Page 32 of Sticks and Stones (FBI Romance/Thriller #65)

En Route

To The Detective’s

Location

Saturday Afternoon

T he trek in the inclement weather to meet up with the two detectives who had been working on this case was a slow one. The afternoon traffic, mingling with a little snow was slowing them down.

Only, Greyson knew that they needed to do this though in order to cover all of their bases. Corbin hadn’t, and look at how that ended.

When they reached the car, Gene had made a call to Captain Oliver Guy, getting a phone number for one of the cops who had passed this shitshow off to Corbin.

So they could meet up.

It was surprising that the man had given up the number, considering everyone was annoyed with this case, but he had.

Luckily for them, they were working on a case, so they offered to meet them for a late lunch.

Call it a hunch, but Greyson was betting that Gene wasn’t in the mood for a second lunch date.

The first one had been…problematic. Someone was pissed off, and Greyson needed to get him to calm down. No one was happy about anything that had gone down, or was said.

How did he get the seething man to see that?

Gene was silently looking out the window as Greyson drove, but the tension was palpable.

“Pissed?” Greyson finally asked.

Gene sighed.

“Yes, but not at Corbin and what he said, but at myself.”

Oh, boy.

Guilt had no place in the here and now.

They had a job to do.

Someone needed to get his head in the game, and fast. This was a clusterfuck in the making, and now, he was tied to it. Greyson had enough issues on his plate.

Running an office.

Closing cases.

Oh, and dodging a certain ME who was trying to get in his pants.

Sasha was always trying to get him alone, and that was one reason he was more than happy to be in the field right now. She’d sent him about ten texts today, and the last thing he wanted was to talk to her.

Why?

He was avoiding his own demons.

Redheaded ones.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

Gene turned his head, and Greyson could see the trouble in his eyes. This agent was normally steady, and could handle everything, but now, he was off balance.

WAY.

OFF.

BALANCE.

Gene shrugged.

“I just feel guilty. That’s all. I knew the baby detective needed a babysitter, but I’ve been so wrapped up in other things, and going away, that I put it on the back burner. He can’t be left alone for a second.”

Clearly.

Because it was his job, more times than often, Greyson played Devil’s advocate on this one.

“You’re not his father, and you’re not his keeper. You shouldn’t feel guilty. He’s a grown ass man who walks around with a badge and gun. He’s not a child, Gene.”

Oh, he was well aware, but Gene knew that the only reason he had said badge and gun was his mother—and the shortage of cops in Philadelphia .

Now, after this, it was clear that Corbin had been given his gold shield way too damn fast.

Only, that was something that couldn’t be undone. If it was up to Gene, he’d send him back to the beat for five or six more years.

To lose that green.

“No, but I’m his family,” he said. “Like we’re your family.

If you needed my help, I’d show. If you needed us, we’d come back to deal with it.

There might come a day when you need Ethan or myself, and we’ll be there.

That doesn’t make us your keeper. It makes us family.

So yeah, I do have to babysit the baby detective. ”

Greyson appreciated that they would be there for him if he needed them.

He’d never forget that.

“He’ll be okay,” Greyson said. “And so will you, but you have to let the guilt go, or you’re making it a bumpy road.”

Gene understood that, but this wasn’t as simple.

To be honest, he was attached to the crotch goblin. He was the one bright spot in Philly . Corbin entertained him, and made this hellhole a little better.

So he’d protect him.

“I’m going to need a favor,” he admitted.

Greyson already knew what was coming. He’d have to be the village idiot not to know what he was going to ask.

“Let me guess. You want any cases that are tied to the Philly police? If they come calling, you and Ethan want to be first up on the list to deal with them, especially if Corbin is involved.”

He nodded.

“Can you make that happen?” he asked.

Greyson shrugged.

“I can, but is that what you really want?” he inquired, wanting to make sure.

They got a shit ton of work from the local law. It was so much work that they got bogged down with it as they ran with an agent shortage.

“Yes,” he stated. “We need to show him some survival skills. We’ll handle it. If the commissioner calls, tell him we’re in as long as we have a liaison of sorts—Corbin. It should be easy considering they let him go alone into a bar with assholes.”

Greyson laughed.

“What you’re asking is easy. What you’re not considering is that having the local law’s tough cases tied to you is going to be a pain in the ass, and mean a lot of work.”

Oh, he was aware.

“I know.”

Greyson knew he could pull it off if the man was one hundred percent sure.

He knew how many times their office was called in to help Philly homicide. They turned away cases because they didn’t have a free agent. If they took this on, it would be insanity.

Because of a shortage, Corbin had worked with other agents while they were busy, and he wanted to make sure the man understood that.

Three years of working city cases that regular cops couldn’t close was going to be exhausting.

“If that’s what you want,” he began.

And Gene did.

Because Corbin was a danger to himself.

“I noticed you give Antonio Hill a bunch of cases that the police pass to us. They aren’t always homicides. He’s worked with Corbin, and I want those cases.”

Greyson was the one who handed out assignments as they struggled to keep the office above the water. The city was drowning in crime.

So, again, he could make it happen.

“And how will Ethan feel about this?” he asked, wanting to make sure.

Oh, he knew.

His partner would be onboard.

Ethan wanted to put as many closed cases in his personnel file as humanly possible. Cleaning up Philly and closing a lot of cases meant one step closer to moving up the food chain to Director of the FBI.

And getting the hell out of here.

He’d be up for it.

“He’ll be fine with it,” he said, speaking for him.

Greyson shook his head.

“What?” Gene asked, not sure why he was hesitating. You’d think the man didn’t want a high closure rate.

Greyson explained.

“It’ll be like having a newbie all of the time. That would make me insane. I swear to God if the FBI makes me train some green agent, I’m going to lose my nut.”

He laughed.

“You just jinxed yourself. I’d find some wood to knock on or you’re definitely going to have a trainee who is just like Corbin. Then, you feel responsible for them, and you adopt them as your own.”

Oh, shit.

He had jinxed himself.

“But I mean it, Gene. It’ll be annoying. You’ll need to stay calm.”

His mind was made up.

“I’ll do it,” he stated.

Oh, well, Greyson did what Greyson did best. He played Devil’s advocate.

“Like you were calm at your condo? Or like you’re calm now?” he asked.

Gene stared at him.

“You’re an asshole.”

It made Greyson laugh.

“Hey, pointing out the obvious. If you want me to give you those cases, and tie you to Corbin over and over again, you need to act a little more in control.”

They stared at each other.

The whole time, Gene was trying to calm himself down, and what he wanted to do was make a shitty comment about control.

Like Greyson’s lack of it with an ME who was now obsessed with him, but he didn’t.

“I’ll be calm,” he promised.

When he didn’t erupt, and the red receded from his neck, Greyson saw some control, and he appreciated that. He’d been poking him to get a response, but he reined it in.

So he passed.

“Okay, I’ll make it happen, but you owe me one for this. I’m going to have to listen to you bitch for three years.”

Gene thanked him.

“I appreciate it, Grey.”

Oh, he didn’t doubt that.

For now, as he parked, they needed to focus on this case, not future cases.

“Let’s just meet up with the detectives,” he offered.

That worked for Gene.

“I can see them through the window,” he admitted. “The detectives beat us here,” he added.

Greyson checked out the burger joint. Gene was right about their arrival. They were sitting in a booth by a window, having lunch.

That’s when he warned him.

“Keep calm, and don’t bitch slap anyone,” he stated. “I’m not Ethan. I don’t want to be cleaning up after your crankiness.”

Yeah, well, he wasn’t Ethan.

Ethan was a saint, and Gene knew it.

Getting out, they headed toward the business, and stopped to buy two sodas so they could be patrons and sit in the dining area.

When they reached the two cops, they both slid over, making room for them.

“Thanks for meeting with us,” Gene said.

Just seeing them and knowing that they dumped a keg of dynamite on Corbin and didn’t give a shit…

That pissed him off, but because Greyson was likely testing him, he buried that irritation as deeply as he could.

“How are things?” Payton asked, eating his fries.

Gene didn’t even have an answer to that.

The man didn’t want to know.

Really.

“Peachy keen,” he said, and then dove right into the reason why they were there. “We reached out to you about some sex trafficking of young men.”

Rip lifted a brow.

“The same case we passed off to one of the homicide detectives?” he asked.

Gene nodded.

It appeared that Oliver Guy had done what the commissioner’s office had asked.

He’d kept his yap shut, and didn’t give the men the heads-up.

That worked for Corbin, and, in this case, Gene.

“What can you tell us about that case? It’s in the FBI’s hands now,” he said.

Both cops looked confused. In fact, they were so confused that they stared at each other.

Finally, Detective Rivet went there.

“What happened to Detective Price handling it? Once we found the remains of three of the men we believed were trafficked last year, we passed it off. He’s homicide. Why aren’t you asking him?”