Chapter Six #3
Ouch.
It was said sharply.
Before Gene or Callen could play peacemaker, Timothy went there.
“Son, you will watch your tone.”
OOF.
And now, Gene was getting antsy. He hated when people called Ethan ‘son’, even if it wasn’t racially motivated. It made his man feel like he was less than them.
And he wasn’t.
Only, before he could say anything, Ethan went there.
“Why is it, Timothy, that we have to watch our tone, but you get to meddle and poke your fingers into our lives without repercussions? Answer me that, Great Shaman. How is someone so good at helping people so bad at helping his family?”
Callen closed his eyes.
Here they went.
Ethan was off to the races, and he knew the exact right button to push to infuriate Timothy.
It wasn’t easy, but Ethan was a pro.
“You can’t help those who don’t want to help themselves,” Timothy admitted. “I stopped trying when I saw that it would get my hand bit off by the family.”
“Man, I’m hungry,” Callen stated.
Gene jumped in.
“I’ve never had an elk roast,” he offered. “Maybe we should all have some beer. Jack? Jose? Jim?” he offered, desperately.
On that, Callen agreed.
This was about to blow up.
“Anyway, I’ll be heading out tomorrow,” Ethan offered. “I will go see my mother’s grave, and then I’m out. So, you don’t have to worry about the family-induced rabies I carry.”
Timothy stared at his grandson.
Oh, he was his father’s child. Ethan didn’t realize he got his spite, anger, and rage from the men who came before them, and he’d not realize it for a very long time.
“Thank God Callen makes me get vaccinated. I’m immune to rabies, Ethan Jackson Blackhawk.”
Ohhhhh…
He just full government named him.
Callen knew this was about to go sideways. When Timothy used any of their names, their full names, he was annoyed.
“Well, caring is sharing,” Callen offered.
Timothy looked over at him.
“Callen James, don’t.”
Oof.
“Why am I catching strays?” he asked. “I think we need more beer or sedatives,” he muttered under his breath.
Timothy ignored him.
“Would you like to get it off of your chest?” he asked his grandson. “If you’d like, I’m willing to take it and carry it as my own.”
Ethan stared at him.
When he looked at Timothy, all he saw was his face in that rear window as he was being driven away by CPS, and how he waved like he was taking a cab to the airport to go to summer camp.
It pissed him off.
“Honestly, Timothy, you don’t want this rage.”
He said one thing.
“It’s Granddad or Shaman. We are NOT on a first-name basis when it comes to you talking to me. I am not your friend,” he stated. “I raised you.”
When Ethan opened his mouth, there were so many vile things on the tip of his tongue.
What kept them from being launched?
Gene.
“My love, please,” he whispered, keeping his voice low. “For me.”
That did what it was meant to do.
Ethan came to a full stop.
There was only one person he’d back down for, and Timothy got damn lucky. He was sitting beside him on that threadbare couch.
The last thing he needed was an all-out fight in front of him. This was his personal mess, and he wouldn’t drag the man into it.
He did a one-eighty.
“So, Callen, how’s work?” he asked, catching his brother off guard.
He actually stared at Gene like the man was a miracle worker, or some kind of witch to make Ethan back off of a fierce verbal neutering.
That was unheard of in their world. Ethan Blackhawk was known for a few things.
His good looks.
His race to get out of there.
Oh, and his temper.
The man he was in a relationship with had managed to tame the Native on the last one.
“Uh, boring, slow, and monotonous. It’s mostly drugs, alcohol, and domestics. They keep it spicy.”
Ethan opted to ignore his grandfather.
It was for the best.
“Yeah, domestics are not fun,” he said. “We just handled an FBI agent who was killing people by making it look like a Voodoo priestess was killing them. It was all kinds of cuckoo.”
Gene put his arm around Ethan’s shoulders, and the man leaned into him.
It appeared that Ethan was back in control.
Thank.
Freaking.
God.
That was a disaster averted.
“Uh, that sounds crazy,” he admitted, impressed that Ethan’s boyfriend was able to wrangle that rage. That took some crazy, mad skills.
Ethan sipped his beer.
“It was.”
Just as Callen was about to say something, his phone rang, and he grabbed it off of the table. Only, Ethan saw it light up and the screensaver.
It was the two of them together.
As kids.
Knowing that he was his brother’s screensaver…that hit him hard.
Yeah, he wished he could spend more time with Callen, but he knew what would happen. Callen couldn’t survive outside of this world, and he couldn’t survive here.
“Excuse me. It’s one of my deputies,” he offered, right before heading out of the room to the back porch where he could have a private talk.
Ethan watched him leave.
“So is your job safe now?” Timothy asked, once more going there.
Clearly, he had no common sense.
Ethan was to the point.
AGAIN.
“I’m not discussing my job or my personal life with you. You can stop asking. We came because you demanded it. Please don’t make me regret it,” he offered, this time his tone was less hostile.
From where he sat, Gene said nothing.
The tension in the room was awkward, and he was being held hostage in this one. The last thing he wanted to do was play ‘pick sides of the war’.
He’d always side with Ethan—no matter what.
“Very well, Ethan Jackson Blackhawk,” he said again.
Ethan just sighed.
Only, Timothy didn’t get to reply because Callen came into the room, and he looked concerned.
They all glanced over.
Uh-oh.
That’s when he gave them a heads-up.
“I’m sorry, but I have to leave,” he admitted. “Sorry about dinner, Granddad.”
The man went there, and Timothy knew it wasn’t his finest moment.
“Booty call?” Timothy asked.
Callen stayed calm.
Ethan gave him props for that. He would have peppered a response with sarcasm dripping in venom. Then, he would have flipped the table over and slapped an old man.
But he was the bad ‘son’, so…
He was just bitchy like that, and this place brought it out in him.
“No, Timothy. One of my deputies found something alarming, and this is work-related. Trust me, I wouldn’t miss this fun little dinner party from Hell for anything,” he stated, snarkily. “How often do I get to see my brother tear you a new one and you keep pushing him like you have no common sense?”
Only, what he said prior to the last part made his brother curious. It was rare that anything bad happened here other than drugs, alcohol, or, like Callen previously mentioned, domestic violence.
Now, Ethan lifted a brow.
“What did he find?”
Callen was to the point.
“Apparently, he is standing near three dead bodies in a pile off the side of one of the less-used roads near the bogs. A Native flagged him down after he found them.”
Ethan was surprised.
Yeah, he hadn’t expected that answer.
“Really?” he asked.
“Yeah, so I have to get there. There’s no doubt the hunter is now telling EVERYONE about it, and it will be only a matter of time before the chief makes an appearance to try and annoy me. You know how trifling the old Natives are when they want to get up in your business.”
Well, that was problematic for a bunch of reasons, and they all knew it.
As Callen pulled on his coat, Ethan got up and met him at the coat rack.
“I’ll come with you.”
His brother lifted his brow.
“Why?” he asked. “This is a reservation issue. You can stay here with Granddad.”
Oh, Ethan would rather lick a light socket than stay and have dinner. Timothy was annoying him, and he needed to get the fuck out of here.
Before he got mean.
The only reason he wasn’t going all-out in his snark was Gene. Timothy got damn lucky his man was right beside him.
“Because it could be dangerous. If someone is dumping bodies, you shouldn’t be in the woods alone with them. We’ll come with you.”
Callen actually looked relieved.
“Thank you.”
That was all he had to say. Ethan glanced back at Gene to alert him that they were getting out of there.
Yeah, he’d rather go help his brother deal with dead people than be here, IF they were actually dead people. Bones in piles here on the rez could be deer and elk.
Or bear.
Freezing his ass off in a musty part of the reservation was a better night than sitting in his grandfather’s cabin to be put under his microscope.
It was as if the man was trying to piss him off, so he left and never came back.
Plus, Ethan knew the truth.
As for the bodies in question, if they were actual people, well, Callen wouldn’t be dealing with this for long.
The FBI would get jurisdiction.
“Babe?” he asked, forgetting to keep it non-personal in front of Timothy.
He glanced over.
“Yeah?” Gene asked.
Blackhawk clued him in.
“We’ll have to eat later. We’re heading out with Callen to assist.”
His brother touched his arm, feeling bad about pulling him away, even if leaving him here might be bloodshed. Timothy was bitchy tonight—more so than normal.
“I can handle it,” he offered.
Ethan was to the point, trying to get his brother to see the cold hard reality of it.
“How many ‘bodies’?” he asked, going back into FBI mode, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel good. “And are they full bodies or bones?”
Callen thought back to the conversation.
“Three full sets of remains—not just bones,” he asked. “Why are you asking that when I said there were three bodies?”
Ethan pointed out one thing.
“Less than three, the local cops would handle it. Three or more, it’s getting kicked to the FBI to help them out, specifically if it’s on Native land.”
He was aware.
They didn’t have the means to handle a case like this, nor would he want to. This was outside of Callen’s scope.
Ethan wasn’t done.
“We’re the FBI, and as for me taking it, our boss has a new rule. If you find the bodies, you work the case. That’s how Gene got us in trouble on vacation.”
His partner laughed.