Page 62 of Sticks and Stones (FBI Romance/Thriller #65)

That was going to leave a mark—much like it had on Corbin.

Twice.

“Who gets you the drugs to pack into the mules?” he asked, again. “We know you drug up the men and use them, and while they’re still high, you make them swallow the balloons.”

The man shrugged.

“We don’t know his name. We never know where he’ll have us go.

He texts from a burner phone. He drops the drugs, and he gives us a location of where the men are.

It’s usually some abandoned city building.

We go, bring them to the bar, have some fun, and then feed them the balloons before transporting them to a buyer.

We don’t find out the next step until the previous one is finished. ”

Ethan needed a way to track the person behind this. So far, they were being very careful.

“How do you get paid? Does he wire you the money?” he asked, now having confirmation it was a man.

He was honest.

“We don’t get money. We get to use the drugs and the men. We get to fuck them and take some of the balloons. That’s our cut. Then, we can sell the drugs we take, or use them how we want.”

That wasn’t going to help them. Ethan knew they needed something—anything to connect the dots. Someone had to have that thread they could tug.

“Who have you delivered to?” he asked, trying a different route.

Truck shrugged.

“It’s always a truck stop. The buyer meets us there, but all we do is throw the person into their open trunk, and they drive away. By the time they get them, we’ve worn them down and they don’t fight.”

Gene was curious.

“When we were at the bar, were the men in there being coerced into sex?” he asked, still feeling horrible that he didn’t get them out.

But he knew what they looked like. If they were victims, he could go through the missing person reports to find them.

He nodded.

“Yes.”

Now, Gene had a vendetta against that bar, and one way, or the other, he was going to shut that bar down.

For.

Good.

Now, would he be able to?

That was a different question all together.

“So, you’ve never seen a face? What about his car?” he asked.

“It’s a white Benz. You know, an expensive one. I ain’t never seen his face.”

Well, Truck was mostly useless. They knew it was a man in a Benz.

Ethan pulled out his phone, and he dialed the one number in there.

“Transport for one,” he said, clueing the Marine in that this one was a waste of their time.

Then, he hung up.

Just as he did, Truck thought it was a good idea to try to escape. When he lunged for Ethan, Gene was on him so fast, the man hadn’t been able to get far.

He shoved that ring deep into his neck, burning his skin.

“That’s two for the ones you gave our friend. You’re lucky I don’t cut off your balls and take them as a souvenir to him,” he whispered into his ear.

The man struggled and screamed.

Only, Gene wasn’t having it. He was bigger, meaner, and pissed off.

“I should fucking end your disgusting life for spitting at my boyfriend. You’re lucky, Truck, or Raymond, or whatever you want to be called, that I’m somewhat in control,” he said, slamming him off of the wall a few times until he left a person-sized indentation in the sheetrock.

When the Marine walked in the Kitchen door, he let him wrap it up.

“Nice night we’re having,” Lewis admitted, as the man begged him to stop Gene.

Yeah, no.

He didn’t like sick fucks who assaulted people, and he had a grudge after what happened in Colombia to his Major.

Fuck.

That.

Snow was nothing but trash, and so were the people using it.

When Gene finished knocking some sense into him, he began using a few of the zip ties that the Marine had given him to restrain him.

Oh, he fought like hell, but they were too much for him.

“We still don’t know who is getting the men or drugs to them,” Gene admitted. “We have one more. Hopefully, he’ll know.”

Speaking of drugs.

Ethan warned him.

“I found a packet. It’s in my vest,” he said, pointing to his chest. “Do you have a container for it to be transported. It’s in a small baggie.”

Lewis patted his Kevlar.

“I don’t, but I’ll bring you one when I come in for the next guy. Don’t lose it. The CIA wants it tested for confirmation that it’s Snow,” he said.

Yeah, well, that was the plan.

The Marine took over.

“I’ll transport this one to the others,” he stated, glancing at his watch.

The second he said it, they all heard it.

A car door slammed.

Oh, fuck.

Bullet was back, and they weren’t ready for him. When they heard the front door open, that’s when Truck opted to help the man out.

“RUN! COPS!” he shouted, causing panic and mayhem as he alerted the man that shit was going down.

Hearing that, Bullet took off, and Ethan was right behind him.

He was the fastest one there, or so he assumed. Blackhawk got out the door, and was grateful the man ran towards the trees, and not his car.

Before he could even reach his perceived escape route, Ethan caught him, and they both went down.

The whole time, the biker fought, and they rolled around as he was trying to get Ethan’s gun.

It was when Bullet hit him in the chest with his hand, trying to get away that Ethan knew he had trouble.

That little packet in his pouch exploded, and a puff of the white powder shot up, hitting him in the face and he inhaled a shit ton of it.

Uh-oh.

This was bad.

As quickly as he could, Gene got to him.

“Don’t touch me,” he said, rolling off of Bullet after knocking him out.

Gene froze.

“What happened?” he asked, stepping back.

Ethan knew they had a big problem.

“I’ve been dosed,” he said, as the Marine showed up next and heard him. “He punched me in the Kevlar, and it popped, he said, undoing his vest as quickly as he could to be free of it.

Lewis knew they had a problem.

“Shit. You’ve got to transport him back to the hotel. He’s going to need to shower and get that shit off of his skin as quickly as possible.”

Oh, Jesus.

Gene’s heart was pounding in his chest.

“He’s got at the max, twenty minutes, before he’s no longer able to control himself. Find him someone to hump like his significant other, a hooker, whatever!”

Gene stared at him.

Not the goddamn hookers again.

What was it with this night?

Was it a full moon?

“I’m his partner, and I’ll make sure he’s safe,” he offered, knowing this could be worse. At least they were a couple.

The Marine warned him and handed him some zip ties to use.

“Well, you’re going to have a long night babysitting him. Don’t forget to restrain him, after you get as much off of him as you can. Don’t let him get it on you.”

Ethan dumped his things on the ground as quickly as he could.

“I’ll take care of the guys. Go,” the Marine said, knowing they needed to get their case solved to find the supplier. “I’ll have what’s left in that packet tested.”

Ethan warned him.

“This asshole got some on him,” he said, as Gene passed a pair of gloves to him.

“You’d better haul,” the Marine said. “Really. Twenty minutes goes fast,” he said, standing with his one foot on the downed man, and pulling his phone out to call for help.

That’s all Gene had to hear.

He.

Hauled.

Ass.

They raced toward the street where they’d parked the car, and immediately, Ethan shivered from the cold. He was shirtless and vestless out in the night air.

As soon as they were both in the vehicle, they were off.

The Mustang roared down the street, as Gene glanced at the clock to watch the time. All he hoped was that they could get to the hotel as quickly as possible.

With the moonlight coming in through the window, he could see the powder on his partner’s face, and he knew that Ethan was already feeling it.

“Are you okay?” he asked, trying to gauge a timeline of his symptoms.

In the back of his head, he was wondering if a hospital was a better idea. He’d taken a full shot of that shit to his face while rolling around with the suspect.

He inhaled a lot.

Then again, if he took him to the hospital, did he want to watch his man climb all over some strangers when he zoned out?

Hell.

No.

Well, hotel it was.

Without a word, Ethan nodded, being careful not to touch anything as he stared at his face in the mirror.

His eyes were slowly dilating, and he could feel his heart beginning to race in his chest. His whole body was tingling, and he was having this weird out-of-body experience where he couldn’t focus.

This wasn’t his grandfather’s peyote.

That was for damn sure.

When he and Callen swiped some from his Grandfather’s tipi stash, and smoked it, he never felt like this.

Holy shit.

With his racing heart, he wasn’t sure if it was it the drugs, or the fear of what would happen when it fully overtook him.

Gene was going to have to manage him, and he was worried. Ethan wasn’t exactly weak. Overpowering him was going to be difficult.

Now, he understood why their masked Marine said to zip tie him to a bed. Already, his mind was racing, and everything in his head was about sex.

It was a barrage of images, and all of them were him with Gene.

When his flesh began tingling, like a million fingers were stroking and touching his body, he knew they had a big problem.

“I’m having pupilar reaction,” he stated, glancing over. “And my heart is pounding. I feel warm. I can’t focus,” he admitted, rattling off his symptoms so Gene was aware.

As he stared at him, his dick was starting to stand at attention, much like when he’d been abducted by David Neives, but this time, without the fear.

“Gene, I’m going to be out of control,” he whispered, thinking about how he desperately needed the man’s big hands on him. How he wanted to do wickedly wild things with this man in that hotel room.

Sane thoughts were gone.

There was only wickedness left intact.

Fuck.

This was bad.

Gene reassured him.

“I’ll get you to the room and get you washed off,” he promised. “I’ll get you through this, EJ. You’ll be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Well, the problem was, who was going to protect Gene from HIM ?

Ethan could feel his erection throb between his legs, and he was now officially hard. The scent of mate in the car was maddening.

It was making him hungry.

For Gene.

And he couldn’t control it.

Behind the wheel, he knew that Ethan was watching him. Gene heard the low breathy moan that slipped from his lips when he exhaled, and it was very reminiscent of something he’d hear when they were deep into sex together.

Uh-oh.

It hadn’t been twenty minutes.

It had been ten, max.

Gene glanced over, and his hair was down, and he was watching him predatorily.

“Babe, we’re almost there,” Gene said, hoping his partner and mate could hold on. “I’ll get you to the shower,” he added.

In control Ethan was gone. He’d checked out at that point. The carnal urges he was feeling took over, and all he could think of was one single, solitary thing.

SEX.

“Gene,” he whispered, getting the man to look over at him.

They were at a stoplight, a block from the hotel.

“What?” he asked, hearing the tone of his voice. “Do you need to go to a hospital?” he asked, willing to put his needs last so Ethan was safe.

That was his only concern.

Blackhawk slipped away, and all rational thought went with it.

He was wide open, letting that need and desire flood from him in a wave.

“I’m sorry,” Ethan whispered.

Gene went to say something, but the second he did, Ethan was on him, finding his mouth with his.

And getting the Snow on Gene too.

And now, the situation was twice as problematic as it had been.

They were both dosed.

Gene knew one thing.

It was going to be a rough night.

For both of them.