Page 273 of Sticks and Stones
And his partner returned the favor, handing some back to him.
Gene leveled him, and he kept punching him in the body until he felt his ribs give way.
“That’s for my brother. That’s for the man I consider my family. Now, you can feel what he feels. I hope the CIA fucks you good,” he whispered in his ear. “And when I find your body decomposed and broken, the second I get confirmation it’s you, I won’t be investigating. No one will ever see you again, Simon. Your kids are going to wonder where you are, like Corbin’s family wondered about him.”
Behind them, they heard footsteps and knew who it was. When the masked Marine saw the two dudes on the floor, he knew what had gone down.
Oh, well.
All was fair in war.
That’s what Snow was. That shit was WWIII in the making.
“Well, someone has anger issues,” he said. “I hate when they won’t just tell you what you want.”
Thankfully, though, this one talked.
It helped fill in the blanks. They now knew Truck was the mad burner.
“We know the supplier is someone who has money and is who is pushing the Snow into the system. Sometimes, you have to break a few eggs to get an omelet,” Gene said.
Ethan laughed.
“Is that the right saying? It feels wrong since you have to break eggs to get them out of their shell in order to use them,” he joked, seeing the man he loved on the edge.
And he knew how much he hated tarnishing his badge over scum like this.
Gene snorted.
“Touché,” he stated. “Only, it worked. He talked. Get these pieces of filth out of here before I bury them up to their necks and use their heads as doorstops.”
Yep.
That was anger.
“Give me ten before you call in the next ones,” the man said. “I have to load up two. I need to make sure they don’t move around in the trunk until I get them to the pickup site.”
Gene was curious.
“Did the first guy wake up?” he asked, as the masked Marine was binding the men up with a big roll of duct tape.
He laughed.
“Yeah, he did, but the guys in the van silenced him. Let’s just say he’s in LaLa land until he wakes up craving Cuban coffee and some mojitos in a concrete cell.”
Gene sighed.
“I could be drinking mojitos inPuerto Ricoright now,” he admitted. “Instead, I’m sending assholes on an all-expense paid vacation to Gitmo. I mean, I do get to punch them in the head a few times, so there’s some fun.”
Ethan reassured him.
“We can make them at the condo. I’ll put on some tropical music, and we can open the sliding glass door for that cold, Artic breeze,” he joked.
Well, when life handed you lemons, make a heavily-laden alcoholic drink.
“We have two left,” Gene admitted. “Let’s get this done.”
Yes, yes, they did.
