The Killing Times (An FBI Romance Thriller (book 1)) (4 page)

Tony
patted her on the back. “I’ll make sure it’s on your desk for you in the morning,” and it would be. If Elizabeth needed this, he wanted to help her heal a little. Losing Charlie had bruised a lot of people’s hearts. So Tony could only imagine how bad this bruised hers.  Charlie was a great man, and he raised a damn good daughter.

That was his greatest legacy.

“Okay, thanks,” she said, finishing her coffee and tossing him the cup. “I’m going to follow the ME back to the morgue. I’ll catch up with you later.” 

Elizabeth jumped into her Jeep, as the van pulled away. She
had a lot in common with her dad. The number one thing was she didn’t buy into coincidence. When a burr stuck, it became a borderline obsession with her. It was what once made her an excellent FBI agent.

Elizabeth LaRue
had wicked tenacity just like her father, and now her interest was piqued.

                             *   *   *

Special
Agent Ethan Blackhawk crouched, his body hunched below the safety of the SUV. He was wearing his bullet proof vest, emblazoned with the FBI lettering, and his gun was drawn.

For two weeks
he and his partner had been working on a tough case. They were hunting down a missing child and her abductor. Charla Walters had disappeared into the night with a trail of suspicion, leading them to the house in the woods and hopefully to the man responsible.

His partner, Special Agent Lily Sanderson was sitting with her back to the SUV, as bullets ricocheted across the hood of their vehicle
. With every audible metal on metal hit, she visibly flinched.

“Well, what now?”
Lily asked. He was lead investigator, and it was his call. “Did you call for backup?”

“Yeah,” he ducked, as another shot rang out. “I don’t think that kid has a chance if we wait. He’s going to get desperate, and kill her, and then probably off himself
too.”

“
I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but for once I agree.”

“Cover me?” he asked,
crawling towards the back of the SUV. If he followed the trees, he might make it to the back of the house and the little girl.

“Yeah, I got you,”
Lily replied, waiting for the next shot to be fired, before she took her shot. “Make it fast and don’t do anything stupid.”

Blackhawk
rushed the tree line, hoping it would lead to a way inside. Once there, he would go in and with any luck not lose his life, or the little girl in the process. He was more than willing to risk his career and his own neck, but not the child’s life.

There was one thing for sure.
After this, he was taking a long vacation somewhere hot, and where the beer was plentiful.

As he made it to the
rear of the dwelling, he found the window unsecured. Slowly lifting it, he tried to make no sound at all. Though he doubted anyone would hear a thing over the rifle fire, and his partner’s returned shots.  Ethan listened for the next round and timed it to coincide. Pushing his body into the house, he rolled to his feet and pressed himself against the wall.

Now he was
one step closer.

So far
so good
.

Across the room sat a mirror on the mantle. It was giving him a direct visual
into the room where the man was standing. Ethan only hoped he didn’t show in that reflection too. The little girl was crouched down in the corner, hands over her ears and tears streaming down her face. His only thought at that point was to save her life.

As he watched the man reload
and fire off a round at his partner outside, he stepped around the corner. Before Blackhawk could identify himself as the FBI, the creaky floor board gave away his position. The man spun, firing his last shot off just as Ethan pulled the trigger himself.

The pain was excruciating
as it knocked him to the floor. Shit, he took a shot to the center of the vest. Silence ensued and when the pain lessened, he pushed up onto his elbows. The man was lying on the floor in a growing puddle of blood. His attention was drawn to the little girl’s sobs as they were getting louder and more hysterical.

“It’s okay Cha
rla, I’m here to bring you home.” He tried to comfort her, as his partner peeked in through the shot out window.

“Y
ou okay, Blackhawk?” she called, assessing the scene. Her idiot partner managed to not get killed again. The man obviously had one hell of a guardian angel watching over him. The Cowboy was a lucky man.

“It was a twenty two
c
aliber rifle,” he replied, lying back down on the floor. His eyes and gun never left the downed man’s prone body-just in case.

With his free h
and he checked beneath his vest. There was a vicious bump in the metal plate, and he knew because it held up, he would live to see another assignment.

That was i
f his boss or partner didn’t kill him first.

Special Agent Lily Sanderson entered the house, clearing the rooms to make sure they wouldn’t be ambushed. When she reached her partner, she shook her head. “
Do you need an ambulance?”

“Yeah,
you better call one for the suspect and Charla. I'm going to be fine.”

Lily opened her arms for the girl, and she went willingly
into them. “Let’s get you out of here,” she said, opening the door. “You don’t need to see any more of this. I hear sirens and the cavalry is on its way. You’ll be going home to mommy soon.”

“Better late than never,” he muttered, getting to his feet and walking past the man
who nearly ended his life. “I need a vacation and a drink.”

That wasn’t what he really wanted. He was longing for the
raven haired beauty in his dreams.

                             *   *   *

Six
Hours Later

Once again, the dreams were back. They were pursuing him more fervently, as if desperate to give him a message. They were the same as so many nights before. Not that he minded sharing his moments with her. She brought him peace and this feeling of complete acceptance. This woman needed and wanted him. Every night when he closed his eyes, he knew she’d be there waiting for him.

As sleep gripped him, t
here she stood again but this time they were on a lake. His nameless beauty stood on the water as if by some sort of magic. As she walked, her feet never dipped below the surface, as a normal human’s should.

Her hai
r was free and blowing in the wind. A long, billowy dress caressed her sexy body, as she just watched him- never blinking. As he moved closer to her, she beckoned him with her hand, as if to ask him to walk onto the watery glass and trust her. There was no doubt he would do it. What he felt for her screamed of need, trust and the burgeoning beginnings of love.

Tonight
in his dream, she looked ethereal. What Blackhawk would give to simply touch her skin. She was pale and fair, and the opposite his own tan hue. He would bet that her flesh would feel like silk beneath his fingers. Even in his dreams his body tightened, wanting her.

It had been a year of
visions, each one different and yet building in magnitude, as if something was coming.

His mystery woman called his name, and this time in this dream she wasn’t covered in blood
. This time she looked serene. And yet that disturbed him. What had changed since the last dream? He hoped they wouldn’t come to an end. His days of hellish work had been worth it, when she filled his nights. It couldn’t end, not until he had her name. Again, she beckoned and his desire to touch her propelled him forward, following her lead.

One step

Two steps

On the third step he stopped
. He was fingertips away from contact with her, and it occurred to him this was as close as he ever came in his dreams. By now they would have faded away cruelly. On the next breeze, he could smell her perfume, and it called to him. It wasn’t flowery but spicy, and it bordered on a mix of cinnamon and other exotic scents. He could feel his body tighten just from that alone. Her eyes were huge, icy blue, and filled with such sorrow, that it made him ache for her. Something in him demanded he protect this woman, if he could ever find her. It was an obsession he was hopeless to fight.

God, what he would give to touch her hair,
feeling it run across his naked body. It looked like black silk, and he was compelled to bring it to his nose to memorize its scent.

“What’s your name?” he begged, unsure if his voice was even heard above the wind. It was a voice filled with lust an
d need for only her. Here in his dreams she was his alone.

Confusion crossed her face. “I
’m Justice, Ethan, for those that have no voice.” 

Blackhawk stepped closer, and yet she still seemed just out of his reach, and it was frustrating as hell. “What’s your real name? I can’t find you if I don’t know your name.” If he just got that little piece of the puzzle, he would move heaven and hell to
locate her.

Her smile warmed him, “Find me Ethan, and
I will be forever part of your life, and you will never be alone.” This time she stepped forward and touched his cheek. She ran her thumb over his lower lip, bringing her own lips so achingly close to his. “I’m waiting for you to save me. I need you, Ethan Blackhawk,” she stepped back, placing her hand over the tattoo on his chest, her eyes never leaving his as she caressed it. “We are meant to be.”

Slowly, she began sinking into the lake, his hand trying to hold her wrist and keep
the beauty with him. Finally, she touched him, and now the water was swallowing her and taking her away. The mystery woman slipped from his fingers, and he had no choice but to release her.

As if to torm
ent him, he could still see her through the water. It housed her in its grasps, like a coffin of glass, just out of his reach. Taunting him and letting him know that she still wasn’t his, and wouldn’t be unless he found her.

Her hair billowed out in the water, body floating as if trapped. He poun
ded on the surface to reach her and to break through and free her from her watery grave. Her hands were palm to palm with his, and her eyes filled with such hopelessness. Blackhawk watched her lips move, no sound from them, but the words clear in his mind.

“I need you, Ethan! Find me!”

He sat up in bed, pain ripping through his body
as a gasp was torn from his lips. His hand immediately went to his chest, gently touching the bruise that had formed there. Inked onto his sore flesh sat the black tattoo of his youth, that she had touched ever so delicately and lovingly. His mind wasn’t on his discomfort at all. It was on the way she felt as there was finally contact between them.

He already knew the truth.

She was his woman.

Desperation rose in him, as
he vowed to find her. She haunted him, leading him no closer to discovering her location to save her. He closed his eyes again, wanting nothing more than sleep, so he could once more chase the beauty.

Now it was solely about
making her his own.

Blackhawk knew
without a doubt that she was meant to be his. He could feel it to his soul.

Now all he had to do was beat insurmountable.

Oh yeah, and
find her first.

~
Chapter Two ~

Tuesday
Evening

Elizabeth sat in the attic of her father’s home, looking tentatively at the box that sat before her. Inside were the contents from his desk. The desk she had to clean out the day after she buried his body.

It was like yesterday, not the full year that had passed. Elizabeth allowed herself the daydream of going back to that day when she walked into his office after his death.

T
he sadness crushed her.

It was so bad
she couldn’t even pack his things, only sit at his desk and weep for her loss.

The reminiscing continued as Elizabeth realized she
had no one left. Her mother died so long ago. Time had not been kind, as she sometimes forgot her face and voice, and now her father had joined her. Elizabeth wondered if in twenty years, the same thing would happen to Charlie. Would she forget the man who raised her, made her, and molded her?

As she sat in his desk chair, contemplating what to do for his funeral
, she couldn’t help but look at the picture on his shelf. It sent a knife through her heart. It was graduation day from Quantico, and he had been so proud. Now she was tarnished, and she wondered if he would have held his head high, as she quit her job in shame and humiliation.