Page 59 of Sticks and Stones (FBI Romance/Thriller #65)

“You’re going somewhere that you’ll never leave, and never be seen. I suggest you tell the nice CIA agents all they want to know. We’re not arresting you. We’re detaining you for our friends who don’t like Snow coming into our country.”

At the mere mention of CIA, the man pissed himself.

“You know how the CIA loves a terrorist trying to hurt Americans on their own soil,” Ethan said.

“Please,” he begged as he kept talking. “It’s some rich dude. He has a fancy car. He gives us the drugs. We don’t have access to them any other way.”

Gene was curious.

“And the victims?” he asked.

He kept talking.

“We’re to transport them to a buyer. They use the drugs that come in them, and we get the next batch shortly after. That’s all I know.”

Unfortunately for him, they knew more.

“Yeah, and the deal is that you sick fucks get to use the mules all you want. Well, someone dumped their bodies, and we found the brands that were burned into their skin. In fact, our friend has a burn or two himself. Were you guys going to pass him off to a buyer?” Gene inquired, already knowing the answer to that.

Simon was sobbing through his broken jaw.

“I asked you a question, Simon. The clock is ticking, and the CIA is coming.”

He nodded.

“We got too rough. When he stopped moving, we figured he was dead. He stopped reacting to any pain we inflicted on him, and we assumed he was done. The buyers don’t mind used. They don’t want damaged. So we had no choice but to dump him.”

Gene.

Saw.

Red.

Simon must have sensed that he was in danger because he tried to put his broken arm in front of his face to protect his head.

“I didn’t burn his sac and thigh! That was Truck! It was his idea! He likes burning people! I wouldn’t do that,” he said, trying to convince them.

Now, why didn’t they believe that?

Ethan hit the button on the recording of Corbin begging for them to stop hurting him. He turned the volume up, and made Simon listen to his own voice telling Corbin that he was having fun with his ass.

Oh, and that he’d never be the same again.

There was his laughter when Corbin begged him to stop, but they only hurt him more.

That cruel indifference deserved punishment.

And his partner returned the favor, handing some back to him.

Gene leveled him, and he kept punching him in the body until he felt his ribs give way.

“That’s for my brother. That’s for the man I consider my family.

Now, you can feel what he feels. I hope the CIA fucks you good,” he whispered in his ear.

“And when I find your body decomposed and broken, the second I get confirmation it’s you, I won’t be investigating.

No one will ever see you again, Simon. Your kids are going to wonder where you are, like Corbin’s family wondered about him. ”

Behind them, they heard footsteps and knew who it was. When the masked Marine saw the two dudes on the floor, he knew what had gone down.

Oh, well.

All was fair in war.

That’s what Snow was. That shit was WWIII in the making.

“Well, someone has anger issues,” he said. “I hate when they won’t just tell you what you want.”

Thankfully, though, this one talked.

It helped fill in the blanks. They now knew Truck was the mad burner.

“We know the supplier is someone who has money and is who is pushing the Snow into the system. Sometimes, you have to break a few eggs to get an omelet,” Gene said.

Ethan laughed.

“Is that the right saying? It feels wrong since you have to break eggs to get them out of their shell in order to use them,” he joked, seeing the man he loved on the edge.

And he knew how much he hated tarnishing his badge over scum like this.

Gene snorted.

“Touché,” he stated. “Only, it worked. He talked. Get these pieces of filth out of here before I bury them up to their necks and use their heads as doorstops.”

Yep.

That was anger.

“Give me ten before you call in the next ones,” the man said. “I have to load up two. I need to make sure they don’t move around in the trunk until I get them to the pickup site.”

Gene was curious.

“Did the first guy wake up?” he asked, as the masked Marine was binding the men up with a big roll of duct tape.

He laughed.

“Yeah, he did, but the guys in the van silenced him. Let’s just say he’s in LaLa land until he wakes up craving Cuban coffee and some mojitos in a concrete cell.”

Gene sighed.

“I could be drinking mojitos in Puerto Rico right now,” he admitted. “Instead, I’m sending assholes on an all-expense paid vacation to Gitmo. I mean, I do get to punch them in the head a few times, so there’s some fun.”

Ethan reassured him.

“We can make them at the condo. I’ll put on some tropical music, and we can open the sliding glass door for that cold, Artic breeze,” he joked.

Well, when life handed you lemons, make a heavily-laden alcoholic drink.

“We have two left,” Gene admitted. “Let’s get this done.”

Yes, yes, they did.

As the Marine handled them, Ethan pulled Gene aside. Honestly, he was worried about him. The man he loved cared about his badge and prided himself on believing in the power of the justice system.

Working in this gray area was going to bother him.

When they were alone, he went there.

“Be honest. Are you okay?” he asked.

They were alone in the kitchen of the man’s house, so Gene took that moment to hold him.

He needed it.

“I’m okay. I’m just so angry for Corbin,” he said, knowing that he absolutely, positively was NOT okay with any of this.

It was too easy to cross the line.

Way.

Too.

Easy.

Truth be told, he hoped he never had to live in this gray area again. As much as rules sucked, and the courts set these assholes free in catch and release, he liked rules. They kept the country running.

At his words, Ethan could tell that wasn’t the truth. Gene wasn’t someone prone to violence. The only time he’d seen him lose his cool was when Javier started his shit with them.

It took a lot to make him angry to the point where he’d put the law behind him.

That’s what made him a good Fed.

Only, Philly might be this man’s breaking point. It was probably a bad time to have promised a third year here.

“I love you,” Ethan whispered, his head on Gene’s shoulder as the man came back in for the second guy.

Gene was damn grateful for that too.

Seriously.

Where would he be without him?

“We’ll get through this,” Ethan admitted as his hands were moving up and down the back of Gene’s Kevlar. He couldn’t feel it, but he’d know he was touching him.

As for being okay…

Gene wasn’t so sure of that. Once more, Philadelphia felt like it was closing in on him.

Along with death.

* * * Blackhawk & Cantrell * * *

Saturday Evening

Cantrell And Blackhawk’s

Home

Greyson had a million things on his mind, but one of the most important ones was the man not far away.

Corbin was silent.

In fact, he was sitting on the couch with a blanket wrapped around him as he stared into the fireplace.

He’d not said a word for a while, and that was worrisome.

“Hey,” Greyson said, getting his attention.

Corbin looked over.

The man had barely eaten anything when they were having dinner, and he was worried about him.

“Your mom sent soup. How about I warm some up for you?” he asked.

Corbin just shrugged.

That was Greyson’s sign that he’d likely sip it if he had it. He knew his mouth had to be sore for a plethora of reasons.

“I’ll get you some,” he said, getting up.

Corbin went to follow.

“You can stay here,” Greyson offered.

That was when Corbin spoke.

“Can I come with you? I don’t do well alone,” he admitted.

The poor guy.

Greyson couldn’t imagine how scared he had to be and what he’d been through.

Gently, Greyson smiled at him.

“Sure,” he said, showing compassion and kindness. “We should probably give you some meds, too. Are you sore?” he asked.

He nodded.

Going into the men’s kitchen, he opened the refrigerator and found the containers of soup that Alice had packed up for them.

He then poured some into a mug and put it in the microwave.

As that was heating up, he got the pills and poured a couple into his hand.

“Here you go, Corbin.”

He took them.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” Corbin said. “I’m sure you’d rather be out with them helping.”

Greyson reassured him.

“I was a soldier once,” he admitted. “I’ve done the shit they are doing already. It’s overrated,” he stated, not adding anything more to that.

Greyson didn’t like to talk about his time in the Army and the things he’d seen and done.

Honestly, Greyson was glad he didn’t have to go out with them. When you crossed that line, it changed you—and you didn’t always make it back.

Before you knew it, you were one step away from being a monster.

No one wanted him running amuck with his PTSD from the military and his propensity for acts of violence.

NO.

ONE.

“I wish they didn’t have to do this because of me,” he stated.

When the microwave beeped, Greyson got the mug out and handed it to Corbin.

“Family will do anything for family,” he admitted. “That’s the point of having them. If someone hurt my brother, I’d be out there looking for blood,” he admitted honestly.

And it was true.

If anyone ever hurt Dante, he’d do unspeakable things to them.

As he was talking, Corbin said nothing, but instead, he took his mug of soup back to the couch, and tucked himself under the fuzzy blanket that smelled like Ethan and Gene.

As he sipped the soup, Greyson sat down not far away.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked. “You know, the assault?”

He shook his head, and reminded Greyson of a scared, broken child.

“Not really.”

Greyson immediately backed off. While he knew talking would help the man, he understood that he didn’t want to deal with it at that moment.

He respected that.

“Okay, Corbin. Hey, want to play Clue? I’ll let you kick my ass,” he offered.

He tried to laugh, but instead, tears filled his eyes. Corbin felt so lost and alone. The world felt too heavy to carry anymore, and he didn’t know if he’d ever be okay.