Oh.
Hell.
No.
That was all it took.
Gene laid into him.
“He shot a serial killer who was currently using a piece of metal to break my goddamn arm! He was going to kill me, so he shot the man! How is that breaking the rules? How is it breaking the rules when that particular serial killer was going rogue as an FBI agent, himself?”
Gabe stared at him.
This was going to be ugly.
He.
Could.
Tell.
“Do you really want to have this conversation in front of an audience?”
Did that really need a reply?
Yes.
Yes, he did.
Oh, and he knew what Gabe meant. This was going to be about him having sex with his partner.
This was about to be about him being gay, as if Gabe believed he was ashamed of that.
He wasn’t.
So, he cut that off at the pass.
Turning, he focused on Elizabeth.
“He doesn’t want you to know that I’m gay. What he’s talking about is my relationship with my partner, and how I’ve had sex with him.”
Gene wasn’t sure what to expect, but true to form, LaRue didn’t disappoint.
She didn’t flinch.
“And?” she asked. “Does your brain and gun not work when you’re gay?”
Gene would have laughed if he wasn’t so goddamn pissed off, but that was the most LaRue answer she could give.
And he appreciated it.
“No, but his does when he has two gay agents, apparently,” he stated.
She shrugged.
“Oh, does he have a problem with it?” she asked, already knowing he would—not so much the gay part, but the partners sleeping together.
God knew she’d had this conversation with Gabe plenty over her and Chris.
