Deep Dark Mire (An FBI Romance Thriller ~ book four) (23 page)

Why take that risk
?

God
, he loved a feisty woman.

                                *   *   *

Elizabeth was pulled from sleep by a touch to her cheek. It felt like fingers, and when she opened her eyes, both her husband and Callen were staring at her.

“It’s time, isn't it?” she asked, sitting up
from Callen’s body and rolling her sore shoulder. Often the old wounds were exacerbated if she slept on it wrong.

“Yeah, it is. I went shopping for you and CJ. Dad is dressing him. I think he’d be lost if we didn’t have
our little boy. Callen James seems to be offering him a distraction and peace.” Blackhawk didn’t mind sharing his son with his father. As of late, Wyler was proving to be a terrific grandfather.

“I’m glad
he’s distracting him. Okay, what did you buy me? I’m scared shitless to see what you picked out.” She grinned at him, trying to support them both. Her husband was king of the clothing and loved to dress perfectly. Elizabeth’s idea of dressing was beat up jeans and cowboy boots.

“A dress,” said her husband, wiggling his eyebrows lecherously.
“It’s a very feminine and gorgeous dress that accentuates your assets.”

“So low cut
, huh?” she asked, lifting a brow.

“Yes, and with beading that would make granddad proud.”

“Score! We get to see you in a dress,” snickered Whitefox, joining in the teasing. Their grandfather would want them laughing and celebrating.

“Well, luckily for you both, I happen to have painted my toes earlier, and I’ll match
. For the record, for granddad I’ll wear a dress and work it like it’s never been worked before at the viewing.”

Both men looked down at her feet and started laughing. They indeed did match
the family colors. “Let’s get dressed. Then you can tell us what you need us to do for the funeral.”

Each one of them grabbed
a garment bag and started up the stairs. When Whitefox moved to go to his room, his brother grabbed his arm. “No, you’re with us.” The man couldn’t be alone right now. No one should be, and especially his own brother.

He looked surprised. “You're going to let me watch your wife get dressed? I know I’m still asleep on the couch.
Here I thought the highlight of my day was Elizabeth using me as a pillow. I had no idea I was going to get to see you
nekid
too.” Callen said the word so lecherously it was hysterical.

Elizabeth snickered.
It was so very wrong and so very Callen. It was if the old him was struggling to resurface, even if only for a moment. “I’ll use the closet and you two can use the bedroom, but really nice try there, Cal,” she winked, offering him a fist bump. “Hit him when he’s distracted.”

Blackhawk dropped his arm over his brother’s shoulder in solidarity.
“A nuclear bomb couldn’t distract me from that little quest of yours.” So began his job of protecting his brother with his heart, life and anything else he had. Laughter would be the medicine the Blackhawks needed to pull through this.

Timothy Blackhawk’
s death had changed everything, including the rules in his heart and the boundaries. In that moment, he was willing to release everything from their crushing hold.

Elizabeth
exited the closet to watch the two men in her life struggling to braid their hair. She shook her head and walked over, taking the brush from her husband’s hand. “Somethings should just be left to the woman in the family,” she said, softly.

“Granddad always did this for us if we needed it
done,” said Callen looking up into her face. Back was the sadness. “For your wedding, he did both of our braids.”

“It just so happens
that I am amazing at braiding hair. So, let me take care of this for you both from here on out, okay?”

Both men sat side by side on the bed
as she knelt behind them. Brushing Callen’s long brown hair, she finally spoke, “Granddad left a will and instructions.”

Both men looked back at her
at the crack in her voice. Until now, she’d held steady but they suspected it was a matter of time.

“I have it in my possession, and he wanted it read tonight when we come back to the house.”

Elizabeth knew neither would comment. They were both filled with raw emotion, and she didn’t blame them. She understood how they felt. Elizabeth had buried her mother and father, and then exhumed Charlie LaRue only to bury him again. Today she’d do for Ethan what he once did for her.

Today’s mission was going to be about h
olding him up to get him through what was to come. Then she’d prop up Callen and Wyler too. Elizabeth carried the responsibility now, and it was something that she was taking very serious.

Adeptly
, she braided his hair and dropped a kiss on the top of his head and put her arms around his neck hugging him. “You're done, Cal, and although not as Native perfect like granddad, it’s not bad for a white woman.”

“Thank you, Lyzee.” When he stood up, he looked down at his brother, and they shared a look. It was one of pain
. The old man, who they loved, wouldn’t ever do their braids again.

Elizabeth moved on to her husband and brushed his hair. The easy stroking motion was cathartic. It made her relax and did the same to him.
She wouldn’t mind doing this more often. It was very intimate.

“I want to get another tattoo,” he said to his wife
, and when her hand paused, he wasn’t sure if he should continue or not.

Ethan took his tattoos very serious. All the ones from his youth were done in haste, and now his only recent one was her name for their wedding
. “Okay, what do you want to get?” She had a feeling that she already knew, but Elizabeth figured she’d ask and let him talk it out.

“Callen and I each have each other’s name on our bodies, under the symbol for brother
in our native language. I want to get grandfather and his name in honor of him, and so I can hold onto him when the memory starts to fade.”

There was a strangled sob from Callen in front of him. He dropped to his knees and the tears poured from him
as he just sat on their bedroom floor. It was as if his brother’s words were the last thing he could handle, right before they broke him.

Elizabeth was the first to reach him and knelt in front of him, taking his face in her ha
nds. She looked him in the eyes, and wiped the tears with her thumbs. “I will carry you through this. Just trust me to do it. I promise I will find a way to ease the hurt in your heart.”

“Nothing can fix it, Lyzee,” he whispered.

Ethan went to his brother and knelt too. His hand went to the man’s shoulder and the other to his wife’s back, and he offered him support and connected the three of them together. “I’ll carry you Callen. I’ll get you through today, tomorrow and the next fifty years if that’s what it takes.”

He pulled Elizabeth against his body and wept into her shoulder
like she was the security blanket in his life. “I'm so empty right now.”

She held him
back and rocked him. “We love you, and you aren’t doing this alone. I’m right here, sweetheart.”

He nodded
, and when his brother took his hand, he felt the strength. “I’m sorry that I’m not stronger,” he whispered.

Elizabeth dropped kisses all over his face and cheeks. “You don’t have to be sorry, Cal. You just be you.” The last kiss was on his lips, and offered him reassurance, peace
, and love. “I love you.”

He loved her too, and always would. “I can’t live without you and Ethan. I love you both
so much. You're all that I have. When this is over, please don’t make me leave.”

Elizabeth looked up at her husband
. She was about to cry herself now. The man was so broken and raw inside. “Never, Cal. Never. I promise that you never have to leave.”

“We promise,” added Blackhawk.
“I told you, Callen, that you have a home here with us for the rest of your life.”

The words seemed to calm him.

When the storm passed, he finally spoke. “I want the tattoo too.”

Elizabeth knew they’d all be getting it. “Looks like that’s three of us
, and I’ll make the appointment when this is all over.” They all embraced and just let the pain exist, knowing each one of them would hold the other up, and the circle would stay completely intact.

Because they had love.

Everyone knew that love was the strongest thing in the universe. It was more powerful than any force, and it wouldn’t break if you held true to it.

Love was invincible if it was
real and pure.

The Blackhawks would bend, but they’d never break.

Because what they had was exactly right.

~ Chapter Six ~

Elizabeth Blackhawk stood in the field where their granddad wanted the teepee set for his final journey. It was done to the letter of his request, with some extras thrown in from the family.

Funerals weren’t about the
dead; they were completely there for the living. Right now they needed to hold steady and have the feeling of familiarity.

The men in the family stood together, and were ready for the procession to begin. Word had
travelled through FBI West and many of the techs were there, along with the people who had become family to them. Doctor Leonard and Doctor Magnus in black suits, grim looks on their faces as they dealt with death daily and still felt for the ones left behind.

Ginny and Christina sat side by side in the chairs and cradled in Ginny’s arms was CJ Blackhawk. He played with a piece of her blond hair and smiled up at her
, laughing.

The field was filled. Mostly with tribe coming to respect the oldest living member of their
kind, that now had left them for his journey home. There was weeping and council members dressed in full regalia. The entire tribe had come together. Tables were set up with tons of food for everyone who came to celebrate the life of the shaman.

It was a beautiful day
. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Timothy Blackhawk would get his wish. A celebration like none other was about to start.

Elizabeth walked over to the men,
to signal them it was time. Timothy was in his casket, and he would be carried down into the field by four warriors. It specified in his instructions, and Elizabeth took it one step further.

Timothy was going to be carried in by his family. His son, his g
randsons, and his granddaughter, because after losing him, there were no other stronger warriors that were worthy of the task.

Elizabeth led them over to the closed
casket; it was kept off to the side where no one could see him until they were ready. Before opening it to the family, she signaled to the drummers and the men who would lead them down into the clearing and teepee. Once the drums started, it tightened everyone’s chest. The beat signified the fallen. It was time.

It was now or never.

It was Timothy Blackhawk’s final walk in front of his people, and this time he’d be carried, protected, cherished and loved as the shaman went home.

“You don’t have to do this, Elizabeth,” offered her husband.

She looked over at him. Yeah, she could walk behind him, but it seemed more fitting. She’d help carry the load and lighten it for his son and grandsons.

“Timothy wanted warriors. He gets us. Wyler took a bullet to save him. That screams warrior. You and your brother stand every
day for justice. If that’s not a warrior, then nothing is.”

“And you Elizabeth?”

“I’m the pretty shiny armor that keeps you wild men from ruining the sexy tattoos,” she drawled in her best southern belle voice.

The three
men laughed. They all knew she was the warrior of the heart. Elizabeth was the protector of what mattered most in all their lives.

Love.

“In heels through grass?” asked Whitefox.

Elizabeth had a simple solution. “It’s a nice day to be barefoot in the grass.
It seems fitting to me, that granddad would want me to take a stroll to the teepee barefoot.”