And Ethan wasn’t having it.
“We’re safe. No one is tracking us here, and he won’t be able to track us to her. She needs us, and frankly, I need my wife,” he admitted. “It’s been a week.”
That it had been.
As Ethan said it, Ivan rationalized it, and there was safety in numbers, after all.
“Fine,” he said, tapping his com. “Raph, we’re heading there. Be ready,” he said. “Stay onboard until we get there.”
Then, he pointed.
“Let’s roll out,” he stated. “And this better not bite us in the ass,” he stated. “I’m not in the mood to dodge literal bullets,” he added.
Ethan reassured him.
They were deep into the reservation.
Who was tracking them there?
“We’re safe, Ivan.”
Oh, but in fact, they were not safe.
No one was.
* * * The Blackhawks * * *
Somewhere
His hidey-Hole
Monday
Late Afternoon
He’d just made it back from delivering his little gift to Elizabeth, and all he could hope was that she liked his token of affection.
As in she died because of it.
His hope was they’d get put on her desk, and when she got back here, because she absolutely would head‘home’, the flowers would take her down.
Oh, he’d hear about it soon enough, and when he did, he’d celebrate.
That would be money well spent.
Honestly, he knew she likely wasn’t back yet, since he’d heard the second she found his little presents to her.
So, his next best-case scenario was that one of the men she loved intercepted the roses.
And read the note—after he took a smell. After all, who could resist smelling the roses? That was what life was all about, too.
Ahhhh, he almost wished he could see their faces as their nervous systems shut down, and they died.
If he got lucky, it would beALLof them, but hey, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and one would be enough.
For his enemy, after clipping his wings, she should brace herself as the hits were going to keep coming.
After studying her, he knew that the best way to take her down was a consistent barrage of pain.
