy was their utmost concern. They didn’t need some gossipy hen telling BNN that they walked around being sex-crazed maniacs.

  People lied, but the public liked dirt.

  It could ruin all of their careers.

  Well, not so much hers, since it gave her sexy Native street cred, but Callen’s identity could get out and Ethan had powerful aspirations one day.

  It was a delicate balance.

  Maeve was good people.

  She could tell.

  Elizabeth also liked that Wyler had someone helping him with the insanity. The man was over sixty, and the last thing he needed was to be inundated with stress.

  “I insist,” Elizabeth stated. “I want you to be part of our family. If you have to deal with this chaos, you deserve an honorary role. Trust me. Many have tried, and few have made it.”

  Unlike with Bly, this woman didn’t make anyone’s life hell. Maeve was sweet, she liked baking scones, and when she found scandalous panties in the washer, she didn’t judge. Instead, she laughed and told them how it was nothing.

  God!

  Elizabeth wished she’d share those details. If crotch-less lace didn’t make you bat an eyelash, you’d seen some freaky things.

  “If you want me to do that, Ma’am…Elizabeth, I can.”

  Wyler grinned.

  At first, he really believed he’d have a hard time acclimating to the move. After all, he’d never been off the Rez further than Damascus.

  This wasn’t bad at all.

  DC was tough, but he was learning the ins and outs, thanks to their housekeeper.

  She was a gem.

  At the knock on the door, Maeve headed off to get it. She was wearing her customary uniform, even when they told her she didn’t have to wear pressed dresses that screamed ‘hired help’. They wanted her to be comfortable.

  Apparently, that was how she liked to roll.

  Her red hair was pulled into a bun, her makeup was minimum, and her sensible shoes made Elizabeth jealous.

  She wished she could wear them instead of the horrific heels.

  As Maeve peeked out, they both waited for it. Even though they knew the house was secure, there was always that fear that Bonnie was back, or some other nut job.

  “It’s security,” Maeve said, opening the kitchen door.

  This was a daily occurrence for all of them.

  “Mrs. Blackhawk, I’m here for CJ to transport him to school,” the man stated.

  Elizabeth whistled.

  CJ came running. He was the spitting image of his Native father. He had Ethan’s black hair, his eyes were more her blue, but he was lean, wiry, and trouble with a capital T.

  He blew right past her to his new best buddy. CJ was learning there were more people out there than just his tribe, and he liked it. He was a social butterfly like his mother.

  They were in trouble.

  Thus the security.

  Since Ethan was almost at the top of the food chain, they had protective services. They weren’t the secret service, but they were still damn good at their jobs. They babysat any elected official, Federal officer with clout, or the dignitaries.

  Ethan’s family had grown thanks to armed guards—which was ironic since they were all Feds.

  “CJ, give me a kiss,” Elizabeth said as the boy forgot she even existed.

  He raced back, kissed her on the lips, and then grinned wickedly as he winked. “See ya, babe.”

  Oh, her son was his father’s child.

  “Mom,” she corrected.

  “Mom the babe.”

  She’d kick her husbands’ asses later. They were making little mini monsters.

  “Marcus, he’s whipping out the Blackhawk grin. Keep him away from the ladies. He’s been known to steal a few hearts.”

  Marcus Levan laughed. “Yes, ma’am, I’ll try. He’s a handful. He wants to drive himself in without us.”

  She was well aware.

  It was only time before he was hotwiring and being arrested. She’d give him five more years—if that.

  “Oh, and frisk him before he gets into the car. Last week, he smuggled contraband into the school. Ethan hates getting that call, and since he’s on their speed dial…”

  Marcus grinned. “On it.”

  When he held out his hand, CJ took it and waved at his family. When he was gone, Wyler laughed.

  “That boy is just like his father. I remember the stories.”

  Maeve glanced over as she was making Elizabeth her coffee in the giant kitchen. “You weren’t there?”

  Wyler shrugged. “I was a bad father. I’m making atonement.”

  Maeve patted him on the shoulder. “Ah, Wyler, aren’t we all making atonement for one reason or another?” she asked, smiling at him.

  Wyler whipped out the Blackhawk grin.

  Elizabeth shook her head.

  Oh boy.

  She knew that look. She’d been on the other end a couple of times. Ethan and Callen whipped it out when she’d first met them.

  Maeve was prey.

  While Elizabeth had the overwhelming need to play Cupid, she held off. Wyler was adamant that he wasn’t getting involved, and Maeve was almost eighteen years younger than him.

  Still…

  She wanted to do it in the worst way, since they’d look cute together. Only Ethan and Callen would kill her for meddling in that possible mess.

  This time, she agreed.

  When Christopher Anthony was done eating, she handed him to his grandfather to burp. The last thing she needed was baby goo on her suit.

  “Running off?” he asked. “Do you want breakfast, sweetheart?”

  “I wish. I don’t have time. I got a text from Gabe. I have a meeting.”

  “Are you heading out on a case?” Wyler asked, worried about her. Elizabeth was safe, but there was still the fear that she’d go down in the line of duty. It had nearly happened while she was pregnant. All three men were scared shitless.

  He couldn’t help but be stressed.

  Wyler loved his daughter.

  “I’m not sure. I hope so. I hate being trapped in the office. I want to kick some ass…”

  She stopped.

  “Damn!”

  She did it again.

  Cat walked up to her and ripped off a piece of paper. “Momma, you get a ticket for saying bad things. You can pay me twenty dollars when you get home. I want it in big bills. I don’t take IOUs.”

  She wanted to laugh.

  Cat was the tattletale in the family. As long as she was around, her siblings were screwed. She policed the family, making them live by the rules.

  “Oh, Kitty Cat, I’m sorry. Momma is bad,” she said, kneeling down to the girl’s level.

  “No, you’re really good. You just have a potty mouth. It gets you in trouble all the time.”

  Elizabeth snorted.

  Didn’t she know it?

  “Give me a kiss, trouble.”

  Cat cuddled into her arms.

  “You watch over Charlie and Bet
he today. You’re in charge.”

  EJ slid to a stop. “I’m boss. I’m the man. I should be in charge.”

  Wyler couldn’t help but snicker.

  The fun was beginning.

  Elizabeth pointed at him. “You’re not the boss because you’re the man. You’re just older. Besides, you keep trying to steal grandpa’s car. Someone has to babysit you.”

  He winked at her.

  Oh, he was his father’s son too. EJ was growing up to look more and more like Callen. His hair was more brown that black, and his eyes were just like his daddy’s.

  He was going to break hearts when he was older. The girls were in trouble. He was suave and sneaky.

  “Daddy said I the boss because I’m a boy. She’s just a girl like you.”

  Elizabeth lifted a brow. “Oh, did he?”

  The boy nodded.

  Wyler laughed. “Someone doesn’t learn. Go kick his ass, Elizabeth.”

  She hugged her kids and grabbed her coffee. When she got her hands on Callen, she was going to do just that.

  Someone was in big trouble.

  Then again, she’d kiss and make it better afterwards. That was half the fun.

  “Oh, I plan on it, Dad.” Kissing Wyler, she took in the calming scent of herbs. The man reminded her of Timothy and her husband.

  He hugged her tightly against his chest.

  “I love you, Dad. Hold down the fort, and don’t let them tie Maeve up and take her hostage.”

  The woman laughed. “I can outrun them. Don’t you be worryin’, Elizabeth. I have some tricks up my sleeves.”

  She hoped the woman could do just that. It would be the only way to survive the chaos.

  Grabbing her gear, Elizabeth unlocked the cabinet that held their sidearms. Hers was the last one on the shelf. Once it was clipped to her skirt, she was ready to start her day.

  “Catch you later,” she said, heading outside.

  In the driveway was a protective service agent. It looked like they were about to do the same old dance. This was the worst part of her day.

  She liked riding in alone so she could think. Instead, she had some nosey babysitter who wanted to chitchat.

  It put her in a foul mood.

  “I don’t need an escort into the FBI building,” she said. “It’s been a couple of weeks. I can find my way.”