Chapter Twenty #3
“Guilty as charged. I’ll slip it back somewhere, so it’s found, after you tell me what’s on it. I noticed Greyson got you access.”
Oh, shit.
Greyson might be in danger, too.
“Why?” Gene asked, keeping him talking. The man was smart because their laptops, if need be, could be traced. If he’d kept it here, they’d never figure this out.
Gene had to hope it went to Lucas’ boat at some point. Eventually, Greyson or Ethan would think to trace it.
“Gun money is big money, Gene. We get paid shit. Here I am, busting my balls daily to keep this shithole island safe, and men like Jared Medin, Rodrigo Cruz, and Samuel Padilla are getting richer. That bank man was giving out loans to those assholes, and getting kickbacks. I’m tired of being poor.”
Gene let him talk.
“So, I got into the gun running as a side hustle, and when Jared Medin was cutting me out because his partners were itchy over me being a cop…”
Gene was curious.
“So Rodrigo knew you were his partner?” he asked, going to kick the man’s ass if he got out of there.
He shook his head.
“No, he knew it was a cop, but not which one. They wanted me cut out, and that POS was going to do it too.”
When he began lighting candles, Gene started tugging on his bonds.
“You won’t get free,” he said, hearing him. “They all tried. I don’t have many regrets,” Lucas said, “but I do regret killing Jarod, and I’ll regret killing you. I just can’t go to jail. I can’t go down for this.”
Gene stared at the ball peen hammer he picked up, and began fighting hard to break his arm free.
“I’ll have to do exactly what I did to them,” he admitted. “So that Ben doesn’t see any differences. I hope your partner doesn’t keep digging.”
Oh, shit.
Time was up.
Now, Gene had to hope Ethan moved fast, and trusted himself. If not, he was dead.
“I’m sorry, Gene. Really, I am. Nothing personal, my dude. I’ll make sure the FBI finds your body,” he promised. “It’s the least I can do. I won’t let you get fed to the fish. I think I’ll drag you behind my boat, and then leave you by Papi’s.”
And with that, he swung the hammer, and that pain rocked up Gene’s arm.
And he screamed.
For.
His.
Life.
* * * Blackhawk & Cantrell * * *
The Sugar Cane
Processing Location
Monday Night
Minutes Earlier
The sun was going down, and they’d gotten there relatively fast. Parking their car, they jumped out, and it was seconds later that Greyson pulled up, driving like a bat out of Hell.
Pulling his backup gun, he handed it to Corbin.
Just.
In.
Case.
“Don’t shoot any of us. In fact, don’t shoot it unless it’s to save Gene!”
Corbin nodded.
That’s when Ethan focused on Greyson.
“It’s back here,” Ethan said, as they began moving down the road. The whole time, Ethan was praying he was right.
Or he was losing Gene.
Forever.
“When we came here today, we found the symbols on the wall, and we believe this is where he does his dirty deeds. All I know is it has to be law enforcement,” Ethan said.
He’d been thinking it over as he rode here.
“There’s been little to no forensics,” Ethan said, as they jogged down the road in the falling darkness.
“Someone knew how to outmaneuver two cops enough to overtake them. This has to be a cop. We only had one day, so I’m not sure who.
The homicide captain fits. He cock blocked us with an interview, and jumped down Gene’s throat. I just wish I had one more day.”
Greyson heard the worry.
“I called Gene to tell him two people owned boats. Only two came up—Rodrigo Cruz or Lucas Mayfield.”
Ethan thought about that.
Then, he used it to figure this out.
“He would have had access to our information,” Ethan admitted. “We wrote it all on the whiteboard, and he would have been able to stay apprised.”
Oh, that sucked.
He wasn’t a fan of whiteboards now.
“Plus, he worked at night with Jarod. He could move around, and make those deaths happen without any suspicion. He worked Vice, and Jarod worked homicides. They wouldn’t cross…unless he was running guns and he killed Medin, and that set this all off.”
Corbin listened, not shocked the man was piecing it together. Ethan was a good Fed.
Greyson reassured him.
“He’s here. I can feel it in my balls,” he said. “Don’t lose focus. We have to get to Gene.”
He was aware.
“We think he had a secret place inside of this one. We didn’t see anywhere he could torture people. Something has to be in there,” he said. “There were a few locked doors. If I see one that’s newly opened, that’s going to be our location,” he said.
Good.
To.
Know.
As they reached the building, they saw a car tucked not far away, and there was a boat at the dock.
Ethan knew how he was going to get rid of Gene’s body. It would be by using the boat.
His brain was saying this was Lucas, but he needed proof.
“He is planning on taking him out to the water and dumping him,” he said, sick to his stomach. “We need to trace that boat.”
Greyson saw the boat, and grabbed Ethan’s shirt. He didn’t need to trace it.
“Oh, I know who it is.”
Ethan lifted a brow.
“Who?”
He explained.
“Gene dismissed both boat owners because Lucas wasn’t on your radar. That’s his boat. It’s registered to him. I recall the name.”
Shit.
And there it was.
Confirmation.
“I’ll kill him,” he muttered under his breath. “If he hurt him, he’s a dead man.”
Greyson stopped him.
“Bring him in. Gabe is going to want him to pay for his crimes. Don’t go cowboy on me, Cowboy. This makes it much more murky, and plays into Gabe’s hands. Think.”
Ethan pulled his arm away, and they headed into the building.
What wouldn’t he give for a job that wasn’t all about games and sick, twisted things?
It.
Was.
Exhausting.
They were moving through the abandoned building, and toward the location where all the locked doors were.
As they got closer, that’s when they all heard the blood curdling scream.
And Ethan knew.
The torture had begun.
He focused on the screaming, and they all headed that way. There was a door that had been previously locked. In fact, the chain was lying on the floor with the thick lock.
From behind it, they could hear more screaming from Gene.
Ethan wasn’t playing.
His lover, his boyfriend, and his partner was in danger, and he was being tortured. Those weren’t fun screams, but ones that told him bones were being broken.
There was no doubt Lucas was likely armed, and he only hoped he could get to Gene before Lucas got his gun pulled.
Greyson counted them down, and when he got to one, he yanked the door open.
Inside, they saw Gene strapped to a table, and the man beating on his arm, breaking it with the metal hammer.
The sound caught Lucas off guard.
Only, the agent was fast. He moved, pulling his gun, but Ethan already had his out. The sight of Gene bound to a table, his body being broken…
It made his vision go red with rage.
Without a word, he pulled the trigger, and the bullet hit Lucas Mayfield in the middle of the forehead.
And it dropped him.
“Oh, shit,” Greyson said, knowing that with the guy dying, the paperwork, and Gabe’s anger, was going to be at a much more intense level.
So much for just shooting him in the balls.
This was a clusterfuck.
This report was going to be a wild one. Corbin smelled like rum, and was sporting a gun—Ethan’s backup piece, Gene was captured, and now injured.
Oh, and Ethan just killed someone without declaring the FBI and to drop his gun.
The paperwork.
Running toward the table, Ethan holstered his gun. As he reached Gene, the man was wincing as his arm was clearly broken at the elbow and wrist.
“Baby,” he said, touching his cheek.
Gene opened his eyes.
“I knew you’d get here. This sick fuck deserved it,” he muttered.
With gentleness, Ethan set his arms free. As he moved it, he could feel the bones shifting in Gene’s arm. Someone was going to be getting surgery.
Or a cast, at the minimum.
“Corbin, get an ambulance,” Ethan said.
The man tucked Ethan’s backup piece into the back of his pants and got ready to go outside.
First, he stopped to see Gene.
“Big guy, you’re killing us,” he said, kissing him on the forehead.
Then, he was gone.
Ethan gently moved his arm, stabilizing it as much as he could. Greyson was pulling off his FBI jacket so they could make a sling.
That’s when he gave him the lecture. Maybe it was out of relief, or just frustration, but he read him the riot act.
“What part of ‘don’t give me any paperwork while you’re on your goddamn vacation’ was I not clear about?” Greyson asked. “Now, I’ve got to call Gabe, and you’ve fired your gun—while drinking! He’s going to lose his goddamn mind with you two! It’s like you both WANT to be on his radar!”
Ethan didn’t care.
He’d saved the man he loved.
As Greyson left to call the ME, and update Gabe, Ethan just stood there and held onto the man he loved.
“Too close,” he whispered. “That was too damn close. I nearly lost you.”
Gene was in so much pain.
That ball peen hammer had done its job. He was going to be sidelined for a while with a broken arm.
But he was alive.
“I love you, EJ. I’m good,” he promised. “No worries. I knew you’d get here.”
But there were worries.
Gene had that feeling.
It was in the pit of his stomach that this was about to be a clusterfuck. His partner had broken the rules, and he’d taken the life of another agent.
Neither one of them would be working for a while. Gabe was a bitch, and he’d give them administrative duty in Philly.
He knew it.
Then again, they could sit in a room together and file countless bullshit paperwork.
At least they’d be together.
When Greyson came in, he pointed.
“Gene, you’re going to the ER. Ethan, you’re going to the airport as soon as your partner gets released from medical treatment.”
Gene lifted a brow.
“Why is he going to the airport?” he asked.
Oh, maybe because they’d managed to piss off Gabe, and he wasn’t in a good mood.
“You know who wants loverboy’s report in person. He’s likely going to bust his balls, give him some dirty looks, and then sentence him to the shit jobs in Philly. Congrats. You’re delivering this report. Make sure you have it PERFECTLY done when you get there.”
Ethan laughed.
“Oh, no, I’m being grounded and sent back to Philly without this nightmare vacation to come back to,” he stated.
Gene laughed.
“I just want to go home. I’ll meet you there, EJ. I think I’ve had enough of Puerto Rico for this year.”
And no one blamed him.
NO.
ONE.