The More Things Change...(Part X)

[Robbie C.]

They handed off the cocaine to a nondescript crew manning a nondescript motor launch of uncertain origin or destination. Once they motored out of sight, Sonny turned to his own crew. “Any bets on what agency they're from?”

Both Dave and Randy spoke at the same time. “DEA. They didn't talk enough for FBI and sure as hell weren't CIA.”

“How's that?” Rico asked as he looked at the fading shadow of their visitor.

“CIA might have tried to take us out. That and they were all palefaces. CIA likes to work through hired help when they can.” Dave spat over the side into the swirling, dark water.

“I hope to hell they don't hold some big press conference to brag about a big bust.” Randy shook his head. “Wouldn't be the first time.”

“Yeah, but with Castillo watching them it would be the last.” Sonny cranked the wheel, turning the cabin cruiser back toward Miami. “I expect they'll sit on it for a few weeks and then claim they got it on the way to New York or Washington.” He checked the compass and chart again. “I'm going to take it slow so it looks like we made a longer run than we did. You guys might want to catch some sleep. We won't be back until close to mid-day.”

“Don't mind if I do.” Tubbs stretched and yawned. “Try to keep us out of any hurricanes, partner.”

Once they'd all gone belowdecks, Sonny settled into the rhythm of the boat. He'd sleep once they got back to the marina. Now it was a question of making it there and processing what had happened. The whole deal had gone off smoothly, but he was anxious to find out what Stan's bugs had sniffed out as soon as they left the dock. All he knew is he was tired of dancing with Pedrosa. It was time to move up in the world.

Checking his position, Sonny throttled back a bit more. He wanted to crawl along in the darkness, using the coming dawn to move up to a more normal cruising speed. Then they'd look like they were making good time back to Miami instead of raising questions about why they were moving so slow. It wasn't likely Pedrosa had someone watching the channels, but you could never be sure. And just because Pedrosa might not didn't mean Moncado felt the same way.

The deal had gone down according to plan, but Sonny felt better about his talk with Robbie. Even with the dreams. It was something he should have done long ago, and he was glad it hadn't been too late. Stars sparkled overhead as he adjusted course again, splitting his attention between memories and the twin realities of chart and compass. He also made sure the navigation lights were on. The last thing he needed was to turn the cabin cruiser into a hood ornament for a freighter or some damned wandering cruise ship.

They tied up at the marina just after noon. Sonny asked Dave and Randy to stay for a celebratory drink, but they shook their heads. “Damned paperwork,” Randy said with a disgusted snort. “Give us a hollar tonight and maybe we can arrange something.”

“You got it.” Sonny finished shutting the engines down and checking the lines one last time before stepping ashore. “Rico and I have our own paper to waste, I expect.”

Tubbs nodded, still blinking sleep from his eyes. He'd slept most of the way back, only rolling off his berth just before the boat came to a stop at the dock. “Yeah. I expect we do. That and I need to keep the heat on Pedrosa.”

“Don't look too eager.” Dave grinned before turning and following Randy down the dock. “You gotta tease him a bit now.”

“Let's see if Stan and Lester have anything new. Hell, Trudy might have more on Moncado, too. There's more to this than just Pedrosa.”

 

This time Lester met them at the conference room door. “You guys should hear the tapes! Moncado's all worked up about this deal. Sounds like Pedrosa's trying to slow him down, though.”

“Do tell?” Sonny walked in, followed by Tubbs. “Where is everyone?”

“Stan's taking his turn in the Bug Van and checking in with that...Izzy? Is that his name?” Lester shook his head. “The lieutenant had a meeting downtown and Trudy's pulling some files over at OCB. Turns out we got records hits on some of Pedrosa's gunmen.”

“So no one wants to greet the conquering heroes?” Tubbs shook his head. “Man, that's just wrong.”

“The lieutenant told me to tell you DEA was happy with that coke. Does that count?”

“Damn! Dave and Randy were right!” Tubbs laughed. “And don't tell me they're going to have a press conference about some seizure or another?”

“No. Not for at least three weeks.”

Sonny sat down with a sigh. “This is all very interesting, girls, but what's our next move?” He wasn't really expecting an answer. Truth is I'm damned tired. A day or two with no deals would be nice right about now.

Lester must have read his mind. “I don't think anything, at least for a day or two. Unless that Izzy,” he paused. “Who the hell names their kid Izzy? Anyhow, unless Izzy has something new I think the lieutenant wants to let Pedrosa sit and stew. Stan might be setting up some gear in your friend's club, Sonny, but that's about it as far as I know.”

“Solid.” Tubbs yawned, his jaws cracking. “I don't know about my partner, but I could use a day with no meetings or excitement.”

“That goes double for me. We don't want to hit these guys too hard. Maynard might smell a rat and start digging around. And Moncado doesn't sound like anybody's fool, either. It might be time for the slow touch.”

Lester nodded. “I've got transcripts here if you want to see what went down on the comms after the deal went through.”

“Thanks, man. We'll do that.” Tubbs walked over and poured himself a cup of coffee. “You want some, Sonny?”

“Yeah, thanks. Let's see what those bozos were up to once we sailed out of sight. Might be something good buried in there.” Sonny looked down the table and his eyes went wide. “What the hell are those binders, Lester? The dictionary?”

“No. Those hot-blooded Latin types like to talk. More than Reno did.” Lester chuckled. “That's what they said last night and into this morning.”

“Well, shit. Guess we'd better get started, Rico. Castillo might have a test on this later.”

They were still turning pages in the transcript binders when Martin Castillo returned, his thin black leather tie somewhat askew from the heat outside. He took a moment to straighten it and then spoke. “Good work last night, detectives. We're one step closer.”

“Thanks, lieutenant.” Sonny waved his hand at the binder. “These idiots never shut up, do they?”

“Lucky for us, no.” Castillo looked at the binders, his eyes hooded. “But there's something off about Pedrosa. About what he says. I won't be sure until I listen to the tapes.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

“You're a better man that I am, lieutenant.” Tubbs chuckled. “Ain't no way I could deal with those chumps cacklin' in my ears for hours. Reno was bad enough, but Little Carlos makes me wish I was deaf.”

“Don't underestimate them. Especially their ambition. Pedrosa wants to move up. That makes him dangerous.” Castillo turned and headed for his office. “Why don't you two take a day or two? Get some rest and let him worry about things he doesn't need to worry about.”

“You don't have to tell me twice!” Sonny grabbed his dark blazer off the back of his chair. “We'll check in just in case Izzy turns up something or there's a new lead. And Lester? You or Stan can call Robbie during the day to set up that booth. Just let him know you're working with me.”

“Wait up, partner! Don't go thinking I'm gonna let you handle all this good karma by yourself!” Tubbs snatched up his own suit jacket, leaving the binder open on the table.

Castillo watched them go, a ghost of a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “Make the call about the wire in the morning. I want this taken care of before we need it. And let Mr. Cann know he'll be compensated for his trouble.”

“You want me to log this one, too.”

“No. We'll list it as per the property owner's request. No warrant, no record.” Castillo stepped into his office and shut the door, leaving Lester to his own devices.

 

“So we've got at least a couple of days with no Carlos Pedrosa.” Sonny brought the Ferrari to a stop at a red light two blocks down from the task force building. “Got any big plans?”

“Find a Mikko who's not crazy or hauling some Dolphins linebacker along with her.” Tubbs chuckled, his eyes on the cars around them. “You?”

“Hell, I don't know. I'd like to get some offshore time in, but we don't have that kind of time. Maybe I'll take the cabin cruiser up the coast a bit. Just get away from it all for a day.” The light turned green and Sonny hit the gas, rocketing away from the convertible next to them. “Of course as soon as I do that Moreno will call in with some bogus tip or another and I'd have to come back and chase that down. Then I'd just want to kill the little moron. No, maybe it's best if I stick around close.”

“Why did you have to bring up Moreno? He's been quiet too damned long. It's not natural.”

“No, it's not. Meaning he's either found nothing or he found something that scared him enough he doesn't want to tell us about it.” Sonny gave a thin smile. “Stan'll scare it out of him if he's sitting on anything, though.”

Sonny dropped Tubbs off outside his building, promising to call later if anything turned up. From there it was a quick drive to the marina and the familiar walk out to the St. Vitus Dance. He could see Elvis' bulk up on the bow and knew the gator was lost in his late afternoon nap. Heading below, he shed his coat and shoulder rig, leaving the Detonics in its ankle holster just in case. Pulling a beer out of the galley fridge he went back topside and sat down, opening the can and taking a long, deep drink.

“Hell of a week,” he muttered to no one, looking down the dock at the other boats tied up nearby. He wondered how many of them used the boat to cover a lie of one sort or another. Like he did every day.

He'd first noticed the girl two boats down about a month back. “No,” he muttered, correcting himself. “Not a girl. Woman really.” She looked to be in her late 20s or early 30s, with the deep tan and sun-bleached hair of someone who spent a great deal of time out on the water. Her boat was newer than the Dance, and a touch bigger, but he'd never seen a man on deck. He'd never seen anyone else on deck for that matter. Just her. Working the lines. Powering out from the marina before hoisting the sails and heading south to the sea. And then reversing the process when she came home again a day or three later.

In spite of himself he wondered about her. Had she bought the boat herself? Inherited it? Gotten it as part of a divorce? What did she do on the water all by herself? Was she meeting someone down the coast? Or just getting away from it all, like he did from time to time. She had a trim, athletic figure with curves in all the right places, and he knew she was capable of handing her boat alone.

Once or twice he'd caught her watching him, and he wondered what she saw. A drunken dock bum with a taste for exotic pets? Someone dangerous who ran on the outlaw side and should be avoided? Especially now that he'd crowded the dock with three boats. Part of his job was to read and see people, and from time to time he turned the experience back on himself. Often he didn't like what he saw, and this was no exception. But if she saw trouble, why did she look that second time?

He almost dropped his beer when she cleared her throat at the end of the gangway. “Sorry.” She had a throaty voice pitched somewhere between soprano and alto, conditioned by salt air and Virginia Slims from the pack in her left hand. In her right she held a six pack. “Didn't mean to sneak up on you. I was just about to have a beer and realized we haven't met.”

“My fault. I wasn't paying attention to a damned thing.” Getting up, Sonny waved her on board. “I'm Sonny Burnett and that's Elvis over there. He doesn't bite unless provoked.”

“You've got an alligator? That's way cool.” She smiled, showing even, white teeth and dimples that made her blue eyes sparkle. “I'm Jenny Walker. No, not Johnny's sister.”

He laughed with her. “I bet you get that a lot.”

“You have no idea.” She sat down next to him, offering him a bottle. “Looks like that can's empty.”

“Thanks.” Sonny accepted the Miller bottle with a smile. “So do you always share beer with neighbors?”

“No. Not always.” She smiled again, and he could see the outline of her blue bikini top through the thin white shirt she'd thrown on before leaving her boat. “Usually I just sit on deck and drink it myself.”

“Yeah. Not always much fun, though.” The beer was cold and crisp on his tongue, oddly enough a welcome change from the warmth of Jack Daniel's

“Same thing I thought. So I figured I'd come down and say hello to the guy with the boat collection.”

Sonny chuckled. “The cabin cruiser's a friend's. I'm just watching it for him for a couple of weeks. But yeah, I guess I do have a bit of a collection.”

“How do you like the marina? I haven't been here that long and it's hard to get a feel for the place.”

“Most of the folks who tie up here for any length of time are older. Makes for fewer parties, but it also means you don't have to worry about some drunk dude puking on your seat cushions at three in the morning.” Sonny smiled. “Guy who runs the place is good people and looks after things. Hell, I've been here for years and wouldn't tie up anyplace else.”

She took a pull from her beer, draining close to a third in one go. “Good. I could use someplace quiet.”

He sensed the invited question but wasn't sure if he wanted to go there yet. But caution had never been his strong suit when it came to women. “Hard times?”

“Something like that.” She looked out over the water, and he wondered if he'd misread or asked too soon. Then she spoke again. “I came down from up around Lauderdale. There was some stuff I needed to get away from. Nothing interesting, but it was time to go. So here I am.”

“Sounds simple enough.” Sonny knew it wasn't. He never attracted women with simple problems. He made a note to have Lester run her name and see what popped up.

“So what's your story?”

“Aside from the alligator?” He smiled. “Not much. I do contract transportation now and again. Nothing exciting, but it pays the bills and keeps Elvis back there in tuna when I'm not catching his supper.”

Now it was her turn to smile. “Simple is complicated, right? Don't worry, I won't pry.” She finished her beer and pulled another bottle out of the carrier. She leaned back and stretched, pulling the t-shirt tight. “Sorry. It's been a long day.”

“Yeah.” He drained his beer and accepted another when she held up the carrier. “Thanks. I don't want to drink all your beer, though. I've got some down below, so I'll buy the next round.”

“Don't worry. I've got plenty on my boat.” She gave him a funny half-smile that didn't quite match what her eyes were saying as she looked at him. “We can always move over there when we run out.”

He chuckled. “I fed Elvis not too long ago. He's not going to take a chunk out of you.”

“I know. I just feel more comfortable on my own boat.” She smiled and shrugged. “I know it's weird.”

“Naw, not really.” He smiled. “It looks nice from what I've seen. A bit smaller than the St. Vitus, isn't it?”

“I think so. You've got what, a 42? Mine's a Pearson 36. Number 27 of 49, if what I read last year is true.” She smiled, a hint of color showing on her tanned cheeks. “Sorry, but I'm a bit proud of her. Did most of the restoration myself. She had some issues around the mast and I redid some of the interior.”

“Sounds like you know your boats.”

“I know what I like. Had to learn most of it along the way.” She giggled, a throaty sound that made Sonny smile. “Not the best way to do it, or the cheapest.”

There was so much he wanted to ask but knew he shouldn't, so he took another drink of beer and looked out over the water. She seemed happy with the break in conversation, so he just enjoyed the freshing breeze coming in from far-off Cuba or maybe just the Keys.

“It gets in your head, doesn't it? I know it did mine.”

“What does?”

“The breeze. You had that look on your face.” She smiled. “I've seen it a hundred times on my own when I look in the mirror. You start wondering where that breeze was before it found its way here. Who it touched. What secret's it's keeping. How many lies and truths it snatched up on its way here.”

“You sure you're not a poet?”

“Me? No. Played guitar a bit, but most students do I suppose. Then school got in the way of life, so it went its way and I went mine.” She drained her beer and opened the last one on her side of the carrier. Then she smiled and slipped off her shirt. “Sorry. It's getting a bit warm.” The bikini top was a dark blue and only just covered her high breasts.

They talked a bit more, and Sonny got the sense she was waiting on him to finish his last beer. Her bottle had been empty for about five minutes, and she kept looking down at it while she was talking about fishing off the coast of Lauderdale before coming south. Finally she sighed. “You're a tough one, aren't you?”

“Been accused of it.” He smiled. “But I'm also being rude. I let you run out of beer. You want me to grab some of mine?”

“No. I've got another six-pack chilled down the dock.” She stood up and stretched, letting him get a long look at her slender legs and firm backside just hidden by a pair of cut-offs. “Come on. I've seen your place, now let me show you mine.”

Conscious of the Detonics on his ankle, Sonny got to his feet and followed her. “Ladies first,” he said, smiling when she looked back. When they reached her boat, she jumped on deck and leaned against the mast, arching her back and raising her arms above her head. He whistled. “Very impressive.”

“Which? Me or the boat?”

“Both.” He ran his fingers through his hair as a defense against the breeze and looked at the boat's stern. “Vellamo?”

“She's the Finnish goddess of the seas. My parents always told me the family came from Finland, so when I took to the water it seemed like a good match.” She giggled and ducked below. “Let me grab that beer.”

Sonny looked around, climbing up the short gangway to the boat's rear seating area. It was, he had to admit, a damned fine boat. About six feet shorter, and optimized for single-handed sailing, but it didn't look to lack anything in comfort. The sails were furled and the lines coiled like a professional had been through, and he made a note not to underestimate Jenny's skill on the water.

He was admiring the polish work on the wheel when her voice floated up from below. “Can you give me a hand down here? The damned icebox door's stuck.”

“Be right there.” Sonny went down the short flight of stairs and stopped, fighting to keep himself from staring like some slack-jawed fool. Jenny stood in the main cabin, wearing nothing but a smile and her sun-bleached hair.

“Ok,” she said, giggling and turning to allow him to see every tanned inch of her toned body, “I lied a bit. The icebox is fine, but I do need a hand down here. Two of them. Yours. On me.”

It was so sudden he didn't have time to think, only to react. She was in his arms the second he reached the cabin floor, eager lips meeting his. He could feel her firm body against him, the need almost a physical thing he could touch. Her hair was softer than it looked, and she gasped as he ran his fingers though it. Then she was tugging at his shirt, fumbling with the waistband of his linen slacks. Grabbing his hand, she led him through the narrow doorway into the foreward berth and pulled him down on her.

The first time shocked Sonny with its raw passion, and the second time was almost gentle. Her need was the same, but calmer now, like the sea after a storm passes. Where she had been aggressive and demanding, the second time she was more seeking and giving, letting his passion lead her. Finally still, she settled in beside him in the awkward v-berth and rested her head in the crook of his arm. “Welcome aboard, neighbor,” she whispered, kissing his neck and ear.

“You don't waste time, do you?” he asked, running his finger along her chin until she moved her head and licked it.

“No. I guess I don't. But you never get what you want if you don't try.” She kissed his finger, then shifted and kissed him again. “And I've wanted you since the first time I saw you.”

I really have to have Lester run this girl.But Sonny forced himself to smile. “Didn't think I made that big of an impression.”

“I just knew.” She sighed and lowered her head back to his shoulder. “Sorry. I know that freaks some guys out.”

“No, Jenny. It's not that. I just figured someone as pretty as you would already be with someone. That and I can be a bit slow. What do you expect from someone who has an alligator for a first mate?”

She giggled. “Now you're being silly. No, it's just me on the good ship Vellamo.”

He nodded, his nose filled with the smell of her. It was a mix of some subtle perfume, sex, and the sea. A hell of a potent mix. “And I'm glad for that, darlin'.” Something twinged in his heart. He wasn't exaggerating, and it bothered him.

It was well past midnight before Sonny Crockett made his way back to his own boat. Jenny had finally let him go after he promised to have her down for dinner. He was sure she'd seen the gun, and was surprised she hadn't said a word about it.

“It's just me, Elvis,” he announced as he came aboard, hearing an answering snuffle somewhere in the darkness of the bow. “Sorry I didn't bring you any snacks. Let's see if there's still a tuna in the locker.” Soon the night air was filled with crunching as Elvis wolfed down his delayed evening meal.

Down in the main saloon, Sonny poured himself a drink and sat at the table, trying to sort out what had just happened. And whyit had happened. Was Jenny working for someone, and if so was she hunting him or Sonny Burnett? Or was this just one of those things? He had to admit he liked her, both for her stunning looks and her ability to look after her boat and herself with equal skill. But there were too many questions unanswered, and she was too close for him to ignore.

Sighing, he finished his drink and reached for the phone. When the machine picked up, he spoke quickly. “Stan or Lester” - he almost said 'Larry' before he caught himself - “I need you to run a name. Jenny Walker. Maybe mid-30s. Claims to have lived up around Lauderdale, but I don't know where she was before that. Thanks, guys.” Hanging up, he shut off the lights and sat in the darkness for a time until the bourbon calmed his nerves enough to allow sleep to come.

 

Only a few miles but seemingly a world away. Trudy Joplin looked out over the water and sighed. The breeze carried across the deck, and inside she could hear Martin Castillo making them a late meal. They'd moved the last of her things in not long before, and he suggested she take in the night air while he cooked. “You'll find peace out there,” he said in that mystical way of his that never failed to tug at her heart. “I'll call when the food is ready.”

At first it felt strange, leaving the apartment she'd hidden in for years after shifting from Patrol to Vice. Trudy smiled at the word choice, casting it to the breeze with other parts of her past. “I washiding,” she whispered. From memories, from danger, from just about everything. And then he'dcome along.

She still remembered the first time she'd seen Martin Castillo. The whole squad was in shock about losing Lou and he'd walked in like something out of an old movie. Tall, dark, not saying a word. He and Crockett had clashed right away, but that was inevitable with Sonny. Trudy smiled again. What was it Gina used to say? Crockett couldn't see anyone in authority without wanting to kick them at least once. Soon enough, though, Trudy discovered Castillo actually cared about his people.

She unbuttoned her shirt, letting the breeze dry the sweat on her skin. Even with the moving she still couldn't quite believe this was happening. Or even how it was happening. So few words had done so much, and she'd gone from being alone to trusting a man with her heart in a way she'd never done before. And he'd amazed her with his capacity for caring. After all he'd been through, it made her heart jump to know he had enough left to love her.

At first she thought it was the breeze teasing her hair, but then she felt his strong fingers and knew it was Marty. How the hell does he do that? I never even heard the door open. She sighed and leaned back against him, feeling his arms go around her.

“I had to come out,” he explained, his hands sliding into her open shirt. “You look so lovely.”

“Thank you.” Every nerve in her body jumped at his touch. “I must've gotten carried away watching the waves.”

“No. I wanted to share them with you. Dinner is ready whenever we are.” His mustache tickled her neck, and she sensed he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

“I'm glad the move is over. I just hope my stuff isn't taking up too much room.”

“No. It fills a hole. Both in the house and in me. Things feel complete now, not half-empty.”

“I couldn't agree more. I don't feel like I'm hiding anymore. Not from anyone, even myself.”

“Good. You were always stronger than you knew.”

“And I'm stronger with you.” She let the shirt fall to the deck. “Let's go inside.”

 

The buzz of his phone woke Sonny Crockett some time after the sun rose above the water. Shaking his head, he reached out and fumbled for the cordless receiver. “Yeah?”

“Sonny? It's Lester. I got your message and ran that name.”

“What time is it?”

“After ten I think.” Lester chuckled. “We got in early and I had time to run the search. Anyhow, her full name's Jennifer Yvette Walker. Thirty four. No active warrants, though she had some run-ins in Lauderdale and a few other places up the coast. Petty theft. One or two citations for disturbing the peace. She's only been in Florida a couple of years. The national check is still running.”

“Where's she from?”

“California.” Lester laughed, and his voice faded as he turned away from the phone. “See, I told you Stan. The search took under half an hour. This new system kicks ass.” The he came back. “Sorry, Sonny. The search just finished.”

“Tell Stan he owes you a doughnut.” Sonny chuckled in spite of himself. “So what's it say?”

“She's got a handful of drug arrests in San Francisco and then down around LA. Mostly reefer, but one for LSD when she was at UCLA it looks like. Then she pops up in South Carolina with a possession of stolen property charge that got knocked down when she testified against some guy named Rafe Holloman. He tracks as a mid-level dealer type and all-around scumbag. Looks like her testimony sent him away for a dime bid, and his friends didn't like it much. That's when she moved south to Florida and our system started tracking her.”

“So she's a small-time crook?”

“Yeah, but I don't get it, Sonny. Her family's loaded.”

“What do you mean loaded?”

“I mean loaded. Her father's some bank guy out in San Francisco. He could probably buy the entire Metro-Dade police department out of his petty cash drawer.”

“Thanks, Lester. I owe you guys one.” Sonny collapsed the antenna and shut off the receiver, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. What the hell is some rich girl doing slumming around on a boat she fixed up herself? And why is she interested in me? Or is it Burnett she's into?It was hard not to think of Callie, or more recently Rico's little number. Mikko. Or was Jenny just another rich girl with an 'I-can-do-if-myself' attitude and bad boy fixation? A thump and dragging chain noises on the overhead reminded him of something. “I'll be right there, Elvis. Keep your shirt on and don't eat anyone until I get there.”

Pulling on yesterday's slacks, Sonny climbed up into the building morning heat, the sun warm on his shirtless shoulders. He went through the familiar motions of tossing Elvis his breakfast before turning and looking back up the dock. Vellamo's spot was empty. “I wonder where the hell she goes?” he muttered as he headed back belowdecks for a shower and coffee. “Another damned mystery I don't have time for.”

 

It was almost six that evening when Gina Calabrese turned her car into her parking spot at the apartment complex and shut off the motor. She smiled when she saw the Bug Van parked in its usual spot. That meant Stan was actually home before her.

She found him out on the apartment's small balcony, fussing over steaks on a small grill. “Dinner should be ready in about ten,” he announced after kissing her hello. The yellow apron he wore over one of his outrageous Hawaiian shirts was decorated with some sort of cartoon frog and proclaimed 'mother's little helper' in bright orange letters. “I've got potatoes in the coals and there's salad in the fridge ready to be tossed.”

“I'll toss your salad, you big goofball!” She giggled and hugged him. “It's good to have you home early for a change.”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “The lieutenant wants to see if Lester's ready to cover a shift solo. I told him he is, so Castillo sent me home.” He turned back to the meat on the grill. “Can't let these burn. I'm not wasting ten dollars' worth of prime Kansas City strip.”

Setting her bag on the glass-topped coffee table, Gina headed into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine before turning and looking back at Stan bustling around on the balcony. She smiled, wondering for the hundredth time how she'd gotten so lucky. All those years I spent chasing Sonny, and there he was right under my noseshe thought, feeling the sharp tang of the wine on her tongue. She hauled out the wooden salad bowl so he wouldn't notice her thinking and got to work, the activity simulating her thoughts.

Stan, much to her surprise and delight, was a giving man. Both as a lover and a friend. He'd listened to her complain about Crockett without saying a word, and only later did she understand how deeply he knew loss and how much some of her words had hurt him. Yet each time he'd just listen and tell her things would work out eventually. “You're too good a person, Gina,” was one of his favorite lines. “You can't fix everyone, especially if they don't want to be fixed.”

She hadn't understood until after Costa Morada. When Crockett and Tubbs left, the squad started falling apart. And in the middle of it all was Stan, solid as a rock wearing an Elvis wig. He'd held her the night he found her crying in the old conference room, even though he knew she was crying over the man he held responsible for the death of his partner and best friend. He never judged, never told her she was being foolish. Just waited for her to stop sobbing and then said softly, “If you want to talk, I'm here.”

They'd talked, and talked some more. He helped her understand she needed to get away from OCB, and supported her when she decided to make the jump. She'd felt guilty for abandoning him and Trudy, but he always told her not to worry. “You need to look after yourself,” he said with the sad smile she'd grown so accustomed to after they found Larry dead in the locker room shower.

Smiling, she added croutons to the salad and finally drizzled vinegar and oil dressing over the top. It was a recipe she'd gotten from her aunt, as Italian as her adopted last name. She'd seen a little bit of herself in Stan then. He was so busy running around trying to keep the team together he'd forgotten about himself. He worked a few busts with Trudy, and she'd confided to Gina that she was worried about Stan. “I don't think he's gambling again,” she'd said, “but I'm worried he might start again. He's so stressed, and the lieutenant's counting on him so much. I just don't know what to do.”

In some ways that had been their first date. She'd lured him out with the promise of bowling, something she hated but knew he enjoyed for the beer if nothing else. Stan being Stan he let her win the first few frames, even giving her some pointers on form and technique so she'd get better. They were sitting in the lounge, partway through their third pitcher of beer, when it hit her that she was falling in love with Stan. She'd kissed him for the first time that night as he was dropping her off at her old apartment. Another smile found its way to her face as she remembered his shocked expression. One week later they had their second date and he'd worked up enough nerve to kiss her first.

After that it had been a dream. Right around the time the Task Force formed they'd moved in together, taking advantage of Stan's new place to bring their lives into some combination. She still hadn't heard from Trudy, but the pain of that receded more every day. Besides, from what Stan was telling her Trudy was busy enough in her own life. “Who would have thought?' Gina whispered as she put the finishing touches on the salad. “The man of ice and the tough street girl getting together?”

“Dinner is served!” Stan lumbered through the open balcony door with a flourish, a big serving platter held above his head. “We have for the lady the finest Kansas City beef, baked potato, and grilled asparagus.”

She giggled. “Stanley Switek you are an amazing man.”

He set the platter down and bowed, his tousled hair flopping with the exaggerated movement. “Thank you, fair lady. Now if you'll bring the salad we can dine. I think even the King himself would be jealous of this repast.” He shook his head. “Oh, and could you bring me a beer, fair one? I forgot about that in all the excitement.”

“Of course.” She smiled. His sense of humor was one of the things she loved most about him. In some ways it felt like he'd taught her to laugh again. And she'd lost track of the times he'd told her the same thing.

“This is fantastic!” She set her fork down and raised her glass in a half-toast. “Who knew you could grill?”

“What self-respecting man can't?” Stan chuckled. “Well, this one couldn't for years if I'm honest. You have no idea how many cows were offered up to the charcoal gods before this repast was possible. Innocent cows, chickens, and fish all sacrificed themselves without protest. Now the people I tried to feed with them protested, but what the hell. It was worth it in the end.” He grinned. “At least I like to think so. Anyhow, enough about me. How was your day?”

They talked a bit about the advocate unit and how she was expanding the role of the assigned detectives. “Part of getting these girls off the streets is making sure the scumbags who put them there aren't around to keep them there,” she said, gesturing with her salad fork. “If we can start feeding intel over to OCB and Metro-Dade they can use that to bust those bastards.”

“Great idea, babe.” Stan took a drink of his beer. “But be careful. We've been getting reports of some kind of leak in Metro-Dade. Nothing solid, but it's from multiple sources.”

“Damn. I don't want to put any of those girls in more danger than they're already in. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Sure.” He smiled. “And in related news, well...sort of related I guess...work on the street has it that Trudy moved in with Castillo.”

“No!” Gina dropped her fork, not noticing the clatter it made when it hit her plate. “You're serious?”

“Yep. They haven't said anything, but Lester and I noticed they've started showing up at the same time and leaving at the same time. Every day. That never happened before.” Stan chuckled. “I thought about putting a tail on them, but you know Castillo would spot that in a second and cut my balls off. And I do need my balls these days.”

She smiled, feeling her cheeks warm as they turned red. “You most certainly do, Stanley. But that might explain why she hasn't called.” And why her old number's disconnected. Now I feel like an ass for thinking she was just trying to avoid me.

“Yeah. That can be distracting.” He cut more steak and chewed the bite with appreciation. “I know it was for me at least.”

She reached out and covered his free hand with hers. “It was for me, too. But it was the best distraction I've ever had.” She gave his hand a squeeze. I never thought things would be this good.