Page 133 of Sticks and Stones
“I’ll go grab some bags, and I’ll deliver them to the FBI techs for you when I can. It won’t look odd if I ask them since I run this nut farm.”
That worked for him.
As Greyson did that, Gene moved around the place, fixing tables, putting garbage in bags, and cleaning up for Corbin.
The last thing he wanted was for Corbin to see the place looking like this. It would break his heart, and he’d never feel safe again here.
Unfortunately, the couch was a loss, and he knew it would need to be dragged out to the curb for the trash. Corbin was going to want to get a new bed too.
Who knew what nastiness went on upstairs, especially since the bikers were gay, and that G-string likely didn’t belong to a woman.
No one wanted a mattress STD.
When he heard footsteps, he thought they were Greyson’s.
Spoiler.
They weren’t.
“I’ll let Corbin know that he needs to get a new couch. Can you help me get it to the curb, Greyson.”
When he didn’t get an answer, Gene turned fast, pulling his gun.
Will jumped.
He’d been surveying the chaos, and had quite the look on his face.
Oh, shit.
Not only was Will there, but now, he was going to ask all kinds of questions.
Like why he’d pulled a gun on him?
Like where was Corbin?
Before he could explain, the not-so-fun game of‘lawyer twenty questions’began.
Well, hell.
“What the hell happened here?” Will asked, looking around.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
How was he going to answer this?
When he didn’t, Will kept going, and Gene knew it was going to be futile to bullshit him too much.
The man was an attorney, and he knew how to question people in a cross examination.
Gene was boned good.
When Greyson came in, he came to a stop.
“Uh-oh,” he said, starting to back out of the room to be able to avoid what they both knew what was inevitable.
