Devil Hath Come (an FBI/Romance Thriller ~book 7) (6 page)

“You have to get that man off your mind,” she demanded.
“You’re making yourself a mess, and now you’re talking to yourself…”

That was so much easier said than done.
It was official. Chris Leonard was making her crazy.

At the doorbell, she
sighed. Her partner loved to pick her up in the morning. Even though she told him to stop, he’d taken it upon himself to either be chivalrous or a pain in her ass.

That’s exactly something her brother would do. The man was too much like a sibling
for her to wander into a relationship with him, and sex… uh, no freaking way.

Cyra couldn’t picture it.

Opening the door, he stood there with two cups of coffee in his hand
s. “Are you ready, Cyra?” he inquired as he grinned at her.

“Yeah, but I could have driven myself in today.”

“I don’t mind. I drive right by here.”

She stared at him
, as the man didn't get the hint. “Tommy, you live on the other side of town. You don’t drive right past here.” Maybe now he would get it.

He laughed
and winked at her. “Actually, the coffee place not far from here is far better and worth the commute. If I’m going to get buzzy before work, it might as well be on java I like.”

She
gave up. It only put her in a cranky mood to start her day like this. “Okay then. We should get to work. We’re up for the next assignment and are likely going out today.”

“I hope it’s an exciting one,” he said, walking her to the passenger door and opening it for her. “I could use the rush.”

Cyra hopped in and tried to not say anything snippy. She had told him to stop opening her door too, and that apparently fell on deaf ears. It was as if the man wasn’t getting the hint.

“I’ve learned to never think about it,” she stated. “If I do, we always get something opposite of what I want.”

Tommy understood that. “That’s a good probationary rule to add to your list.”

Cyra
nodded. She also wanted to add
‘get a female partner in the field’
as soon as possible. 

“
Are you ready?” Tommy Rickard asked, buckling into his seatbelt.

No, but did it really matter?
“Come on! Let’s get this day started.”

Monday Morning

Doctor
Christopher Leonard’s home

It had been another dream filled sleep that offered him no rest at all. Staring into the mirror in his bathroom as he shaved, Chris took in the dead exhausted look etched into his face. At one point, he believed being the only ME on staff at FBI West would burn him out, but now he had a backup and he was still exhausted.

Only it had nothing to do with the dead, and everything to do with the living. Cyra Austin was plaguing his mind, his days, his nights, his sleep, his…
EVERYTHING
.

He
had yet to work with her since she’d been back from training, and it was making him a mess. At this point, he was ready to relegate himself to begging Elizabeth to skew the draw and get him assigned to her next case. Maybe some time with her would help them get past this chasm that had developed.

Chris was clueless when it came to women. If you wanted to know how someone was killed, come to him. If you wanted to know the time of death,
just ask. If you wanted to watch him create the world’s biggest mess, point him in the direction of Cyra Austin. The blonde had him so twisted up inside, he could barely talk around her.

Yeah, he’d crossed her path in autopsy, as she was getting results from the new ME, but he’d yet to have the balls to ask her out again.

Why?

He was afraid
that he would screw it up.

If t
here was one big regret, since the Christmas party, it was not going home with her to have sex. Yeah, he didn't like bed hopping, but the way he was feeling now, he was pretty sure that being wrapped around her was the only way he’d get over the gorgeous blonde.

There was just something about her.

It was a combination of the way she watched him, how she chewed on her lower lip when she was thinking, and then the gorgeous scent of her perfume. All of that made his body react in a purely male response.

God, it made his control fall apart. What he wanted to do was grab her and kiss her until she was out of his system.

Who was he kidding? The last thing he wanted to do was just lock lips with her. That was just the tip of the iceberg.

Sliding the razor down his cheek, he flinched when he nicked himself.

“Shit! Can today get a little worse? I hate Mondays,” he muttered. More cautiously, he tried to focus on his day and shaving, and less on the woman who made him nuts.

Monday meant one thing in his world. There
was the daunting task of the morning meeting. Today, he needed to sit down with the bosses and be accountable for the expenses, update them on any issues, and hand in his requisition forms. Ever since heading to Cypress Grove and whipping out the official rule book on Elizabeth when she’d been hurt, Ethan Blackhawk was making him pay.

If he wanted to play strictly by the rules, they were going to give him what he asked for
tenfold. Except now, he regretted every damn second of it, and it was making his life hell.

Yeah, he
had threatened to pull Elizabeth’s gun and in hindsight, it was probably not the wisest of decisions. He owned that, but due to maniacal retaliation, he was now forced to ask for equipment, beg for supplies, and pretty much sell his soul for any leniency. Yet, he couldn’t be mad. He’d thrown down the challenge, and they were making him stick to it.

Maybe he could talk them out of it.

Yeah, right.

Everyone knew that if you hurt Elizabeth Blackhawk there were two things that could happen. One, you got your ass kicked by the woman, or the men in her life would handle it. For now, Ethan was managing the payback
with his brother riding backup.

Finishing u
p, he washed the shaving cream from his face and headed into his closet to get dressed. It entertained him that he had this huge walk in and all he utilized was the one little corner.

In fact, everything in the house was too big for him.

The tub held two.

The kitchen was gourmet and he didn't cook.

The dining room seated twelve easily, and yet he never had company.

When
Chris had bought the house, he had been a little over zealous. In fact, he had let his mother help and that was a huge tactical error on his behalf. Yet, Chris felt obligated to throw his mother a bone on this one. Okay, maybe it was that way with pretty much everything, but the woman did give him life, support him through his endeavors, and love him unconditionally.

When he moved out west to work for the Blackhawks, she
had come up to help him find a suitable dwelling and simply never left. He was an only child, and his mom had a vested interest. Of course, when he let her find the place, she picked a haunted mausoleum.

It wasn’t that he didn't like the house.

Yeah, he hated it.

From the outside
, it looked like something creepily built of stone. His mother was eclectic to say the least. When his father had died young, it was just the two of them in life. He spent most of his childhood rationalizing her to the outside world, and honestly he was tired of it.

The house was his breaking point.

Chris’s father had been wealthy, and when he died, his mother had packed them up and moved away from
the influence of his family. Something about them being haters and not open to their life and choices.

He’d been a boy, so he accepted it. It wasn’t a bad thing
to have an endless supply of cash as a kid. His mother always bought him whatever he wanted, he went to a great college, and escaped without student loans. That’s why he felt obligated to let his mother pick out the ‘castle of doom
’
.

It was
disturbing that a man, who cut open bodies for a living, lived in something very reminiscent of Frankenstein’s manor. This was what happened when you allowed your mother to pick out a home. Don’t utter the words ‘
I don’t care. You can decide’,
or it would definitely come back to haunt you.

Granted, he’d had the interior remodeled, but it still didn't feel like home to him.

Maybe it never would.

At some point, he woul
d likely sell it, if he ever felt like dealing with his mother and her comments. The woman was convinced that this house was meant to be his.

Yeah, right.
It was too big for a party of one.

Buttoning his dress shirt, he stared into the mirror. “Okay, Doc. It’s time to go
digging through the dead for shits and giggles.”

Leaving the closet, he wandered past the massive canopy bed that his mother had
also picked. It was the
ONLY
thing in the house that he appreciated. It was masculine, comfortable, and had a large flat screen across from it. At least when he came home from the morgue to the haunted house, he could watch sports in bed.

Alone.

Yeah, now he was thinking about Cyra again. Chris couldn’t help but wonder what she’d look like lying beside him in the bed.

Unfortunately
, he could end that fantasy right there. She would run screaming like a maniac once she saw the monstrosity that he called home. Any sane woman would, especially once you compiled it with his career choice. It added up to be a very lonely life.

Jogging down the mahogany stairs, he
wandered into the kitchen to grab his coffee and head to the garage. Maybe once he got to work, he’d be able to focus on the entire situation.

Yeah, fat chance on that one.

Chris prayed for patience as he made the drive. Maybe he was just being gloomy. Today might end up being a really great day.

Who knew? Maybe fate wouldn’t be such a bitch.

             
                  *   *   *

FBI West

Mid-Morning

No one liked Monday mornings and if they
were kicked off with meetings that were required by the bosses, who could blame them? While running FBI West, most of the work was meetings, paper pushing, and managing, and it only took some time to adjust to it.

While that
worked fine for Ethan, it didn't for Elizabeth. She could only be in-house for so long before she became twitchy. Maybe it was the fact that she needed to think and loved using her brain, or that she wasn’t management type.

She liked to leave that up to her husband.

Speaking of the very sexy Native devil, he was sitting behind his desk in his black suit and blue tie and looking very handsome indeed. Elizabeth liked the birds-eye view that she had from where she was perched. It was common that she would plant herself there, just to be close to him.

It was simply their thing
.

Elizabeth
got to ogle her husband, and he knew her location and that she was out of trouble. It was very mutually beneficial.

“You’re thinking again,
Tex,” he said as he signed the papers without looking up. “Care to share with me?”

She began laughing
at how he just knew. “I was thinking about my very sexy husband in his suit and tie. Then I was contemplating locking your office door and having my way with you on the couch.”

That got his attention.
Blackhawk glanced up, horrified at what she had just said. Yeah, they’d had sex in his office once, and he vowed it wouldn’t happen again. It wasn’t that he didn't like it. It was pretty damn hot, but there was too much to risk with him getting caught with his pants down.

Literally.

“Uh, not going to happen.”

Elizabeth
knew it freaked him out and decided to cut him a break. “Okay, then how about I settle for a kiss? I think I can hold off on molesting you until later when we’re home.”

That he didn't need to think about. “
I can agree to that.”

Springing
down off the corner of his desk, she leaned down to brush her lips against his. His hand went to the back of her head as he pulled her down into his lap.

While he wouldn’t have sex at work, he would kiss his wife and let her sit in his lap. Focusing on her, he enjoyed the moment that was just theirs to share.
Granted, they were a fully functioning couple with Callen, but the moments that were strictly his made his day.