Page 31 of Chaos has a Name (An FBI Romance/Thriller #66)

“You can’t come in, Gryph. You’re not from the reservation, and you’re not Native. We have to go in alone to do this.”

He didn’t look amused.

Not.

At.

All.

“You both know I’m supposed to be right beside you at all times. Ivan will kick my ass if he knows I lost visual on you both,” he admitted.

Oh, they knew.

But this rule superseded Ivan’s rules any day of the week. The council was pretty strict about it.

On top of that, they didn’t want to insult the council. That would make it a mess for everything that followed from here on out.

“It’s cultural. Give us this,” Callen said, using the simplest explanation. “We can handle it. You saw the head of the council. The men are all over sixty-five. We’ve got this.”

Okay, they had a point.

All the Marines had seen Ethan and Callen in action in a barroom brawl. Of course, they could hold off three older Native men.

That’s when he relented.

And sighed.

“I’ll be outside of the door. If I hear any jackassery, I’m kicking it in, taking off my leg, and launching it like a missile.”

The visual on that…

It made them both laugh.

There was no doubt that Gryphen would do it too. He was crazy like that.

“Okay, Gryph. Calm down,” Callen said. “I think we’ll be good. Even Ethan can take all three of the old men and I wouldn’t have to lift a finger to do anything.”

His brother elbowed him.

“Even Ethan can take them?” he asked, repeating what his brother had said. “For your information, Callen, I may be slightly older, by a year, but I can still beat your ass for insulting me. Guess what we’re doing later?”

Callen winked at his brother.

That would be an unfair fight.

Callen couldn’t take a swing at the man, and he knew it. His brother’s back was fragile. If he hurt him, Elizabeth would hunt him down and make him cry.

No.

Doubt.

“I know, Bro. You’re a scary, scary head-shrinker,” he joked. “Please don’t Freud me to death.”

Blackhawk snorted.

“Shut up, goofball and don’t be a dick. You’re slower than I am,” he stated. “Talk about yourself there.”

Callen just laughed. Well, it seemed like everything was the same when they were back here.

The older brother was doing older brother things.

As for Gryphen…

He’d hover by the door to listen for any breaking furniture or shouts. THEN, he’d head in.

Because if they got hurt…Ivan was chewing ass.

HIS.

“If you need me, shout,” Gryphen said, taking a seat on a bench near the door. He’d text his fiancé and see how he was doing as he waited for the brothers to do their thing.

As for shouting…

Oh, there likely would be, but it would be Native men doing that when they were angry that outsiders had arrived and the trouble was brewing again.

Ethan waved his arm, letting his brother take the lead. This was, after all, his rodeo.

At the doors leading into the inner sanctum of the council house, they headed in.

When they moved into the council room, both men took off their shoes, and headed toward where Chief Tom Redbear was sitting. He had bowls of steaming soup waiting for them, like he had promised.

Sharing a meal was very important culturally, and for Callen to do his job effectively. It was a welcome that offered up an olive branch, and he knew it.

There was no way they could say no.

Instead, they would be gracious guests.

“Welcome,” he said. “Lance and Abe will be here shortly,” he admitted as they made their way toward him. “They are on their way back to meet with us. Until then, let’s eat,” he said.

The two men sat, and he handed them each a bowl of soup. In it, there were vegetables, and noodles. It smelled of recipes found on the reservation for generations past.

They smelled like Timothy had cooked, and that was comforting.

As they ate, they thanked him.

“Thank you for lunch,” Callen said. “It’s delicious, and we appreciate it.”

The man was deeply amused.

“It’s not lost on me that I never thought I’d be sitting down with the Blackhawk boys, those two hellions who tore this reservation up in their youth.”

Callen shrugged.

“No one is more surprised than us that we’re wearing badges and work for the FBI,” he admitted. “Trust us on that,” he added.

On that, Ethan agreed.

Truer words had never been spoken.

“Maybe the secret is community and a good bowl of soup to calm down two wild hellions on the reservation,” Ethan offered.

The man smiled.

“Maybe. Regardless, gentlemen, I will pass that on to my wife. She made it for me today when I told her that I was going to have visitors. We heard your family arrived. I assumed you would be here to discuss something.”

Oh, they were.

Absolutely.

This was tricky, but only because they didn’t have definites. They weren’t sure what would happen with Wyler and Elizabeth. Their money was on her, but Wyler was a wild card.

He did his own thing more times than not. Plus, historically, he didn’t make the best choices.

Their father was a wild card.

“We’re going to be staying a while,” Callen said, covering their bases in case Wyler refused to leave.

He had no choice.

“Our wife has some work to do on this side of the country. I hope you don’t mind us being here,” he offered. “We’ve brought our kids and whole family.”

Tom sipped his broth.

“Absolutely not. Your family is ours. We are all one. As far as I’m concerned, I follow the old traditions. If you’re born here, you can always come back. That was what Timothy believed too.”

Oh, they were aware.

He always wanted them to come back to the reservation. He’d always hoped they’d live here full-time, and pick up where he left off.

That was his wish for his legacy.

“We have our daughter-in-law with us, too, and our new grandson,” he admitted, getting ready to take care of that situation first.

Here was where Callen knew it would get sketchy. Not because of Coraline and Oliver, but because of the baggage that came with them.

“As you know, her father is the president,” Callen admitted, laying the groundwork for what was to come.

Basically, it would be them begging for a little leeway from the council.

It didn’t take the man long to put two and two together. It was clear that Tom understood now.

“And she comes with a Secret Service protection duty?” he asked.

They both nodded.

That was when they knew it wouldn’t go well.

Why?

Well, it made him sigh, and that was when it had the potential not to work in their favor. They had to get past this before they even brought up the issue with the FBI investigation.

“Why do I feel like there is more to this than what you’re saying?” Tom asked.

Oh, well, maybe because there was.

Ethan looked over at his brother, and gave him a nod. This was his rodeo, so he let him handle it and instead, ate his soup.

Since they were sharing, Callen opted to get all the cards on the table. Bullshitting one of the elders was generally not a good idea.

He couldn’t use all they’d done for the reservation as leverage either. That was shitty, and it would make them look like douchebags.

That was the last thing he wanted.

It was a delicate line he was skirting, and Callen knew it. This would take finesse and honesty to make it happen.

“We were also asked by the reservation Chief of Police to help with a crime that was delivered to her doorstep this morning.”

That was all he had to say.

The man lifted his dark brow and tossed one of his salt and pepper braids over his shoulder to keep it out of his soup.

“What kind of a crime?” he asked, curiously.

Callen went there.

“Apparently, someone has gone missing, and they turned up on the outer edge of the reservation in a bone pit. Their clothes were folded carefully, and placed on the rock. Chief Running Wolf needs our assistance since the bones she found are somewhat fleshy. The person didn’t bury himself,” he admitted.

Oh, and Callen held his breath as he waited to see how difficult the man was going to make it for them, and how long he was going to be tap dancing.

Immediately, the man reacted.

“Oh, no.”

Well, he could say that again. That was definitely an appropriate response. They’d all thought the same thing. A predator on the reservation…

Not a fun way to start the day out for anyone.

Then, when they least expected it, Tom Redbear shocked them.

“That will be The Hollow,” he stated. “This must be left alone. You mustn’t dig into it.”

What?

Was he serious?

Sitting there and eating his soup, Ethan was confused as to what he said—one part in particular.

“What is that?” he asked. “What is The Hollow?” While they knew what Timothy had told them all of those years ago, they didn’t know the name for it.

Other than the crazy.

Tom leaned back and held his bowl of half-eaten soup in his weathered hands.

Then, he shared what he knew, and it wasn’t anything they were shocked to hear. They both knew the crazy spread by word of mouth—like how Timothy told them about that one particular night when they were growing up.

Unfortunately, legends ran rampant on the rez. They grew up hearing tales and stories all of their lives.

“The legend of The Hollow is that there is one single person chosen to feed the Wendigo. He watches over our people, and with that Solstice feeding, we have prosperity and safety. It’s happened for years.”

Yeah, so they’d heard.

Callen didn’t know what he’d expected Tom to tell him, since he knew he was from the same generation as their own father.

The more he heard it, the more he thought of one thing, and one thing alone.

What kind of backwoods wackadoo lottery was this?

Who thought this was a good idea?

A lot of crazy shit went down on the reservation, but this was the hardest to believe.

Killing people was a no-no across the board. Or it should be.

It was crazy that this was stressing him out more than having to get Coraline’s Secret Service detail approved by the council.

When he looked over at his brother, even Ethan looked befuddled by how people could fall for this nonsense.

Wendigos weren’t real—and that was coming from two Natives.

His brother was curious.