Choices will Destroy (An FBI Romance Thriller Book 14) (36 page)

If they moved, he wouldn’t always be able to do this. That worried him.

“Hey, I’m talking to you. Where’d you go?” she asked, as they stood on James O’Brien’s porch.”

“Sorry, I was thinking about the profile.”

She didn't buy that, but she let it go. “Last time, he was out back in his makeshift workshop.”

“You stay here.”

She started laughing at the insanity of that one statement. He knew better, so she was going to ignore his bossiness as she wrote it off as insanity.

“Okay, you stay behind me,” he corrected.

“I’ll throw you a bone, Cowboy. Consider yourself lucky that I’m not in a pissy mood. It saved your sexy Native hide on this one.”

Oh, he already did.

As they headed around back, they could hear music coming from the garage. When they pounded on the door, someone called for them to enter.

Ethan went in first because he was wearing a vest. His wife couldn’t with the baby bump.

“Can I help you?”

Ethan held out his badge and pointed at the knife in the man’s hand. “FBI. How about you put that weapon down, so we can have a conversation?”

The man looked down at it. “Oh, sorry, I was working on a deer.”

Yeah, he got that.

Blackhawk had skinned and deboned a few in his life. In fact, he had started doing them at the ripe old age of five.

James dropped the knife and moved away from it.

“We need to ask you a few questions,” said Elizabeth from beside her husband. “Do you remember me?”

“Yeah, you’re the Fed from yesterday. I don’t know what else I can tell you. I told you everything I know about my brother.”

She laughed because that was total bullshit. Elizabeth was going to enjoy riding him over it too. That was just the kind of mood she was in at the moment.

“Well, that’s a big ol’ lie, James. Let’s recap. Your brother is dead, you miss him, and…oh, you were married to your dead brother’s girlfriend. See, that part would have stood out in my mind. I’m crazy like that.”

He swallowed.

Ethan moved forward to pick up the knife. The man actually looked scared. Moving around the table, he stared down at the meat. “You made a mess of this around the joints. You need to cut in, and then work backward.”

He moved closer to watch as Ethan showed him.

Elizabeth made a mental note to kick his ass once they got out of there. He was inches from meat cleavers and a potential killer. There had better be a point to his insanity, or she was going to have him committed for losing his damn mind.

“Like this,” Ethan said, showing him.

The cuts were smooth, efficient, and left nothing behind to waste.

“Where did you learn that?”

“I was taught by a poor, old Native man who would kick my ass if I wasted an ounce of meat. After each skinning, there was a pop quiz.”

He took the knife from him, and Ethan moved to the sink to wash his hands.

Elizabeth watched the suspect with her hand on the butt of her gun. While Ethan’s back was turned, she was going to ensure they both left there in one piece. “Where’s your wife, James?”

He looked up. “I don’t know.”

Elizabeth lifted a brow. “What do you mean, you don’t know? I’m sure most married men can answer that question relatively easily.”

Ethan grinned. “Oh look! Mine is right here.”

He shrugged. “We got married, and she took off. I’m only married on paper.”

“I see.”

“Did she ever live here?”

“Yes, she did. Actually, we were happy for about a year, and then she bailed.”

“Why didn't you divorce her?”

“I can’t. How do I serve her papers? I have no idea where she is.”

“Did you hire a private investigator?”

“They cost money. I’m working two jobs just to live outside DC. The cost of living is higher here than in the ghetto of Boston.”

“Do you have a recent picture of her? We only have a driver’s license photo. It’s not updated.”

That was odd in itself. The woman hadn’t renewed her driver’s license.

That screamed suspicious.

James thought about it. “Actually, I do. It’s inside on the piano. That’s our last picture together.”

“Are you going to get it?” she asked.

“You can go in my house. I don’t have anything to hide. You can search the place if you want.”

Elizabeth shrugged and headed out. “Ethan, maybe you can debone that deer for him.”

He gave her the look.

He was not amused.

At all.

Inside, she looked around.

How could she not?

That was like letting a kid into a candy shop and telling them not to lick everything. As a Fed, she was curious by nature. Being given access without a warrant?

It was like freaking Christmas.

As she wandered around, she didn't find anything that screamed killer. There were no locks on doors, no women chained to radiators, and no crazy religious icons.

He looked…dare she say it—
sane
.

Then again, he could be
‘The Butcher’
. It fit. Crazy hid out in his family tree. They had one nut. It was a matter of figuring out who had the title.

The dead brother.

Or the living one.

As she approached the piano, she found a family portrait. It was of all three kids.

James was a little taller than his brother was.

Okay, not a little. He was about three inches taller. This might help them out.

When she glanced over at the other photo, something in it surprised her—Helena Brennan-O’Brien wasn’t a redhead anymore.

She was a blonde.

Interesting.

They just happened to have some spare blonde hairs showing up on the crime scene.

This might have been a good follow-up trip after all.

Outside in the garage, Ethan continued instructing James on how to do his job. The irony wasn’t lost on him. If the man before him wasn’t a potential killer, it would be amusing.

Now it was plain weird.

When his wife returned, she was carrying two photos. Ethan couldn’t help but stare at them.

“How long had Helena been a blonde?” she asked.

Blackhawk lifted a brow. Yeah, he saw where this was going. His wife was on a trail.

“When we got married, she was a blonde. She told me after she broke up with my brother that she changed her appearance. He tended to be a little over the edge. I think she was hiding from him.”

Yeah, because he might have been crackers.

Could they blame the woman?

“How tall are you?” Elizabeth asked.

“Uh, I’m about five foot nine, why?”

“Were you taller than your brother?”

“Yeah, he had a back injury as a child. He had fused vertebrae. He was shorter.”

“How tall was he?”

“I don’t know, maybe five six at the most?”

She smiled. “Can I borrow these?” she asked. “I’ll make sure the FBI gets them back to you.”

“I guess so.”

She headed out, Ethan following.

“Oh, do you want to stay and help him debone an elk next?” she asked.

“You’re funny. I was checking out his technique. I can tell you right now that he’s not the one who killed the first seven women. He sucks. He can’t efficiently move around a bone. That’s a basic ability. James wasn’t lying when he said his brother had all the skill in the family.”

She kissed him in gratitude. Anymore, she wouldn’t question him when he was acting all crazy. It was sexy.

“You’re handy to have around.”

He grabbed her ass.

“Hey! I said handy, not handsy!”

Blackhawk grinned. “Damn wind. I didn't hear you correctly. That was totally my bad.”

She snorted.

Yeah, she bet it was.

         
         
* * *
  B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x   * * *

Damascus

He finished his run.

As the sweat dripped down his face, his leg really hurt. Yeah, now he knew why he didn't run unless someone was chasing him.

The silence only gave him time to think, and that made his heart heavy with pain.

Yeah, he could cross the gym off his list of things to do. He wouldn’t be coming down here anymore.

It was yet another thing that reminded him of his past.

And that hurt.

As he got off the treadmill in the gym, his wife stood in the doorway, blocking his way. She had her arms crossed and his medical bag by her feet.

“We need to talk.”

“What’s that doing here?” he asked, staring at it. The quick whip of pain lashed at his heart. He’d thrown it away for a reason. Seeing it was like staring at that old lover who destroyed your life.

“You quit your job. Why?”

He shrugged, having nothing to say. There was no point in fighting about it. What was done was done.

Honestly, he didn't go to war for one major reason. Chris was very non-confrontational. In fact, he didn't like to argue—e
ver.
When it came down to it, he’d cave to Cyra all the time because he just wanted to make her happy.

Maybe a part of him had gladly ignored the part of their marriage where the money mattered. She’d offered to sign a prenup, and he’d said no.

He believed she loved him.

He still did, but it hurt to have their financial freedom being used as a reason why he couldn’t be a Fed.

He was a Fed.

To the bone.

She didn't see that.

Truth be told, he only wanted to make her happy. Chris really loved his life, and Cyra made him feel alive. All he wanted was to return the favor, and for the last year, he thought he had been. It stung to know his wife hated their existence.

“Christopher.”

“What do you want me to say, Cyra? You told me our marriage was falling apart because of my job. How am I supposed to keep it? I quit. Yes, I quit because you wanted me to be home. I can’t do both, and you laid down the ultimatum. You win. Okay?”

“And how does that feel?” she asked.

“It makes me angry. I loved my job. Yeah, the hours sucked, but it gave me purpose. It made me happy. It was a part of me before there was ever an us. That job created the man you supposedly love.”

“Supposedly?”

“Yes. I would never tell you that I only loved you if you were a stay at home mother. I would never put conditions on our love. It’s painful to not be completely accepted.”

She felt horrible.

“You should get your job back.”

“Are you out of your mind? I told my bosses I quit. I walked off a life changing case. You can’t play these kinds of games in the real world. It’s not that simple. I burned that bridge.”

“Then you shouldn’t have done it.”

“What choice did I have? If I said no, you’d walk away. You’d leave me and take my daughter.”

She stared at him. “Christopher.”

“It’s the truth. You’re married to some geek doctor who digs in the dead. I’m not a catch, but you are. You’re stuck here all day and have to deal with my mother, Bethe, Igor…”

The list was endless.

“Hey, you’re a catch, Christopher. You’re my catch.  I’ll call Elizabeth and explain.”

He laughed sardonically.

Oh, that freaking boat had sailed. He’d bid his past adieu and his family with it.

“She’ll never take me back, Cyra. We said our goodbyes, and she wants me to have this. She let me go so I could be happy here with you. I abandoned ship. There’s no going back. I chose you over people who have been my family for over a decade. I gave it all up for you, and you can’t play this game. It’s over. They’re gone. You wanted out of this miserable town, so be it. You got your wish.”

She stared at him. “Christopher.”

“You wanted me to choose, and I did. I picked you. I turned my back on everyone for the woman I married. You won. Wasn’t that your goal? You wanted to see what mattered most to me, and it was you and Bethe—not them—not work, and certainly not me. It was you.”

She stared at him. “No one won, Christopher. If I knew you would hate me for it, then I never would have said a word.”