EVER.
Will stopped him when he opened his mouth to do what seemed to him was going to be nothing but deflection.
“I’m not jealous. I’m just curious. Really. Being gay isn’t a choice, so I have nothing to worry about. You’re attractive, so I get it.”
Corbin shrugged.
Then, he trusted that Will wouldn’t be angry.
“I mean, it happens. When you work with cops, MEs, attorneys, etcetera, you get hit on by the people in the same field as you.”
Will shrugged.
“I don’t mind. My man is sexy. I don’t blame her. All the cute ones are gone,” he said, slapping Corbin on the ass, and then jogging up the stairs.
He stood there staring at him.
Why?
Because he liked it.
For some reason, that slap on the ass didn’t bring terror and fear. It made him smile because he knew it was done in love.
It appeared that Corbin was still alive inside—deep down.
“They hit on meALLof the time!” he called after his man as he followed him up the stairs.
From Will, there was laughter.
And Corbin couldn’t wait to get to wherever Ethan and Gene were. That slap gave him a little tingle.
Maybe there was hope.
And he needed to share that with someone.
Maybe there was an end to this long, monotonous tunnel.
Afterall.
Chapter Twelve
The FBI Morgue
Same Time
Monday
Mid-Morning
Now that Gene and Ethan had pieced together that the three victims were connected, the men wanted to talk to the ME since he’d done the homicide detective’s autopsy, and by now, he’d have the Fed’s done too.
Hopefully, Corbin was grabbing the other autopsy, and being damn careful about it.
They needed to cover all of their bases, and they were both a little twitchy.
Why?
Everyone who had been investigating ended up dead, and it all seemed tied to a man who owned a beach-front restaurant.
