Page 10 of Sticks and Stones (FBI Romance/Thriller #65)

Corbin had done nothing but think about how he could have done this differently. The whole time, he’d been praying that he’d see them again.

Will.

Gene and Ethan.

What he’d learned the last months working with Gene and Ethan was that one of them was hiding behind a gruff exterior.

That someone was Gene.

He was mushy and sweet under that crankiness, and Corbin was grateful that he didn’t lose this moment. So, he told him how he felt.

“I love you, Gene. I know you’re angry with me now, and I own it, but I want you to know that when I was dying, I regretted my choices because it was going to take me away from my family. I knew it was on me that I’d never get to find out if you married Ethan, or if you stayed in Philly .”

That broke Gene.

He knew that Corbin would never be the same again, even if they got him justice. He knew that this would change him, and it could go either way.

Would he be able to fight back?

Or would this take him down?

Time would tell.

Corbin watched as tears filled his eyes. When he turned his head, their gazes met.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Gene said. “You and Ethan. If this city doesn’t kill me, I’ll be shocked as shit,” he said, as the blue Mustang pulled up to the door.

Luckily for Gene, it was time to go.

But he had one thing he had to say.

“I love you too, Corbin. We both do. No matter what happens from this moment out, know that we both feel that for you.”

Oh, he was aware.

If they didn’t, they wouldn’t have shown up at the hospital for him.

This was a bond they’d always have, and Corbin would ALWAYS show up for them going forward.

When Ethan beeped, signaling that the coast was clear, they made their move.

“Hold onto me,” he said, hauling ass to the doors to hopefully not be stopped by anyone coming inside.

Once through the glass, Ethan was there with the door open, and the seat forward.

They needed to move fast.

The goal was to get back to the condo, tuck Corbin away, and then figure out how to unravel this mess—all before Alice showed up.

Oh, and that’s what this whole situation was.

A clusterfuck.

Gently, Gene helped Corbin get inside and to the back where he could lounge across the whole seat, so he wasn’t uncomfortable.

As soon as he was in, they got the hell out of there. Switching up seats, Gene drove.

As he did, Ethan turned in the passenger seat and put his hand on Corbin’s leg to soothe him.

He looked rattled, and so did Gene.

His lover was tense, and that told him all he needed to know. He was going to blow at some point, and that rage was best pointed at the bad guys.

Corbin’s assaulters.

There were five, and Gene was going to want to find all of them.

“Corby, are you okay? Do you need anything?” he asked. “Food? Water? A trip to anywhere but Philadelphia ?” Ethan suggested. “I’m partial to DC, personally.”

Yeah, Gene too.

Weakly, Corbin laughed sardonically.

“Now you offer that up? Where were you before I did something stupid like go to that bar?” he asked.

Gene said nothing, but Ethan knew that was likely because he’d already said it to Corbin.

He knew his man.

As for stopping Corbin last night…

Yeah, well, he couldn’t go back in time. God knew if he could, Ethan would change so many things that had spiraled out of control.

“What were you working on that led you down this rabbit hole and into trouble? Can you walk me through it with more detail?” Ethan asked as Gene navigated the Saturday morning traffic in the snow.

He knew they were going to have to retrace his path to figure out where this went south.

Corbin closed his eyes, and felt Ethan put his jacket over his body as he lay in the back seat.

The mingled scents of both men helped him focus enough to help them.

“Someone is trafficking men,” he stated.

“We have three victims that we know of so far. They were found decomposed and dumped in a public park in some trees. I talked to their families, and the people who reported them missing. By all intents and purposes, they were all decent people. They were college kids. After sorting through that over the next week and a half, I got my lead, and the trail led to Bull’s Biker Bar . ”

Gene glanced over.

“There’s our way in,” he admitted to his partner. “Three deceased victims means that we’ll be able to get this pulled. The cops will want to work it for Corbin, but we have to get that case.”

Corbin panicked in the back seat.

“Please don’t let them have this case. They’ll know what happened to me. Going back will be hard enough as it is. If they all find out what happened to me...”

They got it.

Corbin didn’t want the rape pity party, or everyone he worked with gossiping about him.

Only, that made this even more difficult.

Ethan patted his leg to keep him calm.

“Don’t worry, Corbin.”

The bottom line was that now, they could pull the case and make it FBI jurisdiction. They were going to have to do the dance on this one but now, they had a fighting chance.

That was for sure.

Cops were particularly bitchy when someone they worked with got hurt, and the FBI ripped the case right out from under them.

“I’d give you my notes, but they were in my car. I think it was stolen after I was dumped. They took my keys, and I don’t know where my notes, wallet, badge, or gun are.”

Yikes.

This kept getting worse—if that was possible.

Now, Gene was curious.

“You didn’t wear a badge and gun into that place, did you?” he asked.

Corbin shook his head, meeting Gene’s gaze in the rearview mirror.

“No. They were in my car. I parked it down the street. I was trying to get there when I pulled myself out of the dumpster so I could drive myself to the ER. It was so cold, and I tried to get to it to get help. I could see it was gone…”

Ethan focused on him.

“It’s okay, Corbin. We have a spare room. You can stay with us until it’s all cleaned up. You’re safe. No one knows where we are, and we’ll find your things.”

He just nodded, freaking the fuck out over the idea that he’d be sleeping in his home, and they could get in.

That horrified him that they could find him again.

“I don’t feel so good,” Corbin said, his belly rolling with that panic as the back seat was starting to spin.

Uh-oh.

That was all Gene had to hear.

For a big man, he moved fast.

“Don’t puke in the car,” Gene said, pulling over and hopping out so fast as he yanked the seat forward to give Corbin space.

Immediately, Corbin leaned out, and he puked.

They both knew what that meant.

It appeared that Corbin had a concussion to go along with his parting gifts from the assholes.

As Corbin was puking, Ethan was leaning on the center console, running his hand up and down Corbin’s back to reassure him.

“It’s okay. We’re here,” he said.

The whole time, Gene just kept scanning the area, and making excuses as people passed by and saw Corbin heaving up his pancreas.

“Hangover,” he admitted when an old woman with a little yappy dog stared at them in disgust. “He had too many Pina Coladas at a party.”

She hauled ass, and it would have been funny had it not been so upsetting.

When Corbin was done, Ethan pulled him back inside the vehicle, and rested him against the seat.

“Better?” he asked.

He nodded.

Only, that was a lie.

Corbin was scared, and he knew that would likely never go away. This was his new norm, and he didn’t know how he was going to find his way back to normal.

When Gene got back in, he started back toward the condo, and the vehicle was absolutely silent.

It bordered on awkward.

For that reason, Ethan assumed Corbin was faking sleep in the back seat to hide.

As for the other man, Gene, who looked ready to blow, was myopically focused on traffic, so he didn’t say shit he’d have to apologize for later.

Yikes.

They were quite the threesome. If they got through this, it would be a miracle.

When they reached the condo, Gene rolled the window down and punched in the parking garage code so that he could get to their parking spot.

He pulled it next to his truck, where they had a motorcycle hidden under a cover.

“Home sweet home,” Gene said, putting the Mustang in park, and getting out.

When Corbin tried to climb out, it was crystal clear he couldn’t do it. He was weak and his body had been battered to Hell and back.

So, he scooped him up again.

Silently, they walked to the elevator, and they punched in another code. They rode it up, and when it stopped on their floor, they headed to their condo.

No one said shit there either.

Once inside, Gene carried Corbin to the spare room, and placed him in the bed.

That’s when Gene shared what he’d be doing for the rest of the morning.

Basically, his plan was to put space between him and Corbin.

“I’m heading in,” Gene said, focused on Ethan. “I have to get this case pulled and into our jurisdiction. Can you hold the fort down with Corbin?” he asked.

Ethan knew that someone had to watch their baby detective, and honestly, he didn’t want to go to the police precinct to watch Captain Oliver Guy flirt with his man. It was going to make him irate and insane.

This seemed like the lesser of the evils to him.

Surprisingly.

“Yeah, I’ve got this here. Send information back to me, and I’ll start working it.”

He was grateful.

“Call me if you need me,” he said, giving his man a kiss on the lips. “I love you,” he added.

Ethan touched his cheek.

“Love you, too, big guy.”

When Gene headed out, Ethan was infinitely grateful that Javier Hughes was in jail, and they had a little leeway with their safety.

Had he not been, Ethan would be stressed about Gene out in the streets.

Tucking Corbin in, he reassured him.

“Get some rest. We’ll get some food in you,” he admitted. “You need to rebuild your strength.”

Corbin said nothing.

Instead, he slipped under the comforter, and hid in the bedding where he could have some peace.

And where he could go where no one would find him.

Because he was haunted.

Something told him that no matter how much he healed, his mistake was never going away.

Ever.

* * * Blackhawk & Cantrell * * *

Philadelphia Jail

Same Time

That morning, Diesel met with the District Attorney, and he’d gotten his plea deal set and signed.

For Willis Finch, that was all that mattered to him now that he was facing down some heavy charges. The Feds hadn’t been playing, and they hit him with everything but the kitchen sink.

When he saw the charges, he knew that he had to make up his mind damn fast.

His wife was pregnant with their next child, and there was no way in hell he was spending the rest of his life in jail for attempted murder on a Fed.

Pass.

Instead, he was turning state’s evidence.

While turning on Javier Hughes was a bad choice, rotting in jail when he was found guilty of taking that shot at the federal agent, was worse.

Well, to him.

The District Attorney had promised him that if he rolled on Javier, he’d get off with a slap on the wrist, and maybe five years in a safe prison where he couldn’t be found by Javier.

And he knew that was the important part.

The man had connections everywhere, and there was no doubt that he’d get himself out, and leave Willis to hang for the mess.

That was the last thing he wanted.

You couldn’t trust the rich.

There were no honest millionaires.

PERIOD.

Diesel, Javier’s faithful sidekick and bodyguard, was as good as dead, and he knew it.

Now, he needed to be Willis, a remorseful wayward sheep as he tried to swing this in his favor.

At the phone, he called his wife, and she answered on the first ring.

“Hey, Baby,” he said, keeping his back to the wall so no one could jump him.

“Willie, are you okay?” she asked.

He laughed.

“Sure am, Baby. How are you and my kids?” he asked, wanting to think about anything but his choices.

When Tank was killed, he should have had the common sense to get the fuck out of employment with Javier. That should have been his deciding factor that he was expendable.

Only, the money had been damn good.

“You have nothing to worry about. I spoke to the DA. I’m in the clear. They need me to roll on Javier.”

She gasped.

“Is that a good idea? You know how he is,” she admitted.

Oh, he was well aware.

“I’m being transferred to somewhere safe, and then, I’ll testify. It kills me that I have to be away from you and the kids. I’d do anything to be home.”

She wanted him there, but at what cost? Javier’s attorney had stopped by their home, and delivered a message.

“He said he’d get you off if you were loyal.”

Diesel was honest.

“Baby, I’m in some serious shit. The Feds have me dead to rights, and if I don’t roll, I’m never seeing the light of day again. They’re making an example out of me as a warning to anyone who works for Javier.”

She sniffled.

“Oh, don’t cry, Baby. I’ll be okay. I’m watching my back here. I’ll be home before you know it. You just love those kids for me. Okay?”

She would.

“I love you, Willie,” she said, using his nickname she had for him.

“And I love you too, Baby. See you soon, okay?” he asked, waiting for her.

“Absolutely. I’ll be here waiting for you.”

That was all he had to hear.

Then, he hung up.

As he walked back to his cell, he was thinking about what they were going to do when he got out of there.

The answer?

Move.

Maybe he could get into witness protection if he told them about the tax evasion, all of his secret money stashes, and anything regarding him pimping out underage boys.

Yeah, that might get him covered.

What he needed was an escape.

Willis Finch was taking his family and leaving Philadelphia for someplace safe. They had a small piece of property out of state, and his plan was to go there to regroup if witness protection wasn’t available.

He’d build them a home with his bare hands, and they’d start to live on the straight and narrow.

What choice did he have?

He hoped his wife understood that money was now not an option. They’d have to survive on what they had stashed away.

That was the cold, hard truth of the matter.

Thankfully, he had some money that would get them started on their new home.

As he was at his cell, he headed in, and that’s when he knew he was fucked.

He felt the hairs on his arms stand, but before he could save himself, someone had their arm around his head, and he felt the cold kiss of blade across his throat.

The blood spattered, and he knew instinctually it was his.

As he fell to the bunk, and was covered with a bunch of blankets, he heard the voice above him.

“You shouldn’t have turned on the boss. He said to save him a room in Hell.”

Well, shit.

Willis Finch had only turned state’s evidence hours ago, and now, today…

He.

Was.

Dead.