The Killing Times (An FBI Romance Thriller (book 1)) (19 page)

“I’m not mad, but that’s why I can’t let him stay. I know he doesn’t get that, but I won’t ever allow myself to have a rel
ationship with a co-worker ever again.”

Blackhawk stood and walked to the front door, assuring it was locked and
secured. When he turned around, she was standing behind him, so close that he could almost touch her.

“You don’t look good yourself. W
ant to talk about it?”

She didn’t
flinch as he moved towards her, closing the space between them. He pulled her into his arms, holding her against his body. He didn’t know what came over him, but he just wanted to make sure she was okay. “Getting that call scared me to death,” he admitted, whispering into her hair.

Elizabeth let him hold her, and she moved her good arm to circle his waist. It felt really nice to be pressed against him and breathing in his
cologne. He smelled woodsy and masculine. It called to her, and she could feel everything deep inside her tighten at their closeness. There was no doubt that she should pull away, but Elizabeth just didn’t want to, not then and probably not ever.

Blackhawk just closed his eyes, relaxing against her, and just enjoy
ed the scent of her skin. It was spicy, and definitely had undertones of cinnamon. Just holding her to him, he felt himself beginning to wake up, wanting her more and more. He knew he should let her go. Part of him screamed to push her away and tell her to go to bed, but he just needed these few moments after a year of dreams, and two days of being near her. “I think I’m going to have to babysit you full time,” he whispered, looking down into her eyes. “I think I just aged ten years.”

Elizabeth laughed.
“You aged? Imagine how much this scared me!”

He couldn’t resist
the urge any longer. Blackhawk leaned down, and laid a kiss lightly across her lips. Breaking away he ran his fingers across her cheek. “You should ice your shoulder, and then take a hot shower. I’ll make you some tea.” He needed to get her away from his body, or he wouldn’t stop at a kiss. The carefully built control was fraying fast.

When h
e pulled away, she felt bereft and missed the contact. Elizabeth wanted desperately to be back against him. “I did have ice on it, and then the door shattered. So, I think I’ll take a shower, and then head to bed.”

“What time do we have to be in tomorrow?”
Ethan inquired, heating up water for a cup of tea for her anyway or maybe it was to just keep his hands busy and off her body.

“I was going to go in early, but I think I’ll give Tony some time to calm down, and go over my notes here. Besides, I have to wait for the glass repair man now. ”

“I’ll stay here with you,” he said, pulling out a tea bag, from the canister marked tea. “We can go in together if that’s okay with you.”

Elizabeth nodded
. “What about your things at the hotel?”

“I’ll text
Lily and have her drop them off here on the porch when she heads into work, and then the problem is solved.”

“Are you mad
at me?” she asked quietly. There were lines of tension on his face, and he looked annoyed.

“
I’m mad at me not you, Lyzee,” he answered, passing her a steaming mug of tea. “I knew you riled up the mayor, and the newspaper guy. In the back of my head, I thought there could be consequences, but I didn’t follow you home. That’s on me.”

“Ethan, this isn’t your fault. W
e both knew what I was doing, and I’m the one that walked in front of a glass window. That was incredibly careless of me. I was trained to know better.”

Blackhawk
walked around the countertop to where she sat, and took her wounded arm in his hand delicately. “How bad is it?”

“It didn’t even need stitches.”

He delicately laid a kiss over the bandage, looking into her eyes, “Take your tea, and don’t get your bandage wet.” He kissed her cheek as she stood to leave.

“Ethan, there are four bedrooms upstairs, pick whichever one you want,” she said,
placing her hand on his chest. His heart beat fast beneath it and matched hers. At least she wasn’t the only one all stirred up.

Blackhawk couldn’t even breathe; her hand was in the exact same spot as in the dream. As he watche
d her walk away, he wondered if that count of rooms included the one she was sleeping in too.

Not that it mattered.
It was going to be another long, hard night in bed alone. 

                            *   *   *

The killer watched from the tree line with binoculars. It seemed the FBI agent wasn’t planning on leaving for the night. That meant only one thing. The sheriff and the man had something going on between them.

His blood pressure spiked, and the anger pumped through him.

She was just like the other witches.

The voice had said it was true, and he didn’t want to believe it, but now he had the proof. The man had only been here two days, and already she was climbing into his bed.

She had now sealed her fate. Elizabeth LaRue would be put on the list, and her judgment day would come just like the others. Once she was handled, the FBI agent would have to be managed too, or he would just stay and seek revenge.

What a pity, he had seemed like a very nice man.

                            *   *   *

Elizabeth stared at the ceiling
for what seemed like forever. Sleep was eluding her, not because of being afraid, but more so because Ethan had picked the bedroom right beside hers. Right now, the very sexy agent was on the other side of the wall. It was driving her mad, and she had to focus on something else, anything at this point. In her mind, Elizabeth began visualizing the white board at work. She began by mentally moving the pictures around and analyzing the methods of killings. They had to be missing something. That feeling of awareness was tickling her senses, and telling her it was right there for them to see.

When she couldn’t get it,
Elizabeth sat up, pulling a notepad from her bed stand. Writing down the victims’ names, she wrote their method of death beside them. First, there was burning, hanging, drowning and crushing. As she looked at the four methods she tapped her pen.

How were they related? Then she thought about the last two symbols. The one on the rock was smeared, but the one o
n her table wasn’t. A pentagram? Could it possibly be Devil worship? She drew a picture of the pentagram, and picked up her smartphone, searching online for information. Devil worship and witchcraft popped up. Then she looked at the list, and it hit her. She knew what they had been missing, and she had to tell Blackhawk!

Out of her bed
, Elizabeth raced to his room, flinging open the door. When she jumped on his bed, she obviously scared him to death.

“Lyzee, what’s wrong?” he shouted, pullin
g her against his body protectively, and grabbing his gun from the nightstand.

“I figured it out!” she said, pulling away from him slightly, her eyes sparkling in the pale light from the hallway.

Blackhawk had just been staring at the wall and thinking of anyway to get her to come to his room. He was about to pray for divine intervention, and then there she was with the door flying open.

There w
as no way he was going to sleep in that bed. It smelled like her, and she was only a room away. He had control, but he wasn’t a saint. Now she was beside him, and he was naked and very aware of her being close. His body painfully reminded him that he needed to be careful what he asked for…

“What did you figure out, Lyzee?” he asked cautiously, trying to not notice her sexily tousled hair, or the way she smelled.

She bounced like a kid. “Know how we both said we were missing the connection? We couldn’t pin down the methodology of the killing?”

“Yes.” He couldn’t help but notice she was in nothing but a dainty cotton ni
ghtgown. Elizabeth looked so innocent, and yet so very enthralling. It was extremely chaste, and that made it much more seductive, since he knew what was hiding beneath it. He had a preview today in the morgue. Now he was overheating with her sitting on the bed with him. It was officially the longest day of his life, and he was praying he could keep his focus.

“Well, what do the following things have in common: Salem, burning, hanging, drowning, and crushing? Then the pentacle?” Elizabeth watched him start to process it, and then she knew when he was almost there. “We kept thinking crushing, but what if we said pressing?”

“
That would make me think witches.”

“I think this is a religious thing. We need to follow that avenue of thought
tomorrow.” 

“Were the women witches?” he asked, watching her gorgeous smile.
Elizabeth was excitedly bouncing against him, and he was very naked beneath that sheet. This was his idea of torture. No, torture had an end. When she walked out of the room, his purgatory would continue.

He was certain of it.

“I don’t know, but t
his is our first big connection. Now we may be able to anticipate what’s coming, and maybe save a life!”

“That’s great,”
Blackhawk answered, almost emotionlessly. In fact, his face and voice were void of everything, because he was fighting for control of his body.

Elizabeth tipped her head to the side. She didn’t understand why he didn’t sound
thrilled. This was a major break. They now had a roadmap to stop the killer. “You don’t sound excited at all.”

Blackhawk laughed hoarsely, “Trust me, I’m
extremely excited. I just have other things on my mind, that don’t involve a killer at this moment. Although, it’s possible I may die at any second.”

She
stared at him and finally understood. “I am so sorry, Ethan.” Elizabeth went very still, and then she noticed all that was between them was the sheet, haphazardly placed over his lower body. Her hand was on his chest, over a tattoo of a giant raven with wings spread. She couldn’t help but notice that Ethan Blackhawk had been a fan of tattooing. He had quite a few crisscrossing his body.

Something about that sent a warm rush
right to her core. Just the knowledge that he kept it all hidden beneath his dress attire sent a wave of heat right through her body. When he said he wasn’t straight-laced, he seriously meant it. Instead, he was an enigma. She could feel his heart beating under her hand, and her body was very close to his. So near that she could smell her soap on his skin. “I should go, I didn’t think...”

“I wish you wouldn’t
leave.” It was all he could think to say in that moment. Elizabeth said she wanted the truth, and that she preferred it. Well, the truth was staring them in the face. “I want you, and it’s to the point that it’s consuming me alive.”

Elizabeth froze, before her was a really good man. She could tell
since she was an excellent judge of character. Now he was giving her a choice. Elizabeth was in control, and the last time she was in this situation she didn’t have the option.

Ethan was willingly handing it to her.

All she had to do was choose to stay and the control would all be hers. The deliciously, sexy Ethan was the prize.

Blackhawk watched her with unblinking eyes, unsure if he could let her leave the room. He w
asn’t sure how much time passed. Finally, she moved away from him, sliding off the bed and escaping as far from him as possible, without a word. Everything in him collapsed. He just put it all out there for a beautiful woman, and had it rejected.

It was every man’s worst nightmare.

Something inside him wasn’t surprised that a woman like her
could ever want a man like him. She was from a good family; he was from an existence that only gave him shame. A soft sound at his door drew his attention. Elizabeth was back and hope glimmered once again.

“I like to have my gun close by when I sleep,” she whispered softly, placing it on the bed stand,
as she climbed back into bed with him. “Just in case,” she whispered, moving closer to his body, if that was indeed possible. Her one hand was on his thigh, the other on his shoulder over another one of his tattoos. She waited, her lips millimeters from his, bracing for him.

“Lyzee,” he whispered, finally able to breathe. When she came back, all that died in him was reborn.
Elizabeth wasn’t rejecting him, and she did want him the way he desired her. The mere fact that she brought her gun meant she wasn’t only willing to touch him and make love to him, but stay with him through the night.

He was afraid to move
.

I
f he did, Ethan feared he might break apart from the tension gripping his body, or she would vanish like she did in the dreams. 

“You were trouble from the start, Cowboy,”
Elizabeth whispered, letting her lips meet his in a feather, light kiss. When she pulled away, she looked into his eyes. “Are you going to sit there and stare at me, or kiss me back, Ethan?” Elizabeth asked, smiling gently. “I can’t really do this without your participation. Well I can, but…”