Yeah, not now.
This was the worst possible moment to have to deal with Wyler and his self-deprecating behavior.
He was tired and couldn’t deal with it.
“I’ll deal with that later. Just keep out of trouble yourself. Kaya Cheek will be rooting around to try and find some available Blackhawk sperm once she hears that your brother has returned to the reservation. She’ll go at either of you, so keep your dick in your goddamn pants and away from her!”
He laughed.
Oh, well, that was the plan.
It generally was, especially since he’d caught his father getting his sex on with her.
PASS.
There was no way he’d hate himself that much.
Right?
It was safe to say that he wasn’t getting on that train to STD-ville. Oh, don’t get him wrong, he’d hopped into bed with her more than a few times, but it was only when he was hating himself. That wasn’t the mood he was feeling now.
Today, he was just worried.
PERIOD.
“Gotcha, Shaman. Fix my brother. If I have to bury him, I won’t be able to stay here on the rez. I’ll pack my shit up because this place will haunt me, and I’ll have to leave.”
Oh, Timothy was well aware.
There was no doubt that so much hinged on Ethan getting his bearings before the Raven arrived.
As Callen left, Timothy got up from the table and knew what he needed to do.
He was going back into the smoke to make sure that this was no shitshow in the making.
Ethan had to live, Callen had to stay there, and Wyler…
Well, he just needed to grow the fuck up.
And Timothy?
He needed a vacation from the Blackhawk looney bin.
This family was too much, and there was no doubt would be the death of him—possibly sooner rather than later.
* * * Blackhawk & Cantrell * * *
Flight To DC
In Time For The
Bitch-slap-pocalypse
Oh, now, Gene Cantrell was three days beyond being pissed off and in one hell of a mood.
BIG-TIME.
The last thing that Gene wanted to do was hop a flight to DC to kick the shit out of the Director of the FBI, but here he was about to land.
