Page 96 of Sticks and Stones (FBI Romance/Thriller #65)

Yeah, that was annoying.

“Well, thanks for the heads-up,” Gene offered.

As for these two, Gene was giving them the brush off. There was no way they were going to get involved in this, and he wasn’t playing more games.

Not.

Happening.

“If you need us, we’re in that black unmarked truck. We’ll be on the North side of the bar.”

Yeah, they wouldn’t need them.

The men got up, saluted, and headed to the counter to get a bag of food that they’d had to have called in for pickup.

“That makes me itchy,” Greyson admitted. “I don’t like that the commissioner is playing that kind of game.”

Gene either.

Ethan wasn’t surprised.

“He’s being blocked by the FBI, and he’s likely scared shitless Corbin will sue. That’s a big fat lawsuit. If that hits the news…”

Yeah, he had bad publicity.

“Well, we’ll run the operation, and handle it without them,” Gene said. “You might want to give the team a heads-up. Who’s leading it on the street?”

Greyson clued him in.

“Antonio is. He was more than happy to tag in. He was free.”

That was fine. They didn’t mind.

“Well, let’s finish up and go shake down the bar. As we were saying before they popped in, we’ve got nada if Cash Masters isn’t involved,” Gene admitted.

Greyson swallowed his mouthful of food and wiped his mouth.

“Before we start working, we gotta talk.”

Uh, they were.

“About?” Gene asked.

Greyson told them.

“I borrowed the CIA laptop,” he said. “I wanted to run someone.”

That had their attention.

“Who?” Gene asked.

He whispered her name.

“Sasha.”

That REALLY had their attention now. That he was whispering it was hella wild.

“What did you find?” he asked, knowing they were going to start dealing with her sooner or later.

Greyson told them.

“She doesn’t exist.”

That surprised them.

“What?” Gene asked. “Did you just say she doesn’t exist?” he asked.

Greyson nodded.

“Yeah, she doesn’t exist. There is no her on the records in Seattle . I even looked her up at her college. She didn’t go to the school on her diplomas. When I ran her name, this is what I found.”

He slid the printed-out obituary toward them.

“And this is her home address,” he added, showing them the plot of uninhabited land.

The two men were befuddled.

“There has to be a mistake,” Gene said. “She’s an ME for the FBI. She has to exist somewhere.”

Only, she didn’t.

“I ran the US vital statistics, and the only person I found with the same name is that woman who died. I can’t get into the payroll to get her Social Security number. If I could, I would have run that.”

Ethan was grateful that laptop was CIA or Gabe would be all over them for digging.

“And not even the college?” he asked.

Greyson shook his head.

“According to the school, she never graduated because she never existed in Washington. There’s no record of her. She’s not who she says she is.”

Holy shit.

“But she’s got to be a Fed. Gabe sent her here. He has her spying on us, and she does a mean autopsy,” Gene admitted.

Greyson was aware.

“I don’t doubt she’s an ME, but she’s not Sasha. She’s definitely a different person. Right now, I have that laptop running facial recognition. There was an app on that laptop. It will alert me when she pops. If she’s in any federal database, we’ll find her.”

Ethan played Devil’s advocate.

“Unless Gabe had her wiped. The CIA can create and delete people at will. If she doesn’t exist, that means we have a whole other set of issues.”

They all look at each other.

Hearing that, Greyson was red.

“Uh, breathe,” Blackhawk said. “We’ll figure it out. Don’t stroke out.”

Oh, he was about to.

“She lied to me. I hate liars. We have to find a way to handle this. I need to know who is working with us,” he stated. “This rubs me the wrong way.”

Ethan knew how.

“We need her DNA.”

He stared at him.

“How are we going to get it tested? We work for the FBI, and Gabe is the boss?” he asked. “The city will take MONTHS to run it, and Corbin isn’t working to slip it in. I don’t trust the city enough to watch my condo keys let alone DNA.”

Okay, he had a point.

“We need to run it somewhere safe,” he said. “If they run the DNA, and it pops, and we’re wrong, one of the techs will let her know. Then, we lose the advantage.”

He was right.

Only, Gene had an idea.

It looked like Gene was sending a text to someone to get help.

Pulling out his phone, he began handling it, sending Elizabeth a text. She had a private lab at the FBI. Gabe had gifted her with a full-time ME and techs.

This was just more proof that she was definitely his golden child.

As Gene texted, Greyson was talking.

“Who did I sleep with?” Greyson asked. “Why do I feel like this is going to come back and bite me in the ass?”

Ethan calmed him down.

“We’ll get it handled. Gene has a friend at the FBI. I guarantee he’s reaching out to her.”

Damn right he was.

He’d finished texting, and he had his reply. Elizabeth sent him an address, and it was a post office box in DC.

Gene grabbed his pen, and scribbled it on the paper placemat for Greyson.

“Get a hair, or saliva, or a water bottle, and send it here. Mark it Doctor Christopher Leonard. He’s going to have his people run it on the DL.”

Greyson took the paper.

“Will he keep it quiet?” he asked.

Gene nodded.

“My friend is very trustworthy. We’ll have it in a couple of days, and we’ll find out who she is. You can’t hide from DNA.”

No, you couldn’t.

Greyson just wanted the truth, and he honestly wanted to shake the shit out of the woman to get it.

He was annoyed.

When they finished their food, Gene put money on the table, paying.

“We should get this done. Let’s go hit this bar and see what Cash Masters has to say—if he’s there.”

That worked for them.

Hopefully, it would give them something.

All they needed was one little piece of information, and that could blow this whole case wide open.

Finally.