Bet.
On.
It.
“If you have any questions, give me a call,” he said. “Elizabeth seldom deals with bureaucratic red tape,” he offered. “She’s got better things to do.”
The man said nothing, but maybe that was because the two Feds headed out, leaving him sitting there.
Outside, Corbin rolled his neck.
“Someone has zero concern that there were twenty eyeballs, a bunch of skulls, and a dead man in that building. He’s worried that the stone outside stays pristine.”
Alex had seen a lot of crazy in his time with the FBI.
Was he shocked?
No.
Crazy did what crazy did.
He knew that Elizabeth would shit a ton of bricks if he gave the man her number, so he could bother her at all hours. That was one sure-fire way to get the boss pissed at you.
Pass.
When his phone chimed, Alex pulled it from the pocket. It was a text from the morgue staff. They had positive ID using the dentals, not using the tags and wallet, on the victim.
“The ME finished the autopsy. They confirmed positive ID on the homeless man who ended up dead.”
Corbin was reading over his shoulder, and that’s when he smelled it.
It was a very familiar cologne, and it hit him so damn hard it stole his breath.
Jesus.
It was Will’s cologne.
Christ Almighty.
That was a punch to the gut. It took him a second to regroup. That scent was something he hadn’t smelled in a very long time.
And it brought a pain back that he couldn’t fight.
“Jonathan Miller?” he asked, trying to focus.
It had been a long time since his husband, the love of his life, was stolen from him, and mostly, he was able to go a full day without thinking about him.
There were always odd moments where something caught him off guard, and knocked him off his feet.
Like now.
Corbin wanted to run, but he wanted to stay, continuing to smell that scent. It fucked with his head, and his libido in ways it shouldn’t.
And that scared him.
Alex nodded.
He had a plan.
