Page 85 of Sticks and Stones (FBI Romance/Thriller #65)

“He’s on the cusp of being rich. His sugar daddy might be leaving it to him. Would he risk it to sell drugs?” Gene asked, playing Devil’s advocate.

Ethan pulled out his laptop and started working, trying to find something on the man.

“You drive. I’ll research his police records if he has any.”

That worked for Gene.

As they headed out, and Gene drove, Blackhawk worked to find anything.

And nothing was coming up.

Harrison Dunne was clean. Well, his record was clean. He was betting his boxers weren’t now after their visit.

“No record,” he offered still searching.

Gene sighed.

“Well, then, it looks like we need to talk to the wealthy man who’s giving away scholarships, EJ. I didn’t see a white Mercedes Benz. There was Harrison’s white Jaguar, but not the Benz.”

When Ethan sighed, Gene glanced over.

“Bad news?”

He was honest.

“The man’s clean. He doesn’t even have a speeding ticket. I checked to see what cars are registered to him, and a Benz isn’t on the list.”

He considered it.

“Maybe the sugar daddy?”

The only problem with that was that Stafford Townsend III owned many corporations. If there was one, the chances were it was hidden. It would take forever to get through that corporate red tape.

IF they could get a warrant.

“He has none of them in his name. I’m going to bet they are write-offs tied to his businesses. It’ll take me days to jump through those hoops.”

Damn.

“What kind of businesses does he own?”

Ethan shared.

“Pharmaceuticals.”

Gene was at a red light.

“So we have a drug case, and a suspect who has ties to a pharmaceutical tycoon?”

He nodded.

“We should probably call Gabe and ask what the men spilled when they were being questioned or wait until we talk to him. I’m sure he’ll update us.”

That was a good idea.

“I don’t like how evasive Harrison was and I certainly don’t like the drug angle,” Gene admitted. “Are we grasping at straws and maybe Harrison is just a gold digger.”

Ethan shrugged.

“Maybe. It could be that he just likes older men. I do,” he joked, busting Gene’s ass.

“EJ! I’m ninety-two days older than you. You’re not a spring chicken either.”

He snorted.

It was all kinds of amusing since they were both young. Thirty wasn’t old by any means.

“I know, but I’m living my older-man fantasy. Let me have this,” he stated. “My older man is hot. Want to play professor and student later?”

Well, who was he to ruin a good fantasy? He had one about Ethan on the reservation in some buckskins and shirtless.

Sue him.

Only, before Gene could say anything, his phone rang, and he answered.

“Cantrell.”

The voice on the phone was ANGRY .

“Agent Cantrell, can you explain to me why you’re harassing people who donate to the police commissioner’s fund?” he asked.

Gene rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry, who is this?” he asked.

There was an angry sputtering.

“This is Commissioner Drake Herman. I’m the person fielding calls from donors regarding blatant disrespect at their homes on a Sunday!”

He was curious, but deep down, he already knew who this was going to be about.

“Who is the donor?” he asked, putting it on speaker so his partner could hear it.

The man didn’t hesitate.

“Stafford Townsend III. He funds our Black and Blue Ball, and he donated new horses for the mounted police. Why is he calling and yelling at me that if I don’t wrangle two FBI agents, who are harassing his fiancé, he’s done donating?”

Gene didn’t like this call.

Why?

Where was his indignation for what happened to Corbin?

The man didn’t even ask how he was, or where he was. They knew he was aware of his injuries, and still, nada. There was no way Oliver didn’t tell him.

“Yeah, and?” Gene asked. “He’s part of our investigation, and we get to ask questions. For the record, we were polite. I’m about to be a lot less polite in a few minutes to you,” he admitted.

The commissioner was to the point.

“When Director Rothschild called and took this case away from my cops, I was reassured it would be handled correctly. He promised you’d keep me in the loop. So, I’ll see you in my office. I’m at home and I’ll get there shortly. When I do, we’re going to discuss this.”

Then, it went dead.

Well, shit.

Ethan laughed.

“You have a way with men,” Blackhawk said. “You make them angry. First the professor, then his sugar daddy, and now the commissioner. Why do I find that sexy?” he joked.

That made Gene snort.

If he had a dollar for every time a captain or commissioner busted his balls, he’d have a nice nest egg. It came with the territory.

BUT…

There was one thing that made him want to be difficult. It was when local law got a little too ballsy and forgot that the FBI didn’t work for them.

And didn’t answer to them.

There were only three people who could bust his balls, and he had to take it.

Greyson Croft.

Gabriel Rothschild.

And Director Moore.

Other than that, this asshole was out of his mind, and he was crossing a line.

“I love when they boss me around. It makes me want to slap the shit out of people and do something so outrageous they have no choice but to call my boss. Now, I have a goal.”

Ethan laughed.

“Oh, I know, and here Gabe calls me the cowboy. That’s false.”

Gene considered their options.

“Now, do we turn around and head back to talk to the commissioner, or do we head to the guy’s house who is funding the scholarships? Because now we have even more on our plate.”

Ethan considered it.

“Well, he said he had to go to the office, so we have some time. I say we make him wait so he’s really friendly and happy to see us. You love when they snarl and snap. Then, you get to be bitchy, and Gabe can’t bust your chops.”

That was true.

Gene grinned.

“That’s the perfect plan,” he said, giving him a fist bump. “I just want to go on record and say that I really hate the local law—Corbin excluded.”

Said every Fed ever.

And there was no surprise Corbin was on their nice list.

“You tend to be cranky. Do you want to hear about Julian Mercer, the man whose family is handing out scholarships? Or do you want to piss him off without knowing?”

Gene laughed.

“Tell me about him. I like to know, and you’re well aware of that.”

He was.

Ethan was about to do just that when HIS phone rang. The second he looked at the number, he knew they were officially screwed.

“Oh, hell. We said his name twice, and manifested him. How much do you want to bet someone’s getting their ass chewed?” he asked.

He showed Gene.

“Goddamn it,” he muttered as Ethan took the call. It appeared the commissioner moved fast, and had Gabe on speed dial.

This was about to be fun.

If your idea of fun was having your fingernails pulled out, one by one.

“Yes, Deputy Director,” Ethan said with the phone on speaker. “What can I do for you?”

Gabe sighed.

“Agent Blackhawk, why is the commissioner of the Philadelphia police calling me on a Sunday, while I’m at home with my family?

Why is he saying that Agent Cantrell is being a dick?

I mean, I know he’s a dick, but why is he behaving like one to the local police? Who pissed in his cereal this morning?”

Ethan rolled his eyes.

Gene, on the other hand, was riled up.

“Maybe he missed talking to you when you yanked this case away from him,” Gene said.

Blackhawk slapped him on the arm, getting him to stop. Gabe was NOT to be played with, and they knew it. When he was angry, everyone’s day was shit.

Worse than normal.

“Funny, Agent. How about an update before I get cranky and yell at you because I can?” Gabe asked. “Then, how about I can come visit and be up your ass more than I already am?”

The only reason he was calm was the men did the job last night, and the CIA Spider had nothing but good things to say about them.

Gene shook his head. Having Gabe there was the last thing he wanted.

“Well, we handled the situation from last night and with minimal issues.”

Oh, Gabe was aware.

“Yes, I was updated by the CIA. They have the five men at a facility. They safely arrived this morning, and were already…debriefed.”

They were willing to bet that the facility was Guantanamo Bay.

Call it a hunch.

Gitmo had some visitors.

“And?” Gene asked. “Did they give the ‘investigators’ any information that might help us on the case?”

Gabe was amused how the man was pussyfooting around this.

Investigators his ass.

Interrogators were more like it.

Oh, and they were the best the CIA had.

“Nothing that we didn’t already know. Apparently, they swore up and down, they never had face-to-face contact with the supplier.

They picked up the men at a location in the city, and transported them to the buyers, who had prepaid the supplier.

I was just reading over the email before I got my ass chewed by some commissioner who thinks I give a damn. ”

Well, that sucked.

And pretty much how they felt about the commissioner too.

“Handy,” Gene said. “Someone knows how to stay under the wire. Whoever this is, they aren’t an idiot, that’s for sure. They are managing to abduct people, and get drugs into the country. Did the questioning give us any way for me to find this person?” he asked.

Gabe wasn’t sure.

“They all swore up and down that it was a white Benz that showed up at the drops, and that they NEVER saw the guy’s face. The number changed each time—likely a burner.”

Gene and Ethan weren’t shocked. That was what they’d extracted from the bikers too. So, basically, they were running on the premise this was a guy driving a white Benz.

Well, that should narrow it down in DC where rich people worked and lived. On any given day, Gene saw at least five Benzes, and white was a popular color.

Gabe continued.