Chapter One #3
When Alice showed up, she tagged in, and Gene had been forced to stay in his condo with Alice sitting in a chair in front of the door.
To.
Block.
Him.
In.
What the fuck?
Greyson had actually called someone else’s mother on him. Yeah, that was low, and it was all kinds of shady.
Alice mommed up and read him the riot act about ten times over the course of the night. She threatened to beat his ass, handcuff him to the radiator, or shoot him in the ass if he tried to escape.
And Gene wasn’t sure she wouldn’t do all three, so again, the hostage situation continued.
Once morning came, Alice gave him his wallet and badge back, and then she drove him to the airport to ‘go get her other son and bring him home’.
Sure.
She was helpful in the morning when he’d needed her to help a guy out hours ago.
As for finding Ethan...
Oh, well, he would.
But first, he had a bone to pick with a certain FBI director who needed to mind his fucking business. There was a list of people he was going to talk some sense into, starting with his boss.
Talk?
Who was he kidding?
Gene was going balls to the wall on this one, and they were going to have words. To be honest, he hoped Ethan could hold on for a few days because Gene fully expected to be arrested for punching the dick in the face.
REPEATEDLY.
He was at his max for the bullshit that Gabe Rothschild was throwing out, and he was drawing the line in the sand over this one. If it took a felony charge for manhandling the deputy director…
So.
Be.
It.
That was a charge he was willing to take.
For Ethan, he’d go to jail for murdering someone like Javier Hughes—so beating the piss out of his boss?
That one didn’t even take a second thought. In fact, sign him up. It was time for some fun. That cast on his arm was about to come in handy.
Now, if only he had his gun back…
As the airplane landed, he was seething and a heady brew of rage just waiting to pop off at the first person who annoyed the fuck out of him.
Oh, and it wasn’t only aimed at Gabe.
When he came across his man, there were going to be harshly spoken words, too. It took a lot to make him this angry, but his lover, and boyfriend, had managed to get him there.
Gene had so many questions that deserved really good answers.
Like what?
Why wouldn’t he run TO him?
Why wouldn’t he come home?
Why would he leave him behind?
This had been a wakeup call to Gene that something was NOT right in their relationship. It had to be broken for him to be abandoned by his partner, his boyfriend, and the man he loved.
There was no doubt that they were going to have to work through that.
But first…
He had a director to manage.
Oh, and Gabriel Rothschild was about to get it both barrels.
Bet.
On.
It.
Then, if he didn’t get arrested for beating on his boss, he was going to head to the local paper and sing like a mother fucking canary regarding the dirty deeds that the directors of the FBI were eyeball deep in.
First, Director Moore’s connection to Javier Hughes, and then, Gabe’s shitmess.
Someone had hidden Sasha Harper, AKA Daphne Carmichael in the FBI when she was a traitorous piece of shit who cost quite a few cops their lives.
The media was about to have a field day with both men’s political careers, and their worlds were coming down if it was the last thing Gene did.
If Gabe believed that wasn’t coming out…
Oh, it was.
Gene would burn his career as an FBI agent to make sure that both men got what they deserved. He didn’t love being an agent that much that he wouldn’t use that leverage to blow the FBI up.
He only hoped that Greyson was getting ready to take down Sasha because he was absolutely burning that bridge to the ground today.
Yeah, Sasha being a snitch to Gabe hadn’t been forgotten either.
The woman was going to get her ass handed to her after Gabe if Gene had anything to say about it. She was the reason Gabe was all over them.
A decent person would have sided with their friends and lied to the boss—not spoon-feed them information of a personal nature.
That.
Was.
Dirty.
Yeah, so while Greyson was bitchy from sleeping with the enemy, Gene was pissed that his relationship was the collateral damage caused by a snitch.
Oh, and in his book…
Snitches got stitches.
Bet.
On.
That.
Every dog had its day, and even if it took thirty years, planning, and dwelling on it for the rest of his life, Sasha, AKA Daphne would get her just desserts.
From him.
As he got off the plane, he grabbed his two carry-on bags—one for him, and one for Ethan, and got ready to get arrested for likely domestic terrorism.
Because he was going to hold the Deputy Director of the FBI hostage until he cried and apologized.
Yeah, he was that damn angry.
After the showdown with Ethan, he was pretty sure they were both going to be unemployed, so he and Ethan were going to run away.
Somewhere.
When he’d packed his own bag, he’d grabbed them some things as he delusionally packed for whatever the next chapter was in their lives.
Hiatus.
Prison.
Whatever…
Because this was far from over. Gene wasn’t a ‘take it sitting down’ kind of a guy, and if his man thought that he was running and escaping their relationship…
He wasn’t.
Gene would chase him down every single time because that was what partners did. Deep down, he had to hope Ethan would have come for him if he irrationally made the choice to leave.
Was that too much to ask?
As he wheeled the two suitcases to his rental, which was no easy task with one arm in a cast from wrist to elbow, and the pain from the surgery still nagging him, he could feel that temper simmering.
Oh, he was going to be a bitch to deal with today. God help anyone who tried to stop him.
At the rental, he tossed the two suitcases into the trunk and then headed toward the FBI building. The drive was automatic, and it gave Gene time to think.
Deep down, it was weird being back in DC.
Oh, don’t get him wrong, he wanted nothing more than to swing by Georgetown, and check on their home, but he had big fat fish to fry over the fiery gates of Hell.
That would have to wait.
Already, he had a ticket booked to go wrangle his partner, so fingers were crossed that he’d make that flight, and he wouldn’t be on his way to Leavenworth instead.
Yeah, this week had gone to shit pretty damn fast. The only high points were that he didn’t die by the hands of a serial killer, and Corbin got married.
Who would have seen it going this far south?
Yeah, it was time to call an asshole out.
Parking his rental in the FBI parking lot where the employees parked, he headed inside of the building and had to clear security.
His badge was scanned, and he signed in. Unfortunately for Gene, his gun had been confiscated when he’d been put on administrative leave.
Oh, because he could really use it right about now to shoot the boss in the ass for being an idiot.
While he might not have a gun, he did have one thing in his favor.
Gabe didn’t expect him.
The last thing he wanted was for Gabe to slip out the back before they had their confrontation.
Because it was going to be a doozy.
There was no doubt in his mind that someone, Gabe, was going to be a smug asshole, and that was going to put someone, Gene, in an even bigger rage.
He could feel it in his balls.
This wasn’t his first time at this rodeo. Gene knew douchery when he saw it, and Gabriel Rothschild was the king of it.
His middle name was ‘meddling’.
It was his first middle name next to the second one, ‘asshole’.
Once inside, he saw a few agents he worked with, and they waved at him. The place hadn’t changed with the exception that it had fewer agents working.
Instead of letting on he was there to raise Hell, he simply said nothing and waved back.
They’d be talking in a little while when they were likely going to be arresting him.
No.
Doubt.
There.
As he reached the floor where the scumbag, director’s office was, and his only slightly-less-foul deputy director, Gene got ready to do what needed to be done.
He was going to defend his man.
Before the hour was out, he was either getting Ethan his job back, beating the holy fuck out of Gabe and getting fired, or burning this place to the ground with the fiery hot rage in his belly.
Those were the only options on today’s schedule.
Now, it would all depend on the man in the office and how it went down.
It was confrontation time.
Bet.
On.
It.
As he reached the woman at the desk outside of Gabe’s office, his secretary, she smiled up at him like always.
“Agent Cantrell, it’s been a while,” she said, happily. “Welcome back to DC.”
Oh, well, they were going to wish he didn’t sashay his ass down here when he was finished.
Already, his eye was twitching, and his mood was so far south, it was currently getting sunburn.
IN.
HELL.
“Thanks. I need to speak to the deputy director,” he said, his one fist clenched in his jean pocket as he fought to stay in control for a little longer.
Goddamn it.
His arm hurt, and his anger had him by the balls.
Oh, and he was annoyed that he was wasting time here and not on his way to find Ethan before he did something stupid and hurt himself.
Never let it be said he didn’t know his man.
And that scared the shit out of him.
“I’m sorry, Agent, but right now, he’s in a meeting with another agent. You’re going to have to wait since this wasn’t on his schedule.”
Oh, know what was on Gabe’s schedule?
Meddling in his agent’s personal lives, apparently. Maybe he should have clocked out on that one for a change.
“Sorry,” she added.
Oh, not as sorry as Gabe was about to be. The bottom line was that Gene didn’t want to wait.
And he wouldn’t be.
He was burning daylight, and there was this urgency boiling in him—right next to that rage—that he needed to get across the country ASAP.
To Ethan.
He had to get to Ethan.
“How long do I need to wait?” he asked, doing the math as to when his flight to Damascus was taking off. Because come Hell or highwater, his ass would be in that seat.
Bet.
On.
It.
At his question, Gabe’s secretary looked at the man’s schedule, and sighed.
Yeah, that didn’t sound good, and he knew it.
“After this, he has a meeting with the President of the United States and SecDef. He won’t be back in-house until much later today. I can pencil you in for five tonight though.”
Five at night?
Oh, Hell, no.
That wasn’t working.
Not.
For.
Him.
There was no way he was sitting here and waiting for his royal douchebag to clear his schedule and missing that flight to get to Ethan. He’d planned on landing in Damascus before five.
Waiting was NOT an option.
Fuck.
That.
It appeared he was going to have to do the rash thing that he’d come here to do.
Someone was going to hold the deputy director hostage until he got this all off of his chest.
Here.
And.
Now.
“Let me think about it to see if I can adjust my schedule,” Gene said to the secretary, as he moved away from her desk.
Then, when she simply went back to her work, he moved at the man’s door.
“Agent!” she said.
But it was too late.
Gene Cantrell was on a scorched-earth mission. He was going to have words with the man behind this door for what he’d done to them.
And what he’d just done to Ethan yesterday.
It was time.
With his big, booted foot, he kicked the door as hard as he could, and it flung open, hitting the wall with a monstrous thud. That sound was incredibly satisfying if he did say so himself.
From behind her desk, there was the startled gasp from the secretary.
“Security!” she shouted, alerting the deputy director’s protection duty.
Oh, well, the more the fucking merrier for Gene.
Yeah, in for a penny.
In for a pound.
It appeared it was time to get this done.
Only, walking in, Gene was met by a surprise of his own. Standing in front of him, there was another agent, and she wasn’t nearly as shocked as the secretary had been.
Before Gene was a friend.
Special Agent Elizabeth LaRue was blocking his path to the deputy director, and she was holding a gun pointed at his face.
Well, shit.
He might not get to tear the deputy director a new one after all. This hadn’t gone how he’d planned.
Damn it.