The Killing Times (An FBI Romance Thriller (book 1)) (34 page)

Taking a few ca
lming breaths, he tried to relax. All he needed was to find out where she was going. In Salem, that would be easy. People talked and all he had to do was listen and watch.

No one ever saw him, he blended into the background.
He would find her location and get to her. There was no place safe enough for Elizabeth LaRue to hide.

He
packed up his gun and called it a day. The voice demanded he not kill her by bullet. The sheriff was meant to suffer for her sins, much like the other witches.

Oh yes, she would feel the pain.

                            *   *   *

Ethan Blackhawk and Elizabeth LaRue both slept on the jet, side by side in two seats that reclined. They needed some sleep- just a few hours to catch up before they were back in Georgetown and having to face the ugliness that was coming.

When they had boarded the jet, he had to confiscate her gun, and he
felt horrible doing it. They were crossing state lines, and she wasn’t FBI anymore. There wasn’t enough time to get jurisdiction papers filed. He was pretty sure she was going to fight him, but she hadn’t in the least. She pulled it off her hip, removed the clip, checked the chamber and handed it to him. Right then he wanted to apologize, but she wouldn’t let him.

Rules were rules.

Blackhawk let her curl into his body, sharing his space, and they both slept soundly. Not long into his slumber, the dreams were back. He found himself standing and watching her across the yard. They stood behind her house in the flowers and the look on her face was pure confusion. Words weren’t uttered, and there was no sound until the very end, when she looked at him, eyes meeting eyes and once again she pleaded for help.

He woke with a start, hoping he didn’t
disturb her. The continual even breathing said otherwise. Blackhawk heard the cockpit doors slide open, as the co-pilot entered the cabin to check on them. He motioned they would be landing in ten minutes, and to be prepared for landing.

They
would be ready.

He used the last ten minutes to take care of
any remaining details and to confirm their arrival. Blackhawk picked up his smart phone, checked his messages, and found that they would exhume tomorrow, Tuesday morning. Gabe couldn’t get the paper work cleared quickly enough; he replied back that they would swing by his house after six for dinner.

For now, he knew where they were going.

Elizabeth felt the smooth touchdown of the wheels and the slowing of the jet. They had arrived. She was used to the FBI jet, and there had been many naps in that same seat, just never curled against someone. She could hear the careful clicking of his smartphone, and knew he was awake and working on something. Her mind was a jumble, still trying to get hold of the emotions that came and went. The one sure thing she was aware of was that she was in love with this man.

The minute the pilot hit the door locks, she spoke, “I’m awake.” He was carefully trying to not jostle her. “Did you sleep
at all?”

“Yeah, I
did. I needed it.” There was no need to tell her about the dream. That would come soon enough.

“I’m assuming Gabe emailed you,” she knew he would, he was always big on making sure details were taken care of for his agents.

“He did, and he wants us to have dinner tonight with his family. Are you up for it?” He thought she might say no, but she rolled to her back smiling.

“
Absolutely, Ethan. I miss the girls,” she sat up, shaking out her tousled hair.

“We have today free,”
Blackhawk added, not wanting to say the word ‘exhumation’. He didn’t want to hurt her.

“Okay,” she replied.

“I thought we could swing by my place. I can swap out my things, and we could just relax while we wait until dinner.” Blackhawk really wanted to see her in his environment. Elizabeth fit in Salem, but he needed to see if she would fit into his life in Georgetown. Thinking back, he couldn’t remember a time when he was more nervous.

“I’m assuming what you aren’t saying
, is that tomorrow is the day.”

“Gabe couldn’t get the papers cleared until then, but it’s handled,” he answered, grabbing their suitcases as they walked off the jet.

It wasn’t lost on him that she hugged the captain, and whispered something in his ear. This woman was easily liked everywhere she went. This must have been the same FBI jet she had used on assignments, and the same captain.

“I want to swing by a florist
tomorrow. I need to get flowers for my mother’s grave, since we’ll be disturbing them,” she said, emotionlessly. It took everything to not burst into tears at the thought of what tomorrow would bring.

Inside
the waiting car he motioned to the driver, and they were off. “There’s a florist a block from my home,” he answered, cautiously. He was unsure how she would feel about staying with him at his brownstone.

“Okay,” she
answered, resting her head on his shoulder and holding his hand. She just wanted the constant connection anymore. Everything about it was so completely natural. Elizabeth could feel how tense he was and didn’t understand why. Something was bothering him again.

When they pulled up in front of his h
ome in Georgetown, and the car stopped, Elizabeth began laughing.

It caught him by surprise.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, feeling sick to his stomach.

“I’m sorry Ethan,” she said touching his cheek and pointing down the block. “I lived not far from here. In fact, I ran by here every damn morning.”

H
e relaxed and smiled, relieved that she wasn’t disappointed with his home.

Ethan c
ouldn’t help but wonder if he ever saw her run by him. Then he realized he couldn’t have, he would have remembered the tiny shorts and probably made chase.

“It’s ironic, that you had to go six hundred miles to run into me, when I used to walk past here to get coffee on my way to work every day,” she smiled, gently stroking his cheek.

If she only knew that wasn’t the only time their paths had crossed, but soon she’d know. He had to tell her the truth and hope she wouldn’t disappear like she always did in his dreams.

~Chapter Eleven~

Monday Early Afternoon

Blackhawk placed his key into the lock and opened the door. Immediately, he turned off the security system. He dropped their suitcases by the door and took her hand, leading her into his home.

Well, it was time to see her reaction to his
carefully constructed sanctuary. Ethan couldn’t help but feel incredibly nervous, as he led her through the brownstone, offering a piece of him he rarely shared. Yeah, he had women there for sex, and gone the next morning, but this was completely different. Elizabeth wasn’t just any woman, she was different.

In a sense, he was bringing her home.

Elizabeth walked around his personal space, observing everything. She couldn’t help but feel the tension in him, as she ran her fingers across the glossy surface of the purely, masculine furniture. It was chrome and black, and felt nothing like him at all. It was more like something to hide behind, much like a shield. When she noticed him nervously go into the kitchen to turn on the coffee pot, she couldn’t help but analyze it all.

When she had worked for t
he FBI, her house was her refuge, but this felt like a show. It made the man before her even more an enigma. It wasn’t the Ethan Blackhawk she had grown to love and know intimately. This space didn’t fit what she knew to be true.

Everything here was a lie.

“Coffee?” he asked, handing her a black mug and joining her on the leather couch. The look on her face was worrying him; it was a cool look of calculation. 

“Ethan, forgive me for saying this, but I can’t help but feel like this is a test, and you're waiting for me to respond to something,” she spoke honestly, sitting beside him
. When he didn't speak, she crossed her legs and waited him out. Finally, the look gave him away.

Bingo
.

Blackhawk
flinched and then covered it quickly. This was indeed some sort of test, and now Elizabeth had to wonder why.

Blackhawk should have known be
tter.

S
he was bright and she had been taught by the same man who trained him. “I don’t think I understand,” he lied, and hated that he had to do it. Suddenly, he realized maybe she wouldn’t be comfortable here, and that scared him.

Elizabeth could feel the worry and nervousness, and she tried to soothe him, “Ethan, I love your home
. It’s beautiful and perfect,” she watched his face, “but, I have to be honest and please don’t get angry with me.”

“I won’t get mad at you,” he said, feeling sickness roll through him. This was all a mistake; they should have stayed anywhere else
but here. She wasn’t ready for this, for him, and now he might lose her.

“It doesn’t feel like you.” Elizabeth looked around, the art was harsh, the colors monochromatic, and the edges were sharp with little give.
No, this wasn’t him at all. Ethan Blackhawk was deep, sensual and easy going. 

He stared at her. That was it?

“In the past few days I’ve gotten to know you, and you’re warm, caring, and so filled with life. Although absolutely gorgeous, this doesn’t feel like home. It feels like…” she paused looking for the words. “It looks like an FBI agent lives here.”

He
wanted to laugh, because the statement said it all, and it was completely true.

“It feels like you made this place look like you on the outside when you're working
, and all serious. You made it to look tough, with hard lines, and no easiness. Bad ass, if you will.”

“Is that all?” he asked, smiling and relaxing. She didn’t say she hated it
, just that it didn’t match him, and it was true. This was the home of an FBI guy, not the man he was underneath. He knew then, she passed his test. This test was necessary before he let her see all of the real him.

Elizabeth LaRue was the real deal.

The women he brought here before her loved it, it was shiny, elegant and screamed FBI agent. It was about the job, about the prestige, not the real man, but she saw right through the façade.

She picked up two coasters and placed her coffee mug on one and his on the other,
trying to reassure him. He looked lost, and she felt the need to anchor him back. When Elizabeth sat on his lap, he relaxed for her. Immediately, she set his hair free. “Again, that is so much better.”

Blackhawk kissed her on the lips, and wrapped his arms around her waist
, allowing them to remain connected. “You know, you’re right.”

“About what now? There are so many things,” she teased him, as she stared into the depths of his eyes.

“This has never been a home. I assembled it to fit Special Agent Blackhawk, not Ethan.”

She touched the lines that formed by his lips, trying
to ease the tension. She understood his angst. She had lived the life and had a comfortable place, but she always felt alone. “I happen to like both men, if that matters,” she whispered, resting her forehead against his.

Finally, he spoke, “
We need to talk. I need to tell you the truth.”

“Oh boy
.” She was getting sick to her stomach. Elizabeth moved away from him, putting some distance between them. “I’ve found that conversations that start with ‘
I’m going to tell you the truth
’, usually end up in a fight or tears. Do I need a tissue, or boxing gloves?”                           

He felt bereft
the minute she left his lap. “Neither, I hope.”

Elizabeth picked up her coffee mug and finished drinking. She was suddenly scared shitless at what he was going to say to her
. Part of her knew she couldn’t handle any more pain. “I think I’m ready.”

“I had
a girlfriend,” he said, pausing in time to see her flinch, almost in what she thought would be betrayal. “Please, let me finish. I need you to understand and not judge me, not yet. This is hard enough for me.”

“Okay, Ethan. You have my attention.”

“She was a flight attendant.” He thought he saw her smile and hide it behind her mug. “We dated off and on. She would fly in, we’d hook up, and then she’d leave. I would be on assignment for weeks, and we wouldn’t see each other the entire time. It wasn’t serious, but more like a habit for when I was lonely, needed a companion, or a release from all the stress.”

“Okay,”
she understood, taking his hand, and linking their fingers to offer him acceptance and strength. She knew the feeling well. That’s why she slept with Ray, just to feel alive after looking at death daily.