Oh.
Holy.
Shit.
“Okay,” Greyson said, regrouping from that little newsflash. “Tell me what you need.”
Ethan knew this was about him and Gene already finding the most important part of this. They didn’t know the who, but he believed they knew the where.
That might save him.
“We hit up that sugar cane processing plant on the water that Rodrigo owns. We’re heading there. Can you be our backup?”
Greyson was planning on it.
“I can call in help. Lucas is on duty, and I can grab him to go with me. Let me call him.”
Ethan stopped him.
“We don’t know who this is. All we know is they had to be able to get close to Gene. Even if they snuck up on him, he would have immediately fought. He knows them. I’d bet my gut that Gene saw them, and knows.”
Greyson would trust him.
Gene and Ethan were damn good agents.
“Okay, Ethan.”
The man made up his mind.
“It’s safest with us. I have Corbin. Meet us there. We’re going to have to run in. I don’t want whoever this is to know that we’re coming, or he might kill Gene,” he said, that feeling gripping him by the throat.
If he lost Gene…
He was done.
There was no way he’d be able to stay with the FBI. He’d never trust himself as an agent again.
“I’ve got you. I’m on my way out the door. I’ll meet you there. Text me the location,” he said. “And Ethan?”
He waited.
“We’ll get to him before he’s dead.”
Blackhawk hoped so.
Because if he was hurt…
He’d never forgive himself.
Never.
* * * Blackhawk & Cantrell * * *
The Sugar Cane
Processing Facility
Monday Night
