Well, they hoped he made plenty more mistakes.
Ethan continued.
He’d been thinking this out, trying to figure out Devon’s next move.
“I guarantee that she grounded him, and now, he’s having to redirect his plans. That buys us time. I hate that Vivian got hurt, but this shows he’s off of his game. He didn’t drop three victims or two. He struck out at us, showing she hit a nerve. His card tells us that this wasn’t planned originally. He’s flying without a net on this one, and when she’s tracking a killer, that’s what she needs for them to make a mistake.”
They all hoped so.
Callen went there.
“His father taught him patience, and she stripped that away. He’s going to be wild, but that means he’ll make a mistake. All it will take is one, and he’s done.”
Good.
They wanted him done.
Blackhawk wasn’t done.
“Gene is working on finding the vehicle he got out of in the parking lot. It was pretty nondescript, and he knew not to let us see the plate, but it came from somewhere,” Ethan stated. “He’ll slip up at some point. We have over a century of experience between the five of us. He won’t win even if his daddy taught him all he knew.”
That was what they all hoped.
As they pulled up to the council house, Lance RunningWolf was there. He was sitting on the steps, having a cup of tea. Fall was here, and it appeared he was enjoying the weather before the snow came in November.
As they got out, he sighed.
“What is this?” he asked. “I can tell by the look on your face, that you are bringing bad tidings to us, Shaman,” he stated, patting the step beside him.
Well, when in Rome…
Ethan parked it beside him and patted his leg.
“We need a favor,” he stated. “You know I wouldn’t ask unless it mattered.”
Lance was curious.
“What?” he inquired, not seeing the man who was dating his daughter—against his wishes.
At least they didn’t bring him here.
Having to look at him annoyed him to no end.
Because there was no time like the present, Ethan went there.
“One of our bodyguards was murdered last night,” he admitted.
Lance glanced over.
“I’m so sorry,” he stated. “But how is this tribal business?” he asked.
Ethan was well aware this was going to be a hard sell. He was no Timothy, and that might bite them in the ass. No one went against the old Shaman, because he was Hell on wheels.
Ethan wasn’t there.
Yet.
Building that reputation took time, and he’d only been at it a few months. It would take years to get that kind of clout.
