“Gene needs a gun.”
He began laughing.
“Absolutely not. He’s on desk duty. That he was on the street and shot, tells me he isNOTreally on desk duty—despite that lame excuse you gave me. Gabe said babysit, and I’m saying no.”
Ethan was laying the framework to cover their asses because now, Gene already had a gun.
HIS.
“I’ll just give him one of mine.”
As he said it, Greyson wasn’t listening.
“I can’t hear you, Blackhawk. If you confiscate a gun from the team that’s arriving, to use as your own, and you somehow misplace it, and Gene finds it and holds onto it for you, I don’t want to know.”
And there it was.
Friendship mattered.
At his‘non-suggestion’, Ethan smiled.
“Thanks, Grey.”
He put the kibosh on that.
“Don’t thank me for anything. I saidNOTto give him a gun. What you two cowboys do while I’m researching a thousand plus miles away is not my problem.”
Yeah, he got the message.
What happened in Utah stayed in Utah.
“I meant thanks for getting us that morgue, an ME, and helping with research.”
Greyson had the news on in his office, since he was sitting there doing paperwork. On it, the national news was showing the shitshow going down there.
This was a mess.
“Well, in that case, you’re welcome. Do you think there will be more deaths?” he asked, needing to know how big this fire was going to be for when he had to put it out.
He continued sharing what he suspected.
“Yes, simply because he’s lashing out. Before that, I believed he might have been dumping his stash, but now I know there’s a message hidden in this somewhere. We just have to figure out what it is. He shot at Gene, so the media gave him a clue that we’re here. He’ll protect what he’s doing.”
Great.
They didn’t need that.
Now did they?
“And do we know it’s a dude?”
He laughed.
And laughed.
And laughed.
“Oh, I don’t like that,” Greyson admitted.
