The Killing Times (An FBI Romance Thriller (book 1)) (24 page)

“I think you're so worried about that professional persona, it’s keeping you from having and enjoying a personal life. You built this image of Ethan Blackhawk, and are too afraid t
o get it messy. I’m messy Ethan. In fact, I’m damn disastrous. If you and I ran off and got married tomorrow, it’s no one’s business but ours, and it isn’t going to affect how I do my job,” she watched his eyes. “We’re one thing, this,” she paused, pointing to her office and badge on her hip, “is a completely different thing. Personal and professional are two separate entities.”

He didn’t know what to say, except he wondered if she would elope with him tomorrow if he asked.
Part of him tried to picture them together and married forever. Then he wondered if she was just using an example. It was best he didn’t embarrass himself by suggesting they do it. The Ethan Blackhawk he once was would have done it in a heartbeat, because he was wild and impulsive. He wished instantly that he was that man again, and had the guts to just jump in and take a chance.

“You decide where you want to sleep, and then just go with it, and stop worrying about what it looks like from the outside. It
should only matter to us,” she said standing.

The tension began to break up.

“You're not my boss, and we’re mutually exclusive of each other. Ray and I weren’t, and that was a huge mistake. I don’t believe we’re a mistake, at all. Now, I need to talk to Martha, then we can start working,” she walked past him, not even touching him. She needed to let him make the next step. In her mind, she already knew what she wanted from the man in front of her. It was clear as day.

When she was gone,
Blackhawk grabbed the folders on her desk to move them to the table in her office. A note fell to the floor, and he couldn’t help himself. Part of him screamed ‘
don’t do it’
, and the other part told him he had to look. He read it over twice and felt the wave of jealousy and possessiveness wash through him. She could meet with him, but he’d be right there by her side the entire time. There was no doubt what the deputy wanted, and it wasn’t happening ever. Sheriff Elizabeth LaRue, whether she liked it or not was not meeting with another man alone.

End of discussion.

Period.

After a year of searching for her, he wasn’t letting go this easily and certainly not to another
guy. He weighed her words, and thought back to the night they shared and made his decision. Once he’d been wild and crazy, and didn’t weigh all the options beforehand.

Professional Ethan Blackhawk was about to collid
e with personal Ethan Blackhawk in an all-out war over a woman. Over a specific, sexy Sheriff that was plaguing his days and nights.

Now h
e could only hope that both he and his heart survived it all.

~
Chapter Eight ~

Saturday
Afternoon

It took three hours to do the research on the religious institutions in Salem. It
was a small town, and honestly there weren’t that many different types of churches. This was the Deep South. There was Baptist, Baptist and more Baptist. Salem had one large Baptist church, one Catholic church of a much smaller congregation, and then a small Lutheran prayer group that met in one of their homes. Only the two major ones seemed likely, and both had websites taking a hardline against anything not in the bible. The first was the more probable of the two and they decided to begin digging there.

The website was in your face,
and there were scriptures about sin and salvation. It freely pointed out that if you didn’t abide, you were going to hell. It just screamed hard core religion. When they saw the website, both the sheriff and Blackhawk just had that feeling; this was the right place to start.

The drive over was quiet. Elizabeth was deep in thought, and Blackhawk was working on his smartphone, taking care of all the FBI logistics that she didn’t have to worry about
anymore. Her department was manageable and she was glad. She remembered the paperwork it took to mobilize a team, and how much accountability was sitting on his shoulders. The lines of tension were etched in his face and she wished she knew how to fix him. Yet, something told her that it wasn’t all work related.

The man was fighting some inner battle.

When they pulled into the congregation’s parking lot, there were some cars parked there. The website advertised that they had prayer meetings on Saturday for almost the entire day. There was nothing that she would dread doing more than sitting in church all day. As they crossed the parking lot, they were met by a man who didn’t look like he welcomed their presence at all.

“What can I do for you, Sheriff LaRue?” he asked, gruffly.

Elizabeth took off her sunglasses and hung them off her jean pocket. “I need to speak to whoever is in charge,” she said, nodding towards the church.

“Then all you need to do is pray,” he replied, grinning smugly.

Elizabeth took a menacing step forward. “That’s really funny. Will you be laughing when I shut you down tomorrow and have the FBI sitting in your parking lot?” she asked, wiping the grin right off his face. Now she smiled, because that she found funny.

“She means it
. I can have this parking lot full of agents before Sunday school,” added Blackhawk, watching the man carefully. He didn’t like the way the man was checking out Elizabeth. It was a mix of menace and masculine appreciation.

It pissed him off.

“He’s inside, follow me,” he said. “Please be respectful of our parishioners worshipping the Lord.” He gave them both wary looks, as they entered the giant chapel.

“Respect begets respect, M
ister…?” she inquired. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name.”

“James Dansforth. My father is the minister here
. Dad runs the church.”

Blackhawk and the sheriff followed him down the halls, past a multitude of classrooms and conference rooms, until they were led to an office.

“Please wait here. I’ll get my father.” The door closed, practically in their faces.

Inside Elizabeth could hear the voices in hushed tones, the main vo
ice sounded irritated, but then so did the other voice. One way or another, they weren’t wanted there. That piqued her interest and made her want to dig even harder into the reason why.

“Please come in,” he opened the door.

“Thank you, James.” The hostility coming off the man was palpable.  The discussion with his father must not have gone well.

“May God be with you,” he nodded, leaving them in the area alone.

Looking around the room, it was filled with books. All different kinds of subject matter were there, including one she saw on witchcraft. Before she could point it out to Blackhawk, the door opened and in walked an older man. Just the look on his face told her this wasn’t going to be a good conversation. He looked angry and hostile from the start, and that usually meant bumpy road ahead.

“Why have you come to the house of the
Lord armed with weapons?” his voice boomed.

Blackhawk stepped forward, hand outstretched, at first he would take the diplomatic route, and then… time would tell. “I’m Special Agent Ethan Blackhawk,” he said, hand still outstretched. “This is Sheriff…” he didn’t get to finish
. The agent was cut off by the man, and he lowered his hand. This was going to be the hard way. Diplomacy just got tossed out the door.

“I am well aware of who she is,” he snapped, rudely. “She is the woman who is playing sheriff of our town
.” He sat, his obvious disdain showing for her. “Women have their place, and it isn't carrying a gun.”

“Well, good to know I’m loved by the masses
and some people are still living in the stone ages.” Elizabeth took a seat and crossed her legs. Apparently, her comment didn’t even faze him.

Ethan Blackhawk didn’t like the man’s attitude already, and he didn’t like him insulting Elizabeth.

The minister snarled at the Indian. “You’re an outsider. I have nothing to say to you,” he stared at the man, his voice laced with disgust. He obviously was a mixed race, and that to him was unacceptable. He would deal with the lesser of the two evils.

The woman.

Blackhawk wasn’t surprised by his reaction. This man wasn’t the first bigot he’d encountered. He was never surprised that some people found him less than tolerable due to his heritage. He was after all, just a lowly Indian to them. It irritated him, but he learned to let it go, he had to with his job.

Elizabeth
’s eyes narrowed. She saw the look, and heard the disgust, and it pissed her off immediately. “That’s probably a bad idea, Mr. Dansforth,” she threw back angrily. “From experience, he tends to be the nicer of the two of us. I’m more a toss your ass in jail and worry about the consequences later.” She noticed he started to get red, “I’m the heathen, and he’s the civilized one.”

“Listen here, Sheriff LaRue
. This is a courtesy, and I have a busy day. I’m trying to get my sermon ready. You’re wasting my time,” he growled, not liking how the woman was not in her place.

Elizabeth stood, leaning over his desk menacingly, so their faces were inches apart and she spoke, “Listen up, Dansfort
h. If you don’t shut your mouth and answer our questions, I will make sure your sermon gets waylaid so long tomorrow that your congregation has to come back on Thursday to hear how it ends. I’m not here on a courtesy call. I’m here for information, so it’s here or in my office. Choose and make it fast.” Elizabeth rattled the cage a little more, because she could. “If you’re looking for sermon ideas, here’s a thought. Try the one on accepting and not judging your neighbor. It’s one of my personal favorites.”

He looked like he was ready to explode. Yeah, he had a wicked temper and that meant he would have an easy breaking point. In the
end that worked to her advantage, and besides she enjoyed poking the angry animals. It made life more fun.

Blackhawk tried not to grin, but her defending him made him feel all warm and fuzzy.

“Ask your questions and then get out.” He spit the words out, like they were bitter.

“My, my, you can cooperate,” she drawled
, sitting back down, her eyes never leaving his face.

Elizabeth was about to start her questions, when the door opened and a little slip of a woman entered. She stood behind the man; hand protectively on his shoulder, creating a unified front.

“This is my wife, Sheriff LaRue,” he said, ignoring the FBI agent.

She no
dded. “I have seen you in town going into that bar, and hanging out with the men you work with,” she said, tartly.

“My brother ow
ns that establishment, and yeah, everyone I associate with is a bunch of sinners. You’re a bit late since we’ve already covered my heathen roots,” she said, and focused back on the man, ignoring how she gave Blackhawk the onceover and a dirty look.

It took everything to keep her control.

“How do you both feel about witches?” she paused, hitting them hard and fast to keep them guessing. “Have any issues with them?”

“We despise them. T
hey are sinners and God doesn’t accept their Devil worship,” he answered, simply. “The bible says how to deal with them.”

Elizabeth looked over at Blackhawk, her eyebrow lifting in question. He shrugged, signalin
g to her that this was her game. He wasn’t going to get anything from them. They were closed off to him.

“For those of us unaware, can you clue us in on what the bible says to do?” she countered, “or do I have to go home and look it up?”

Neither moved.

“Honey, do we have a bible at home?” Elizabeth inquired, winking at him.

The idea of them sharing a home made his heart stutter in his chest. He only could wish. “No, babe. I think we gave it away to that homeless man when he wanted spare change. I think you were trying to save his vagrant soul.”

It took everything for Elizabeth to not snicker.

It was the woman who finally moved. She pulled a worn bible off the shelf, and began flipping through the pages until she stopped. Turning the book towards them, she laid it on the desk with reverence, pointing at the passage.

Elizabeth read it, and then passed
it to Blackhawk. Well the bible seemed to be pretty clear on how witches were meant to be handled.

“A man or a woman who is a medium or a necromancer shall surely be put to death. They shall be stoned with stones; their blood shall be upon them.” 

“
It is just one of many that reference witches in the Bible, Sheriff LaRue,” she said, softly. “They are an abomination, and therefore need to be converted back to God.”