Only, now they had to work.
Unfortunately.
Officially, they were back on duty, and there would be no playtime until their work was done for the day.
And that sucked.
Their vacation was the casualty in this.
And so was all the sex that Gene was going to have to put on the back burner.
Unfortunately.
Chapter Ten
The FBI Building
San Juan, Puerto Rico
Nine A.M.
Monday
When they arrived, they were welcomed without any pushback from the people who worked there. That didn’t always happen when you came from a different city to work a case.
Only, here in Puerto Rico, the agents working the office were a friendly bunch, and they must have gotten a heads-up from their colleague, Lucas Mayfield.
Because they weren’t shocked that they were there.
On top of Lucas Mayfield alerting them, Gabe had to have made a call too.
How did they know?
Well, they each had space to work, equipment to work on, and that didn’t happen by small miracle.
It was a small office, and they were taking the only conference room as theirs.
Luckily, there were only six agents, but the tight squeeze would be manageable. The team there rotated shifts, and they handled anything that the local cops couldn’t.
Or wouldn’t.
Which didn’t seem like a whole hell of a lot. Then again, they were from a whole different world—apparently.
InPhilly, you didn’t have downtime, a beach, or time to do things at your own pace.
The grind didn’t stop.
They worked on a production line, of sorts.
The cases came in, they worked them, and out they went until the next ones showed up. Sometimes, it was a balancing act, and they were good at it.
Trained in the fire, you didn’t get shocked by much. Somehow, Gene believed if these agents got hit with half the shit they did, there’d be mutiny in paradise.
Call it a hunch.
Back home, it was a grind, and all three men knew they couldn’t work here.
It would make them batshit insane.
