GTA-Belly of the Beast(closed for JawnKarTurr)

After meeting yet another "victim" of Becker's good nature, Detective Robina was finding it more and more difficult to keep her distance. Sure he was brutal, his tactics were well beyond department mandate but she'd watched him closely over their first few days together. Sure there was money exchanged and she received her fair share, but there was no shaking down of law abiding citizens. Even the working girls got a fair shake, so long as they worked their trade "respectfully". He was just as much a rock star on the streets as he was at the station house. She counted the money he doled out to citizens in need, and though she wasn't sure how much he kept for himself, thousands of dollars came out of his pockets. Meals were purchased, groceries were paid for. Yareli wasn't that generous, granted whenever it was her turn to pick up meals she forced proprietors to take her money but that's where her giving heart ended.

Even when they paid another visit to her old friend Jimbo, she didn't give him more than enough to make it through the day. His living situation had improved enough for them to actually talk inside his trailer. He seemed clear headed and was actually working on a car. Sure Yareli was proud of him and the information he gave helped them collar a crew of junkies suspected of murdering a couple of tourists who wandered away from the bright lights of downtown. When they were leaving, Jimbo asked Yareli to keep an ear out for any shops looking for cheap work and she was surprised when Becker answered.

"Looks like you're on the mend Jimbo," he said just before Yareli could speak. "I know a couple guys who'd give you a chance if I vouched for you."

"That'd be great Becker," was Jim's enthusiastic response as he wiped stray engine grease off his hands before offering Becker a shake.

"Now hold on a second, you gotta stay straight...even after you get your foot in the door. I can't have you ruining my good name."

"I'm off the junk man I swear...even going to meetings twice a week. I swear man," he promised and Becker finally took his hand.

"Alright, alright. Gimme a few days to make a few calls and I'll let you know what's what."

"Thanks man, thanks a lot. I won't let you down."

"Don't worry about me, just keep your nose clean or Robina'll be back with that .45."

"You didn't have to do that," Yareli said from the driver's seat as she steered them out of the trailer park and Becker shrugged his shoulders as he lit them both a smoke.

"Guy's just looking for a shot after a rough run. He deserves a little help staying right don't you think," he said, slipping the lit Redwood between her lips so she didn't have to take her hands off the wheel.

"Yeah but you don't even know him."

"True but he's a friend of yours and we're partners so it's only right. You'd help a friend of mine if you could."

Yareli wasn't so sure about that but that small gesture and the comments that followed crumbled the last of the walls she'd been using to keep Becker out. Though she did her best to steer clear of her short stint with the DEA, Yareli started to open up a little. They started talking to each other, really talking. Their tumultuous early life and what brought them to law enforcement. Their failed relationships and aversion to commitment. He grilled her on relationship with Penelope over beers and she told him the truth.

"I like what I like," she said with a shrug as Becker motioned for another round.

"So are you...like...is she like..."

"Am I a lesbian," she asked with a snort, shaking her head. "Is she my girlfriend? No and no. We met a while back while I was racing. I won a couple stacks off some guy she was dating. He didn't like her congratulating me and took a swing at her so I decked him. It wasn't the first time he hit but it was the first time anybody came to her rescue. She offered to buy me a few drinks, we ended up back at her place and...well...let's just say we had a great weekend together."

"To be a fly on that wall," A.J. mused and Yareli gave him a shot in the arm. "What?! I'm a man Robina. I can't help where my imagination goes."

"Yeah I guess I walked into that and you're welcome."

"For?"

"The new addition to your spank bank," she said with a grin and leaned in close, her lips almost brushing his ear. "She's very, very submissive...and you saw how flexible she is," she whispered and gave him a slap on the back as she slipped out of her stool. "I'm going for a piss."

"You're such a lady Robina," he said shaking his head and she blew him a kiss.

That night was the start of their end of shift night caps and more often than not they raced to the cop bar a few blocks from VCPD's Downtown station house on Bayshore Ave. It wasn't someplace Yareli frequented before being partnered with Becker. Camaraderie just wasn't her thing. Sure her a Briggs shared the occasional bottle after shift but that was more like foreplay, having drinks with Becker was something different. She thought it might be weird, given how people fawned over him but his shadow wasn't as eclipsing as she thought it might be and that was mostly because of him. Every uniform or suit who came to pat him on the back was introduced to his new partner, and true to his word, he never called her "probie". A.J. even came to her defense when some asshole detective from Vice Point tried to use seniority to get her out of her stool.

"Beat it probie. The bar's for vets," he sneered and Yareli started to get up, not wanting to start anything but Becker stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, Thompson. I saw some little old ladies looking for directions to Prawn Island. That's calls for a VP escort last I checked," Becker said with a smirk and Yareli was unable to hold her giggle. It was common knowledge that Vice Point was the cushiest of assignments were soft bottom officers who couldn't take the heat went to hide among the palm trees and pristine beaches. But still Thompson bowed up before his partner brought his attention to the many sets of eyes on them. They were greatly out numbered at the Mainland bar. "Now why don't you and you're boyfriend go find a seat in the back with the rest of the beach patrol," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand and Yareli grinned into her bottle.

"Thanks for that," she said once they were relatively alone and Becker shrugged his shoulders.

"We're partners Robina. I'll always have you're back...and nobody calls you probie but me," he added with a raised eyebrow and Yareli found herself blushing.

And if she were being honest, she'd been doing that a lot in Becker's presence. He wasn't nearly as much a hard ass as he let on. He was quick to compliment her on a job well done and when she got an excessive force complaint from a robbery suspect, Becker took the wrap so it wouldn't affect her probationary period. Sure she had to get his coffee for a week but it was a small price to pay for a clean record. Well, clean enough to keep her gold badge.

Weeks went by and eventually Agent Darlington returned but Yareli found it difficult to give him anything worthwhile. Aside from the envelopes of cash, she didn't have much to give. Becker was still vague about where the money came from and she had yet to witness him do anything other than hard policing. Sure she heard things, but Yareli wasn't about to put her name on a rumor to appease her handler. No matter how good his tongue felt in her ass.

"Just promise me you won't get sucked in Rel," he said as they lay in the afterglow. Her head on his chest. His hand tangled in her mane of jet black dresses. Legs intertwined beneath tangled sheets. "Promise me you won't go native."

"Fuck off Darling I'm still on probation. He's not going to show me anything with that dangling over my head."

"I heard you guys have gotten pretty chummy," Blake teased, lighting her a Redwood and she rolled her eyes.

"So we had a few beers? You got people keeping tabs on me now?"

"I worried about you babe that's all," he said with a kiss to her forehead as he slipped out of bed. "That asshole is dangerous..."

"I can take care of myself Blake you know that. I don't need your goons babysitting me."

"I know babe but I just wanted to make sure you were safe that's all."

"Well you should have called then," she said, before she could stop herself. Yareli heard how it sounded, like she was some clingy girlfriend and she immediately regretted it. Especially with the grin Blake sported as he dipped into the bathroom.

"I was a little busy letting the brass know how great a job your doing," he told her, leaving out the long weekend the Bahamas with his fiancee and swanky dinners with her parents. "You're a tough sell Robina and you've still got enemies at the Agency."

"Well be sure to tell them I have zero interest in coming back when this is all over with. I'm think somewhere nice. Sun. Sand. Walking distance to the beach..."

"You just described Vice City, you know that right?"

"Well minus the murder and mayhem, of course."

"I'll be sure to pass that along," he said with a snort and Yareli heard the shower start. If not for her little slip, she might have joined him. Instead she went out to her makeshift office in the dinning room, grabbed a beer, and poured over the Bikini Murder files.

There was a new victim. She didn't exactly fit the profile but Becker insisted it was the same guy. She was the first brunette, a natural beauty without so much as fake nails. She was also the first victim without a record and a clean tox screen. She was nothing like the other victims but Yareli had learned to trust Becker's gut so she added her to the list of unfortunate women to cross paths with Vice City's latest sicko. Yareli wasn't sure how much time had passed when Blake came out of the bedroom and she jumped when he put his hands on her shoulders. He whispered an apology and kissed the back of her neck, all the while scanning the photos spread out before her.

"This is different," he said as he stood, taking up one of the ME photos. Blake shift his eyes from the photo, to Yareli, and back again before he set it down, a troubled look on his face. "You guys any closer."

"Not at all," she said around a cloud of smoke. "This guys fucking good...too good. ME says he cut this one's hair," she said and pulled her DMV file to show Blake her driver's license photo. Before the killer got his hands on her, victim number seven had a simple straight cut but the crime scene and ME photos showed layers and long bangs in her dark brown hair. "All we're getting is what he wants us to see..."

"How do you know it's a he?"

"Come on Blake," Yareli said with a raised eyebrow as she pushed away from the table. "We women are vicious, vindictive creatures but we don't do stuff like this...not to each other anyway. This has man scorned written all over it. Think you can hook me up with some updated files?"

"Sure I'll make a few calls in the morning..."

"You mean a couple hours," she said with a smirk and Blake looked at his watch. It was well past two, the yawn that followed was reflexive but it didn't catch Yareli as he held out his hand to her. She took it and allowed him pull her up.

"Yeah I have something for you whenever you get home."

Yareli was asleep as soon as they hit the bed but Blake didn't have it so easy. The photo of the latest victim bore in uncanny resemblance to Yareli but of course. He just hoped her new partner saw it too. He was a liabilty but even Agent Darlington knew there was some good wrapped in Detective Becker's exploits. Didn't outweigh the bad but still, there was some hero wrapped up in his villainous ways and Blake quickly realized the trouble that could bring to his operation. He had to tell Yareli himself but when he woke up, she was already gone. He didn't panic, instead went to the office and used his secure log-in to get her the information she needed. Again, Blake was careful to remove all federal insignia but he added a few things to the profile before he printed it out and left it on the dining room table.

Alone in Yareli's "apartment" Blake took the opportunity to do a little snooping. He trusted her but he needed to be sure she wasn't holding anything back. Sure she had been a good agent but Yareli had a nasty habit of allowing her emotions to get in the way of her work. That's what got her in trouble at the DEA. She had a soft spot for one of the perps she interrogated that sent her digging for answers. Sure, her witch hunt turned up a few bad apples but ultimately, her investigation did nothing but shine a light on her biggest flaw as an agent. For Yareli Robina, a risk to her integrity was far worse than a risk to Agency image and she didn't care who knew about it. Blake just hoped that Becker's brand of bad would strike the same cord.

After his own fruitless investigation was complete, Agent Darlington decided to call the future missus from his secure line in Robina's apartment. Yareli was already long gone, so he figured why not use the solitude of her place to ensure his fiancee that he'd made the trip back safely. After listening to the woman drone on about caterers, Blake steered the conversation towards something more enticing with a simply question.

"So what are you wearing lovely," he asked as he settled down into the bed he'd just shared with his old flame. An old flame his future wife knew nothing about. The socialite would have been appalled if she knew her All-American boy had slummed it in his past. Or present.

Yareli was on her way to the station from paying another visit to Maria when she realized she left her reserve pack of smokes back at her place. She made a quick u-turn in the middle of Hoarmont Ave to double back without a second thought. Now that they were friendly, Yareli didn't have a reason not to tell him her morning itinerary so they agreed to meet up before noon at the the station to plan their next move on Heist case. The new information that Maria gave, she planned to keep to herself. The more Yareli prodded, the Maria "remembered" about the guys she worked with. Most of the details were useless but there was one she committed to memory. One of the guys liked to talk and bragged about bedding a slutty cop for an amateur porn director. He never gave a name, even if he did, Yareli doubted the woman would use her real one but she figured she'd ask around for possibilities. She was already running through her own list of slutty prospects when she made it back to her door.

Her key in place, she opened her mouth to call out to Blake as she headed inside but paused when she heard a woman's voice. At first she chalked the breathy moans up to porn but then she said his name.

"Blake Darlington you are so bad," she said with a giggle that made Yareli grit her teeth as she crept slowly, silently into the foyer. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

"Oh come on Ava," he said with a grunt that was all to familiar to Yareli. "You weren't calling me bad last weekend when you dragged me into the coat room at your father's fundraiser."

"Well you looked so good in your tux I just couldn't help myself..."

"I hope you don't lose that sexy sense of spontaneity come April," he said and Yareli was smart enough to know what might happen come spring. The cherry blossoms would be in full bloom in D.C. Prime wedding season and the thought of Blake marrying some trust fund bitch set her blood to boil. But she kept her cool, quietly backing out of the apartment and closing the door without so much as a thump.

But once in the hall, she promptly put her fist through the wall opposite her door. She was winding up for another when the elevator announcing it's descent shook her out of her rage and she sprinted to catch it before it reached her floor. The doors opened and she was greeted by the sight of two suits who screamed "Fed" without uttering a word and she moved quickly to the back without looking up. So pissed off, Yareli didn't realize she hadn't hit the button for the lobby until the two guys got out on three and the car didn't move. Just as she moved to tap L, the elevator was heading back up.

"Que mentir gilipollas shithead, coño puta mentiroso!" It started out as a mutter but by the time she got to that last "liar" her voice broke. And the elevator doors opened, with a very perplexed Detective A.J. Becker standing on the other side.

"Do I want to join you or should I wait for the next one," he asked with furrowed brows and Yareli shoved her clenched fists into her pockets. It was as much an invitation he would get and he cautiously stepped inside.

Yareli felt him looking at her as she stared blanking at her reflection, her mind jumping from one conclusion to the next about the lying sack of shit that was her handler. They got down to the bottom with speaking a word to each other and Yareli headed for her car parked on the street, while Becker headed for the garage.

"I'll meet you at the station," he called out to her, unsure of whether or not she heard.

After a quick smokey burnout, Yareli drove like a bat out of hell down Bayshore Ave. It wasn't until she got to the station that she realized she never even grabbed her smokes. She opened her mouth to scream, but caught herself and took a few measured breaths instead. Rage wouldn't serve her now, and as her mind cleared she searched for the true source of her anger. It occurred to her that she might feel a little more for Blake than she allowed herself to believe. That got a hearty laugh and allowed her to get out of the car. She didn't care that he was engaged, it was the fact he didn't tell her. Yareli wasn't above sleeping with people in relationships, she just preferred having a choice. And if he was keeping that from her then what else was he hiding.

She pushed all that down as she strolled into the station house, doing her best to keep her expression neutral as she made her way to her desk. All the detectives were assigned desks in three walled cubes they shared with their partners to give the illusion of privacy. Being teamed with Becker had the added bonus of a few extra feet of wall that enclosed their space almost completely. Plus there was the added bonus of being able to look out over the bay.

That's exactly what Yareli was doing when Becker finally showed up almost an hour after she arrived with a greasy cardboard box under one arm. The sight of him strutting in, doling out high fives and fist bumps like he owned the place only served to fan the barely contained flames of her rage. The self-important smirk he sported didn't help either when he finally made it to their cube and set the box down on the sort of raised coffee table he kept on the wall between their desks.

"Nice of you to finally show up," she said through clenched jaws and Becker shift his eyes at her, a smile playing at the corners of his lips as he unloaded the box one item at a time. On her end of the table he placed a Styrofoam cup, a greasy bag of fries, and a fresh pack of Redwoods before he flopped down in his own chair. She narrowed her eyes at him as she took up the cup and pushed off the lid. Her scowl turned very quickly to a grin as grabbed a fry and proceeded to dip it into the extra thick chocolate shake.

"A thank you would be nice," he grumbled as he unwrapped his burger and Yareli blew him a kiss.

"So, those are some pretty swanky digs for a Little Havana detect," she said as casually as she could muster once he was done eating and he looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"I was gonna say to you," was his quick reply. Too quick.

"Just visiting a friend..."

"The...how'd you put it...that lying douche bag shithead pussy fucking liar," he said with a smirk and even Yareli had to laugh at how terrible it all sounded in English.

"You caught all that huh?"

"Shit I'd be surprised if the whole building didn't hear it," he said as he brushed off his hands and rolled his chair over to grab the cigarettes he just bought he. Becker tore it open and lit two before he said, "Wanna talk about it?"

"He's engaged," she said before she could catch herself and Becker winced. "I went back to grab my smokes and heard their long distance fuck session..."

"Ouch...but I thought it wasn't anything serious?"

"It's not I just like to be told when I'm being a homewrecker," she said with a shrug and took a long drag off the cigarette he gave her.

"What kind of moron gives his mistress the keys to his place...his hot headed, trigger happy mistress..."

"Fuck you Becker," she said with a snort and shoved him hard, but he planted his feet so his chair wouldn't roll. Yareli's hand lingered on his bulky shoulder a moment and he glanced down at her fingers before she finally pulled away. "So you still didn't answer my question," she said, not forgetting the where this conversation began and Becker cracked a grin that told her all she needed to know.

"Visiting a friend, same as you, only my morning was way better than yours."

Since the hurricane the weather in Vice City had cleared up, but there were still some nasty days that were out of place with the shiny sunny image of the southern city. It was a very rainy in the very early morning hours when A.J. met with FBI agent Jay Eckart at Escobar International Airport. With the crazy hours and untaken vacation time the captain had insisted on him taking a few days. He also said the rookie detective could take care of all the paper work while he had a mental health break. After all in the last few days they’d had to deal with some nasty shit he agreed, but he made plans for the days off anyway. He didn’t like leaving Yareli with a mountain of paperwork, but it was better her than him and he had business that needed to be done without her around.

The last week had been one train wreck after another starting with finding a teen runaway in an alley with a needle in his arm. By the time patrol found him he was stone cold, and then there were two bar fights which only got stranger. The first was a wannabe samurai and the other involved two dead she-males. The sword wielding one was pretty straight forward and they got the punk, and so was the murder of the he-she street walkers. They were serving guys in the pool room of a small bar and then someone figured out their secret. The brutal killing involved knives and beer bottles and there was blood all over the bar. Along with plenty of other bullshit there was the tragic love story. A depressed rocker beat his girlfriend to death with a guitar than realized what he did and overdosed before the neighbors called the police.

A large contingent of retired Vice City cops made up airport security, so that getting in was easy so the only delay was from people wanting to bullshit with him. He eventually made it to the hanger the FBI the taken over and was soon making small talk in an small office with agent Eckart who’d made a name for himself in Vice City as part of the FBI’s rapid response unit. The pair had fought side by side in the streets more than once, and after saving the badly wounded agent A.J. had unlimited favors from the man. They still maintained a frat brother like friendship, but this time it was about business.

Before A.J. hung up his poncho on the wall hook he tossed a long camouflage bag to Jay who happily unzipped the side and took out a razor sharp katana with a black handle.

He smiled and held it up as he said, “Thanks man this is perfect. Where did you pick this one up?”

“A few days ago you heard about that Cuban kid fresh out of the mental hospital who was attacking people in a bar with a sword?”

“Wait this thing isn’t it is it?”

“No that’s one of the ones we got from the guy who sold him it. He had a van load of some nasty sharp things. Yareli and I took what we needed, but I remembered you bro, so what you got for me?”

Jay nodded handing the file across the desk before continuing to look at the blade. A.J. sat down across from him and began flipping through the file. After a few long minutes he looked up and asked, “So you don’t have anything that says she’s with you all?”

“I went through everything I could including the informant list. I don’t have access to all of it, but I know how their operations work. So you shot that psycho in the bar?”

“Nah there was too many people running out. Yareli and I were down the street at another place having lunch. We ran in and couldn’t get a clean shot. Yareli took a pool stick broke it in half and went after him and beat the snot out of him. Funny thing is it seemed to give him a moment of clarity. He started talking because she’d bested him in a fair fight.”
“Sounds like you picked a good work wife man. How is that going?”

A.J. paused for a moment before he looked up from the file, but replied “Yareli is something else alright. Oh and none of that work wife shit if you see her alright. Anything else on that killer?”

The Vice City Police like many departments was a boys club. Shooting, fishing, and jet boat racing were among the most popular hobbies. You’d better like football and you had to know how to get your drink on. Women were part of the department, but few were given the respect they deserved. When someone was partnered with a female they often said they had a secretary with a gun, and more than a few had work wives. They’d bang their partner and just keep things casual. While it wasn’t everyone and he tried to stay above it and for the first time it bothered him that people were thinking of Yareli in that way. She was his partner and she deserved better.

“Ah okay sorry man. Not really a retired Liberty City Detective Harry Nixon was called in as a consultant. I included some of his notes in the file. He wasn’t any surer about this guy’s motives than anyone else other than he thinks he has a type. His theory is this guy’s got a lot of skills, so he doesn’t have to hire people to do stuff. Some years back he dealt with a guy who had like twelve jobs in ten years. He wasn’t incompetent he was taking them to learn, to get tools, and get access to victims.”

“You’re right not much to go on there. We’re looking for a guy who goes to hardware stores and works on his own car. We need some more clues, like why he changed up his victim type last time around. I don’t know what the hell this guy is thinking. Is there anything in there that can help with the armored car robbery?”

“Well gave you the department and company schedules which were widely distributed at the armored car company against our wishes. Seems they attached it to an overtime request memo and posted it all over.”

“Great so this is pretty much common knowledge on the street. What about what they’re carrying?”

“That they don’t know about other than it’s worth placing in an armored car. A lot of valuable stuff besides cash which thanks to the thriving drug trade and corrupt bankers is in the system.”

“So rival gangs could be going after these loads?”


“Yeah so watch your back man.”

After transferring some airline snacks and alcohol from the FBI cruiser to his custom Banshee he headed out and as the morning dawned the weather cleared. The car used to belong to a drug dealer who has passion for Banshees and had turned this one into something special. You could survive a gun fight and win a street race with this beast. With tinted bullet proof windows, hidden compartments, and no back seat to make room for jumbo speakers and extra trunk space it was the car he loved to take out for unofficial missions.

After making an effort to lose even the most thorough tail he made his way to the docks and after parking at the boatyard he cleansed himself of all things law enforcement and with a duffel bag over his shoulder walked towards the slip farthest to the left. Dwaine and Jethro were there as usual eating tacos laughing about something. Why Vercetti kept these stoners on the payroll was anyone’s guest, but they were loyal and that was important to the man. Dwaine was the first to look up and after having a drink of soda wiped his hand on his pants and walked over.

“Hey dude the man said you’d be coming by,”

He gestured to the large utility boat parked in the slip and continued, “That Reefer is in great shape man, and me and my boy just loaded the cases into it along with ah beer and breakfast stuff. Here’s the deal. You take your cruise do your thing, and come back. We’re handing it over to a client who is coming back in the afternoon. He’s taking the thing shark fishing and will be gone for months, so just don’t mess it up to badly, and like don’t get caught man.”

“Yeah I’ll try. So which one of you is going fishing with me?”

Jethro walked over and shook his head, “neither dude,” he said laughing.
A.J. had been promised a helper and even if less witnesses was best less help meant more work and more work meant more money. Seemed Jethro finally realized he’d pissed him off and said,

“You got Miss Barracuda going with you man just chill out.”

A.J. was about to ring his little neck when he saw a beautiful dark skinned woman with braids walk up the gangplank from the boat clad in sandals jean shorts and a bikini top that barely held her ample cleavage. She had a survival knife on her hip, but nobody was looking at it.

She walked over to all the men and smiled as they stared and nodded politely to Becker before saying, “Hello sir may I take your bag. I’m your captain today, but don’t worry I was on the Barracuda spear gun’s calendar because I know how to fish not just because I’m a pretty face. I’m qualified with small craft, firearms, and as a diver. I know the area and I will get you there safely.”

Becker nodded to the boys and walked passed them and just said, “Let’s go fishing than.”

https://youtu.be/zNgcYGgtf8M

Sharisha was a gorgeous woman who came to the states to model, but was only having minor success. A model who could shoot and spear fish though could get work showing off the gear got to do a lot of trade shows. She also worked as a fishing guide for charters where she offered full service to supplement her income, and mentioned she was already compensated, so she was open to fun that morning. They munched on a breakfast sandwiches before he headed into the small cabin in the bow section. He had the time so he’d make his checks now and be ready. He opened the first case and found a number of large envelopes containing large stacks of cash in small denominations. There was the personnel touch which was a black labelled bottle of Rockstar Edinburgh Whiskey. He smiled and put it along with the money into his bag after wrapping it all up in towels.

The next case was all business and he took out and examined Shrewsbury Woodstock bolt action sniper rifle. American made and great for killing deer or things on two legs depending on your mood he thought as he did his checks. He loaded the ten round magazine with the big bore ammunition provided and looked over a small explosive device before laying down on the bench. After about forty five minutes later Sharisha yelled down to him that they weren’t far from Leaf Links Golf Club and she wanted to know where he wanted the boat. He joined her at the controls and after doing some estimates she positioned the boat. It was show time so he checked his watch and went to get the rifle. The target would be in view any time, so using the boat’s binoculars he kept watch until he saw the man.

He’d sat down for a drink with Avery Carrington not too long ago and he’d brought up John Homes a troublesome land developer. He said the man hired gangs to drive down prices in a neighborhood and then bought cheap and built it up, and now was refusing to do business. He found it funny that Carrington was annoyed by someone being as scummy as he was, but money was money. The fact that Homes had crashed into a patrol car drunk and had injured two officers and bought his way out of it was just icing on the cake. Soon the man and his entourage which included body guards came into view at the water side hole. Whether this asshole’s trophy wife wanted to sell wasn’t his problem so he positioned himself on the bow of the boat and setup his shot.

The boat gently bobbed with the bridge off to his left and the small island that was part of the course off too his right. He watched the man have his assistant, an attractive woman in golf shorts light his cigar and then coil back as he groped her breast. He controlled his breathing and blocked out the sound, and pulled the trigger. Seconds he hit the man in the chest and to make certain he was dead he chambered another round and fired and the man’s head exploded before he hit the ground. He rolled on his back and yelled to Sharisha to get them out of there.
She fired up the engines and soon the boat was rocketing out of view before the body guards even thought to look out at the water. It didn’t matter nobody got a good view in the confusion, and what could they have seen? A Reefer was probably the most common fishing boat in the area. It was all good and as they headed back down the waterway he headed into the cabin. He lashed the two cases together after putting the rifle back and set the timer on the C4 explosive and threw it all into the water. The underwater explosion was barely noticed, but they didn’t stop until Ocean Bay Marina came into view.

He turned and looked at his very attractive captain and said, “Take me back to the boatyard I need to get out of here and clear my head.”

She turned to him and gently caressed his face and whispered, “Hey don’t worry honey I know how it is. You just did something you had to do. We all do things we don’t like. I can take you back but who goes fishing for just two hours huh? Wait a bit this is a popular spot and I’ll take good care of you.”

From her tone he knew she wasn’t talking about catching a lot of fish. So they went down on the deck and cracked a few cold beers and flirted and caressed and even kissed. Soon she was naked and stretching out beach towels on a large inflatable raft. She spread out on the pad opening her legs as she licked her lips caressing her pussy with one hand and the other stroking her mango size breast. She’d made it clear she’d already been taken care of for fishing and she wanted to have fun with him so why not. How else would he explain heading out to go fishing with no fishing gear on the boat? So he stripped naked to her cheers and as he stood her pedicured foot caressed his hard cock before he climbed on top of her and began licking her massive breasts. Her skin was wonderful and smooth and smelled like candy.

As he kissed her neck he asked her about condoms, and she replied to check in her kit. With that taken care of he rolled her over and she screamed with pleasure as he licked her legs from the ankles up to her curvy butt and kissed up her spine. She moved up to her feet and moved him to the fighting chair on deck and opened his legs. She took his long hard cock like the profession she was and slid it all in her mouth and only used her lips and tongue on his member. After the oral pleasure she sensually put the condom on over his cock using her mouth.

After more sensual tasting and touching they changed positions and with her legs over the sides of the chair he penetrated her as she sat in the tight chair. She moaned and savored the moment before thrusting her hips along with him. He pushed off the deck so he could fuck her even harder and soon she was grabbing on top him moaning and soon she gave into orgasm something few of her clients were able to do. He kept going and soon shot his load and got lost in the wonderful moment. All was right with the world even if just for a little while.

They laid out in the sun for a while before heading back to the boatyard where he parted ways with Sharisha who happily took his business card. He drove a short ways to Sunshine Autos and headed right to the service department. He told them to take care of the vehicle and grabbed his gym bag out of the back and walked across the street. The staff knew better than to look in the vehicle and if they did they wouldn’t tell anyone. One mechanic even offered to let him test drive the red and white Sandking parked behind the dealership. While B.J. Smith was still the owner on paper the NFL legend was spending most of his days at the gym trying to make a comeback. Vercetti had come in as a silent partner, and little appeared to have changed and as always in Vice City nobody wanted to talk about it.

https://youtu.be/ST86JM1RPl0

Across the street was a small but professional quality gym B.J. had setup so he’d have a place for him and his friends to workout close to the business. While the man wasn’t in that day Doctor Perkins was in and after talking over protein shakes he promised A.J. a few minutes after he’d finished his workout. So while the athletes and muscles heads waited to see the doctor A.J. took advantage and beat on the heavy bag lifted some weights and went with the jump rope hard. After a couple of hours he enjoyed a relaxing sauna and shower before Doctor Perkins joined him in the locker room. The Doctor asked him a few general health questions while preparing a syringe with a cocktail of performance enhancing drugs. After assuring A.J. that even the Olympics’ drug screening wouldn’t pick it up he injected his longtime friend and patient. He then discretely picked up his doctor’s bag and the envelope of cash, and then walked out wishing him well.

https://youtu.be/bnNWUUZ7cEA

He went back and picked up his car which not only was running fine, but had been thoroughly cleaned. He headed up to the north end of the city to the Greasy Chopper where the Biker’s were holding their beer and barbecue night. When he pulled up the street was full of bikers getting drunk or already drunk and patrol was trying unsuccessfully to keep things contained. The young Lieutenant looked to him with relief and practically bagged him to handle the situation. He parked and waded into the crowd and after some talking to some of the group’s leaders the crowd slowly headed back behind the bar and to the side of the building along the river.

Harris Mint was the first to come over and give him a beer before ordering prospects to watch his car park it where he could easily leave. The two young men jumped as the men laughed and walked inside where the room was clogged with bikers. Of course women did break up the sea of leather and tattoos. Two muscular young women in bikinis were wrestling in an oily pit, others walked around in Greasy Chopper t-shirts and little else serving drinks, and women of all shapes sizes were there as “dates.” There was something about a bike, a beard, and tattoos which made young girls want to take off their clothes. With that thought in mind A.J. reminded himself to take his bike out of storage. Without saying a word the enforcer lead A.J. up a back flight of stairs to the apartments. The music wasn’t as loud, but the music was replaced by moans and grunts from the rooms on either side of them as they walked to the corner apartment.

Once the door was shut he was greeted by “Big” Mitch Baker the club’s leader who didn’t waste any time and asked, “You get the stuff I asked for boy?”

A.J. gritted his teeth and nodded and retorted, “Yeah like always and on time I might,” he said handing over several sealed files.

Mitch just nodded ripping open the first one and looking pleased and saying, “Yeah yeah I know you’re good kid despite being a cop. Should have stayed in the service like your old man. Anyway thanks for help broking that arrangement. Those massage places are a gold mind, and those girls are beautiful. Also two of those guys you used for the Shark thing are paid and out of the country.”

By then A.J. had wondered over the small bar to the side and made himself a Cuba Libre. He was listening, but tried to ignore the comment about his father being an example for anything in his life. He just smiled and raised his glass with approval. He wasn’t going to talk about the helicopter operation, the corrupt business deal or the background checks on the newest prospects to the club. Seems they were violent young men they claimed to be and none had even bothered to get a motorcycle license.

Baker nodded and turned to his associate and said, “Pay the man alright so I can get back to the party and maybe get something to eat.”

Harris just grunted and turned to A.J. and said, “You’ll find a package in your car, and come down and have some brews and enjoy the party after you talk with Bruce,” he then turned back to his boss and patted him on the shoulder and said, “no worries I talk to Griller he’s got your food off to the side.

A.J. listened to the two men head down the hallway and finished his drink and made himself another before walking into the kitchen where he saw Bruce city at the table. There was bucket of ice cold beers, a platter of ribs, and not surprisingly a stubby shotgun all sitting in front of him. He slid into the seat across from the heavy set cop at the kitchen table and tried to sound pleasant when he said, “Good to see you Bruce you know the party is downstairs.”

“Yeah I know but I came to see you and congratulate you on some fine work today. You like Shari? Anyway got a bonus for you and wanted to tell you I talked a friend on harbor patrol. They got nothing on you and that boat headed out today,’ he said tossing an ornate looking envelope over to A.J. who began opening it right away.

He glanced over the membership form inside and looked up and said, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me Bruce a membership in Leaf Link’s Golf club.”

“Hey nobody knows anything and they like to give them out once in a while to people who help the community and such. A hard working civil servant like you deserves it, and besides not as many people want to play for a while.”

“That isn’t funny man and do I look like the golfing type?”

“Hey it’s a place to network kiddo. You can’t do contact sports forever.”

“Is there anything else I would like to enjoy the party. The all-girl Led Zeppelin cover band is playing soon is pretty damn good.”

“Yeah some old military friends have heard about you, and they’ve got a few things going on and say they could use someone like you for a few things.”

“Ah not thanks Bruce. I’m done with that stuff I’m just going to be a cop that’s dangerous enough.”

“Whatever go have a good time and then think about it alright. Call me when you want some details. I might have a few things coming up too.”

With that A.J. shook his head and made his way back to the party where as usual things were getting wild. Bike races, bare knuckle boxing, and shooting at floating targets from the beach were just some of the things going on. He collected some money on side bets, and drank a gallon of beer and destroyed a few platters of ribs. When one young punk said he could best him in a motorcycle race despite being drunk he hopped on a friend’s bike and they took off. It was close but an old trick of sliding the bike on its side and under his opponent’s knocked the kid off feet from the finish line. There was a lot of cheering and laughing and the young punk almost went for his weapon, but thought better of it when he saw everyone else going for their weapons. He begrudgingly tossed A.J. a wad of cash and stormed off.




He hung out to around three o’clock in the morning when he’d decided he’d had enough. Could have brought a girl home, but he wasn’t in the mood. The music was good, the food was good, and the beer was cold. Still there was something bothering him about the whole thing. He wasn’t like those men. He wanted more than to just live every night like it was Saturday night. He wanted more out of life. What that was he didn’t know. His stepmothers always said don’t judge marriage by them, and being a parent wasn’t easy but came with a lot of joy too. Something had to fill the emptiness, but so far all the things he’d been doing weren’t helping.

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The next morning was brutal, but he still got up and took care of things. He left his cool air conditioned house to take Cleopatra for a long walk before he took his jog. He cooled off in the pool and ordered lunch from Grillsteak who were happy to deliver it. He ate outside looking at the pool feeding Cleopatra her own meal of steak and fries. For everyone bottle of Sprunk he drank down one jug of water. Afterwards he went in and cleaned a number of his weapons, made some phone calls including most importantly a call to his mother. She was concerned as always, but he assured her he was fine even if he was lying. She had seen the news and was concerned and pestered him about visiting before he finally said goodbye to her.

That evening after only snacking he decided to turn in early he was back to work tomorrow and he plans for an early morning. He let Cleopatra out for one last time before checking the house and arming the alarm. Since he’d taken over the property he’d added gates, more trees to add privacy, and a state of the art security system that you’d normally only find on mansions. He also had the company periodically sweep for bugs. Nobody was going to catch him off guard in his castle. He’d already made arrangements to have the Rancher dropped off at his house, so he’d make his visit before linking up with Yareli.

https://youtu.be/Vppbdf-qtGU?list=PLMSZiNc_gg-P1v31tIs8yvQk2LsFO1Qjg


While A.J. was bedding down for the night Penelope Montenegro was doing her best to stretch her musical ability in the lounge of the Albert Hotel in ocean view. The small hotel normally accommodated people who wanted to be close to the beach and relax with a cocktail in the evening. Lately though the place was jammed with construction work from all over the south and many of whom had brought their wives, and they weren’t into her regular play list. So she’d spent the last week learning a ton of music she’d never thought she’d perform. Her normal outfit now included cowboy boots and hat as well. It was paying off though and her performing ZZ Top got plenty of cheers. She finished off her last set sing with another woman from the audience The Judds -Rockin With The Rhythm Of the Rain in her best southern accent. Sure Yareli and the girls would probably laugh their heads off, but she had a full tip jar and plenty of free drinks to enjoy.

https://youtu.be/HN-Qb6tP7to

The next day A.J. was up before the sun and with a weapon in his waistband he went for a run, and by the time he returned his truck was parked. He took a shower fed Cleopatra and once he was sure he had everything he headed out for the day. He first stopped at a little place to order food near Vice Point Police Station where he met Adam Sawyer who’d used to work with the department’s intelligence unit. He was on Swat now, but had kept his contacts and just received some important information. Thing was he couldn’t act on it fast enough through official channels, but if someone just bumped into a fugitive that was something completely different. A pair of note pads were exchanged one with information and the other filled with cash.

As he walked out glanced at his watch and figured out the time table in his head. He’d still be able to do everything and make this bust. So he threw the chocolate shakes in the cooler in the back and drove to Schuman Health Care Center. Once there he headed up to Maria Romeo’s room with a care package. He told the rookie on duty to take a smoke break and as Maria sat up she was shocked when he began unshackling her something nobody had done since she arrived.

“Hey what you doing you can’t take me to county yet asshole! What you want?”

A.J. just smirked and kept taking off the bonds. Maria reacted by moving to a defensive position while still on the bed looking at him in fear and rage. He decided to clear the air and said, “You’re the baby sitter that raised little Yareli? Three murder convictions, a dozen auto thefts, and who knows how many assaults. How in hell did she become a cop?”

This one knows something she thought before replying, “She was a good girl a tough girl but good, and trust me I never thought she’d be a pig…I mean a police woman. I knew she’d go to college. So smart growing up I mean she could read before school and understood cars, and...” She forgot herself for a moment and then realized the man was a stranger and she still didn’t know his intensions.

Rubbing her raw wrist she looked at A.J. and asked, “What do you want with me cop. I won’t say anything without my lawyer and I don’t care how bad you beat me I’ll never say anything bad about my angel.”

A.J. smiled and handed her the large chocolate shake and a large paper bag before saying, “I’m here because your hair looks horrible and your breath stinks, and I want some incite. Now go get in the shower.”


A little surprised Maria drank down the cold frosty milkshake so fast she got a brain freeze and walked into the bathroom. In the bag there was a towel, body wash, shampoo, and other necessary items like a real razor to shave her legs. She washed herself clean several times and groomed herself. She was tempted to use the shower massager to masturbate, but she didn’t want to push her luck. When she dried off with one towel and put her hair up in another before putting on shorts and a t-shirt which were a welcome change from the gown. She stepped into flip flops and walked out into the room feeling decidedly more human.

“Okay you have been almost as nice as my angel and don’t worry I put everything in the bag for you to take. That shower felt so good, but I didn’t mind the nurses washing me. So I think we can talk what do you want to know?”

A.J. also had an envelope he’d recovered from property and pulled out a few photos. Maria thought they’d been lost, but they’d just been misplaced and nobody had any incentive to look. Her eyes lit up and she smiled as she went through each one before looking at Becker and saying, “Please tell me I can keep these. I thought these were gone forever. You’re going to make me cry you jerk.”

He smiled and nodded to her and put his hand on her shoulder supportively and replied, “They belong to you they stay with you, but I got to ask. Is Robina spying on me for anyone? She has her own ethics, but if you know anything I need to know it. I won’t hurt her, and right now I can get her transferred easily.”

It took a moment for Maria to look up from the photos, but when she did she turned right to him and looked him eye and said, “My girl don’t fucking rat! She knows better, but more importantly she don’t hurt people like that. She lied to the cops a million times about her dad, and helped me out too. Even if she didn’t like you she wouldn’t rat.”

“Well that’s a character reference anyway. Thanks for the information. I have to get out of here, so I’ll have to secure you again. I’ll be in touch though.”

“I gotcha but I can tell you something that’s not exactly secret, but well will drive her nuts. It’s all okay though since I love her.”

After securing Maria to the bed Becker headed back down to the parking lot. Maria wondered what he was up too, but she had dealt with plenty of cops. He could have beat the shit out of her and gotten away with it, but he was super nice. Most others would have just given her a cup of coffee and a donut. So he was the one watching her back. That was a good thing, but she needed to talk to the girl about all this as soon as possible. For now though she looked at the old familiar photos and smiled. The one of her holding Yareli over her shoulder while she cooked on the stove was a favorite. She was overjoyed when one of first words was Maria, and that good feeling never went away despite all the drugs and jail.



After checking in at Hyman for a short visit Becker was back at the station house putting things in order at the front desk. When he knew he’d have the vehicle he needed he finally headed back to meet with Yareli. He knew she was pissed about something more than just the fact she’d been stuck with the paperwork for a few days. They talked and he understood her feels, but he also knew she was hiding some of the pain. It sucked when even a fuck buddy betrayed your trust, but a few kind words and a chocolate shake seemed to help a little. She went over what was going on, and showed him what forms he needed to sign as he snacked on his greasy excuse for breakfast. She did bring up going out to run down some leads, but he shook his head.

“We got a tip and the surveillance vehicle should be ready in the next twenty minutes. So get your gear together and I’ll explain along the way. Also bring all the tools in your tool kit. If this goes bad, we’re going to need them.”

Yareli was still the probie but after three days of bad coffee and endless reports she’d had enough. She stood up and more than a little perturbed yelled, “Oh hell no you don’t just get to walk away and tell me to come running along like a little girl. I’m your partner and you owe me an explanation now!”

With heads now turning and even the captain looking out at him Becker turned around and walked over to his irate partner and leaned in close and whispered, “No I don’t Beatrice you’re the probie so get ready to put in some serious work. Now get a move on we don’t have much time. The van will be out front.”

Becker walked away with his usual swagger and every officer in the room was silent for a long moment before Yareli reached down to grab her purse and glanced around the room. How in hell did he know that? That wasn’t even in her department file. Only her grandmother ever called her that and who hell told him. Before she could think she saw people looking and screamed out “Have we won the war on crime? Get back to work!”

There was a flurry of activity as Yareli walked to the locker room to get her stuff. She changed into tactical pants and a tank top and sports bra. The other pair of boots she laced up were unique in that they were made to hold a lovely throwing knife she had. If bullets didn’t work she wasn’t about to give up. She’d left the repaired Swat team stuff in the car, but she still had some special body armor in her locker. It was bulky and uncomfortable to wear in the car, but after you’d been shot a few times you minded less. She added a heavy duty gun belt with plenty of extra magazines for her .45 caliber pistol. The next two weapons might not be the best choices, but they were reliable and she knew she could count on them.

She loaded the pump action shotgun she’d carried since the first days on the streets with a badge before loading her Tec-9 which was the first weapon she learned to shoot as a girl. She remembered being in the alley with Maria as her sitter emptied bottles of pop and beer she’d shoot them off the wall. While most bangers would spray she aimed, and thanks to her admirer at the shooting range it had a laser sight and several extended magazines. It was nice but inappropriate gesture, so she called his wife to thank him for his special gift. He didn’t say a word to her during her next visit to the range. The weapon was legal, but not department issue so she normally kept it in reserve. She grabbed her regular bag and lugged it out front where she found Becker leaning against a beat up black Burrito van.

She lugged her bag into the rear passed him as he checked out his carbine assault rifle, and just grunted walking passed him and placing her weapons in the front seat. The Burrito was made up to look like a beat up utility van that was typically used by painters, plumbers, and the like. Most undercover operations used them since they were so common. She walked back over by Becker who was now wearing combat boots, camouflage pants and a brown t-shirt. As typical his badge just hung on a chain and he had no body armor on while she was sweating from just walking across the parking lot. He waved to some giggling female dispatchers before turning to her in time to see her roll her eyes.

“I know you like showing off, but please put on some freaking body armor will you? What is this dangerous assignment anyway? Shouldn’t we have backup?”

“All in good time but first a question.”

“You’re not telling me anything and you have a question for me? Whatever just ask me.”

“How did you know about my mom? Where I grew up my dad and all that?”

“You kidding me? I called a friend at personnel, and asked to run a check. I like to know who I’m partnering up with and well you’ve got issues.”

“You’re probably right Yareli and it’s all true, but you didn’t get that from the department’s files. Far as they’re concerned I grew up happy hand healthy on a military base.”

“Come again?”

“Our local military base where my father served out of doesn’t have base housing for family. Some years back they built it outside of Vice City, but the government made it part of the zip code. Military kids go to school there and all the mail comes through Vice City post office. I got a local address thanks to the old man, and it was easy to make it look like I grew up on post. No issues and plenty of helpful references. So yes I grew up white trash and my step-mother is only seven years older than me. Still grew up strong and she’s my mom, so like to try again with the truth this time Yareli. If that’s too hard for you walk now, and I’ll head out alone. Find another training officer.”

She was caught in a lie and there wasn’t any good denying it. She couldn’t tell him she was working undercover with the DEA besides if he knew already she’d just get bullet in the brain and he’d have some thug take the fall. So coming clean wasn’t the answer, but she had to give him something with meat on it. He might still be suspicious, but well she had to build trust with him one lie at a time. The best lies though had elements of the truth, so she cleared her throat and took off her sunglasses completely and looked in his eyes.

“Look if you knew the mother I had you’d know I’m in no position to criticize anyone’s mom. Never mind how you grew up. The truth is I asked an old friend, an old lover from the feds to run a more thorough check on you. You know the situation with him, and I’ve done a lot of bad things, but I’m not a bad person. He said you were a tough cop with a reputation, and you went out of your way to keep people safe. If you want another partner I understand, but I’d rather stick with you and make a difference.”

Becker looked at her for a long instant before saying anything. She was still hiding things, but was the fact that she was investigating him or more likely she regretted boning a married man. He nodded and looked in her eyes and said, “Get in the truck we have work to do.”

Despite her looking a little concerned he walked passed her but before he got in he yelled out, “It’s a new day partner let’s see if we can make it to the end of it in one piece.”

It wasn’t a long drive into Little Haiti, but they covered a lot on the ride over. With Vercetti taking control of the city and his alliance with the Cubans the Haitians had been on the run. Loss of product, manpower, and territory had driven them underground. It was even suspected in the department that Auntie Poulet the old crone who ran the show was dead, but nobody was sure. Still they organization rebuilt on the home island and fighters arrived by boat with machete in hand daily. They were being smarter now, but no lest brutal and taking on all comers. Whether it was the Cubans or the cartels they attacked without fear.

Becker explained that his intelligence contact had plenty of information, but nothing that would hold up in court or even be enough for a search warrant, but a lot had developed in the past few days. A high ranking cartel member living in Vice Point was busy boning his twenty-one year old girlfriend while a Haitian death squad massacred his crew on the two lower levels of the building. The crime scene was a mess with bodies hanging upside down, and much of the slaughter done with bladed weapons and chainsaws. Investigators found the cartel’s representative’s head on a spike and his traumatized girlfriend naked and covered in his blood. While this enraged the cartel and their Cuban allies they made a strategic strike rather than all out revenge.

They’d found out who was responsible and killed a Haitian enforcer and his crew with Molotov cocktails burning them to death in their favorite pizza place. This would most likely heat up the current conflict, but while both sides figured out their next move there was an opportunity to strike for the police. Gang Lord Escthkenaz Mathercol was coming from Haiti to the states to take the body back of his most trusted servant back home for burial. The man hadn’t left the island in a decade and hadn’t left his compound in three years. Once he left he wasn’t going to come back, and they’d never have another shot like this to take down a man who was responsible for ordering hundreds of murders with a satellite phone. He’d survived numerous attempts on his life including it was rumored efforts by the United States government.

Taking the man down in Little Haiti was next impossible since every gang member would be on the streets to a catch a glimpse of a legend. While killing the man could be justified and even over looked by the department but he knew too much, and they had to at least try and capture him. He’d already slipped into the neighborhood early that morning, but how he was getting out was known. The informant said that he’d be riding in one of three Romero hearses with his body guards back to the airport. Once he was back at the airport he would take the ambassador’s plane home, so taking him at the airport was out. If they took him on the main drag local cops would arrive when the shooting started and he’d have no way to escape.

When they arrived at the intercept location Becker explained the plan to Yareli. They’d hit them just before they made the turn to the airport which would cut them off from heading back to the bridge, and prevent them from going to the harbor. It was a safe bet lights and sirens would provoke some gun fire from the Haitian crew, so help would be on the way in no time. Once that went out over the radio as per procedure the airport would go into lockdown preventing further chance of escape. It wasn’t all together legal to provoke an incident, but you were supposed to pull over for the police after all. Becker seriously doubted these guys would be so courteous.

While Yareli kept watch with binoculars Becker climbed in the back and put on body armor, but he made it clear that it wasn’t because she told him too. That got a bit of a laugh out of her as she sipped coffee and looked down the road. The cars wouldn’t be hard to spot, and it wouldn’t be much longer but the tension began to build. He dealt with bit by checking his weapons one last time. The assault rifle was ready; he’d already cleaned his pistol, so the only thing left was his Uzi. He’d wished he had more of that nasty red tipped ammunition from the other day, but that was another case entirely.

He yelled up to Yareli and asked, “You see in anything yet? You know if this works out I’d consider making this a full partnership.”

Yareli snorted before saying, “You’d better get up here. There is a gap in the traffic our funeral convoy might be slowing everyone down. I thought we had a full partnership already.”

Ready to go A.J. climbed back into the front seat now cluttered with weapons and sat down and turned to Yareli and said, “No but it will be when I tell you everything.”

Yareli’s smirk slid into a smile and she nodded before looking back through the binoculars. It was a few minutes later when she said to her partner without turning away “we’ve got them three black cars that look like our funeral detail. You have any idea which one holds the corpse and which holds the target?”
Becker fired up the van and soon was pulling out behind the cars on the road. He placed a red light on the dash and said, “Which ever one makes a rush for the airport. The key is not to be bogged down by the ones who want to fight us. Call this in as an active pursuit I have a feeling we’re going to need some help.”

“Yeah it would be a shame to get killed before backup arrives,” Yareli said before contacting dispatch and pulling out her shotgun and chambering a round.

Becker looked over and smiled and said, “That’s my girl now let’s catch us some bad guys,” for some reason after nodding Yareli felt herself blush.

He’d driven up on the third of the three vehicles and even before he hit the light on the dash the Haitians knew something was up. Windows began to open up and gang members began hanging out of them with Rugar assault rifles in hand. Yareli didn’t wait and began blasting away with the shotgun as they rocketed alongside the vehicle. Shot’s glanced off their armored frame, but there were cracks in the windshield. Without thinking Yareli moved up the side of the car blasting than chambering a new round taking out target after target. She noticed out of the corner of her eye Becker trying to pull his weapon to fire out of the window.

“Would you just fucking drive they’re going to get away.”

“That ain’t happening and this isn’t my first rodeo just be ready to take out the engine will you!”

“How am I supposed to do that those things are solid, and “before she could finish he’d hit the gas again and slammed into the hearse hard. Yareli pulled her arms inside the window as glass and steel smashed and Becker pushed them off the road into a divider. He cut in front of them blocking them from going forward and she suddenly realized her opportunity. She grabbed for his M4 and emptied it into the front of the hood making it fly back and exposing the engine which she hit with another burst of bullets. It soon began catching on fire as Becker shot at the next vehicle in the line blowing out the back window.

He noticed the fire and promptly hit the accelerator and coolly said, “time to go,” and less than a minute after they started back on the chase the car erupted into flames.

By now the highway was total mayhem with people slamming into to each other trying to drive away or pull off the road. Sirens blared as police and fire units began to arrive to deal with the car fire. Yareli glanced back as she saw patrolmen shoot an already badly wounded gang member as he raised his weapon at them. These guys were freaking fanatics, but Becker was still right on their tale when the rear door of the vehicle opened and a coffin went flying out.

It bounces towards them but Becker cut into the other lane of oncoming traffic to go around it narrowly missing several cars to get around the coffin. Seconds later it exploded fling wood and the corpse all over. Becker grunted something about no respect for the dead as Yareli reloaded both weapons. More shots came from the now open back of the black vehicle, so Becker swung wide giving Yareli the opportunity to take out the tires. With two tires hit and a good shot into driver’s seat the long dark vehicle went crashing off the road. More sirens let them know that that would also be handled by the other officers. They could see a Cheetah pull up with two Vice officers hopping out and drawing down on the vehicle. More shots were fired, but they had to get the big man whose car was now pulling off to one of the side streets near the airport.

Beck hung close and just nodded to Yareli as he rammed into the hearse and drove it right into a telephone pole nearly knocking it over. He drove passed sharply cutting the wheel with a screech which had Yareli facing the vehicle head on. She fired into the car blasting out the front windows until she ran out of ammunition. She changed magazines before opening her door and cautiously moving around to the drives side where she first saw the dead driver slumped over the wheel. Becker was moving around the passenger side and pulled open the door and the body of a dead body guard fell onto the pavement. This had to be the car, and Becker gestured for her to be careful as they moved down the long vehicle.

For have a second he saw movement and the door went flying open and a machete wielding Hattian with fire in his eyes. Becker cooly cut him down with a blast of 9mm from his Uzi, but at the same time shotgun blast hit Yareli squarely in the chest. Just out of view laying on the floor of the car he pushed out the door and scrabbled out and cocked his combat shotgun again as the side door opened. Yareli felt the creep step on her hand as she reached for her rifle and grunted she’d gotten the wind knocked out of her and it made it hard for to reach for her holstered weapon. It didn’t matter though Becker blew out the window and filled his right side with lead. There was a commotion at the back of the vehicle as the shredded body landed on Yareli who winced as her rips took another hit.

Beck ditched his Uzi rather than reload and pulled his pistol and began making his way around the car. He yelled out, “Yareli you okay partner? Cavalry is coming down the road.”

Yareli grunted and pushed the corpse off of her and pulled her pistol and pushed herself to her knees. She wasn’t sure whose blood was on her, but she was alive. “Don’t fucking worry about me look out for the back. The drapes are drawn!”

Becker pulled open the back hatch and saw a Tec-9 so he fired two shots into whoever was holding it, but as he did someone else pushed passed that attacker. A large black man in a white suit with a beard slammed a club down on Becker’s head so hard he almost blacked out. He felt to the ground as the man pulled apart the wooden shaft to reveal a machete blade. He wanted to puke but he raised his hand cannon and fired the last four shots into the guy. It knocked him back but the sick fucker started laughing and clearly had body armor on. He began walking forward as Becker trying to keep his mind clear searched for a speed loader on his belt.

Determined he moved over Becker and raised the blade over his head and began chanting something, but it was muffled by the sounds of a dozen .45 pistol bullet’s blowing out his back. Yareli came around the corner blood and beat up with a pistol in each hand, and as the body hit the floor she put a shot in the head to make sure. She stood there a minute before holstering her weapon and looking over at her partner.

“Hey you alive partner?”

“Yeah ah can I sit out few plays coach?”

“Oh boy,” was all she could say as she waved to the police and more importantly the ambulance come over. She was in a lot of pain, but pulled off her body armor and kneeled down to help Becker sit up. She lit to cigarettes and put on in his mouth and moved his bloody hair away from the wound. They’d saved each other’s lives in the course of a few minutes. Yeah they were partners. Becker reached out and squeezed her hand and she thought he said something about doing good. Any other sentiments were interrupted by the flurry of EMT’s on the scene.

Things went a little blank after that with both of them insisting the other needed to go the hospital first, but in the end they both road together to West Haven Community Health Centre. He was in and out of consciousness, but at one point he remembered reaching out to Yareli on the other stretched and they held hands. At the emergency room they were separated as teams checked them both out. Hours would pass before Becker found himself staring up at the ceiling; he pulled himself up on the stretcher’s rails, and swung his legs around. He was shirtless, but he still had his pants and boots so he was fit for duty.

Long as walking wasn’t required he’d be fine he thought as he fell catching himself on the stretcher as two nurses came running in. One was in the typical white nurse’s dress, but she was black with dread locks, and the other was in scrubs with a variety of tattoos on her arms. The black one was first to get under his arm and help him back to his feet.

She shook her head and smiled to her friend before looking at Becker and saying, “They told us you wouldn’t sit still for long. I guess no smoke break Rachel. Honey you’re no shape to walk out of here.”

With the other nurse’s help they guided him to a nearby chair and began checking him out. They introduced themselves as nurses Nelli and Rachel. They began explain his condition something about hitting his head and being pretty banged up like he was in a car accident, and that the doctor would be in in a minute. He could only think about one thing though.

“Where is my partner is she all right?”

Rachel nodded and replied, “She banged up her rips pretty good and a bunch of cuts, but she’s okay and she’s waiting. She can come in after you’ve seen the doctor.”

Yareli was in the waiting room surrounded by other cops brooding as she tosses another cup of cheap hospital coffee away after tossing down a few more pain meds. What was the big deal about her going in to see him anyway? Her rips were bruised not broken so the doctor bandaged her up and gave he some stitches. Seemed all the flying glass had cut her and Becker up pretty good, but neither had noticed, and while they didn’t wreck their vehicle they showed all the signs of being in a traffic accident. She made it clear that she wasn’t spending the night and even signed herself out, but like everyone else she was waiting to see about Becker.

She soon got her answer when she heard a scream from behind the doors, “Yareli where are you? Get the damn car I want go home.”

She smiled and hopped up and winced from the pain and walked through the double doors and quickly found Becker with to kind looking faces and a young doctor beside himself trying to explain why Becker shouldn’t go home.

Becker looked at Yareli and smiled and once again tried to stand, but this time Yareli was the one to get under his arm and help steady him. She winced again from the pain, but the drugs were kicking in finally. She looked over that the doctor and asked, “Can I take my partner home already he’s fine. He’s survived worse, and we’ve had a rough day so please.”

The doctor might have looked in experienced, but he wasn’t push over either. He nodded and then replied as he held up a rather fat file of charts and said, “I know he’s tough officer, but the bottom line is I’m surprised he’s awake. That blow should have killed anyone else never mind all those other injuries. On the plus size Detective Becker has passed all my tests, but policy states he should stay overnight for monitoring.”

Yareli wasn’t dealing with some resident she realized sighing as she held her partner steady. There had to be a way around this she thought so she asked, “come on there has to be some kind of exception. He passed all your damn tests, and believe me I know he has a hard head.”

Everyone laughed including Becker but the doctor was the first to be serious when he said, “If he was being monitored by a family member for the night, and came back for a follow up I think I could recommend him going home. But I’m not letting him go home to that big empty house he was telling us about with only a dog.”

“Fine I’ll stay with him until you say he’s okay just put me down as girlfriend or cousin or something.”

Nurse Rachel giggled and scribbled down on the chart before saying to Yareli, “congratulations you’re his common law wife. Don’t worry nobody cares we put it down all the time.”

“What is that freaking necessary I mean come on?”

Becker began to laugh hard and smirked before turning and kissing Yareli on the cheek and say, “come on honey let’s go home it’s been a rough day.”

An hour later they were over at Becket’s rather impressive home on the other side of town. The uniforms couldn’t do enough to help, and people brought over his vehicle and all her stuff. The captain who’d left a function promised to handle the press and two radio cars sat on the street on watch. While he was hesitant Becker gave Yareli the alarm code and his house keys, but warned her that his dog was vicious and very loyal. After opening the front door Yareli cautiously walked into the house and soon Cleopatra came running around the corner. Lots of people in her old neighborhood had dogs like this as pets and to guard their houses. The secret was not to treat them like the enemy.

She dropped down to her knees and smiled and said, “Oh who is the good girl guarding the house? You must be Cleopatra. I bet he calls you that because you’re so pretty. Bet your hungry too aren’t you.”

A few minutes later Becker walked in and found Yareli rubbing Cleopatra’s belly as the dog happily panted and pawed at Yareli to keep petting her. Becker just looked down and smirked and said, “You fury little traitor. I need a whiskey.”

Yareli jumped to her feet and gently pushed him towards the stairs going up and said, “not tonight cowboy you need to rest. I’ll wake you up in a bit, and you’re not allowed to die on me Okay?”

A.J. looked back and put his hand on her shoulder and looked in her eyes and said, “Yeah you’re right ah guest room has some changes of clothes and stuff. I get a lot of free shit and there is stuff for women there too. Oh and thanks for doing this you didn’t have too. And sorry I kissed you.”

“It’s okay you saved my ass and I returned the favor. I know you’d do the same for me, go upstairs and get some rest okay.”

The pair head upstairs and A.J. only pulled off his boots and laid on top of the covers. He drifted off quickly with Yareli sitting nearby and Cleopatra sleeping on a corner of the bed. She looked at the clock and planned to wake him up in an hour. She was still holding the keys to the house. She had the codes and he was out cold. Now as her chance, so why was she feeling guilty?

When Becker demanded she take him home, Yareli didn’t expect her training officer to live in some rundown hovel on the edge of town but she certainly didn’t expect to be directed to a fortified castle either. Between the high hedges and reinforced steel key coded gate, she couldn’t see much of the property but the sight of those sweeping staircases took her breath away. There was no way he could afford living like this on his salary. Even with inhuman overtime hours there was no way he could afford to live in such a palace without some serious supplementing of his income. All this she kept to herself of course, taking his keys and the alarm code without a word while Becker debriefed the Captain in the driveway. After sweet talking and loving on his supposedly vicious dog, Yareli found herself watching over a snoring Becker, his keys still in the palm of her hand. It was everything she needed. The keys to the castle with the king mostly incapacitated, Yareli had free reign.

But still she dropped them down on his nightstand and opted for a shower instead. The sound of the keys jingling roused Cleopatra and she hopped off the bed as Yareli eased her way out of the cushy recliner beside his bed. Despite his offer of clothes, Yareli went out to her car to retrieve the go bag from her truck and the stash box from the false bottom in her center console. It was hard thinking clearly covered in someone else’s blood so after checking in on Becker one last time, Yareli found one of the guest rooms and stripped down for a long hot shower. Even if she wanted to snoop, Cleopatra never left her side. Standing sentry by the door as Yareli stood naked in the bathroom mirror surveying the damage.

Her entire chest was various shades of black and blue from the buckshot impact to her vest. It’d be a little while before she wore a bikini but it was either that or a hole through her back. The bruises were a small price to pay so long as she was breathing, even if it hurt like hell. Then there were the skein of tiny nicks and stitched up gashes from all the shattered glass that ran from her hand all the way up to her hairline on her right side. If not for her aviators, Yareli was almost certain she could have lost an eye.

“Just another day at the office,” she mumbled and was surprised when Cleopatra sat up on her hind legs and yelped. “What do you think pretty girl? Am I still sexy,” she said, then blew herself a kiss. Of course she was, and to further that point, Yareli walked naked to the guest room and dug out a pair of cut off sweatpants and old tattered t-shirt with a neck so wide that the sleeves constantly fell down one shoulder. With her long hair wrapped up in a towel and no panties, it was clear she was going for comfort. She scooped up all her soiled gear and padded back to Becker’s room.

He was still sprawled out on his stomach but the snoring had stopped and for a moment, Yareli thought the worse. Then he farted, and Yareli thought she might pass out from the cloud he produced. Even Cleopatra turned and went the other way. “Sure, leave me alone to deal with this funk,” she grumbled as she stepped cautiously into the room. Her eyes went immediately to the keys but Yareli quickly pushed the thought out of her mind. He’d saved her life today, the least she could do was take care of him like a real partner would. The thing was though, over the last few weeks being Becker’s partner had become more her reality than being Darlings spy. She found herself paying less and less attention to his dealings which gave her less to give Darling during their nightly debriefings, which were quickly starting to resemble interrogations. That probably had more to do with the fact that Yareli shut down the candy shop. Sure she started out feigning headaches and lady troubles but that became too exhausting so one night she just flat out told him no.

“What do you mean no,” he said to her, already naked and planting soft kisses down along her jaw until she put her hand in face to push him off. “You never tell me no,” he said, completely taken aback but all Yareli did was shrug.

“First time for everything Darlington, get used to it.”

“But it’s not the first time...it’s been like two weeks. I know you Rel...you never go that long without any. What’s his name?”

“Please,” she said with a snort and slipped out of bed in an attempt to avoid the conversation but of course it wasn’t that easy. Blake was hot on her heels, following her out into the kitchen to block her path. He stared at her a moment, while she casually sipped her beer. “Better be careful Darling...I can almost smell the smoke.”

“You’re sleeping with him aren’t you?!”

“Sleeping with who? Becker...Fuck you Blake…”

“You must be. Why else would you be freezing me out…”

“Do you hear yourself right now,” she said through laughter that only served to agitate him. If it was one thing Blake Darlington hated more than being called Darling it was being laughed at, and no one knew that better than his old flame. “I mean don’t get me wrong, it’s convenient but the dick ain’t all that.” That wasn’t exactly the truth and he knew, which is why he wasn’t phased.

“Be honest with me Yareli. Are you fucking him?”

“What would it matter to you if I was? It’d help the case wouldn’t. I mean let’s be real I gave you a little pussy and you told me all your dirty little secrets so why wouldn’t he, right?”

“It’s not like that Rel you know that...I care…”

“Blake you don’t give a fuck about me,” she said cooly and it caught Blake off guard He opened his mouth to continue his lie and Yareli put her finger to his lips. “You want honesty Blake...here’s a little honesty for your ass. I hadn’t even thought about fucking him but now that I see how much the thought of me giving him something you can’t have bothers you, I just might. Now that I think about, he is pretty hot with that rock hard body and country boy smile. Plus you know I’m a sucker for bad boys...I guess it was only a matter of time before I fell for his charms,” she said with a wink before she pushed past him and went back to bed.

“You’re a spiteful bitch you know that Robina,” he shouted from the living room and Yareli could hear him gathering up his belongings.

“So I’ve heard but I’m sure Ava might think otherwise,” was her easy reply as she lay back and lit up a Redwood. The .38 she kept on her nightstand was in her lap before Blake made it back into the bedroom, his face full of fury. Fist clenched. Nostrils flared. Chest swelled. “I bet she’d thank me for letting her know about the lying sack of shit she’s about to pledge her life to. I bet she’d thank me for saving her from years of heartache and betrayal she’s about to sign up for...What’s the matter Blake? Didn’t think I’d find out about your little rich girl in D.C.? About the wedding on April 12? I still have friends in D.C. too and they were more than happy to tell me all about you dalliances with the upper crust. But I’m curious Blake, do you even love her or are you using her like you are me...wait don’t answer that. Despite what you might be thinking I could care less about what happens between you and Ms. Talbot. You’re her problem not mine.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that from now on this is strictly a professional relationship. You do your job and I do mine, when this is all over we part ways and go back to pretending like the other never existed.”

“Wow Robina, I never knew you to be so sentimental…”

“Get out of my apartment Blake…”

“Don’t forget who pays for this apartment…”

“Yeah, yeah you got me by the balls, but I got the same grip on you. The only difference is my life has been fucked from birth. I can roll with punches, you though...I’m not so sure.”

Blake had never hit a woman before but at that moment he seriously contemplated setting a precedent. Yareli could see it in his eyes, that’s why she cocked her gun. He knew she’d pull that trigger without hesitation. She might not kill him but it damn sure wouldn’t be something he could just walk off. They stared each other down a moment before Blake finally relented and stormed out.

That was a week ago and he’d threatened to do everything but blow her cover if she didn’t bring him something good and soon. And she couldn’t use the “I’m only a probie” excuse anymore. Come Monday morning, her probationary period would be over and the Captain was already talking about promotions and commendations for cutting the head off of the Little Haiti, literally and figuratively. She had to make some kind of move, but Yareli wasn’t sure what? Her and Becker had been getting along great but she still didn’t trust him not to blow her brains out if she told him the truth. She didn’t trust Blake either for that matter, now less than ever and she killed her chances of gaining insight when she closed her legs. Yareli was between a rock and a hard place but it wasn’t the first time she found herself in a tight spot and wiggled her way free. Her head hurt too much to think about it now though, especially with Becker’s phone ringing constantly since they walked in the door.

“Mira you can’t hear that,” she groaned as she sat down on the edge of the bed and ran her hand up his back, gently rousing him awake. “Becker...come on cowboy you gotta get up. Your girlfriend won’t stop calling and that ringing is driving me crazy.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend Robina I told you that...and beside I thought we got married tonight,” he grumbled finally rolling over to his back and reaching blindly for the phone at his bedside. Yareli went into the bathroom to give him some privacy but Becker did nothing to lower his voice. “I’m okay Michelle calm down...really I’m fine...no my partner’s here, doctor’s orders...no stay where you are I’m fine...I know you worry about me honey but I’m a big boy...just a little concussion no big deal. I’ve had worse...I will as soon as you stop calling...I know I know I’m sorry...Okay...Okay...I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“For someone who claims not to be attached that sounded an awful lot like relationship talk,” Yareli said once she heard the phone hit the cradle.

‘I can’t help it women want to take care of me…”

“I could take you back to the hospital if you want me to,” she said, turning on the shower for him before she came back to stand beside the bed. Arms folded across her chest, waiting for him to say something snide, but all he did was grin.

“I see you found the shower…”

“Yeah you should too,” she said waving for him to sit up. Becker gave it a shot on his own but wavered a little and Yareli caught him without missing a step. “ I think that’s more than a little concussion you got there Becks,” she said absently as she pulled his shirt over his head, then reached to undo his pants.

“Detective Robina are you trying to take advantage of me,” he said with a snort and Yareli rolled her eyes as she pushed him backwards.

“Please, do I look like someone who needs to take advantage of anyone,” she asked with a raised eyebrow as she unceremoniously yanked his pants off. Their eyes met when he sat up again and Yareli couldn’t help but blush with the way he seemed to study her in that moment.

“No, Yareli you don’t,” he said quietly and she bit her lip to keep from grinning. “You did good today partner.”

“I know Becker, you told me more than once.”

“I meant it. You’re a good cop, don’t let anybody tell you different,” he said with finger under her chin to lift her head.

“I want some of whatever they gave you,” was her blushing reply and Becker sucked his teeth. “Now let’s get you cleaned up…”

“You going to wash my back?”

“I’ll do no such thing,” she said with a snort, tucking under his arm to steady him as they moved slowly into his lavish bathroom. “Do me a favor and don’t stand up too long. I’m not in the mood to wrestle a pig tonight,” she added with a snort before she left him. But she didn’t turn around fast enough and caught a glimpse of not so little A.J. After almost a month with nothing but her hand, Yareli was not in a position to properly contain her delighted moan as she rushed out of his bedroom. All she could hope was that Becker didn’t see the way her eyes lingered.

But of course, there was no such luck. Even in his haze, A.J. recognized the effect he was having on his partner. And it wasn’t just about that little grunt when she caught sight of his cock. Buried beneath all the teasing, she was taking care of him. But more importantly, she actually seemed to care, and that shocked him. She could have been more gentle about it but then again she didn’t have to do any of it at all. Keeping an eye on him didn’t have to include making sure he didn’t kill himself trying to undress. Becker glanced out of the shower and noticed the pile of soiled clothes was gone from the bedside. A few moments later, the water pressure changed, signalling the washer he barely used. And as he eased his way out of the shower, he would have sworn he smelled charred meat in the air but chalked it up to wishful thinking and mind splitting headache. The drugs had worn off by then and he could barely see straight, the double vision causing his stomach to do flip-flops. He opened his mouth to call out to her but she was already there, helping him ease down in his chair before she rifled through his draws for clean clothes. The boxers, she tossed to him over her shoulder bringing him to chuckles as he struggled to pull them on without dropping his towel. The undershirt and gym shorts, Yareli actually brought over, and after a few failed attempts at pulling on the shirt alone, she stepped in to help him find the arm holes without so much as a snicker. And without hesitation, dropped down to help him pull on the shorts before she held out her hand to help him to his feet.

Once they made it to the kitchen, Yareli put him in a chair at the table and turned on the TV just in time to catch the captain’s press conference. But Becker barely listened to the praise, too busy tracking Yareli as she moved around preparing dinner. There was steak on the griddle and potatoes roasting in the oven. It all smelled delicious but Becker couldn’t recall any of that being in his fridge. Then again, all he ever looked for was beer so there was no telling what Michelle kept in order to display her wifely skills. Part of him felt bad for not letting her come over but he hated the way she doted on him sometimes. Yareli’s way was more like his mom’s, just enough nurturing to get him by and really, that’s all Becker needed. Michelle’s thoughtfulness could be smothering at times and more than once Becker had avoided coming home because he knew she would be there.

“You okay partner,” Yareli asked sweetly, a tone he’d never heard from her. Not without a snide comment attached to it anyway and he felt his lips turn up a little as his eyes focus on her face, full of concern. “You been staring at nothing for a while now...figured I’d ask,” she said and he hadn’t even realized it. Or the plate she put down in front of him.

“Wow,” was all he could say as she ran her hand along his head, pulling his hair back to get a look at the long stapled gash the ran along his hairline. “How’s it look?”

“Nothing that’ll hurt your chances on Saturday night,” she said with a wink and sat down across from him with her own plate. “Eat up or the next round won’t stay down,” she said and rolled a orange bottle with no label across the table. “Supposedly they’re vic’s so no booze for you tonight…”

“Aww you’re no fun,” was Becker’s pouty response as he dug into his meal.

“Yeah well I’m in charge. Don’t worry I got some herbal supplements for after dinner,” she added with a wink before she too got to work on her food.

It only took one bite for Yareli to realize they were both ravenous and it occurred to her that they didn’t have lunch before the shoot out. She made a note that a meal would be had before any and all operations from now on, if only to keep herself from looking like a pig at the trough because she was starving. Even if Becker never looked up at her as he too ate his fill. They both had seconds before Yareli dipped off to laundry room to toss their clothes in the dryer. She returned with a little wooden box and they moved to the obligatory black leather couch in Becker’s living room to veg out in front of the obligatory big screen television. There wasn’t much by way of conversation, aside from snide comments about their captain when the late night news replayed his press conference. Their names were barely mentioned and neither had much complaint about it. They knew what they’d done today, as did all of their colleagues. There was mention of commendations for two outstanding officers and Becker simply raised his forearm for Yareli to bump with hers. Drugs were taken, both prescription and otherwise, cigarettes smoked and a gallon of water downed between them before Yareli decided to call it a night. Becker had already begun to dose, and even though he extolled the plush comfort of the sofa, Yareli thought it best he spend his night in bed. He didn’t need much help this time but still she followed closely behind him as he climbed the sweeping staircase and flopped down in his recliner again.

“You don’t have to stay with me all night,” he grumbled, watching her toss and turn in the chair.

“Yeah right, and miss the chance to watch you seize out from a brain bleed. I think not,” she said with a snort and Becker tossed one of the spare blankets at her.

“Suit yourself probie,” he said, flipping over onto his side.

“Get it all in now Becks, come Monday morning you’ll be swallowing teeth I hear that again.”

“Alright Probie...sleep well Probie…”

“Go to sleep Becker,” she droned, eyes already closed.

“And probie…”

“Ughhhhh, WHAT?!!”

“I just wanted to say thanks that’s all...Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

“Impossible. I’m not wearing any Detective,” was her droning reply as she flipped over to her side and was very quickly asleep.

Becker didn’t know what to do with that information. Any other time a woman said that to him, he took it as an invitation. But Yareli wasn’t just any other woman and he wasn’t in any condition to defend himself against whatever she might do to him for being presumptuous. Still he found himself watching her in the darkness until he drifted off.

Blake Darlington spent most of the evening pacing back and forth between the phone and the television in Yareli’s apartment. He’d listened to the radio chatter and the live coverage of the chase on the news. It wasn’t until the end when he got worried. Not only would Becker’s success make it harder for him to build his case, but he’d also saved Yareli’s life. Stuff like that was a big deal between partners and Yareli wouldn’t take that lightly. After that last argument, there was no telling where her mind was, she’d completely shut him out. And it wasn’t just about the sex, she’d stopped talking to him about anything other than his case. She’d even stopped asking for help with her own cases, which only meant that she was spending more time with Becker.

It wasn’t often that Darlington ever felt anything like he did alone in her apartment. He was completely at a loss for what to do. As the hours ticked by without word from her, it was a concerted effort not to call the station. He’d called all the hospitals more than once, and of course they gave him nothing no matter what lie he fed them. The thought to go down there came and went, knowing Yareli, she would have caused a scene. And given her current status as a hero and Becker’s full fledged wingman, that would surely not end well for Blake. Or his case. All he could do was wait, and hope that she would come back to him when morning came.

Unfortunately Blake was the last thing on her mind when Yareli open her eyes the next morning. The first was how she ended up in bed with her face buried in Becker’s chest and why she felt like death warmed over. Everything hurt, every breath brought searing pain that radiated to her fingertips. Gingerly, she ran her hand down under the blanket and found they were both still dressed from the waist down. At some point in the night an arm came out of her shirt leaving her breast exposed but she quickly rectified that before she pushed herself up.

“Too bad I saw it already,” he said with a chuckle, one eye barely opened as he rolled to his back.

“You ain’t see shit…and how the hell did I end up over here anyway?”

“Well there was that little shootout,” he began and Yareli gave him right to the ribs that was a shade more than playful.

“I’m serious Becker!”

“Fuck if I know. I heard you got to the bathroom, without closing the door mind you, next thing I know you’re pushing me over and for somebody who seems so pissed about finding themselves in my bed, you don’t seem to be in any rush to get out of it.”

"Well I feel like shit so mama's not moving as fast as she would like,” Yareli said, already cooling down a little now that she knew nothing untoward had happened. Of course he could have been lying but if they had done anything other than sleep, she certainly wouldn’t have gotten dressed after. “Plus this mattress is like a cloud...and these pillows…”

"Well here’s a funny thought, why not enjoy it? There’s more than enough room to keep things from bumping against each other. I'll even build you a pillow wall to keep that hot little ass of yours safe..." That got him another hard shot to the ribs and this one almost took his breath away.

"Don't talk about my ass Becker...you shouldn't even be looking at it..."

"Why not? It was in my crotch half the night!"

"It was not!"

"Keep telling yourself that Robina..."

"I was cold...you’re like fucking furnace,” was her unconvincing explanation and Becker shot it down with good old fashion detective skills.

"Yet you kicked off all the blankets,” he said with a raised eyebrow and all Yareli could do was huff as she flipped over, giving him her back.

"Whatever, just get the pillows."

Becker didn’t say a word, just piled up the pillows down the center of his California king-sized bed, turned onto his stomach and was back to snoring in no time. They both had plenty of room to toss and turn but still it wasn’t long before the barrier was pushed aside and they lay face to face on a single pillow. Noses almost touching. Her arms tucked between them, one leg trapped between his. His arm around her middle, hand pressed against her bare back. With Cleopatra curled up at the foot of the bed, anyone who walked in on them at the moment might assume they were a couple, not two detectives who barely liked each other after an exhausting day where they both almost lost their lives. If not for the phone, they probably would have slept the rest of the day.

"I know you hear that," Yareli groaned, batting at him aimlessly without opening her eyes.

"Shhh babe they'll call back," was his grumbled reply before he pressed his lips to hers. It wasn’t until his hand drifted down to cup an unfamiliar ass that Becker open his eyes and was greet by the sight of a very perplexed Yareli. “I thought you were somebody else,” he said sheepishly, expecting a taste of her fist, but all she did was push his hand up her back.

"Whatever dude, your breath is gross,” she said, nuzzled her face down against his neck.

“Yours ain’t too much better,” he said with a snort, tipping his own head up to rest his chin in her hair.

It was well after noon before Yareli really woke up and dragged herself out of bed. And Becker’s arms. She’d found spare toothbrushes in the guest bathroom the night before and set about putting herself back to normal. The extra hours did nothing to soothe her battered body but it allowed her to think clearly about her next move. Snooping while Becker was home was out of the question, now that he had his wits about him. She’d have to come back on her own but that would require getting a copy of his keys which she left on the nightstand. Getting it would be easy, figuring how to copy it was another. The idea came to her while she brushed her teeth, her eyes lingering on the mini bar of soap, probably pilfered from some hotel. There had to be others and Yareli rifled through all the drawers in the vanity to find the stash. She grabbed two and tucked them inside her bra, beneath her breast, then pulled on a loose department issue VCPD t-shirt and torn black jeans. After throwing her hair up in a bun, Yareli grabbed her bag and headed back to wake Becker.

With Yareli gone, he had resumed his position in the center of the big bed. Arms and legs splayed out wide, it was easy to see how they ended up tangled together. It seemed they had similar sleeping patterns. Alone, they each occupied as much space as possible. Insert a warm body, and they clung to it. Yareli wasn’t so cynical that she didn’t realize that might mean something but now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. She had things to do and the first was getting Becker back to the hospital so they could both get medical clearance to return to work.

“Up and at ‘em cowboy,” she shouted with a loud clap, shocking Becker awake but all he did was groan and put the pillow over his head as Yareli moved to pull open the blinds. “Holy shit you didn’t tell me you had a hot tub...too late for that now. Come on lazy bones we got collars to make and cases to close and we can’t do that until we get your ass back to the hospital to get cleared.”

“Jeez Robina I didn’t know you could be so cheery in the morning.”

“I’m not,..it’s almost 3,” she said with a snort and yanked the pillows from under his head. “Come on Becks drag your ass up.

"MMMM....baby could you make me some toast and eggs."

"Yeah right...and don’t call me baby.”

"I thought you were my wife,” he said with a huff, finally pushing himself up off the plush mattress to sit on the edge of the bed a moment before Yareli pulled him up.

"Don't even,” she said rolling her eyes as she shoved him towards the bathroom.

"I have written proof!" he shouted and Yareli could clearly hear him making water through the open door. Now was her chance, and she quickly flipped the soap loose from her bra. Her body heat had softened it just enough that her plan might actually work.

"Oh that shot to the head must have knocked something loose,” she shouted back as she pressed his house key between the two bars of soap, in the hopes of making an impression

"Pleeeeaaasssse,” he begged and Yareli rolled her eyes again, but it had more to do with the giggle that came at the sound of his plea.

"I'm going to let the dog out if you get downstairs I might be willing to throw in a few more eggs," she said as she dusted the soap remnants off his keys and rewrapped the soap. “Coffee?”

“From a Cuban? Hell yes!”

Yareli found herself giggling at that as she headed downstairs. But her good spirits were quickly dashed when she realized Becker lacked a very important piece of equipment. All he had was a cheap drip coffee maker and that just wouldn’t do. She’d have to do it the old fashion way, the way Roxanne Torres’ Puerto Rican grandmother taught her. After letting Cleopatra out the sliding glass door, Yareli moved around the kitchen gathering up everything she might need for old fashioned cafe con leche. It wasn’t until the coffee was on the flame that she realized she’d taken out the skillet, butter, and eggs. She started to put it all back, but it wasn’t as if she wasn’t hungry too. Making him dinner was about taking care of him, making him breakfast while she made her own was just being considerate. Or, at least that’s what she told herself.

“Eventually you’ll find someone that you want to do things for, and when you do, hold onto them,” Roxy told her once after Yareli commented on her doubt that she would ever be considered wife material. “There’ll be someone who can look those hard eyes and see the sweetheart you hide so well.”

Yareli cringed at the thought, even now, as she cracked five eggs directly into the scorching hot frying pan. The coffee was already straining through a coffee filter lined colander over a pan of simmering milk. And it wasn’t about the possibility that “someone” could be Becker, but that that “someone” might exist at all. Yareli prided herself on her independence and lack of close emotional ties, the latter allowing her to live the life she wanted without concerning herself with the well being of others. Sure she wasn’t some remote island in the tropics, only accessible by a rocky boat ride from the mainland. She was more like Vice City, you could get there, no problem. But would you survive?

Becker’s arrival in the kitchen was purely coincidental, Yareli knew that for certain, but still it was unsettling to have him appear the heels of those thoughts. She expected some kind of snide remark about the plate of sunny side eggs, toast, and bacon or the steaming cup of frothy goodness she’d made for him, but all he did was nod a thank you. They ate in silence, though she found herself stealing glances at him, wondering if he was enjoying the meal. What the fuck do I care? For that she didn’t have an answer, not one she was willing to acknowledge anyway. As with any other uncertainty in her life, Yareli pushed it aside and cleared her plate.

Bellies full and caffeine addiction sated, they headed to the hospital where they were both immediately seen by the same young doctor who treated Becker the night before. He flashed a light in Becker’s eyes and poked around at Yareli’s ribs before he gave them both a clean bill of health.

“I’d tell you to take it easy but considering how you ended up here in the first place I doubt that’s possible,” he said and they both laughed at that, heartily. Being a cop in Vice City, taking it easy would get you killed. Despite the opposing approaches to law enforcement, that was one aspect of the job where they both agreed. The immediate success of their partnership was firmly built on that common ground.

Because of that success, neither of them were surprised to be summoned into the captain’s office as soon as they arrived at the station. A uniform came sprinting out to meet them as they climbed out of Yareli’s car in the detect lot in front of the building. The freckled face rookie seemed a little star struck as he skidded to a stop, stammering breathlessly as he delivered the captain’s message. Becker did his usual schmoozing while Yareli rolled her eyes and headed inside. She wasn’t used to all the positive attention. The gauntlet of high fives and slaps on the back was daunting even without the sore ribs. Being subjected the captain’s disdainful gaze was a welcomed reprieve but Yareli didn’t even get that. Capt. Colin’s greeted her at the door with a firm handshake and ushered her into the chair in front of his desk.

“Don’t tell me there was a funeral today,” she said of his dress uniform, face full of concern but the captain laughed it off.

“No Robina we didn’t lose anybody in you and Becker’s parade of destruction,” he said as he sat heavily on the edge of his desk. “I just came from a meeting with the mayor and the commissioner…”

“Well you’re smiling so it must not have been an ass chewing.”

“Who getting chewed now,” Becker chimed in as he strutted in with his chest swelled from his own welcoming.

“Nobody, sit down I’ve got good news for both of you…”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” both Yareli and A.J. said in unison, then shift their eyes at each other and back at the captain before he burst out laughing.

“In light of recent events the powers that be have deemed it appropriate to end your probationary period early Robina. Effective immediately, you young lady are a full fledged detective and on the short list to fill our newly vacated sergeant position…”

“What the hell,” again came from both detectives, but there was no glance exchanged. Becker was already standing and Yareli couldn’t figure why until he said, “I’m not wearing a suit Colin’s and I’m not going behind a desk!”

“Sit down Becker! Nobody’s trying to neuter you. No suits, no desk but you’re getting the bar whether you like it or not…”

“Do I get to pick my unit,” he asked with a glance at Yareli, who couldn’t contain her grin.

“You can make recommendation but I get final say…”

“So he’s picking his unit then,” Yareli chimed in and both men swung their eyes to her. “What? Like everybody doesn’t know he’s your favorite son,” she added with a snort and Becker rolled his eyes as he regained his seat. “Sorry, thought that was common knowledge…”

“Can it Probie,” Becker said with a sneer and Yareli reached for her gun. Becker quickly put his hand on hers, his lips curled into a smirk. “Last one I promise.”

“Better be,” was Yareli’s salty reply as she shook his hand away.

Capt. Colin’s watched the whole exchange with a raised eyebrow but corrected his glare as the two turned their attention back to him. “And lastly, they want this to be a permanent thing,” he said, waving a meaty paw between them. Expecting some sort of push back, the hefty captain was surprised when they both shrugged.

“Cool,” Yareli said.

“Anything else,” came from Becker.

“One last thing, the commendation ceremony is tomorrow night 6 o’clock at city hall. Dress blues,” Captain Colin’s said with a hard look at Becker, who again rolled his eyes.

“I don’t even know where it is,” he mumbled under his breath and Yareli snorted.

“Well take the day to find it or pick up another set. I don’t care what you have to do but you better be there pressed and shined or it’s your ass on a platter.” At the mention of Becker’s ass, the image of him dropping his shorts flashed into Yareli’s mind and she had to shut her eyes to shake it off.

“Whatever, can we go now?” came from Becker already out of his seat.

“She can. You, I need a minute,” he said as he got up and moved around his desk. “Congratulations Detective.”

“Thanks Captain,” Yareli said, this time with a real salute.

High on accomplishment, Yareli left the captain’s office and headed straight for her desk. She didn’t need a day to find her dress blues. They were still pressed from the last commendation reception after the hurricane so she could spend her day doing real work. There were a stack of messages on her desk and she quickly went about sorting them in order of importance. She was halfway through when she saw the message from Briggs, her old partner, and set it aside. A few slips behind that was a message from Alfonso Torres. Call home immediately, in all caps with three exclamation points and four lines beneath each word. She chuckled a little knowing that he gave whoever took the message very specific directions and probably name dropped half of local government to ensure that his word was followed. It had been too long for her to ignore the urgency and too much had happened since they last talked so she immediately picked up the phone and her adopted father answered on the first ring.

“Torres residence…”

“Stop calling here, threatening people Pop...It’s not cool,” she said with a giggle. That earned Yareli a long string of profanities in English and Spanish that continued even as Rochelle Torres wrestled the phone away.

“Dios, mija tell me you’re alright,” she said and Yareli could hear the tears in her voice. “It’s been all over the news. Where are you? What happened…”

“It’s just work Mama no big deal. Tell Pop to calm down. I’m getting another award, think you guys can make it down?”

“Aye mija claro...we wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

“Great I can’t wait to see you guys, maybe we can have dinner after?”

“Of course mija, give us a chance to catch up on everything.”

More praise was given and travel plans confirmed before the call ended. Yareli glanced up at the clock, noted the impending shift change and decided to mill around the bullpen until Briggs came in for the day. She glanced up at the Captain’s office, with the door still closed she wondered what could be keeping Becker. After jumping to several conclusions Yareli decided that it wouldn’t do her any good to speculate. If it had anything to do with her then she wouldn’t have been dismissed, but still there was a growing pit in her stomach not knowing. And she had little doubt that it was her own guilty conscience for cloning his key after they spent the night together. The space between the rock and that hard place was only getting tighter and she had some serious decisions to make before she got crushed. Sitting at the station wasn’t getting her anywhere so she grabbed her keys, lit up a smoke and headed out. So consumed with her wild conspiracy theories, Yareli forgot all about waiting for Briggs until she saw him stroll in with his new partner. They caught eyes across the bullpen, a smile came to his lips as he dismissed his rookie and made a b-line to Yareli. The conversation was brief, so as not to draw any undo attention but they agreed to meet at her place to catch up.

Less than an hour later Ofc. Briggs and Det. Robina sat on the balcony of her Links View Heights apartment with a bucket of beers and sausage and banana pepper pie from Well Stacked Pizza. It was Yareli’s favorite and she was surprised when Briggs showed up with the large pizza and 12 pack of longnecks. When they said they’d catch up, she assumed he meant sex not all this conversation but it was nice to talk to someone without searching for meaning behind the words. As they reminisced, it occurred to her that it had been a while since she had the pleasure of simple conversation, not since she started with Becker. Sure they talked but neither of them were being completely honest with the other, details were always left out of every story. She’d come to trust that Becker would have her back but that didn’t mean she trusted him with her life, not yet anyway and Yareli was certain he felt the same. With Briggs there was no need for half truths, they knew each other. Inside and out. Their partnership was real and Yareli missed that part of the job now that she was under Darling’s thumb.

“So how’s the new guy,” she asked with her feet up on the rail, a Redwood perched on the corner of her lips. “He any good?”

“He’s a guy,” Briggs said with a shrug and leaned back in his chair. The pizza was gone by then, as were most of the beers but neither were in a rush to do anything more than chat. At least not at the moment. “Name Jared Collins...no relation to Cap...not that bright. Transferred over from Vice Point looking for action. He’ll probably get himself shot before the month’s out,” he added with a chuckle as he shook his head.

“Well so long as he doesn’t get you shot in the process then we might be better off,” Yareli said with a giggle and flicked her cigarette butt off the balcony. “Muthafucka…”

“What’s wrong,” he asked, sitting up to follow her gaze. A car had just pulled into the spot next to her car and a well dressed white guy jumped out. “You know him?”

“Yeah Mike...just sit tight for me,” she said as she pushed out of her chair and headed inside. She closed the sliding glass door behind her but left the blinds open so Blake could see the broad back and bald head of her hot ex-partner.

It was another few minutes before Blake made it to her door, banging on it like he was the police. The sound of those aggressive blows got Ofc. Briggs to his feet and inside the apartment before Yareli could tell him otherwise.

“I know you’re in there...I saw you’re car outside…”

“Where the hell else would I be,” she said, eyes wide as she flung the door open. Blake looked immediately over her shoulder to the hulking man who stood behind her in the foyer and Yareli caught his look of relief before she said, “What the hell are you doing here Blake?”

“What the hell am I doing here?! I thought you were fucking dead. I saw the news…”

“And they probably would have mentioned it so what’s you’re point?”

“I was...concerned,” he said, again shifting his eyes to Briggs who smirked a little before he went back outside. “So you’re not fucking Becker then? I’ll admit I’m shocked and relieved…”

“Why are you here Darling?”

“I just wanted to make sure we were still on the same page...when you didn’t come home...I thought...I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he said, and reached to touch her face but Yareli batted his hand down.

“I’m fine Blake. I just wanted to spend time with someone I actually like for a change…”

“Yeah well he’s married too so what’s the difference,” was Blake’s snide reply as he backed away from the door.

“Even though he doesn’t wear a ring, he didn’t lie about it,” she said and slammed the door in his face.

Blake started to say something else but thought better of it, so long as she wasn’t fucking Becker the mission was still salvageable. And if she was going to sleep with someone else, her old partner was the best option. Aside from being an shameless adulterer, Mike Briggs was as honest a cop as Vice City had to offer. He never showed up in any of Blake’s reports and there were more commendations than complaints in his jacket. If he had to be replaced, Blake didn’t mind losing his spot to Briggs.

“Everything alright,” Briggs asked Yareli as he came back inside with the rest of the beers in one hand, her half empty pack of Redwoods in the other. He tossed them to her and she smiled, catching them in midair. “That the guy from D.C.”

“Unfortunately,” she said and Briggs snorted, placed the bucket down on the coffee table as he crossed the living room. “He came in with the rest of the feds. We ran into each other a few weeks ago…”

“And he couldn’t resist,” Mike said as he ran his hands up her sides, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it to the side. He stepped back, ran his hand over the bruises on her chest and shook his head. “Sawed off?”

“Yeah, shredded the vest but having 270 pounds of Haitian gangster drop on my chest was way worse than the buckshot,” she said as he continued to undress her.

“Still hot as fuck,” he said with a grin, making Yareli blush as he pushed her jeans down around her ankles. “Me and Collins came up to the second car...we saw the whole thing. I thought for sure you were another one of Becker’s casualties,” he added with a snort as he threw her over his shoulder. Yareli squealed at the sudden motion but offered no resistance as he carried her off to the bedroom and lay her down before he too stripped down. “I would have come to the hospital but you know how she gets when the shootouts make the news. I’m surprised I even got out the house today…”

“Please,” Yareli said with a giggle as Briggs stroked his meaty cock to full mast, then gyrated his hips so his shaft bounced to slap against his thighs. “I know she loves that little bungalow on Washington Beach…”

“Yup, and keeps pestering me to put in a transfer…”

“That’s what you get for shacking up with a model,” Yareli teased as she sat up on her knees to grip his cock. Briggs let out a grunt as she began slowly stroking it in her fist, her other hand reaching to cup his balls as she lean forward.

“Tell me about it,” was his groaning reply, head thrown back as Yareli took him into her mouth. All conversation stopped then as she bobbed up and down on his cock, taking him deep every few strokes, teasing his tip against the back of her throat. He moaned and grunted appreciatively, his hand tangled in her hair, holding it back so he could watch his dick disappear behind those supple lips. “Fuck Rel, I’d leave her in a heartbeat...just give me the word…”Yareli chuckled at that as she pushed his cock into her throat and dropped her hands to the back of his knees. Briggs took the silently invitation and gripped the back of her head as be began thrusting his hips. “I swear man...fuck...if I had this at home I wouldn’t need a couple girlfriend’s on the side,” he growled and Yareli shift her eyes up at him, brow furrowed, bringing him to breathy chuckles. “Alright, alright, that might be bullshit but still...that mouth Yareli...make a man say crazy thing.”

With that he pulled her off with a fistful of her hair and shoved his tongue in her mouth. The other hand reached down between her thighs to find her opening as he forced her down onto her back. As soon a she was flat, he threw her legs back over her shoulders and dove face first into spread slit all the while Yareli fumbled blindly at her nightstand. Condom in hand, she put a foot on his head to push him back and smiled.

“I know I taste good but I need that dick in my life,” she said as she flipped over onto her stomach and reared back, bouncing her ass a little as she listened to Briggs tear open the condom. He gave her ass a few hard taps as he sheathed himself in latex before pressing into her with one hard thrust.

There was nothing remotely intimate about what transpired between them. The pace was ferocious, their bodies slapping together violently as he pounded into her with one hand on the back of her neck and the other alternating between gripping her ass and smacking it. Kisses were rare once he got inside her and if their lips did meet, it came with a hand on her throat, squeezing just enough to make her eyes water. His wife never let him do such things to her and Yareli never trusted another man to really toss her around like Briggs could. They fit together that way but that’s where it stopped. Once orgasms were exchanged they went back to being buddies. No shared showers or post coital play by plays, their usual banter was resumed. Sports, station gossip, and the like. And that wouldn’t have changed if Briggs were single. He understood Yareli’s aversion to commitment like she understood his old fashioned views of marriage and they were both content with the status quo. He did give her a big bear hug before he left, but that had more to do with the fact that he was happy that she was alive than anything else. They made tentative plans to hang out after the commendation ceremony and he went on his way, leaving Yareli to take a much needed nap.

It was almost 8 by the time she woke up and after spending the afternoon with Briggs Yareli felt like a new woman, with new purpose. Getting her boots thoroughly knocked always offered a sense of clarity that could not be had otherwise. A plan had formulated in her dreams and she set out immediately to put it into action, but first there was the little problem of getting the key made. She could have gone to some shady hardware store in the hood but she wanted to be sure the key worked. That would require going someplace reputable, where they might ask questions about her method of pressing the key between a couple bars of soap. Getting a real key would take some finesse and for Yareli Robina that always meant showing a little skin. After a quick shower, Yareli teased her hair and glammed up. She donned the Vice City party girl uniform; crop top,mini skirt, and pumps, threw on a cream blazer, grabbed a clutch, and headed out the door. Once in the car she headed straight for Bunch of Tools.

Of course, she left the blazer behind as she strutted her stuff through the aisle, looking confused and bewildered until she came upon a kid who couldn’t have been more than twenty. Face freckled and acne scarred, voice cracking at every other word, he was perfect and Yareli smiled sweetly as came over, offering his assistance.

“Like, oh my God,” she said with a playful flip of her hair and reached out to grab his scrawny arm. “You’re like a life saver. I’ve been wondering around forlikeever...my brother let me and my friends stay at his place while he was out of town and I got so hammered I like totally lost his spare key…”

“Well that’s not so bad. I could make you a copy no problem,” he said with a grin and Yareli squealed, pulled him to her and kissed his cheek. “Let me see the original.”

“See that’s the thing,” she said, slipping her hand in his while the other twirled a lock of her jet black hair. “He came back today and I can’t tell him I lost it so I kinda copied his…”

“We can’t do that,” he said and took a step back, but Yareli held tight to his hand and closed the distance.

“Aww come on...Bobby,” she pouted, stealing a glance at his name tag then up the ante, running a manicure finger across his chest. “It’ll be our little secret.”

“I’m really not supposed to…”

“Pleeeeease,” she said and slipped his arm around her waist. “Nobody would have to know…”

“Well...I mean...it’d have to be after hours...and it might take me a while…”

“Aww but I need it tonight,” she said and slipped the soap out of her purse to press against his chest. “Come on Bobby, be my knight in shining armor,” she added with another kiss to corner of his mouth, her body pressed against his. “Can you at least try?”

“I can try but I won’t make you any promises,” he said and Yareli pulled away to pout. “Tomorrow morning at the latest?”

“That’s perfect,” she said with a squeal and planted a kiss firm on his lips.

“Maybe you should...so I can let you know..call you when it’s ready.”

“Don’t worry sweetie, I’ll be here first thing.”

And she was, as soon as the store open, Yareli was in the front door and looking nothing like she had the night before. Bobby barely recognized her with her hair up in a messy bun and her tits hidden beneath a loose white t-shirt. He seemed less inclined to hand over the key but a flash of her gun forced his hand and he handed over three different keys. They were all the same so she figured he was going the extra mile in the hopes of getting his dick wet. That wasn’t going to happen but Yareli made his day anyway with a long kiss over the counter.

“Good job kid,” she said and gave his cheek a little smack as she pulled away.

Yareli deposited the keys in the stash box under her backseat, along with all the other potential evidence she had on Becker. Evidence she’d yet to share with Blake. She wanted to be sure her new partner was as bad as the feds said he was before she handing over anything that might put him away. She needed a sure thing, a smoking gun. All she had so far was speculation and observations, nothing concrete, and she wasn’t about to risk her life for that.

And once the keys were locked away, so too was that part of her day. As far as she was concerned being off meant off. There would be no interrogations with Darling, no case reviews with Becker, and she was for damn sure not spending her day in front of a typewriter at her desk. After weeks of dodging bullets, car chases, and near misses, Det. Robina thought she deserved a day without the badge.

Well not exactly, the gold shield was on full display as she headed into the Vice Point Langer Hotel to await her parent’s arrival. While she was there, she didn’t see a problem with taking the manager up on a complimentary spa day. Swedish massage, mani-pedi, avocado mask with cucumber slices for her tired eyes, followed by a five course meal in a private cabana was all on the house. But Yareli doled out hundreds in tips to show her appreciation to the hotel staff. Belly full and thoroughly relaxed, she’d lost all track of time and might have been late for the ceremony had Alfonso Torres not come barreling into the cabana shouting about the time. Her adopted mother was gave her a more loving welcome, diving onto the lounger to squeeze Yareli in her arms.

“Ughhhh, how’d you guys know I was back here,” she grumbled, pretending to be annoyed as Roxanne Torres peppered her cheeks with kisses.

“Are you kidding?! You’re a celebrity now,” Roxy said with a squeal and Alfonso grunted as Yareli sat up, pulling the plush robe closed.

“You know she had to tell the world why we’re here...Aye Mija está siendo honrado por el Alcalde Shrub,” he said, the last in a mimic of his high pitched tone. “You’d think she’d never been to such a thing…”

“Aww don’t listen to him Mija,” Roxy said, swatting her hand at her husband as she linked arms with Yareli. “He’s just jealous that I never got so excited at one of his things.”

“I’m not jealous,” he scoffed, smoothing his graying goatee, making both the women laugh and encircle him in their arms.

“Aww pobrecito,” Roxanne teased, planting a soft kiss on his cheek that pulled the corner of his lips up ever so slightly.

“I take it retirement ain’t so hot, eh Pop?”

“I told him he needs a hobby but he won’t listen.”

They continues to tease each other for the rest of the afternoon. Especially after Yareli pulled her rumpled dress uniform out of the duffle bag she had stored at the front desk. Roxanne gently berated her as she steamed out the big wrinkles and helped wrangle her mane of thick hair in a sleek bun, with Alfonso snickering quietly the whole time. They took separate cars so that Yareli didn’t have to endure any lectures on her smoking and arrived at City Hall minutes before the ceremony was to begin. She was surprised to see Becker already there, looking decidedly uncomfortable in his uniform as he schmoozed with the local government. Introductions were briefly made before they were ushered to the front to sit alongside their fellow officers.

Both detectives were relieved to find that they weren’t the lone honorees but given their positions at the end of the line meant there was a possibility that more of a hoopla would be made when their names were called. Yareli grew more and more anxious as the proceedings drew on with first the mayor then the commissioner lauded the department itself before each officer was called to receive their plaque and/or medal. It wasn’t until Captain Colins was called to the podium that she and Becker cringed.

“Oh great,” she mumbled under her breath, making Becker snort as their direct superior exalted them as if they were veterans of some overseas war. As hard as she worked, deep down, Yareli knew she deserved all the praise thrown her way but still it was a hard pill to swallow when the person sitting next to her, who fought beside her, had no idea of her true intentions. Still, she plastered a smile across her face as she made her way to the stage and shook every hand offered her. As she paused for the photo op, Yareli scanned the crowd and breathed a sigh of relief when Agent Darlington wasn’t there. Briggs was there though, hooting and hollering with his glamorous Brazilian wife in tow. He gave Yareli a quick wink when their eyes met and she couldn’t help the color rising in her face as she made her way back to her seat. It was quick and painless, like ripping off a bandaid, Becker didn’t have it so easy. His promotion was included in his introduction, along with a list of his most famous cases, all while he stood there looking completely uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

Meanwhile, in a rusted shipping container buried beneath a mountain of scrap, Charles Cruise was finishing up the latest addition to his life’s work. His agenda had changed since setting eyes on Vice City’s newest detective, but he found that this new focus was much more fulfilling in the grand scheme of things. She was his new obsession and as any hunter discovering new prey, Charles did his research, learning everything there was to know about the new object of his longing. Unfortunately the more he learned about her, the more in love he fell and he knew that he would never be good enough for the brash, hard-drinking, gun toting, curvy, honey skinned goddess. Besides she already had a boyfriend, or at the very least a live in lover, who was at least three inches taller with the same naturally auburn hair that Charles had to process into his own. He didn’t stand a chance, and that only served to magnify his own self-loathing but Charles was too much of a coward to take it out on himself, nor was he ready to confront Yareli herself. Just as with his first wife, Charles would have to work up to that encounter and that required practice. Practice required surrogates.

The latest was the closest. Same height and build. She even had the same tattoo, a crude little “LH” on her right hip. Same heart shaped mouth and almond eyes. Unfortunately, her hair was a brittle bottle blond mess that hair dye alone wouldn’t fix. He trimmed the length to mimic Yareli’s feathered layers, dressed her in pair of battered jeans and cheap undershirt. But still it wasn’t enough, so he disposed of her like he had the rest. Only this time he made sure she would notice.

Yareli was trying desperately to sneak out of the reception but someone intercepted her at every turn. With Alfonso Torres back in his element, she had long since lost track of her adoptive parents. Now she was stuck in a corner with some city planner who she was certain was hitting on her with no way of escape. As annoyed as she was though, Yareli understood the politics well enough to know that being rude to the wrong person could have career ending consequences so she smiled when appropriate and playfully avoided any unnecessary contact. She glanced around the room and found Becker doing almost the same with the mayor’s young wife. If he was stuck, there was no way she was getting out without causing a stir.

But Vice City had a way of ruining celebrations. Knife fights at family cookouts. Drive-by shootings at block parties. So she wasn’t surprised when a uniform cut through the crowd to whisper into the captain’s ear. Yareli watched as his round face went beet red for a moment before he made his way immediately to Becker who shift his eyes in her direction and nodded for the door. A grin spread across her face as she excused herself from the city official and head for the exit, followed closely by the Duke and her partner.

“Body’s been found behind Cafe Robina,” Captain Colins said quietly as soon as the door closed behind them. “ME’s already in on the scene.”

“Hope you brought a change of clothes Rook,” Becker said with a smirk and Yareli rolled her eyes. “What?”

“Let my folks know I got a case would you please, Cap,” she said, ignoring Becker for the moment.

“Sure thing detective,” he said with a snort before returning to the party.

“What’s with the face? I didn’t call you the “P” word,” Becker said with a grin but Yareli continued ignoring him, giving him her back and heading for the door.

Ten minutes later, the two detectives were armed and back in street clothes. The crime scene was well taped off but still a crowd had gathered around the popular Little Havana restaurant. As they made their way through the press, Yareli was surprised to see a few of her questionable relatives in the crowd. Gangsters usually didn’t hang out around crime scenes, whether they were involved or not. There were whispers of “she was such a good girl” and “her poor baby” but Yareli chalked it up to normal community reaction to a lost one and continued to the ME who was taking pictures of the scene around the sheet covered body.

“What do we got Anders,” Becker grumbled as Yareli pulled out her pad and the medical examiner pulled back the sheet to reveal a young latina woman. Her throat slit. Cuffs still affixed to her wrists. Her eyelids had been removed and the “almost” was carved across her chest. Nothing Dr. Anders said registered for Yareli. She barely heard him speak once he pulled back the sheet.

“Her name is Marcia Valencia,” she whispered, and both men swung their heads to look at her. “She’s a nurse at Ocean View...got two kids and a husband…” There were tears in her eyes as her voice trailed off and Becker stood to put a hand on her shoulder but she shook him off. Yareli took a deep breath, roughly wiped her face before she continued. “Last I heard she had an apartment on Bayshore.”

“Well that’s more than I got,” Anders said, pulling the sheet back. “Boots are clean. No blood on her clothes. I was sceptical of the last one but this has your guy written all over it Becker. I’ll know more when I get her back.”

Yareli was frozen in her spot, watching as the CSU prepared the body for transport. So distracted, she gave no reaction to Becker grabbing her by the elbow and leading her back to her car. He lit up a Redwood and put it between her lips before sitting her down with a hand on her shoulder. Silent tears streamed down her face as the cigarette burned between her lips. There was an inch of ash dangling from the cherry before Yareli moved to flick it away. But it wasn’t until she lit up one of her own that she finally spoke.

“Before the Torreses got me, I was a ward of the state,” she said quietly, eyes fixed on the street beneath her boots. “So was Marcia. Lost her mom and dad in a murder suicide a year or so before my mom lost her shit but we ended up together again at the group home. She got placed first but we still saw each other at school and stuff before I got sent to hell. It was her who convinced the principal to call my social worker when I didn’t show up to school for a week...probably saved my life…”

“What happened to her ain’t your fault Robina,” Becker said with a hand on her neck, and again she allowed his attempt to console her.

“It’s not?! Don’t pretend like you didn’t see it,” she said, finally looking up at Becker with hard eyes. “You ain’t that dumb.”

“So you favor each other a little,” Becker said with a shrug and Yareli shook her head.

“He dyed her hair A.J….cut it too. Those are my boots on her feet and I’m pretty sure I have those jeans,” she said as she stood and pulled up her shirt. Yareli hooked a finger into the waistband of her pants to reveal the same crude tattoo on her own hip. “We gave each other these on our 17th birthday. It’s the same day Becker! We used to joke that our parents might have been swingers because we look so much alike…”

“Alright, alright,” Becker said, standing to put a hand on her the back of her neck to pull her into his chest. She was shouting now and the last thing they needed was for the crime scene to get any more intense. “We’re going to catch him Yareli. He just made the biggest mistake he could make…”

“I didn’t hear Anders say anything about evidence,” she said stepping back from Becker to wipe her face again.

“Maybe not but he made this personal. We might not have been together long but I know for a fact you’re shit list is not a safe place to be,” he said with a smirk before giving her a hard slap to the back. “Now pull yourself together so we can run this fucker down.”

“Sure thing Lieutenant,” she said with a lazy salute and Becker rolled his eyes. “What’s with the face?”

“Whatever Robina. You want to handle the family or should I?”

“You do it...I don’t think...I wouldn’t…”

“Don’t worry about it Yareli. I’ll take care of it after the ME wraps up. Go visit with your folks, we’ll hook up in a couple hours to piece this together,” he said and gave her another quick pat on the back before he headed off to his truck. “And Robina...this isn’t your fault. No matter what this asshole wants you to think.”

Yareli smiled him a thank you but she couldn’t shake the guilt, nor did she feel right going to dinner with the Torreses while a family had lost their wife and mother. Sure that was back page news in Vice City but it had been a long time since the violence had affected her so directly and she wasn’t sure how to deal with it. At least until they had a suspect, then she’d put a bullet in his head. Saving that, there wasn’t much she could do about it.

Again she found herself in the position of not wanting to go home. Dealing with Blake would surely end in some sort of altercation but she didn’t want to be alone either. A drink seemed like a good idea and after riding around the city for a while Yareli ended up in Washington Beach. Like most locals, she usually turned her nose up at the tourist scene along Washington St. but after seeing an old friend fall victim to a heinous killer, Yareli needed a little bit of escape from the seedy underbelly of Vice City. She parked her car in one of the lots, clipped her badge onto her belt and strolled the main strip a while before she found herself outside a beachfront bar. It was a tourist friendly version of the shady salsa clubs in Little Havana. She could hear the poppy version of old standards from the sidewalk through the open windows and almost kept walking, then the band died down. A local talent was announced and Yareli grinned as she stepped up to the front door. There was a line but the bouncer stepped aside at the sight of her badge and she made her way quickly to the bar

https://youtu.be/QK2z2fKCdxo

On the stage, with just a guitar and a microphone was Penelope Montenegro. Her long jet black tresses were pulled up into a loose bun decorated with an orange hibiscus bloom. She wore a flowing dress of white linen that was so sheer Yareli could see her dark nipples beneath the halter top, but surprisingly her eyes were drawn to her mouth. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard her sing, Penelope had serenaded her more than once after a good roll but it was always playful. This...this was something different. This was a performance and Yareli was mesmerized, as was much of the crowd. It wasn’t until the first song was over when Yareli finally picked up her drink and caught eyes with Penelope, who smiled broadly without missing a beat.

But still it was four more songs before her set ended and the band struck up again. The dancing resumed and Yareli shook her head at the poor showing. There were more than a few locals, male and female, plying their trade on the floor. Schmoozing with housewives looking for adventure and businessmen looking for a good time. Even with her badge in view, no one looked twice in her direction. That was the thing about Vice City, cops didn’t care about people trying to make a quick buck. There were bigger fish to fry, Yareli had her own docket of murderers to see to so watching a few working girls and gigolos hustle a few tourist out of their spending money didn’t bother her. So long as said tourist made it home safely, she would look the other way.

That’s exactly what she did when a rather overweight, thoroughly intoxicated man came stumbling over to the stool beside her complaining about one of the guys stealing the attention of a woman who he had been buying drinks for all night. Aside from it not being a police matter, she informed him calmly that she was off duty and he fed her some nonsense about how his company was single handedly bringing business back to this “god forsaken” island. Yareli smirked at that and reminded the man that flights had been no less full, even in the immediate aftermath of the hurricane, and Vice City would be just fine without him and his business. That’s when he began shouting insults, calling her all types of beaners and whores before she’d had enough. Without hesitation, her heart shaped honey toned face set in a smirk, Yareli Robina pulled her gun and set it down on the bar with the barrel facing the man. She didn’t look at him, but his caught breath was unmistakable as he slowly backed away. Once he was gone, the bartender put a shot of rum and another Pride brew in front of her with a wink.

“Making friends I see,” came from behind her in that sultry voice and Yareli smiled as she holstered her pistol, spinning in her stool to set eyes on the lovely Penelope Montenegro. She stole Yareli’s shot and a sip of her beer as she slid into the stool beside her, all the while grinning. “What are you doing around here? I thought you hated this side.”

“I do,” Yareli said with a shrug and motioned for another round from the bartender who obliged her quickly, ignoring the line of suits waving frantically in his direction. Yareli repaid his attention with a crisp $50 and turned her attention to Penelope. “Had a rough day…”

“Mami I can tell...it’s all over your face,” Penelope said, and slipped her hand into Yareli’s lap. “Nice to see that scowl disappear while I was up there though.”

“Aye mi gachita… Tu sabes I love your voice,” Yareli said playfully and planted a wet kiss on her neck, drawing a few looks from the crowded bar, but neither woman cared. “You used to sing to me all the time, remember?”

“I remember you not being so appreciative back then,” was Penelope’s snorting reply and Yareli kissed her again. On the lips this time and it was not nearly as playful. There was passion in it as she caught her lip between her teeth and pulled ever so slightly, drawing a soft whimper from Penelope.

“That was never about you babygirl,” she said softly, their lips brushing together a moment as she pulled away. But she didn’t go far, Yareli’s hand rest firmly around Penelope’s hip. Fingers danced against the exposed flesh on her lower back. “I hate the mornings…”

“And I love them,” Penelope said with a giggle and Yareli snorted.

“Yeah I remember that too.”

They had a few more drinks at the bar and Yareli resisted every attempt Penelope made to get her on the dance floor. It wasn’t that she couldn’t, but she hated feeling like an animal at the zoo amongst the tourist. If they were in Little Havana, or Downtown even, she might have taken Penelope for a spin but she wasn’t up for it tonight. And she didn’t mind watching the way the petite Columbian moved with others because she never took her eyes off Yareli. But eventually they both had enough of being gawked at and left the bar hand in hand. They stopped at the car to deposit Penelope’s guitar and pick up the pint of rum Yareli kept under the driver’s seat. Neither were in a rush to get anywhere so they settled for a stroll on the beach and before long they commandeered one of the cabanas owned by the Pelican Hotel. And for a while they didn’t talk, simply watched the waves crash as they passed the bottle back and forth. Their bodies intertwined. Fingers danced along exposed flesh, tangled in thick black waves. The setting down of the half empty bottle triggered a change in the atmosphere and Penelope sat up to untie her dress. It fell to the ground as she stood, leaving her in only a g-string and Yareli couldn’t hold her grin.

“Come for a swim with me,” she said as she let her hair down and Yareli shook her head.

“And leave my guns,” she said laughing, even as she stood up and grabbed Penelope’s dress. “You swim, I’ll keep the creepos away,” she added with a slap to her ass.

Penelope sprinted off, barreling right into the waves without looking back. Yareli was less enthused with the sluggish boots on sand walk but still she followed and plopped herself down just out of the tides reach. She tore her eyes away from Penelope to glance up and down the beach as she pulled out her smokes. There were a few others out enjoying the surprisingly dry night. A small group around an illegal fire. A couple rolling around on a blanket. None of them knew there was a psychopath on the loose, and worse, she doubted any of them would care. So long as it didn’t ruin their vacation, why would they. Before her thoughts could turn completely to darkness Penelope was coming back. Her dripping wet tresses covering her breast made her look like some sexy perfume ad and Yareli opened her mouth to tell her just that but Penelope dove on her instead.

“Qué coño es muy frío,” she squealed, teeth chattering, as she wrapped herself around Yareli.

“Well you said you wanted to swim Pene…”

“You should have stopped me,” was her shrieking reply, even as Yareli put her arms around her.

“And ruin this little moment...please,” Yareli said and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

“Aww que lindo mami...how come we never did this for real?”

“Because we’re both terrible at monogamy,” Yareli answered with a snort and Penelope giggled against her chest.

“Ehh I do get bored, don’t I?”

They both laughed at that and shared a deep wet kiss before Penelope finally got dressed. There was no discussion about what the rest of the night would be, or the reason Yareli looked so sad when she came into the bar. But that didn’t mean they didn’t talk. Being with Penelope had lifted her spirits enough for Yareli to be almost chatty as she drove them back across the bridge to Vice Port. She gave her a pretty detailed play by play of her latest shenanigans with Becker but all Penelope cared about was the fact they spent the night together. Of course Yareli insisted nothing untoward happened, but Penelope knew her well enough to listen between the lines. And recognize the way she smirked every time she said his name,Yareli Robina wasn’t nearly as annoyed by her partner as she let on. Like any homegirl, Penelope Montenegro teased her relentlessly, even as she tucked herself under Yareli’s arm once they made it to her place.

“Mira está bien...you gotta crush on a boy, That’s not gonna keep me from burying mi cara en ese coño,” Penelope said through giggles. She even gave Yareli’s ass a healthy squeeze to further her point. “You know I don’t mind sharing…”

“I remember you not being so generous once,” was Yareli’s smirking reply.

“That guy was a dick Rel...what the…”

Yareli cut her off with a hand over her mouth and moved to stand in front of her. In an instant her gun was out. “I take it you don’t have a roommate,” she whispered with a nod at Penelope’s open door. The sound of destruction echoed through the corridor and Yareli put her finger to Penelope’s lips to keep her quiet. “Stay here.”

With her gun up and safety off, Detective Robina edged stealthily down the hallway, hugging the wall the whole way. The reflection off the number plate of the door across gave her a near perfect view of the man inside. 6’0”. 170 pounds. No mask. No weapon. That’s all she needed to make a decision. She took two quick steps and was inside the apartment before the man could turn around. A quick crack to the back of his head sent him crumbling to the floor. She mumbled something about VCPD before she pulled out her cuffs to secure the suspect.

“Damn mami I was hoping for something a little more exciting…”

“Didn’t I tell you to wait in the hall!”

“What for?! You got him right.”

“Yeah but…”

There was movement out of the corner of her eye and Yareli stood just in time to see the muzzle flash. Two shots from her .45 hit him in the chest, before he could swing his gun in her direction. Yareli was already advancing on him before he hit the ground, laughing and coughing up blood.

“Snitch bitch got lucky this time,” he groan and Yareli put her boot on his chest. “She’s on the list pig...you can’t watch her forever...there’s too many of us...estamos por todos…”

“That fucking bitch,” Penelope shrieked and Yareli turned to see her collapsed against the wall at the end of a blood smear.

“Shhh Pene calma,” Yareli said, her voice even, giving off none of the murderous thoughts running through her head. She gingerly laid Penelope down and searched for the source of the blood that stained her dress. Relief washed over her when she found the entrance and exit wound on or upper left shoulder. “Listen to me Pene, I gotta call this in,” she said, using her jacket to wrap as a pressure dressing. “When the uni’s get here, we walked in on a robbery. You understand?”

“Yareli no...you can’t..”

“It was a robbery Penelope. Say it!”

“Please Yareli I won’t let you do this.”

“Say it,” she shouted, making Penelope flinch away from her, but Yareli was quick to soften her tone with a kiss to her forehead. “It’s gonna be okay, mami, I promise. Just do what I say. If you say what it was then they’ll talk to her before I can.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of...I know you Yareli. Nunca hablas...No para esto…”

She was right about that but Yareli wasn’t interested in pretending that she wasn’t. “Say it Pene,” she said as she pulled the walkie from her belt. “He’s right Penelope. I can’t protect you forever. She knows where you live where you work. You’re still breathing so I promise that she will be too when I’m done,” she said just as sirens rang out in the distance. “Say it…”

“We walked in my place...You were cuffing the first guy when the second guy came out of the bedroom and shot me.” With that Yareli called in the attempted robbery with shots fired and requested paramedics for the victim and two assailants. Even though the officers who arrived would be from her own house, she didn’t want to leave room for speculation. It was just like Becker said, what was written was all that mattered. And with a decorated detective already on the scene, there wouldn’t be any need to call in reinforcements.

The paramedics were loading Penelope onto a stretcher when Yareli heard Becker over the radio, inquiring of her status but she didn’t trust herself to say anything more than to meet her at the hospital. By the time the medics got there, Penelope had calmed down and the bleeding had stopped, but that made Yareli no less agitated at the situation. As far as she was concerned both Marcia and Penelope were victims of her own status. How the bikini killer had come to set his sights on Yareli were still unknown but she was acutely aware of the part she played in Penelope’s shooting. Granted it was Becker who questioned the little blonde slut but had she not been in the booth with him, Penelope probably wouldn’t have been so forthcoming. She had half a mind to give her Tio Berto a holler but there would be no satisfaction in that and there was a strong possibility that her uncle’s goons would only inflame the situation.

By the time they got Penelope into the ambulance, Yareli was a fireball of rage. If not for Becker’s presence at the hospital she would have surely lost her shit when the nurses told her she couldn’t go back with Penelope. He quickly defused the situation with a strong arm around Yareli’s waist, dragging her backwards out to the ambulance bay.

“You’re too pissed off for it to have been a simple b and e,” he said once they were a good distance from the door and Yareli looked at him with fire in her eyes as she paced back and forth, but Becker did nothing to keep her still. “So you wanna let me…”

“Fue esa puta sucia from the Pole,” Yareli seethed through clenched jaws. “Y esos coños que hizo el señor López…”

“In English…”

“Fuck you Becker you know what I’m saying,” Yareli snapped, spinning to face him, feet planted ready to square up.

“Relax Detective I just want you to be clear,” Becker said with a raised hand. He looked eyes with her, holding her gaze until she looked away and said, “Who said what?”

After a few deep breathes, Yareli was calm enough to give Becker the real account of what happened at Penelope’s place. It only took her a few minutes to explain before Becker shrugged his shoulders and asked her a very simple question.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Yareli didn’t answer right away, instead jogged back into the emergency room to tell the front desk not to release Penelope until she came back. She made sure to keep her tone measured and her hand off her guns as she spoke to the woman, ensuring that her message was received respectfully. Her restrained approach was rewarded with information that Penelope was already in surgery and wouldn’t be released until morning. That gave Yareli plenty of time to take care of La Blanca.

“You coming or what,” Yareli shouted at Becker as she headed to her illegally parked car.

“You make it sound like I have a choice,” was his snarky reply as he trotted over to hop in the passenger seat.

https://youtu.be/auLBLk4ibAk

With fury behind the wheel, Yareli got to The Pole Position in no time, skidding to a stop right in front of the door. It wasn’t until she put the her badge on the chain around her neck that she realized her once white tank top was splattered with blood. Penelope’s blood. That didn’t stop her from throwing open her door and jumping out of the car, but not before moving the snub nose .38 from her ankle holster to the small of her back as she made her way to the door. The bouncer quickly moved to block the entrance and Yareli vaguely heard him mention something about a private party before she went to move around him. He reached out to grab her arm, it was an innocent touch but Yareli wasn’t in the mood. Before the burly sport coated man could react, Yareli was driving the heel of her hand into his nose. The sound of his wail was more sickening that the sound of his nose being pushed back into his skull. All Becker did was shake his head as Yareli stepped over the prone bouncer.

“She doesn’t like to be touched,” he said as followed Yareli inside.

At this point Yareli wasn’t even sure if he followed, whether he did or didn’t wouldn’t have changed what happened next. She did a quick scan of the floor before she taking purposeful steps to the backroom, which had been foolishly left unguarded. The .38 was in her hand without a second thought and she yanked the door open so hard it slammed against the wall behind it. There were six girls crowded into the long narrow room in various states of undress and they all froze at the sight of Yareli Robina bloodied and armed.

All except for La Blanca, the druggie dancer didn’t even look up from the lines of coke she snorted off the vanity in the furthest corner of the room. Penelope’s spot. Yareli recognized the guitar stand that leaned against the wall behind the chair. The Molly Ringwald bob wing still on the head in the corner. The sight of her being so cavalier pushed Yareli past the point of civility. Her vision flashed red a moment before the other dancers rushed out of the room. Everything after that was a blur. One minute La Blanca was laughing, the next Yareli gave her a back hand slap across the face that sent her sprawling. She barely had time to recover before Yareli was yanking her to her feet with a hand around her throat. After giving her a couple thumps against the wall, Yareli shift her hand to La Blanca lower jaw, pulling her mouth open to shove the barrel of her gun inside.

“Robina!” Becker shouted from behind her but that didn’t stop her from pulling the trigger. Twice.

Lucky for La Blanca the gun was empty. “You’re only alive because she is,” Yareli said through clenched jaws, almost nose to nose with the coke thin dancer. “She dies, you die. This badge means I can find you…ANYWHERE...if she’s not safe than neither are you. Entiendes? Ella muere, se muere. Ella se pierde, nadie va a encontrar. Se entiende puta estúpida,” Yareli asked and pressed the gun a little further, forcing a hard sob from La Blanca as she vigorously nodded her head. “Call...them...off!”

With that, she let her go to crumple to the floor and turned to find Becker with his own gun out. Yareli furrowed her brow at that before her lips curled up at the end and she tucked her gun back into her ankle holster. “If there were bullets in that gun I wouldn’t have brought you along,” she said and moved around him to get out of the door.

“Maybe give me a heads up next time then would you partner,” was his smirking reply as he followed back out to main floor. They were both surprised by their uneventful exit but didn’t stick around long enough to ask question. Even when they got back outside, the bouncer hand simply been replaced. Her car was just as perfect as it was when she left it.

She glanced over at Becker as she peeled out from the curb and tossed her smokes into his lap. That was enough for him to light two and pass one over to her. “Thanks partner,” she said with a grin and Becker offered her a stiff nod. “Did you hear anything from the ME yet?”

And like that they were back to work.

A.J. Becker was always busy and having a rare day of hadn’t changed that at all. Michelle arrived early to make one of her classic southern breakfasts and was now out by the pool tanning with Cleopatra snoozing in the shadows. While he didn’t go into all the details about Yareli’s visit she wasn’t pleased any woman was over other than her had stayed the night, and only seemed more offended that some woman was in ‘her’ kitchen. While they were by no means exclusive Michelle could be possessive of the man she held dear.



To add yet another complication was Dixie Perez the local college girl who did odd jobs for him. She liked to joke thanks to her heritage she was one part Southern Belle and one part Latina goddess. Lovely brown skin with blue eyes and curly blond hair she was unique, and she was handy with a paint brush, knew her way around a car engine, and was good at catching and cleaning fish. Today she was busy with the laundry, and avoiding Michelle. Two years back he’d caught her working as a bikini girl turning tricks at the beach on weekends so she’d have money for college. He had a talk with her and hooked her up with the right people, so she could put other skills to use.

At the moment though he was being examined by Doctor Perkins his favorite sports doctor who’d just finished taking his vitals and was shining a light in his eyes. After a long moment, A.J. pulled his head back and closed his eyes and shook his head before saying, “You know doc I was feeling fine until you kept shining that damn light in my eyes.”

Doctor Perkins laughed and began putting his stuff away in green hospital EMT bag before replying, “You’re lucky you have such a hard head. My colleague shouldn’t have let you come home, but you’re on the mend already. Take it easy today, and if you have any issues call me alright. You basically went through a heavyweight boxing match.”

“I hear you I’m taking the day and tomorrow is that ceremony and what not. As to taking it easy from there well, we’ll see how shift goes. Your envelope is over on the desk with something extra for medication and making this a house call.”
The Doctor happily nodded and walked over and took a long look out the window before collecting the envelope and walking over and placing it in his bag. He then placed two pill bottles on the desk and took out a needle and without a word injected his longtime friend. After placing a band-aid on injection site he did say, “Michelle is looking lovely. You really didn’t need to pay for a house call. Telling me she was here would have been payment enough.”

“Yeah right and how is the wife?”

“Just fine last time I heard. Doing that whole Doctors Unlimited thing again. You know traveling to poor South American countries offering free healthcare.”

“She’s an emergency room doctor in Vice City isn’t she pretty much doing that already.”

“Yeah that’s what I said, but her family had the money to pay for school. She doesn’t have loans like me.”

“Well glad I could do my part. Talk to you later in the week then doc?”

With that he and Doctor Perkins exchanged a few words before he walked out and soon he could hear the physician making a pass at Michelle who was more than happy to flirt back with the attractive doctor. As far as A.J. was concerned they could go and bone in one the bedrooms if they wanted. He had things to do so he got up pulled on his shirt and walked out into the hallway. To anyone outside of the construction crew who built the house there were four rooms and one and a half baths on the second floor, but if you knew how to look you’d find there was an internal room. It had no obvious door and a small hallway in the front of the house made you think all the space was accounted for, but that was the perfect place for a security room. Rich people liked to call them panic rooms, but when you were a cop with questionable practices it was your safe place.

A quick touch of a concealed switch behind a picture opened the first sliding door which looked like all the other walls, but it revealed a heavy duty steel door, and he had the only key to it. The walls were like a bunker’s, but the room was designed for a luxury home. With everyone else in the house busy he quietly entered and closed the sliding door behind him. He turned on the lights and as the room aluminate file cabinets with his private files, couches, and a computer desk came into view. There was a Vice City Police Department data terminal next to his computer something that you wouldn’t normally find outside of a police station. Also, several guns safes were against one wall. They contained a large variety of weapons and ammunition, but also cash, gold and silver coins and other values. Weapons and other trophies were proudly displayed, and a number of personnel photos were on the mantle of the fake fireplace.

He walked over to the largest file cabinets and opened the flip up door and looked inside at the line of Marble Composition notebooks. The top shelf was only half filled and the notebook he’d just started was at the end. He took it over to the desk and turned on the lamp and began recounting the last week or so noting details and scribbling thoughts in the margins. He’d been keeping these journals on and off since he left the service, and while he did refer back to them they were mostly therapy. Express the ideas and feeling he hid from most people, and share them in a journal. Was it the smartest to put all this on paper probably not, but nobody knew about the journals and if you could read his scribblings you might actually get an idea of what he did and who he was in life. When he has finished his latest entry and returned it to the shelf.

After checking a few things and securing the room he heads back into the world. The rest of the day went by fairly quickly with Dixie putting the place in order and Michelle preparing her version of fish and chips as we worked out. He felt better and after he showered he made sure his uniform was in order for the next day he joined Michelle in the kitchen. Mind full of the doctor’s orders he stuck to bottled water and chatted with Michelle. It was all mundane stuff and A.J. had the sneaky suspicion it wouldn’t last. It all ended when she looked up from the stove and blurted out, “You know it’s cool if you’re fucking her. I mean I guess she’s pretty for a ghetto girl. Just tell me if she’s a girlfriend or another work wife. I mean we can work it out timing and what not. I just don’t want her touching my stuff or cook or…”

He was tempted to just yes dear her to death, and while he wanted a drink right then he went on the defensive. “Enough Michelle! We went over this already. She is my partner and I’d say at this point she might actually be a friend. She stayed over and made sure I didn’t die. She cooked for me and took care of me, and don’t think for one second I didn’t appreciate that you were willing to do the same. She’s not some work wife. I’m not banging her and she’s pretty period not just for the ghetto.”

“Wow, where did this come from. I mean you’re acting like she’s more than just a piece of tail.”

“Well, maybe she is. Also, did you ever think I have sex with you because I like being close to you honey? I want you to be happy with someone, and that ain’t me Michelle, but you’re always going to be my friend no matter what.”

She nodded and came over to him and just gently hugged him and nuzzled with him as the food cooked. He cradled her softly and whispered in her ear promising they’d always have a bond. He liked helping people that needed it, but the fact was they saved him. It so eased to go to the dark place and just let your lusts and rage run wild. You needed things to keep you honest, and for him, it was helping people. Maybe it was time to get Michelle to move on with her life, but that wouldn’t be tonight.

That night they ate together laughed and talked until late, and when they turned in they made love. It was the wonderful familiar sex with a partner that knew all your likes and secrets. Michelle rode him reverse cowgirl with her long blond hair tumbling down her back. In the darkness with the grunts, moans, and passionate caresses A.J.’s mind did wonder. What would it be like to enjoy a moment like this with Yareli Robina? Michelle had no problem getting him hard, so he didn’t so it wasn’t about needing a fantasy. It was about getting closer to someone he shared so much with already.

His emotions might have been torn, but he gave Michelle orgasms and she felt connected to someone at least for a little while. It had to be hard for her, though. She had sex for a living, but you could tell she didn’t get any real fulfillment from it. The girl cuddled up to him in the California king-size was the one who was still loved looking at the ocean and loved playing fetch with his dog. She deserved a good guy not someone like him.

The next evening was a sensory overload of politicians, reporters, and drill and ceremony. Yareli looked completely different in her monkey suit with her lovely long hair up in a tight little bun. They got their awards and photos taken and there was a flood of people who just wanted a moment of their time. As far as he was concerned he was late to leave five minutes after he arrived. Half these people who pretended to be your friend would forget all about you if you ended up in a cage downtown and the other half needed to get close enough to thrust the knife in your back. The streets were simpler because it was all about speed and honor because one day someone would be faster on the draw or be willing to betray you for their own benefit. It would just be another award to go into his desk drawer in his safe room anyway.

The only real bright spot was meeting Yareli’s adopted parents. They seemed like good people and they cared about Yareli a lot. They only talked briefly but he got the idea they were the ones who took the rough edges off the smart tough little girl. Not everyone had a real home to go home to every night, and sometimes it was little more than shelter. The Torres even managed to invite him out for dinner the next time they were in town. He promised them he’d make sure to watch her back and to remind her to call home more often. Moms didn’t change no matter how old you got.



Across town, Maria Romeo was enjoying the ceremony from the lounge on her floor of the hospital. Her doctor got her a little more freedom so rather than being chained to the bed she was shackled and free to walk around with her officers. Tonight she’d been working on the female officer for the better part of an hour. She flirted, complimented, and teased her which eventually made her blush and got her to do what she wanted.

“Yes two sugars and some cream. The good stuff they have at the nurse’s station. That crap from the machines is a crime.”

The young white girl with the badge blushed as she walked out the door. “Okay you’re only getting one because I want one Romeo.”

“Sure baby whatever you say, and you can put some lipstick on, “She said giggling as she turned back to the television.

The news was ending so she flicked the controller looking for the ceremony on another station when the other officer walked in. Officer Dale Lock wanted to be out on the street busting skulls, but instead he was stuck watching some gang member whore. Hey walked over behind her and grabbed the control out of her hand. Maria turned around quickly and gave him a dirty look.

“What the fuck I was watching that?!”

“You’re a prisoner and whore you don’t get to tell us what do Romeo,” he tossed the remote aside and yanked on her gown hard enough that it came off not that it took much. For a long instant, he just stood there and looked at her exposed breasts. She was clad only in flip flops and black panties. He grunted and said, “You’re actually kind of pretty too bad you have all those nasty scars and ugly tattoos. You’d be at least a hot hotel maid.”

“You know what Lock guys like you are why I don’t like boys. You done being an asshole.”

He laughed and smiled, “No not yet I want a long look and a good feel. Besides what the fuck are you going to do about it?”

Dale Lock got the response in the form a short but powerful throat punch. He gagged flailing trying to reach for a weapon but unprotected all he felt was a knee to the groin and then a savage head butt. Maria got around behind him crossed her wrists and with chain around his neck she yanked back hard driving him to his knees. He knee slammed into his back and soon the arrogant office was starting to blackout as he gasped for breath.

She’d had enough and she screamed into his ear, “You’re a fucking pig Lock not like my angel she’s a real cop. If you got to rape a girl to get some you ain’t a man. Now you’re going to dying because you were a jerk!”

Just then Officer Vivian Gibson came back into the lounge with two coffees and while she was shocked she dumped the two coffees on the ground and pulled out her weapon and leveled it at Maria’s back. “María le dejó ir ahora!”

She swung around facing the officer who had shown her kindness, but still strangling Lock with her own chains. “Hablas muy bien para una chica blanca. No quiero ser violada y golpeada todas las noches por el resto de mi compromiso, así que dispara a mí.”

“Te prometo que eso no sucederá, pero si lo matas nunca volverás a casa cariño.”

Maria hesitated but relaxed her grip and let Lock go, but she did push him to the floor hard before looking up at Gibson who was already putting her weapon away to her shock. She even made herself venerable and bent over and picked up the gown and tossed it to Maria who looked at her puzzled. “Let me guess he tried something with you right?”

“Yes this wasn’t the first time I’m betting.”

“No I’m sorry I left you with him. I was coming right back so I didn’t think he’d dare.”

“It’s okay it wasn’t your fault,” Maria said pulling on the gown again. “Thank you though for not shooting me.”

“No problem so let’s get some coffee and have some girl time while he goes down to the ER. By the way just friends I have a girlfriend already. I’m not going to waste time on a report about this, and I doubt he’ll want me too. After all he just fell. And another thing Grandma was Cuban she refused to learn English and she took care of me a lot so I learned the language including all those nasty words you think I don’t understand.”

Maria looked over at her embarrassed covering her mouth she started to giggle and finally said, “I knew I liked you.”

Once the awards night was over they were back to being cops and in Vice City that meant being tough cops, so Becker had no problem being Yareli’s backup on a less than conventional bit operation. That whole mess to protect her stripper friend who was also a great guitar player wasn’t even remotely police work. It was thug work, but hey that’s what you did for your partner. Before he’d hooked up with that night he’d taken a few calls and had some potential leads for their serial killer hunt. Wasn’t much, but it was a start, but before he could discuss any of it with Yareli work happened. Murders and mayhem were the regular order of things and they were detectives.



At least the homicides were pretty straight forward though. A drunken Spand Express worker who’d been fired blamed the security guards for the riot and losing his job ran into the officer who was working a construction site near the airport. Armed with a bottle and switch blade he attacked the guard who had a baton and pistol. It was a pretty bloody affair, but the guard came out on top after emptying his 9mm into the guy. The guard seemed in the right, but the guy’s drinking buddies and the guards coworkers got into it on the street. He and Yareli got to fight alongside the uniforms to calm everything down. No sooner had they completed that late night paper work on that case then they were called out to handle a road rage incident on the bridge right by the station house.

Two drivers got into it at some point on the city streets and after they slammed into each other started going at it with weapons from their cars. They later found out they’d been racing their Comets for money, and neither wanted to be the loser. That night a crowbar beat a baseball bat, but not by much and the winner had a broken arm along with other injuries. So there was more paper work and a trip to the hospital. While there a suspect from another case escaped his handcuffs and stole an ambulance and hit two cop cars on the way out. Once again it was up to him and Yareli to go after the guy. They soon drove him off the road and he dragged the suspect out of the cab so Yareli could tazer him. The stun gun was a gift from the security guards from the other night.

https://youtu.be/J3Qnh90BEMY

Satisfied they dragged him back to the hospital and while they waited for relief they took turns sleeping just outside the suspect’s room. It was funny when Yareli dosed off she actually slept with her head on his shoulder. It was one of many things he observed in the last three days where they should affection and familiarity to each other. Things like how they both liked their coffee, who sat where when getting meals, and lighting the other’s cigarette without getting asked. When Yareli changed her tank tops she didn’t even ask him to turn around, and after she realize he wasn’t being a jerk she appreciated the door being held open for her all the time.

The third night the pair got to see the messiest case for the week when they got to an apartment in Little Havana. In the apartment there was a bloody corpse of a local gang member and tough guy who’d been stabbed over thirty times. Gang members and residence tried to push their way in the building so the situation almost became a riot. A blood trail lead to the roof where they encounter a woman crying on the edge of the roof with a bloody kitchen knife in hand her waitress uniform splattered in blood. Yareli talked to her as he grabbed her from the edge and disarmed her. She was crying and a mess so they brought her to the ambulance just as a patrol car arrived saying they’d found an older naked Latina woman running through the streets. She was in a VCPD rain coat now but she was terrified, and seeing the younger woman set things off again. After they got things to cool down they sorted through all the facts.





Seems the daughter was working double shifts as a waitress so she and her boyfriend could move out of mom’s apartment. Mom liked the body builder boyfriend and they were boning whenever the daughter was out, but tonight the woman was sent home after one shift. She walked in on her mom being fucked by the lover her life. He might have been a scum bag boyfriend, but she lost it and grabbed a knife and just started stabbing him. Yareli seemed to know the older woman, but it didn’t make things any easier. Both mother and daughter were out of their minds, so they got a trip to the secure psychiatric wing of the hospital.

Once again they spent most of the night doing paperwork, but when it was done the captain told them to take some shifts off and get some sleep. That would have been the smart thing, but they had a morning meeting with one of his informants, so he and Yareli found themselves at the Hurricane Lounge. It was a dive bar you wouldn’t find in any guidebook of Vice City, but it was a cop dive bar where you went when you finished your shift and you didn’t want to go home. Strong drinks and greasy salt food, and atmosphere that reeked of a cop’s pessimism were all part of its charms. He and Yareli sat next to each other as the bartender placed two pint glasses in front of them filled with cola and Rockstar Edinburgh Whiskey and smiled.

The bartender was local Vice City legend Chuck Finely who was one of those colorful characters that populated Vice City’s underworld and was a source for information and arms. He grew up in England a child of Scotch-Irish heritage and he was hardly a model citizen before being drafted into the British army. He deserted from his overseas posting with a bag full of guns and fought in a host African conflicts before ending up in the United States passing through the Caribbean and Vice City like so many others. He worked on the docks and trained in a boxing gym until he joined the Navy and soon became a member of the elite seal teams.

After severing for a number of years he returned to Vice City but was always moving around from one adventure to another. He’d spent time in Canada hunting bears, working security in Las Venturas, and pirated boats running dope in the waters off the coast of the city. Lately, though he’d been working as a private investigator and part-time bartender. He’d even been seen driving a cab too, but when it came to Chuck Finely you always knew there was more then what appeared to the eye.

He looked like Elvis if he’d slept in his clothes, and today Chuck was sporting a Hawaiian shirt and jeans, and he wasn’t hiding the fact that he had a weapon in his waistband. He reached out and shook hands and leaned over and kissed Yareli on the cheek and smiled. “Hey kids you can order whatever you want, but I got the special already going for ya. Haven’t seen either of you in here in a while. Been listening to the scanner all night though you’ve been busy, so foods on me, but drinks on you.”

They both nodded approvingly, but Yareli who’d already started drinking put her glass down unhappily. “Hey, old man I drink rum not this hillbilly stuff my partner drinks.”

Chuck laughed and Becker just shook his head and drank as he listened to Chuck explain. “A now very unemployed bar back knocked over a shelf breaking every bottle we had. The delivery hasn’t come yet, and they’re working on new shelves in the basement as we speak. Oh and before you ask I don’t have anything up here you can thank the night shift for that missy. Do I really look old?”

Yareli laughed and reached over and hugged the man and kissed him on the cheek. “No baby what are we having, though.”

“My personal creation. Eggs and cheese on a bed of sweet potato steak fries right out of the oven perfect to keep you going.” He turned and looked at Becker and paused for a minute. If Yareli was with him A.J. probably trusted her so he said, “I know you’re looking for leads and as it turns out the boys have something besides their order. They want you to go out there for dinner sometime this week. Sooner the better. I know you got the number.”

Becker nodded but Yareli put her head on the bar and sighed saying, “We’re supposed to take some goddamn time off! This better be good.”

Chuck smirked but kept talking to Becker. “Well your partner has a point there, and while the guys wouldn’t go into details they were excited to talk and at no extra charge. As to your other meeting, it’s all set. I talked to Heidi and she’ll have cocktails with you at the bar in the 1412 Hotel downtown.”

He handed Becker a hotel matchbook with some details on it before continuing and saying, “She’s been there for a while and doesn’t want to make any waves so she’s more interested in good will and favors then money.”

Yareli took a long drink and looked over at both men questioningly and asked, “How they hell is a bikini girl hooker living out of one of the most expensive hotels in town.”

Both men smiled but Chuck answered the quickest and replied, “She doesn’t live there actually she’s got several houses and apartments. She sees herself more as a referral service. She sets clients up with dates and puts them in a room together. She takes a percentage but is much better than any pimp. She keeps files and has standards, but I think she reached out because she’s scared about something.”

They ate, drank, joked, and after some freshly brewed Cuban coffee they were on the road again. They killed a little time listening to the radio in the car before heading into the posh hotel. If it wasn’t for their badges security would have thrown them out and that wouldn’t have been surprising. They both looked like hell, but they had an appointment and after checking in with the desk they were directed to the lounge nearest the pool. There they saw Heidi chatting away on one of those portable phones with a large shoulder battery.

She looked up and smiled and gestured for the waiter to bring over three cocktails and abruptly finished her call. She oozed sex and was in a white bikini with a matching lacy cover up and expensive sandals. Hair up in an elaborate bun and large hoop earrings the tanned European beauty looked like she walked off a swimsuit photo shoot. She gestured for them to sit down and took out a large address book and opened it for them and began flipping through. Each page had a picture of some exotic beauty with a number under her name.

“Hello, darlings sorry about that I had client arrive in town unexpectedly and he wants to have a party on his yacht. Anyway, I need to call him back when I have some potential companions. Why I called you is because of this, “she said gesturing to some torn out pages. “Someone broke into my room here at the hotel and went through my books.”

A.J. was first to ask, “Anything else taken? I know security around here is pretty good do they have anything to go on?”

“No darling that is the thing. I was in my room when one of my girls called me from the hotel bar. I decided to join her for a night cap. I actually left the safe open in the room. Whoever broke in didn’t bother with my jewelry, clothes, or even my cash. The hotel looked into it, but he seemed to have had a key and wore a hotel uniform though he made efforts to cover his face. You can get a tape at the security office along with the employee whose locker was broken into. No surprise a uniform went missing.”

Yareli finished sipping her cocktail and looked over at the book again and back at Heidi. “There isn’t any contact information in this one just pictures?”
“Exactly I show it to potential clients and they pick. Have a separate book I keep locked away to contact the girls. Whoever broke in took pictures of the girls he wanted and looked for the corresponding numbers in the other book. I wouldn’t have noticed, but flipped through one last time before bed.”

“Ah Heidi do you have copies of information of the girls taken,” Yareli asked as she looked over at Becker concerned.

Heidi nodded and handed her a file with the girl’s information and then said, “I’m worried about these girls so I called to warn them. Two are out of town at least for a week, but I couldn’t get ahold of the other one I left messages. I scribbled some notes in the margin. I hope this helps you both, but now I have to change I have to play a game of doubles with a special client.”

She politely excused herself and A.J. and every other male in the lounge watched her strut away towards the elevator. Yareli even had to admit she was pretty hot but laughed at how obvious Becker was being. She giggled and said, “You know she’s just going to get changed into her tennis outfit right?”

“Yeah but that’s hot too. So let’s go to the security office and go through this file. Maybe play some tennis if we get the chance.”

They got the video tape and they head of security even watched it with them before they left, but it only helped give the most general description of the suspect. They had nothing to go on because the suspect wore gloves, and was a ghost during the early morning hours where tired staff members were hardly at their best. They thanked them for their help and headed out. As they walked out Becker looked over the file and when they got to the truck he slammed it down hard on the hood.

Yareli reacted surprised but walked around to his side of the truck and put her hand on his shoulder. “What’s going on Becker? What’s wrong?”

He pointed to the copy of the original pages and while the copy wasn’t nearly as good as the photo the black and white image screamed back at them. Young “Novia” who claimed to be an artist and champion swimmer had hair down to her waist, high-end tattoos, and a beautiful smile. Cuban-born from a working class background her bio was pretty typical and included all the sex acts she enjoyed performing.

Yareli turned her back to the truck and leaned on it and as she began to get choked up she said, “Fuck that could be a cousin. A.J. we have to find her before it’s too late. I mean he takes his time and plans. He couldn’t have one by well this happened what the other night.”

He turned to her and gave her a hug and instead of a sassy remark or pushing him away she hugged him back and he whispered in her ear, “Nice to hear you call me by my name partner. We’re going to catch this guy and stop this insanity. I think we’re going to need to meet with my guys, but let’s find her first make sure she’s safe and then we’ll bag this creep.”

Police officers, as a rule, were never supposed to promise they’d catch a suspect. After all, it was never a given that you’d get an arrest or conviction, and while cops got to meat out a lot of justice in Vice City even then most of the time you’d say you would do your best. Your best often meant juggling cases and until you found clues or a lead turned up it could take ages. This time though he didn’t only mean it, but he knew it was going to happen. His partner wouldn’t suffer another day because of this maniac.

Charles Cruise sat at the taxi stand outside the Parson Hotel. As much as he rebuked his Cuban heritage, a steaming cup of cafe con leche cooled on the dashboard of his Washington. It was an old taxi cab he got at a police auction for cheap, complete with roof lights that he never turned on. There was nothing more nondescript on Ocean Drive than a cab, so long as he looked the part, he could park anywhere for as long as he liked without arousing any suspicion. He’d been sitting in this particular spot for the better part of a day, pretending to read a newspaper with a photo tucked inside.

They called her Novia but her real name was Delfina Santiago. They met on the beach a few weeks before Detective Yareli Robina stole his attention so he hadn’t paid her much mind. She was new to the game anyway, he could tell by the way she chatted him up even after he made it clear he wasn’t looking for company. There was still light in her eyes and her skin still held that hopeful glow of youth. She gave him her card anyway, or her madame’s, before she strutted off down the beach in her too small bikini and wide brimmed hat. He’d filed that card away for one of his off nights when he needed to blow off a little steam. Sure he was a serial killer, but he wasn’t a robot. Charles Cruise was still very much a man and would probably have little trouble finding a woman if he wasn’t so focused on his life’s work. Real women tended to have silly things like dignity that wouldn’t allow them to do blow off his cock or bask in his golden showers. He had particular needs and paying for it was the only way he could have them met.

He’d forgotten all about Novia until after he finished up with the nurse. She’d been too heavy, her middle thickened from childbirth and the process of dyeing her hair was time consuming. Sure she was just practice but he left her feeling unfulfilled. That’s when he remembered her, the young hooker with skin the color of butterscotch and heart shaped mouth, just like his Yareli. Her hair was too long but a trim wasn’t out of the question and her tattoos only added to the appeal. She was almost too perfect to pass up, and now that he had all her information, there was no way he wouldn’t have her.

Meanwhile, only a few blocks away, Det. Yareli Robina sat completely reclined in Lt. A.J. Becker’s tricked out truck, her feet kicked up on the dashboard. Her mirrored shades were over her eyes, her jacket draped over her torso in a vain attempt to get some rest while they sat on the lost hooker’s usual strip. She wasn’t particularly happy about what basically amounted to a wellness check interfering with rest time but Yareli didn’t argue with Becker when he suggested they find her sooner than later. It’d been a rough couple of days for them but somehow it hadn’t put a damper on their working relationship. She was still her usual belligerent self but now she allowed her partner to break up the tension. They spent a lot of down time laughing and arguing about his terrible taste in music. Or hers, depending on who you asked. She was beginning to take his teasing in stride and offering jabs of her own, especially when it came to his relationship with a certain woman of the night.

“You keep saying she’s not your girlfriend, yet you rush for the phone whenever she leaves a message at the station,” she said as she shifted in her seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. “That’s some wife type shit if I ever heard it.”

“It’s called being considerate,” was Becker’s quick reply without taking his eyes off the tourist parading down Ocean drive. There were a few working girls sprinkled in as well but he’d yet to spot the one they were after. “I wouldn’t expect a homewrecker to understand such a concept,” he added, finally shifting his eyes to look at her and Yareli put a hand to her chest, mouth agape.

“Well I never,” she said in her best mimic of a southern belle and Becker burst out laughing. “It’s only homewrecking if the intent is to coax a man away from his oblivious wife. I’m not the one who took those vows so my conscious is clear…”

“Sure it is Robina...that’s why you stopped screwing your D.C. blow in…”

“I stopped screwing him because he’s a lying sack of shit...and don’t change the subject. We’re not talking about me and my questionable choices, we’re talking about you and why you’re stringing that poor girl along.”

“Why such concern over a woman that you once referred to as ‘fire crotch’? Bet you wouldn’t be so supportive if you knew what she thought of you…”

“I’m sure she hates me,” Yareli said with a shrug as she reached to retrieve Becker’s cigarettes from the dashboard and lit two without even asking him. He put his hand up without so much as a glance and Yareli slipped the smoldering cancer stick between his fingers. “Most women aren’t particularly fond of me, whether I’m fucking their husbands or not…”

“I know one in particular who’s pretty fond of you,” he said with a snort and Yareli rolled her eyes.

“Penelope don’t count. She’s more like me than you care to realize…”

“How’s she doing anyway,” Becker asked, as he glanced down at the photo in his lap and up again. “She back behind the ax yet?”

“Aside from being stir crazy in that hotel room you hooked up for her, she’s doing alright. I’ll tell her you asked about her,” she said with a grin and followed his gaze to the caramel skinned girl getting out the back of a Stretch across from the Parson. Her feet were bare and the sheer coverup she wore did little to conceal the fact that she’d lost the top to her bikini. Yareli sat up at the sight of her, eyes locked on the sway of her hips and shook her head. “Nothing like a homicidal maniac to make you realize you got doppelgangers all over the city. Why don’t you go chat her up and I’ll hang back to see if anybody’s taking an interest…”

“Or making it obvious that they aren’t,” Becker said, tucking his badge onto his belt and pulling his shirt down over his side arm. Yareli did the same, then pulled her long hair out of it’s bun and tossed her shades on the back seat. Anybody watching would know they were cops but the lack of badge was less likely to put the hooker on edge.

Becker got out of the car first, jogging to catch the girl before he could lose sight of her, while Yareli crossed the street. She took up a position in a line for shaved ice that allowed her to see the entire block. Unfortunately she didn’t see the cabbie watching her partner as he approached the raven haired bikini girl, nor did she see him pull off as Becker discreetly motioned for her to follow.

Charles Cruise caught sight of Yareli Robina in his rearview mirror as she trotted across four lanes of traffic. His first instinct was to spin his car around and grab her, but deep down he knew that now wasn’t the time. Her newly minted lieutenant would surely run him down, or worse, empty his gun into his back windshield before he got more than a block away. The time wasn’t right, and he wasn’t ready to face her just yet. He needed more practice before he allowed Yareli to see him for the first time. In his broken mind, this new pattern of his was sort of like courting. You had to prove yourself to get the woman of your dreams to notice you. There was only one problem with Cruise’s way of thinking, to the rest of the world, his dreams were nightmares. He was just too deluded to see it.

By the time Yareli made it through the crowded hotel lobby, Becker and “Novia” were seated at the bar chatting like old friends. Or would be lovers, and it set Yareli’s teeth on edge. The way she touched his arm as she giggled. How his eyes never rose above her neck. It all threatened to set her blood to boiling but she took a deep breath and cracked her knuckles before she made her way over to the bar. A smile came to her lips when she noticed the bartender pouring a rum and coke as she came to sit on the other side of Becker.

“See anything partner…”

“Partner...so this isn’t a social call,” the hooker said with sucked teeth and rolled eyes.

“See I told you,” Yareli mumbled under her breath as she took her first sip. Becker let out a chuckle and patted her back. “Nothing out of the ordinary, but that doesn’t mean he’s not watching.”

“You’re right about that. Probably best we get her out of here…”

“Let her haul up with Heidi ‘til we sew this up…”

“Haul up with Heidi...what the hell is going on...if you guys are taking me in get it over with…”

“Can it Delfina the grown ups are talking,” Yareli said without even looking at the girl who started to get up with a huff, but Becker was quick to soften the situation with an explanation.

“We have reason to believe you might be in danger,” he said with his hand on her arm and Yareli fought the urge to yank him away. “She called in a favor to have you tracked down before you came up missing…”

“Or carved up and hogtied,” was Yareli’s mumbled addition and Becker shook his head. “I’m saying it’s a possibility…”

“You were her only girl unaccounted for,” Becker said with eyes on Yareli a moment before he turned his attention to the now shaking Novia. “It’s probably not safe for you to be on the streets so we’ll escort you back to 1412 so Heidi can keep an eye on you.”

Against his better judgment Cruise circled the block a few times before he found Becker’s truck and parked. He doubted they would leave her alone and if they took her in, he was prepared to bail her out. All her information was on the sheet he stole from the madame. Bail paid in cash was rarely scrutinized so all he had to do was sign a fake name and they’d hand over his prize.

“I’ll radio a Uni…”

“Probably better if we do it ourselves,” he said quickly, his eyes hard on Yareli. Something in the way he looked at her quieted any dispute she might have had, instead she chugged down her drink and slapped the bar.

“What’s the matter Lou no faith in the unis,” she said with a smirk and Becker rolled his eyes as she slipped out of her stool. “I’ll give Heidi a call so she has security ready. You might want to grab a few things Delfina...you might be off the clock a while.”

With that Yareli headed to the front desk and commandeered the phone for a few moments before she headed back outside. Again she scanned the street, searching for what, she wasn’t sure but she’d always had a knack for spotting things out of the ordinary. Like the old man picking pockets as he stumbled down the street. Or the group of teenagers posing as beach front valets to steal the cars of unsuspecting tourists. Then there was the cab parked away from the taxi stand, but that wasn’t too out of the ordinary. It wasn’t that uncommon for a driver to take their break by the beach. From where she leaned against the corner windows of the middling hotel, Yareli could see the newspaper draped over the steering wheel, the coffee on his dashboard. The car itself was void of company markings but there were pricing decals which meant it was probably a gypsy cab, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary either. Licenses were expensive and a hassle to keep up with the whole system subject to mob rule. It was a wonder that there were any legal cabs in the city at all.

“It’s just a cab Rel,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head. Still she continued to scan the area but found nothing out of the ordinary. “Mama needs a nap...and a shower,” she continued with a discreet sniff under her t-shirt. The last time she had the pleasure of a real shower was when they dropped Penelope off at her hotel room but that wasn’t really about cleaning up. Her and Becker had been off and running ever since, relegated to locker room showers and quick changes from her duffle bag wardrobe.

And she wasn’t exactly complaining about it either. The long hours were as effective an excuse as any to avoid Agent Darlington and his constant pressure to find something that would bring her new partner down for good. After a few months, Yareli had an accordion folder full of circumstantial evidence that was probably more than enough for the DEA to build a case but still she was unwilling to share any of it. To put her name on the line for it. They’d screwed her over once and Yareli knew well how they worked. If she handed them anything less than a slam dunk, they’d throw her to the wolves to fend for herself. The nutbag killing her lookalikes would be the least of her worries. Becker had an army of supporters and beneficiaries who would no doubt hunt her down if anything befell their prince.

A hand on the small of her back startled her back to reality, her hand went immediately to her gun as she spun around to find Becker with the hooker in tow. “See anything?” he asked quietly, his hand linger a moment before he nodded towards his truck.

“Nothing worth repeating,” she said with a glance at his hand as he drew away. “I definitely need some sleep.”

“You and me both. Soon as we get rid of this one we’ll call it a day,” was Becker’s quick reply with another pat to his partner’s back. This one was between her shoulder blades but his hand glided up to give her neck a quick squeeze before gently shoving her towards the passenger door.

https://youtu.be/7YvAYIJSSZY

Yareli was nice enough to open the door for Delfina but the hand on the woman’s head to help her into the back was purely reflexive. Not being in cuff meant that the hooker had no problem navigating her way into the rear of Becker’s big truck, but still she offered Yareli a small smile as she settled in. They were halfway to South Bridge when Becker turned the radio up and sat forward in his seat. He made two quick rights, all the while making subtle glances in the sideview mirror.

“Four cars back…”

“The cab…”

“Pulled out not too long after we did,” Becker said and Yareli was already adjusting the mirror on her side to get a look. “Run those…”

“Already on it,” was her quick reply, fingers already tapping away at the keys on the onboard computer as Becker weaved his way back towards the beach. “Registered to a Miguel Arroyo...no priors...not even a ticket…”

“That seems highly unlikely,” Becker scoffed as he turned onto Washington St. headed north. He’d made a convoluted circle that only a tail would follow. “I’ll put a month’s salary on that not being Miguel Arroyo driving that cab.”

“Double or nothing...Miguel Arroyo doesn’t even exist.”

“What happened to only betting on yourself,” Becker said with a smirk and Yareli rolled her eyes.

“This is me betting on myself...hit the lights and cross at the Link Bridge…”

“That’s not gonna keep him off our ass Robina,” Becker said, even as he followed her instructions.

“He’s looking for her and I’m sure he assumes we’re taking her in,” she said as she slipped into the back seat and quickly began to undress. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do. Get rid of the make up mija.”

Becker floored it as Delfina and Yareli went about changing identities. It helped that neither woman was a stranger to quick changes in cramped quarters and by the time they made it across the narrow two lane bridge, Yareli sat uncomfortably half naked in the backseat while Delfina took her place in the front.

“So what’s the plan here partner?”

“Go to the station, you two drop me off. He’s not stupid enough to actually pull into the lot so hopefully he won’t notice she’s not wearing any guns. Wait around a little, then you two head out, but don’t go straight for the hotel in case he doesn’t take the bait. Go get a bite or...whatever...but take your time. I’ll radio Briggs to tail you for a bit just to be sure.”

Becker had a better plan but he kept it to himself for the most part. He did radio for an unmarked car to follow the cab as they turned onto Bayshore Ave. There was still a good amount of distance between them and the Washington but Becker was certain whoever was driving knew that he’d been spotted and would anticipate some sort of ruse. Their best bet at getting an id was to keep a tail on the guy. For all he knew, it could have just been some disgruntled john looking to keep tabs on his favorite piece of ass and not the nutjob who’d been turning his partner in knots.

They made it to the station house without any more sightings of their tag along but Yareli was certain they hadn’t seen the last of that gypsy cab. She was too busy kicking herself for not following her instincts to notice the catcalls as they made their way into the bullpen, instead she headed straight for the locker room to change into something a little more presentable before she went to her desk to jot down everything she remembered about the cab and it’s driver. It wasn’t much but still the action of recalling the brief moment allowed her to recognize details she didn’t notice at first glance. The dark hair on his forearm that didn’t match what she could see of the tapered fade beneath his golf hat. The fact that he wore full fingered gloves when most drivers wore the fingerless variety if they wore them at all. Yareli had little doubt that it was him, the Bikini Murderer, and she allowed him to slip through her fingers. And she doubted they would ever get that close again.

All this she shared with Becker before he left to do God knows what with the hooker who Yareli had to admit didn’t look half bad in her clothes. And of course he didn’t allow her to beat herself up about her misstep, offering her a pat on the back and a “we’ll get him next time” before heading out with Delfina in tow. She started to advise him not to sleep with the girl but thought better of it. Instead they made plans to meet up the following day with clear eyes and a full night of sleep so they could focus on getting this guy off the streets.

So consumed with the case, Yareli forgot all about her avoidance of Blake Darlington until she walked pass him in the Hyman lobby. He was having a boisterous chat with a few other guys in suits, she assumed were feds, and Yareli silently prayed that he hadn’t seen her. When he didn’t get into the elevator, she considered herself lucky and made her way to her condo with the intentions of stripping down and getting blackout drunk. But she should have known better.

She was getting out of the shower when she heard the heavy bangs on the door but she took her time getting dressed, and making a drink, before she went answer it. She didn’t even check the peephole, but set the chain and pulled it open.

“At least I knocked this time,” Darlington said as he leaned on the doorjamb, his lips pulled into a tight smile.

“You didn’t have a choice now did you?”

“Why because you changed the locks...please like that would stop me. I’m respecting your space…”

“What do you want Darling? I got nothing for you.”

“I’m sure that’s not true but I’m not here for that,” he said and laughed a little at Yareli’s raised eyebrow. “I hear this Bikini Murderer is kicking you local’s collective ass. I’m here to offer my support so you can get back to your real job.”

It seemed too good to be true but Yareli let him in, in the hopes that he would keep things professional. And for a while it was, they ordered chinese and spread all the case files out on the dining room table. He barely looked at her as they poured over crime scene photos and vague witness statements, only touched her when they came to the most recent murder and Yareli got choked up as she recounted the placement of her old friend’s body. It was a simple touch, a gentle hand to her shoulder, but the familiarity of it put a crack in the wall she’d built to keep him out. And as he asked questions about her past relation to victim number 7/15, the wall began to crumble. Before she knew it, Yareli Robina was sobbing into Blake Darlington’s chest and he held her tight, stroking her hair as he gently rocked her back and forth.

As far as moments went, this was a big one for them. As far as Darling knew, Yareli only had two emotions, neutral and rage, with very little middle ground in between. There were times when she would laugh, of course, but it was far from a joyful thing and usually came at his expense. Vulnerability was something he thought she was immune to, and now, with her crying in his arms, Blake was at a loss for what to do.

Well, not entirely, he could be a friend to her and put their little misunderstanding aside so they could work together to catch this asshole. Or, he could be the jerk he’d always been and use this show of weakness to his advantage. Unfortunately for the rest of the world, Blake didn’t have it in him to be a friend to anyone.

“Come on babe,” he said as her sobs ebbed to quiet tears and brushed his lips against her cheek. “You can’t beat yourself up over some psycho taking a shine to you. I’m sure he’s not the first guy you’ve ever driven to murder.” He was only half joking but she laughed a little anyway, even as she shoved him away. “This isn’t your fault Rel. He’s been at this for a while now, probably knows your own the case, and looking to knock you off your game. You getting all twisted up over your friend is only clouding your judgement,” he said as he reached to tuck the photos from the latest crime scene back into the folder. “His methods might have changed but the MO is still the same. Look, why don’t we put this away and come at it with fresh eyes in the morning? I’ll draw you a nice bath in that big tub you never use...roll you a joint...then we could kick back a little. What do you say?” Even as he spoke the words, Blake knew he’d gone too far, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Been awhile since you let me rub you down, judging by all these bruises you been sporting lately I’d say you could use a good massage,” he said, his hands slowly drifting down to settle on her thighs a moment before she shoved them away.

Yareli just looked at him a moment, fire blazing in her eyes, before she jumped to her feet with such force that the chair clattered to the floor. Her jaws clenched, she methodically put all the files back together without saying a word. Once all the paperwork was put away, she unleashed hell.

“You’re such a piece of shit Blake,” she said quietly as she shoved the case files back into her bag. “But you know what, I can’t even be mad at you. You are who you are, a conniving little fuck who’s only out for self…”

“That’s not fair Yareli I…”

“I swear if you start feeding me that you care about me bullshit again I’ll rip your tongue out,” she said through clench jaws, fists already clenched. She might have been barefoot, but Yareli was more than ready for this dance. “The only thing you care about is what’s good for Blake Darlington...and you know what’s really fucked up? I knew it and I fell for it anyway...that little speech you gave me...all the dinners you cooked...I fell for it all...I actually believed you wanted me to win for once but all I am to you is a means to an end and for the life of me I still can’t figure what that might be.”

“Don’t play dumb with me Robina...and don’t act like I’m some do nothing brown noser…”

“Aren’t you though? If everything in Becker’s file is true, he is waaaaaay above your paygrade so how many asses did you have to kiss to get this case Darling…”

“Fuck you Yareli…”

“That’s what you’re doing ain’t it? Tell me Agent Darling, does brass know you have me working this case? Better yet does your rich girl princess know,” Yareli asked with a sneer and Blake burst out laughing. It was not the reaction she expected at the mention of his fiancee and the sound of his mirth set her teeth on edge.

“So that’s what this is about then...upset that I didn’t give you the happy ending you’ve secretly dreamed of all your life? Come on, Yareli, you’re smarter than that. What would I look like bringing your hot latina ass back to Connecticut to meet my Irish Catholic folks? Don’t get me wrong…” The first blow stunned him to the silence, the second was enough to dislodge a couple teeth and had stars dancing in his vision, but the third would have sent him sprawling had he not had the presence of mind to dodge it and deliver his own back handed slap.

A lesser woman would have hit the ground, a lesser man might have stumbled back a pace or two, but not Yareli Robina. Her mother had done worse before he had her first period and a smile came to her lips as the taste of iron washed over her tongue. Darling’s eyes widened ever so slight as he watched her set her feet, roll her neck like a boxer, and spit a mouthful of blood on the carpet.

“Look, now, I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to I swear…”

Of course she didn’t believe him, didn’t even pause before she let loose a barrage of powerfully precise punches. Unfortunately Blake dodged or blocked most of them, but allowed her to come into his guard so he could grab her, pinning her arms to her torso, all the while screaming for her to calm down. But of course, she didn’t care. The switch had been flipped. The beast was out of the cage. She thrashed and kicked, threw her head back to slam against nose but he held her strong, even as he fell to the floor, bringing her down on top of him. Yareli heard the wind go out of him and scrambled to get up as soon as his grip loosened, but he caught her ankle and was back on her before she could blink.

“Please Yareli...Just relax,” he told her with his arms locked around her shoulders, fingers laced around the back of her neck, his legs wrapped around hers. “Just stop for a minute...let’s talk about this,” he said between pants and eventually she stopped fighting, her body going limp against his chest. “I never wanted it to be like this Yareli...it shouldn’t have come to this and I’m sorry but you know how it is. I want to run for office someday and Ava’s family has pedigree. She knows how to play ball…”

“And so do I,” Yareli said before she jerked herself forward, dislocating her right shoulder. She was out of his hold and on her feet before he realized what she’d done but he was up only a beat behind her. That was all she needed. As soon as he settled, Yareli stepped forward on her left leg and swung her right thigh up into his crotch and shoved him back down onto the floor. As he rolled to his side, wailing like a baby cupping his balls, Yareli kicked him hard in the face before stepping over him and driving her shoulder into the wall. Blinding pain rushed through her as her shoulder snapped back into place and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out, even as Blake writhed on the floor. “You have no idea what I’m capable of you shortsighted blowhard,” she said as she stepped into her boots and flung open the door. But she had one more parting thought before she went. “And just so we’re clear, you were never more than a fuck...I mean don’t get me wrong we had fun, but what would my family think if I brought your pale white ass to the barbeque estúpido mierda gringo cabron…”

It wasn’t until she got outside that Yareli realized that stumbling around half in the bag unarmed and without her badge was not the best of ideas, especially being the object of a serial killer’s twisted crush. She was barely dressed, braless beneath a department issue tank top and cut off shorts. Funny, she had the presence of mind to step out of her chancletas and into her boots as she stormed out. Her hair was a mess, eyes red and puffy, she didn’t blame people for giving her wide berth as she trudged towards the one place she wouldn’t need money to get by.

On a strip overlooking the dirt bike track sat Big Bills Bowls, a local’s haven in the oasis that was Downtown Vice City. Known for it’s cheap booze, greasy food, and rough company, the bowling alley wasn’t any place for tourist or Vice City high society. But despite the rawkus atmosphere, Big Bills was a known neutral zone. That didn’t mean a tussle didn’t break out every now and then, just that all gang wars happen outside those doors. Big Bill ran his place with an iron fist, a .357 on his hip and Stubby shotgun mounted above the bar. Because of it’s proximity to the dirt bike track and Vice City’s longest straightaway, Big Bills was a common congregation place for the racing crowd

It had been one of her first stops when she came back to Vice City looking for trouble and Big Bill recognized the look on her face as soon as she plopped herself down at the bar. He didn’t come over right away, allowing his daughter to serve Yareli while he chatted with a few bikers at the other end of the bar.

“Ain’t seen you in a while honey,” the freckle-redhead said with a grin as she put a couple shot glasses down on the bar. “Figured you’d gone all the way straight with you making detective and all.”

“Just pour Caroline,” Yareli grunted and the bubbly bartender poured the shots but pulled the glasses back with a raised eyebrow. “Please…”

“Manners, Rel, will get you everywhere,”she said with a giggle as she raised her glass and Yareli snorted as they clinked glasses and down their shots before Caroline put a bottle of Pride Brew on the bar. That got a small smile from Yareli as she tapped her glass against the bar top. “I’ll let you brood for a bit honey, but you can’t be coming in here all shitty after all this time and expect me to be quiet.”

Caroline patted her hand as she stepped away from the bar but stopped when Yareli clasped her fingers. Without a word, she put her Redwoods on the bar and slid an ashtray in front of her. “You’re too sweet to be in here Caroline…”

“Just for the ones who deserve it honey,” she said with a wink before leaving her to drink in relative peace.

But of course it didn’t last. Aside from the usual riff raff, Big Bill was nice enough to allow a few girls to freelance so long as they kept their clothes on and turned their tricks in one of the hidden rooms behind the lanes. Usually single mothers making ends meet or weekend warriors supplementing the income of their low paying day jobs. Sure they were still prostitutes but they had discerning tastes and not having a pimp meant the only kickback they had to worry about was the small fee Big Bill would collect at the end of the night. The only draw back was that Big Bill offered nothing in the way of enforcement. Sure, he’d step in if one of the girls was getting her teeth kicked in but if a guy wanted to skip out on the bill it was up to them to set him straight.

Yareli was having her third beer at one of the pool tables when she saw a petite brunette leading a beer bellied man to the back by the hand. She couldn’t have been more than 20 with her hair in low pigtails and the man was at least twice her age. Maybe even three times, judging by the gray in his beard and wide sunroof at the top of his head. Caroline let out a snort at Yareli shaking her head as she set up for another game of 9-ball.

“I’d rather be broke,” she muttered into her bottle and Caroline laughed a little.

“Easy for you to say, you have other skills Rel...and all that fancy book learner.”

“And where did that get me? A job that’ll probably get me killed…”

“That you love,” Caroline said quickly as she lined up her shot. “And from what I hear you’re just as hard to kill as your new partner.” Yareli grinned at that and Caroline’s missed shot before she leaned across the table to take her own. “So tell me, is he as hot in person as he is on TV?”

“He’s aight...I mean if you’re into the whole cowboy boots thing. What do you want to know for anyway? Like I didn’t see that huge ass rock on your left ring finger…”

“Girl this is fake,” she said laughing and Yareli shook her head. “His name is Martin. Works construction and completely unconnected. He’s a good guy and hates that I work here but I can’t leave Daddy to take care of it by himself…”

“So he’s boring then,” Yareli asked with a smirk and Caroline broke into giggles.

“Not at all. Half-Cuban, half-black and 6’3” inches of chiseled granite. Tosses me around like a rag doll then makes me breakfast in the morning.”

“Can’t beat that,” Yareli said with a grin as she sunk her third shot and Caroline rolled her eyes.

That’s when the yelling started and they both tried to ignore it but all conversation stopped. Yareli’s eyes kept drifting to the door, trying to make sense of the loud voices behind it. Caroline started to get her father from the bar but Yareli stopped her, not wanting to disturb the man if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d kept the peace at Big Bills. After a few good thumps against the wall, Yareli slowly unscrewed the cue and placed the narrow end on the table before putting her ear to the door to hear the girl shouting about 50 bucks. When the screaming stopped, Yareli stepped back from the door, hoping that the girl came out first. Caroline was behind her when the door opened and the man rushed out with his face scratched to shit and a bite mark on his cheek. Before he could close the door, they both saw the girl, sprawled out on the concrete floor. Her denim miniskirt hiked up around her waist and her bikini top torn off. Her face was bloodied and bruised but she was still breathing and Caroline rushed in as the man passed them.

Time slowed a moment as her vision went red. Her grip tightened on the jimmy stick as she took purposefully steps behind the man. Even as rage filled her being, one thought crossed her mind. Don’t kill him.

The rest was lost, only brief flashes of the brutality she delivered remained. The sound of the pool cue slamming against the back of his neck. The crack that came from the heel of her boot being driven into his ribs. Her hand in his back pocket. The look of horror on Caroline’s face as she tossed the wallet at her feet. Then she was outside, taking deep pulls from the bottle of rum she took from behind the bar.

Things didn’t come back together until she found herself with a gun in her hand. A .45 with extended clip. There was a half empty box of ammo next to the half empty bottle on the counter in front of her. A target with a peculiar shot pattern lay 50 feet away. The gun in her hand clicked empty and the clip slid out to clatter onto the counter before her. It was then she noticed the few droplets of clear fluid on the painted metal and ran her fingers through them. Then touched her face. Whether it was sweat or tears, she couldn’t be sure but she took another long pull off the bottle before she set about loading the clip again. Another sip and she took aim at the same target, held her breath. She heard the door open just as she took her first shot but that didn’t stop her from emptying yet another clip as heavy footfalls echoed around the otherwise empty room. The .357 revolver was in her hand as she spun, thumb on the hammer before her eyes focus.

“The fuck are you doing here B...Becker...what the hell are you doing here,” she said, the last as she disengaged the revolver and went back to loading the clip.

“Got a call from a concerned citizen about my partner going apeshit, bludgeoning a civilian near death, and stumbling into Ammo-Nation half dressed with a bottle of rum…”

“Fucking Bill…”

“Nope not this time. Off duty uni from Downtown station saw the whole thing called Cap and he called me. So you want to talk about it?”

“Not in the least…”

“Mind if I hang out then,” he said putting down his own box of ammo in the stall beside her.

“I gotta choice?”

“Not in the least,” he said with a smirk as he reached around to take away her bottle and Yareli let him have it. But Becker didn’t take a drink, instead capped it and set it on the floor beside him. They didn’t speak again until all the ammo was spent and all the loaner guns were packed away. He pulled off his flannel button down and handed it over to her with a smirk. “You’re stuck with me tonight Robina...whether you can’t go home or don’t want to, doesn’t matter to me. I can’t have my new partner out here losing her shit over some asshole who doesn’t appreciate her,” he said with a hand on her chin to lift her head so he could get a good look at the bruise on her cheek. “You’re too good a cop for that Yareli…”

“I appreciate that...really I do but I’m not in any condition to work…”

“Who said anything about work? Your little outburst earned us a full day off the clock and we’re gonna make the best of it dammit.”

“I don’t need a babysitter Becks…”

“I told you the same not too long ago and look where it got me...stuck so suck it up, put on my shirt, and let’s go blow off some steam. And that’s an order Detective,” he said, his tone rich with authority and Yareli couldn’t help but laugh as she turned her back to him and pulled off her bloodied tanktop to replace with his flannel button down.

And of course it was way too big but Yareli had been dirt poor once. Making something out of nothing came naturally to her and she wasn’t about to go around looking like hot garbage anymore. Once it was on, she buttoned it just enough so that it would stay up once she slipped her arms out then tied the sleeves into a neat little bow beneath her breasts. She used the stainless steel as a mirror to tussle her hair a little once she took her bun down and smiled. Becker watched the whole transformation with unchecked awe. The woman who stood in front of him was nothing like the mercurial hardass he’d been riding with the past few months. And that couldn’t have been his beat up old shirt. She had to have done some sort of Santeria magic to go from a haggard mess to...he wasn’t even sure, but he liked it. Then she opened her mouth, wiping clean his lusty haze with a few of her sharp words.

“Get your jaw off the floor Becker...I’ll still kick your ass,” she said as she scooped up the gun box and headed for the door. Her back to him, Becker didn’t see the way Yareli blushed at his lingering gaze.

Deep down Yareli knew it was a bad idea. Even as she climbed into the truck and Becker peeled away from the curb, she opened her mouth more than once to shut the whole thing down. At this point in their partnership there was no way she could dispute the genuine bond that had developed between them, forged by shared near death experiences, playful banter, and a genuine desire to not see the other in a body bag. Yareli had little doubt that he would have probably shown up in her moment of need regardless of whether or not she saw him through his concussion a few weeks before. He cared for her, and that only made her feel worse about not trusting him to know where she really lived.

https://youtu.be/Se8srYEdi2I

After a quick stop at Tacopolypse and Mr. Liquor, Yareli found herself in the parking lot of yet another Ammo-Nation and still had the slightest idea of where he was taking her. They hadn’t spoken much but that made her no less content, especially when she noticed the lack of chatter from the police radio. “Off duty means off duty Rook,” was all he said and turned up Wave 103, making her smile a little as she looked at him. “You should do that more often, you know? Smile, I mean. Not a bad look...even with the shiner.” Yareli rolled her eyes at that, leaned back in her seat to put her bare feet out the window as they cruised down Bayshore Ave. to the South Bridge.

“Sit tight,” he said with a pat to her bare thigh as he flung open his door and again Yareli didn’t ask any questions. She did take the opportunity to take a few more swigs off the bottle he’d been holding hostage, but Becker didn’t say anything when he returned to find it in her lap.

“Fishing...it’s damn near midnight,” she asked of the bucket of bait he tossed behind the driver seat.

“¿Qué pasa Mija? Miedo de estar en el agua por la noche …I thought that was kind of a thing for your people,” was his winking reply and Yareli hit him with a jab to the ribs.

“I was born here dipshit...like both my parents and don’t call me that,” she said, unable to contain her smirk. “Papi used to take me out on Tio Berto’s boat when I was kid. He’d set up a pole for me in the bow while they handled business at the stern. I been fishing since I could walk and was swimming before that so keep your backwards hillbilly thinking to yourself.”

“Well excuse my ignorant assumptions little lady,” he said in an exaggerated southern drawl that made Yareli laugh despite herself. “I’m sure my little dingy ain’t got shit on the drug lord’s flotilla but it gets the job done.”

The boat they walked up to on the docks was far from a dingy. While it was smaller than her uncle’s Rio, the Tropic was still a respectable piece of nautical machinery. Halfway between a yacht and a fishing boat, the Tropic was a perfect blend of luxury and functionality with a raised bridge to accommodate practical living quarters that included a full bathroom, bedroom, and kitchen. Yareli pretended not to be impressed as she climbed aboard while Becker untied the line. She followed him up to the bridge and watched as he maneuvered the boat out of the docks as easily as he did his truck through the crowded Vice City streets. A breeze whipped up as they headed into open water, but Yareli was just drunk enough not to notice her own chattering teeth. Becker did though and left the wheel long enough to grab her a standard issue department sweatshirt. She nodded him a thank you and he waved it off as he regained the wheel to drive them out well past the lighthouse before he finally dropped anchor with the stern pointed at the lights just beyond Ocean Beach.

“Almost looks beautiful from here don’t it,” he said quietly and Yareli shrugged her shoulders.

“Buelo used to talk about seeing the lights from Cuba...a beacon of hope he said. It wasn’t until he got here that he realized it was just as ugly here as it is there. Mierda sigue siendo mierda incluso cuando está envuelto de regalo...or something like that,” she said with a chuckle and Becker shook his head. “I used to think he was just a bitter old man but all that changed when they took my dad away. Snatched the wool right off my eyes and I saw this place for what it really is...a cesspool that chews you up and spit you out. No matter where you come from or what you look like, the story ends the same. We’re all just hamsters on a wheel.”

“You know it’s been almost four months and that’s the most I ever heard you talk about your folks...your real folks I mean,” Becker said as he lit a pair of Redwoods and passed her one. “I mean I know all about the Torreses but the Robinas get very little play on Radio Yareli.”

“Force of habit I guess,” she said with a shrug. “Then again I could say the same about you Becks...and probably for the same reason…”

“Two cops with criminal pedigree, probably for the best that we play it close to the vest huh?”

“I’m convinced that’s why I didn’t get anywhere with the feds. Pop told me to change my name before I went off to school but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Being a Robina had nothing to do with my life getting fuck, DYFS did that...should we be rocking so hard,” she said, sitting up abruptly and Becker let out a chuckle. “No really...this doesn’t...Dios Mijo comi hoy,” came out between wet belches as she got to her feet on shake legs. And again Becker was there, holding onto the back of his sweatshirt to keep Yareli from tumbling over the side as she wretched. His other hand held the length of her hair back as she gripped the rail, balancing on her tiptoes as an obscene amount of booze vacated her person.

“From the looks of things not much,” Becker said with a snort as he glanced over the side. The torrent had ebbed to a few well placed gags and coughs, signalling the end of the storm but Becker stayed close until Yareli finally stepped back from the rail. “Feel better, partner,” he asked, steadying her with a hand on her hip and she shook her head. “Well there’s a shower downstairs and plenty of fresh towels...might even be something you could change into…”

“I’ll take the shower but I think I’ll pass on any of your hooker hand-me-downs,” she droned as Becker guided her towards the stairs.

“Hey now, I’ve entertained regular girls too…”

“Sure you do.”

Becker shook his head at that as Yareli dipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. After another bout of dry heaves, he heard the shower start and set about reheating greasy smorgabard they’d picked up from Tacopalypse. The beers were already on ice in the cooler but he doubted she’d want to drink anymore so there were a few bottles of Spunk mixed in among the amber bottles of Logger. She’d turned her nose up at those but so long as Becker was buying, Yareli kept her mouth shut.

And it was the first thing she grabbed when she finally came out of the bathroom. Her wet hair up in a tight bun, the strings of a bikini top were visible beneath his flannel shirt that she only buttoned twice. Yareli used her foot to open the cooler and popped the cap on the edge of the counter before she slipped into the booth style table across from Becker. He was already halfway through his burrito but paused to look up at her a moment before quickly shifting his eyes back to the greasy wax paper in front of him.

“Might want to get some ice on that...starting to look a little gnarly,” he said without looking at her.

“You should see the other guy,” she said with a smirk that didn’t quite meet her eyes but she made no moves to nurse the bruise that had been darkening all night. Yareli saw it in the mirror and forced back a few tears. She was done crying for the night and, whether he knew it or not, Becker was a playing a major role in that decision. “Is it really that bad?”

“If I didn’t know you I’d be offering to kick somebody’s ass but I know that would only offend a strong independent woman like yourself,” he said with a grin and Yareli rolled her eyes.

“You could still offer though,” she said quickly and Becker put his burrito down, narrowed his eyes at her a moment before she burst out laughing. “Lieutenant Andrew Jackson Becker...rock star cop with a heart of gold,” she said with a grin, finally digging into her own burrito. She took a few bites and chugged down half her beer before she said, “I don’t make it a habit of bedding down women beaters, you know? But I guess it’s a first time for everything....and I’m not saying it’s okay that he hit me but it was more of a mutual combat situation than anything else. I said some things. He said somethings. I threatened him and he said some kinda racist shit…”

“Bad move,” Becker said with a smirking shake of his head.

“And he knew it too. I must have blacked out ‘cause all I remember is calling him a dumb shit gringo while he’s rolling around on the floor. I should have never went back there but it’s been a shitty run these last few days and I...I guess I…”

“Wanted something comfortable...I get it. And I’m not judging. Guess that’s kinda why I keep letting Michelle hang onto me. It’s comfortable, even when it’s not,” he said with a shrug, but Yareli saw the flash of sadness in his eyes before he looked away.

“Yeah but she like loves you Becks. I’ve seen how she looks at you…”

“She loves the idea of me...somebody to take care of her. To save her but I can’t be that guy all the time. It’s exhausting…”

“But that pussy too good to turn down huh,” Yareli said with a snort and Becker flicked his bottle cap at her. “What I’m saying...we’re partners right? You can be honest with me.”

“It’s not even...just leave it alone okay.”

“We’re commiserating over our shitty personal lives A.J. I thought that’s what partners did. I had a dick I bet you’d tell me…”

“You had a dick we’d be at a titty bar instead of having a heart to heart on my boat…”

“Fuck you Becker we could have still gone to the titty bar,” she said laughing and he followed suit. “I hate to admit it but I think this is better...getting out of the city for a little while. It’s nice so...ummm...I guess I should thank you, huh?”

“You should,” he said with a raised eyebrow and Yareli chuckled a little as she slipped out of the booth, grabbing both their garbage as she went. Becker watched as she bent to drop it in the bin, grit his teeth as he caught sight of her ass peeking out the bottom of her shorts. He didn’t realize he was still staring at her bare thighs until Yareli cleared her throat and slid a fresh beer in front of him. She didn’t say anything but Becker could tell he’d been caught by the color on her unbruised cheek. “So you gonna thank me or what?”

“If we make it back to shore tomorrow,” she said as she curled up on the short sofa across from him.

Yareli was asleep before he could comment, whether it was from booze or exhaustion, Becker didn’t have the heart to tease her. Instead he went back up to the bridge to do a few last minute checks and chummed the waters to increase their chances of a good catch, all the while thinking that things did not turn out the way he’d expected. Despite the 14-hour days and end of shift beers, there was still a good amount of tiptoeing around the deeper side of their lives. It was safer that way, given their vastly different backgrounds and general leeriness of new partners. Then there was the ridiculous case load that made downtime almost nonexistent. What they’d learned of each other was mostly observational. Tonight was no different, but Yareli had lowered her guard just enough to allow Becker to see her. And whether it was intentional or not, it allowed him to do the same. Tonight wasn’t about Lieutenant Becker and Detective Robina getting along, it was about A.J. and Yareli getting to know each.

By the time Becker made it back below deck, Yareli was still out cold. One leg propped up on the back of the sofa while the other hung out over the edge. One arm hung over the side, the other tucked behind her head. With her short shorts, bare midriff, and ample cleavage exposed, the position might have been sexy had it not been for all the snoring. He didn’t remember that from the night they spent at his place, but then again, he had been heavily medicated and she was mostly sober.

“Where’s a camera when you need one,” he muttered, shaking his head a moment before he moved to hoist her over his shoulder and deposit her gently onto the bed. Sure he could have left her on the sofa, but Becker was too much a gentleman for that. Or so he told himself. It wasn’t as nice as the cloud he slept on at home but, deep down, he hoped Yareli might invite him to stay. And perhaps, find some comfort with him. He didn’t bank on it, simply pulled the blankets over her and tiptoed out of the room. Then he heard his name as he slid the accordion door shut.

“A.J.” It was barely a whisper, but still he heard it and a small smile came to his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t go,” she said without opening her eyes..

“You sure,” he asked, already kicking off his boots and stepping back into the tiny room. It was mostly bed with the mattress flush against three walls and barely three feet between the foot and the door. “Ain’t enough room for a barricade,” he said as he sat down to pull off his jeans and Yareli let out a quiet chuckle.

“Just keep your hands north of the border and your lips to yourself,” she said, opening her eyes just in time to get a glimpse of Becker as he slid into bed. And as soon as he settled, Yareli molded herself to his body and was, again, fast asleep.


It was 9:33 when Yareli Robina awoke, clear eyed and not the least bit foggy about her surroundings. Hangovers had never been an issue for her, so long as she got a good night's sleep. But still, she wasn’t in any rush to actually get up. Instead, she watched the sun through the porthole, listened to the waves lap against the side of the boat. She usually hated morning, but today didn’t seem so bad, even despite the events of the night before. And as much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, Yareli knew that Becker was a large part of it.

She realized it that first night, how hard she slept had very little to do with his plush bedding. Yareli could fall asleep anywhere but the most restful sleep always came when she was completely comfortable in her surroundings, and up until a week ago that only happened back home at the Torres's. She tried to tell herself it was a fluke, brought on by exhaustion and prescription painkillers, but that didn’t explain how content she felt with her face pressed against his chest. Even now, with his breath on the back of her neck, one arms tight around her middle and the other tucked under her head, it was all she could do not to sigh. She grit her teeth instead, pressed her body back against his and Becker tightened his grip.

“You shouldn’t feel this good,” she heard him mumble before he ran his nose along the back of her neck and took in a sharp breath. He slipped his arm from beneath her and eased his way out of bed. Yareli shut her eyes as soon as she felt him sit up, certain Becker thought she was still asleep, otherwise why would he say such a thing out loud and risk her wrath. She lay perfectly still, listened as he made his way into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

It was like he was in her head, just like the morning after their first sleepover when he just so happened to rumble down the stairs as she was trying to convince herself that she wasn’t into him. Like his arrival was some kind of cosmic reminder that it was too late. Then there was the little habit that had developed recently of finishing each other’s sentences, but it wasn’t until Penelope mentioned it that either of them realized it was happening.

“I hope your girlfriend never hears you guys talk to each other,” she teased and they both looked at her perplexed a moment before responding in unison.

“I don’t have a one…”

“He don’t have one…”

“Gee I wonder why,” was her snickering reply and they both shrugged it off.

But now Yareli was beginning to wonder. All she knew of Michelle was what little Becker told of her and when they met at the ceremony, she was icy to say the least. She didn’t think anything of it then, even as she watched the woman be cordial with other women in the room. Now though, as she replayed the evening in her head, Yareli recalled a few dirty looks from Michelle as she and Becker traded glances across the crowded ballroom. She was also poignantly seated when Yareli received her commendation, rolled her eyes as Capt. Colins showered her with praise. At the time Yareli thought she was just generally a bitch but now she realized Michelle might have recognized the same thing Penelope had in Yareli when she talked about Becker. They’d become more than partners, and judging by his muttered declaration, maybe even more than friends.

Yareli could ignore his offhanded compliments and lingering gazes, but that, she couldn’t push aside. How could she, when she still had goosebumps from the way Becker seemed to breath her in? She listened as he headed out of the bathroom, heart pounding in her chest, mind racing as to what to do next. Things were already complicated enough and she was certain her little dust up with Darling would carry consequences that might mean her end. The fuse had been lit and it was only a matter of time before the whole charade blew up in her face, so why not have some fun on her way out. Caution had never really been her thing anyway. Growing up in Vice City, you’d never leave your house if you worried about consequences. Hell, you could get shot walking to school in the morning but that didn’t stop you from going. You learned to duck but you didn’t stop living, and that’s how she felt the last few months with Becker. All the subterfuge was starting to wear on her, because that’s not how she did her job. Even the investigation that ultimately ended her career with the DEA was carried out in the open. She hid nothing from her superiors as she dug into the case files of countless agents. Sure that’s probably what triggered all the backlash but that didn’t matter to her. She handled things her way and got results, this thing with Darling and Becker had her feeling like a fraud. On top of all that was the pressure to find the maniac who was now chopping up girls with her likeness. She felt like a puppet with tangled strings being pulled in all directions and that was no place for someone like her.

Sleeping with Becker was the first step towards taking back the rein. Whether or not the decision had anything to do with Darling wasn’t even up for debate. As far as she was concerned, her restraint in bedding Becker was more to spite Blake and his assumptions more than a lack of interest. And that added level of intimacy would give her access to all the things he’d yet to share, then she could judge for herself just how bad a cop her lieutenant was.

She could hear him moving around in the kitchen, could smell his freshly lit cigarette, as she slipped out of her shorts and pulled off the bikini top. There was nothing sexier to a man like Becker than a woman in his clothes, so she left his shirt on and pulled her hair down out of the bun it’d been in since her shower the night before. It was still a little damp but the sultry wave framed her heart shaped face well enough. After a few quick tussles to hide the bruise on her cheek, Yareli slid out of bed to watch Becker root around in the cabinets in his boxer briefs and cowboy boots. Always with the cowboy boots.

“How you feelin’ partner,” he said as he pulled a french press down from one of the cupboards. “There’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom with your name on it.”

“Umm...yeah...I should probably do that first,” she said then licked her wrist to getting a whiff of the acrid spit trail her dry tongue left behind. “That’s not sexy at all,” she muttered as she slipped past him and Becker didn’t even look up.

“I was thinking we fish for lunch, finish off the beers, and head back before dark,” he shouted over the sounds of Yareli gargling behind the thin bathroom door. “Ten bucks says I get first bite…”

“Make it twenty and you got yourself a bet,” she said coming up behind him to steal the cigarette from between his lips.

“Come on Robina, get your...own,” he said, stammering a little at the last. His eyes widened as he looked at her, lingering at her cleavage a moment before drifting down to her thick thighs.

“I wanted yours,” was her quick reply before she took a long drag and made a conspicuous glance at his bulge before giving his waistband a snap. “Vamanos blanco,” she said as she stamped out the last of the cigarette and unbuttoned the last two buttons of his shirt. “You said you entertained regular girls, well let’s see what you got,” she added as she strutted away, letting the shirt fall behind her.

What followed wasn’t at all what she expected. The first time with a new partner was never earth shattering but it usually better than the ten minutes of awkward bumping that Yareli experienced with Becker. No position seemed right and in the process of one change, she kicked him in the nose. They got a good laugh out of it but it was a wonder either of them came. The fact they both did, almost simultaneously, was completely overshadowed by their less than stellar coupling.

“Well that was…”

“Proficient,” Yareli said shaking her head, eyes on the ceiling a moment before she sat up.

“Well, I mean, you kinda caught me off guard with your little strip tease. I’m not used to…”

“Becker, relax it’s cool,” she said messing his hair before she got out of bed and pulled on her shorts. “We did it...it wasn’t great...and nobody burst into flames. Nothing to write home about.”

“Hey, that’s not fair. I’m barely awake…”

“It’s cool Becks. You came, I came and we never have to talk about it again,” she said pulling his shirt back on. “I’ll finish the coffee and figure out something for breakfast. Don’t want any repeats of last night.”

There wasn’t much Yareli could do with a two burner hot plate, one of which was still boiling the water for coffee. She snorted at that, shaking her head as dumped a healthy portion of grounds into the french press. There were a few eggs, some bacon, and a loaf of cuban bread, so she settled on a couple sandwiches to get them going. As the bacon sizzled, Yareli couldn’t help but hear Becker muttering in the other room. She caught glimpses of him pacing, and despite their lack of sexual chemistry, she couldn’t help ogle his masculinity. The boxer briefs were back on but everything that really matter was still on full display. His broad shoulders. The light dusting of fur that coated his torso. The scars on his back. The scruff on that lined his angled jaw. They caught eyes once or twice and Yareli couldn’t hold her smirk, which seemed to only further inflame her partner. His mutters grew louder, and though she couldn’t make out all he said, the word “proficient” kept getting tossed around like a four letter word. Judging by the way he reacted, Yareli was certain Becker was used to women falling madly in love with him at the first stroke of his cock. His rather impressive cock, but she wasn’t about to stroke his hurt ego. If he needed that to get by then he wasn’t the man for her anyway.

But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t feed him. They were still partners, and that meant something to her, regardless of how she got the position. He might even call them friends but that wasn’t a word she tossed around, especially when their relationship could end with a bullet. Yareli tried to push that thought aside as she built two identical sandwiches on paper plates, then poured them both coffee. She could feel him watching her from the bedroom door but didn’t look up as she set the table. With the flimsy plates, she didn’t trust herself to get it all in one shot so it took a few trips. First the sandwiches, then the coffees. The third trip was for the press and the paper bag of pilfered cream and sugar but Becker stopped her with strong hand on her wrist, pulling her to him with one hard yank.

“What the fuck Be…”

His tongue was in her mouth before she could finish. One hand still gripped her wrist, while the other slipped into her hair to grip the back of her head. A moan escaped her as Becker twirled his tongue around hers and let go her wrist to rest on the small of her back. Yareli realized something then, as he nibbled at her bottom lip, they hadn’t really kissed earlier. Sure there was a peck or two but nothing to make her stand up on her tiptoes as he pulled away.

“How’s that for proficient,” he said with that cocky smirk of his and Yareli could do nothing but moan. Becker chuckled at that as he ran his hand through her hair and gave it a quick tug that arched her back. “Like I said, you caught me off guard,” he told her, his lips brushing against her ear as he slipped his hand up the back of her shirt and pulled it off without disturbing any of the buttons. “I can’t have my subordinate thinking I’m some lame dick idiot. Chain of command would go to shit wouldn’t it,” he asked then ran his tongue down her collarbone as he worked his hands into her shorts, pushing them down her thighs as he kissed his way down to her breasts.

Before Yareli could wrap her mind around what was happening, Becker had her naked on the counter. One nipple clamped between his teeth as he worked his hand down between her thighs. Her breath caught as he simultaneously slipped a finger into her opening and bit down on her nipple. Her head lulled as she gripped the edge of the counter, pressed her heels to the back of his knees.

“I’ve been told I talk in my sleep. Didn’t believe it until I heard it myself once or twice,” he said with that cocky grin and Yareli didn’t have it in her to be snide as he slipped in a second finger. “I said something this morning. didn’t I? Something that might have seemed out of character…”

“Shut up and fuck me already,” she groaned, shaking hands fumbling at his boxers but Becker was quicker. In an instant, he had both wrists gripped behind her back, still with that smirk, even as he shook his head.

“We tried it you’re way already Robina, now it’s my turn,” he said and gave her bottom lip a playful nip before got back to work between her thighs. Becker changed his approach this time though, using his thumb against her clit as he working his middle finger against her g-spot. “That alright with you Detective?”

All Yareli could do was moan at this point. Between his fingers on her pussy, the nibbles at her neck, and nips to her shoulder, she could barely see straight. She wanted to be terse at his cocky chuckle but her mouth couldn’t form the words, mind lost in the pleasure that he gave.

“Now I believe we were on the topic of my talking in my sleep,” he asked quietly, his lips brushing behind her ear as he pulled back on her wrists, arching her back ever so slightly. And again she moaned, but this time she nodded as well, allowing herself to succumb to his embrace. “Now I can’t say I remember but it had to be something to get you to show me tus galletas,” he said and Yareli let out a breathy moan that might have been a giggle had she not been on the edge of climax. “So tell me, Detective Robina, what did I say?”

With that, Becker stepped back and released her; Yareli’s eyes snapped open, full of fury that cooled the moment she saw the size of the tent in his boxer briefs. And the wet spot developing at it’s apex. He was just as turned on as she was, but Yareli wasn’t in the mood to be teased. Funny though, regaining the upper hand wasn’t even on her mind as she slipped down off the countertop to press her body against his. She looked up at him, a grin slowly spreading across her full lips as she took his hands and put them to her breasts.

“You said I shouldn’t feel this good,” she told him as she ran his hands down her body to settle on her hips. Becker made the final push to grip her ass on his own as Yareli slid her hands up his chest, running her nails along the scruff on his jaw. “I could say the same about you but for all I know you’re about as good for me as a line of coke...and I don’t do that anymore,” she said with a smirk and glanced over his shoulder to see the condom resting on the arm of the sofa. Again she smiled as she leaned up to press her lips to his. Becker let out a grunt as she sucked his tongue into her mouth. But just as the kiss deepened, Yareli gave him a hard shove that sent him sprawling over the arm of the sofa. “I doubt you’re as addictive,” she said with a snort as she climbed up onto his lap.

“Oh yeah, well, we’ll see about that,” was Becker’s snarky reply as Yareli yanked down his shorts with one hand and tore open the condom with her teeth. She opened her mouth, head cocked to the side, and Becker braced himself for one of her brash comebacks but there was none. Instead she popped the condom in her mouth and lean forward, all the while holding his gaze as she sheathed his cock without using her hands. “Shit, if you’d done that the first time…”

“You would have blown your load immediately,” she said with a smirk as she grip his shaft and slowly lowered herself down his length.

There was a collective gasp as she settled into his lap and a smile slowly spread across their lips. Yareli opened her mouth but Becker spoke the words as he sat up to wrap his arms around her hips and swung his legs to the floor without slipping out of her.

“Much better start, huh partner…”

“Mmmhmm,” was her moaning reply as she slowly rocked her hips backwards and bit her lip to keep from calling his name as his tip pressed firmly against her g-spot.

But of course Becker noticed. The hesitation in her hips. The goose flesh that rose up on her chest. Her fingers digging into his shoulders. He read it all and smiled as he thrust his hips forward, sending another hard jolt through her pleasure center. It was two more before Yareli let go and cried out, but it wasn’t his name on her lips.

“Oye papi... Me gusta duro...muy muy muy duro…”

“I had a feeling,” he said with a slap to her ass. Becker gave her another, then bit down on her neck hard enough to raise a welt before he slipped his arms beneath her thighs and stood, eliciting a squeal from Yareli that shocked him off balance. He held her strong though, their eyes locked a moment before he began bouncing her up and down his length.

And she held on tight, even as he stumbled into the doorway, knocking her against the doorjamb. Yareli locked one leg around his waist and braced her other foot against the wall behind him, holding him in place as she bounced against his thrusts. She held tight to his sweat slick shoulders, all the while mumbling sweet dirty nothings in a mélange of English and Spanish as Becker nipped and sucked at her neck.

“Fuck, baby, I’m close,” he groaned, face buried between her breasts but Yareli already knew and redoubled her efforts. “It wasn’t bullshit...fuck Yareli…”

“Wait...A.J. not yet...I’m almost...don’t…”
But it was too late, his entire body locked up as he pressed his lips to hers, cutting off her pleas with his tongue in her mouth. Ultimately, it was that kiss that pushed her over the edge. His hand behind her head, holding her close as he filled the condom inside her. And unlike the first time, they lingered in the embrace. Tongues dancing as groping hands roamed along bare skin. It was a completely different experience that Yareli would never forget.

“Well that was…”

“I swear if you feed me that proficient bullshit again I’ll give you another one to match,” he threatened with a smirk and Yareli couldn’t help but laugh as he planted a kiss on her bruised cheek.

“I was gonna say something else but I think I’ll keep it to myself,” was her snarky reply as she wiggled out of his arms and Becker rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t have done that after breakfast,” she said with eyes on their cold sandwiches as she scooped up his shirt and pulled it on.

“Could’ve but the look on your face was worth it…”

“What look?”

“That look when you realized you were about to be kissed…”

“Mauled is more like it…”

“Whatever Robina, you liked it,” he said as he pulled off the condom, knotted it, and tossed it in the trash before pulling his shorts up.

“So what if I did,” she asked with a raised eyebrow as she slid into the booth and Becker slid in across from her. He didn’t have an answer for that, not an audible one anyway. His face turned bright red as he gulped down his cold coffee and Yareli sucked her teeth.

“What? I’m thirsty.”

“Sure you are.”

Breakfast was spent trading barbs and sidelong glances before Becker reminded her of their bet. Yareli rushed through the last bites of her sandwich so she could get dressed in the same bikini top and cut off shorts before they headed up to the deck. Becker donned a pair of swimming trunks that sat low on his waist and fell almost to his knees, making it almost impossible for her to focus on the task at hand. Needless to say, Yareli lost the bet but Becker didn’t gloat, which she appreciated. They talked a lot, mostly about work, but what else were two cops supposed to talk about on a fishing trip. There was the occasional long look but that was to be expected given what transpired below deck. All in all it was a good afternoon, without a moment of awkwardness. Even when Becker put in arm around her hips, steadying her as she struggled to reel in a something big that ended up snapping the line. He planted a kiss on her shoulder, patted her on the butt and said, “Better luck next time.” Yareli didn’t even flinch, simply shrugged her shoulders and reset her reel.

https://youtu.be/06y9LXGoq3g

Yareli hadn’t expected him to come down below when she turned on the radio, tuned the dial to Radio Espantoso as she deftly cleaned the fish for ceviche. Her hips and feet began to move almost immediately, she couldn’t help it. Salsa was in her blood. Despite being a criminal, her father was a pretty good percussionist and often jammed with the house band at Cafe Robina when he wasn’t putting in work for his big brother. It was inevitable that she sang along to every song, occasionally using the wooden spoon as a microphone as she shuffled and turned, her hips rocking to the music that reminded her parents. Birth and adopted. When her mother was clean, it wasn’t that uncommon for Yareli to wake up to them dancing in the living room in the middle of the night, but it was Alfonso Torres who taught her how to dance before her senior prom.

So caught up in the moment she didn’t notice Becker watching her from the doorway, his eyes on the sway of her hips. It was two songs before she saw him but Yareli didn’t miss a beat. She did stop singing though, but she couldn’t keep her body from responding to the beat. And she wasn’t shy about it either, tossing her hair and throwing him a wink on the rare occasion that his eyes met hers.

It was her dancing that lead to round three but this time they actually made it to the bed. And they took their time, exploring each others bodies with hands, lips, and tongues before Yareli rode them to another simultaneous climax. So wrapped up in the moment, neither realized Becker forgot to put on a condom until it was too late but Yareli assured him that her birth control was up to date. Neither was worried about anything else and they quickly moved onto the business of lunch. Becker was nice enough to clean up while Yareli showered. It wasn’t until she got out that she realized neither of them had had a drink all day and it struck her as odd, but she didn’t read too much into it. Nor did she mention it to Becker, instead she curled up on the sex stained sheets and passed out. And of course he joined her after a shower of his own, planting a kiss on the back of her head as he spooned up behind her.

At about the same time, Blake Darlington had just finished tossing Yareli’s Hyman condo, in search of anything related to A.J. Becker. She’d been holding out, of that he was certain, but he couldn’t prove it. And he certainly couldn’t go back to D.C. with his suspicions that his UC might have gone native. If there was a play to made, Blake would find it. He didn’t have a choice. The only problem with that was Yareli Robina wasn’t some barrio girl on the come up. She was more clever than she let on with her coded notebooks and hidey holes. Blake tore the place apart, finding more weapons than he knew she had and several combination lock boxes that even he couldn’t pick. Her cars were no better. The tiny keys he found behind her badge were worthless without a hole to put it in. It was nearly two hours before he finally called an end to his search, resigning himself to his charm to smooth things over. He spent another hour cleaning up before heading out to buy a bottle of her favorite rum, a gallon of the banana split ice cream from Cherry Poppers, and acquire an ounce of some newly confiscated pot from the DEA field office. If nothing else, she was easy to please. He just hoped it would be enough for them to have a civilized conversation when she returned.

Becker was just waking up by then and was surprised when he caught sight of the clock. It was nearly 10, well past the “before dark” that he’d planned for earlier. Despite the hour, he didn’t have the heart to disturb Yareli so he crept out of the room and dressed in the kitchen before heading up on deck and packing everything up. Raising the anchor set off a symphony of groans below deck she barely moved. It wasn’t until he had the boat tied up at docks that Becker finally went down to wake her.

“You can thank me now,” he said quietly, pushing her hair back from her face and Yareli smacked his hand away before she rolled over. Unfortunately the sheets didn’t go with her, giving Becker an excellent view of her full moon before she pushed herself up.

“Holy fuck that can’t me right,” she said rubbing her eyes as she looked at the clock and Becker shook his head.

“So...are things gonna be weird now…”

“No,” she said with a grin as she spun to face him and put her hand on his. “And thank you...I’m just a bitch waking up. Ask Penelope.”

“Ehh, I’ll take your word for it…”

“Yeah we probably shouldn’t let it get around,” she said with a snort as she slid out of bed, fully aware of Becker’s eyes on her as she dressed. “I’m gonna burn these shorts when I get home…”

“About that...don’t,” he said with a raised eyebrow, making Yareli blush a little as she pulled on one of his cotton undershirts. “And your place...I mean I saw...if you need…”

“My folks still have their condo at Link View that he doesn’t have a key to so I’ll be good,” she said quickly, too quickly but she kept talking in the hopes that he wouldn’t question the lie she’d told months ago. “And, no, I don’t need back up getting my stuff. You’ve done enough...really. I’d say I owe you one but I don’t do debts.”

“We’ll call it even…partner,” he said, sticking out his hand and Yareli shocked him with a hug.

“Thanks A.J. This was…”

“Yeah it was.”

“Back to the grind tomorrow,” she said with a sort of sad smile as she pulled away and Becker shrugged his shoulders.

“What would you rather be doing?”

https://youtu.be/5D3Nl1GZzuw

Yareli had an answer for that but she kept it to herself. It was probably innocent but after the day they spent together she couldn’t be too sure. Things had become more intimate than she intended and as she followed him back to his truck, Yareli kicked herself for thinking they could just fuck and be done with it. They fit together too well without sex for that to be possible. Things with Becker would not be how they had been with Briggs but she was having a tough time convincing herself that was a bad thing. They’d saved each other’s lives before they were sure they could stand each other, so how would now be any different. Sure there was the little issue of his extracurricular activities but Becker wouldn’t be the first man she’d slept with with questionable morals. Even Agent Darling had a few skeletons in his closet, the only difference was she had full knowledge of those. Becker was still a mystery in that regard, but she had the keys to his castle and she needed to use them sooner rather than later. A plan was already coming together by the time Becker pulled up in front of the Hyman. She’d need a few accomplices but there was nothing Yareli couldn’t get with a few cases of beer and sweet words. Maybe a few empty promises for something more but she could get it done.

“Sure you don’t need back-up,” Becker said, shaking her out of her thoughts. “I wouldn’t think any less of you if you did,” he teased and Yareli rolled her eyes.

“Please, I’m the one who left him bleeding on the ground and I wouldn’t want to sully your stellar reputation around these parts,” she said with a wink as she threw open the door and Becker grabbed her arm. “Really I’ll be fine. I’m just grabbing my stuff. I should be at my parent’s place in an hour,” she said, opening his glove box. Yareli pushed the .38 snub nose aside to grab the pad and pen beneath it and started scribbling. “Here’s the number if you wanna call and check up on me. Otherwise I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Alright Detective,” he said with a raised eyebrow. Becker tore out the page and the next three, folded them, and shoved them into his pocket.

“Later Lui,” she said with a weak salute and Becker flipped her the bird before he peeled out.

Upstairs, Blake Darlington paced a furrow into the carpet in the living room and had been for the better part of an hour. He had little doubt that she’d been with Becker, since her little stripper girlfriend was laid up with a gunshot wound to shoulder and her parents had already made their way back to the mainland. Plus he stopped by her apartment and found it undisturbed. While he was there, he took it upon himself to place a few wires just to make sure she stayed on the up and up because he was sure she wasn’t staying at the Hyman any longer than she needed to grab her things. That was fine with him, so long as she continued to play ball. And of that she had little choice. One phone call from him would mean the end of her world, her life, and integrity meant nothing to the dead.

There was some fumbling at the lock and Darling rushed to open the door to find Yareli on her knees with a hair pin. She narrowed her eyes at him as she stood, but he did nothing to block her entry.

“You could have just knocked,” he said as he stepped back from the door, allowing Yareli to breeze past him without a word. She went straight to the bedroom and closed the door behind her. “Look Rel we really need to talk…”

“So talk,” she shouted through the door. Blake listened a moment as Yareli shuffled things around. Draws opened and closed. Closet doors banged against the wall.

“An apology is probably useless at this point but I’m going give you one anyway...and you’re right. Becker is above my pay grade but I’ve got plans Yareli, plans that don’t involve me wallowing in that bullpen forever. And you’re right, I should have told you about Ava but I didn’t think...I didn’t expect things...Look, I’m opening…”

“Touch that knob and I swear I won’t miss,” she said, followed by the distinct sound of a gun cock.

“I’m sorry Yareli...really I am,” he said with his hands on the door jamb, head pressed to the door. “When I came here, I had every intention of keeping things strictly professional. I mean, we haven’t spoken in years Rel. I’m getting married for fucks sake. Despite what you might think I do love her, sure marrying her will have it’s benefits and I’m not saying that wasn’t on my mind when I met her but I asked her to marry me because I love her…”

Yareli flung open the door at that. She’d changed into jeans and there were two duffel bags on her shoulder. One was jam packed with clothes, the other contained everything else she had hidden away in her bedroom. A secret stash of cash from the strong box she kept in the safe. Her heavy weapons and ammo to match. The rest of her guns were scattered around the apartment and she moved quickly to collect them, all the while ignoring Blake.

“I needed your help Yareli. Nobody knows this city like you...nobody I trust anyway and I shouldn’t have taken advantage of that. And I meant everything I said when I first came back...You are a good cop and those assholes in D.C. were too blind to see it. We can still do this Yareli...the right way. We can still make a difference.”

She laughed at that as she pulled her throwing blade out from beneath the coffee table and tossed it into the weapons bag. But still she didn’t say a word as she moved to the dining room to take down the shotgun that was anchored beneath the table. Then the semiautomatic .380s stashed in the armoire. Yareli scanned the open living space, doing mental checklist before she finally zipped the bag and dropped it by the door. She collected all her files, making sure none were missing before she slung the bag over her shoulder and turned her attention to Blake.

“You’re full of shit,” she said with a smirk and held up her hand to quiet his dispute. “And I’ve had about enough of it. You want me to keep working this thing, we do it my way from now on. That means I don’t see you in less I need to see you. No tails. No drop ins. Nothing. If I need a meet, I leave you a message on the service, otherwise stay the fuck away from me. This is my city Blake, don’t forget that. If I have the slightest inkling that you’re trying to fuck me again, they’ll never find your body. Now how many bugs did you put in my place,” she asked with a raised eyebrow, hand on the pistol at her hip and Darling let out a hard breath.

“Just four…”

“How many,” she said pulling the the .45 clear of its holster and aiming at his feet.

“Six… Both phones. Bedside Lamp. Coffee table. Behind the bathroom mirror. That fake tree on your balcony. The overhead lights in the kitchen,” he said and Yareli cocked her gun. “Both cars...the headliners above the driver’s side door.”

“That all.”

“I swear…on Ava’s life that’s all.”

“Always with the odd numbers Blake. Gets you every time,” she said with a snort as she holstered her pistol. “Now, all my keys…”

“Why when you’re just going to change the locks anyway,” he said and Yareli held out her hand. Blake grit his teeth as he pulled them out of his pocket but he paused a moment, locking eyes with her. “You slept with him, didn’t you?”

“Fuck you Blake,” she said with rolled eyes and he smiled as he dropped the keys in her hand.

“You’re a good cop Robina,” he said and she shoved past him, scooped up her bags and was out the door.

Whether he believed her or not didn’t matter, Yareli had taken back the reins. Now all she had to figure out was what to do with them.

For most people the state of Florida ended with the bustling mecca of corrupt that was Vice City, but if you wanted to escape urban plight you’d head a little further south down a series of highways above the ocean to Gator Keys. The small island chain was home to an eclectic group of people who enjoyed living life to the fullest. Beach bums by day and partiers by night, and there was always an excuse to party every night. Lately though there was something dark fueling all the good times in the islands. Now if you had a boat or a vehicle and flexible morals there was money to be made on this alternative drug running route, but while smugglers always passed through the keys something changed when a new crowd of pirates landed a short boat ride away in the Bahamas in the Light Isles. Like with any industry the influx of money affected other industries in Gator Keys.

There was a flurry of activity at every local garage as cars and trucks were worked on day and night. Not only boat captains but even deck hands were now making top dollar, and bars and motels were making a killing off the new crowd. They wanted three meals a day, companionship, and entertainment and were more than happy to pay. The rough crowd could have been mistaken for soldiers’ fresh back from the war, but everyone even the local police were too busy making money to care that there were mercenaries from a dozen countries drinking and whoring in the keys. It seemed every few days supplies would be shipped out and unmarked crates would come in and be distrusted out to those making the run to the mainland.

An unlikely person did know everything about what was going on though, and she knew she couldn’t keep it to herself. Lana Lane a name she’d been using for close to fifteen years slid herself out of bed and did a line of blow off a mirror on the nightstand before turning around to look at her companion for the night a one Jenson Fisher. Well that’s what his passport said, and while she was used to johns lying about themselves the stuff in his briefcase convinced her he was for real. He arrived at noon and she found him in the motel’s pool side bar trying to drink something away. It didn’t take much convincing for him to agree to a long party plus some extras, so they’d been drinking, eating, and fucking for the better part of a day. She also told him that if he wanted to talk she’d listen which usually wasn’t the thing that got you in trouble with a guy.

So between the drinks and the blow job in the men’s room he talked about his wife in Wyoming and his job in Washington. Between doing it doggy style on the beach and him cumming on her tits she was sure he’d professed his love for her. He’d paid her well enough that she showed him an alternative use to sun block and he loved every minute of it as he took her from behind. She was sure his wife had a long list of things she wouldn’t do in bed. The real dirt came out after he rolled over and just fucked her in the dark without even asking. She was on the pill so she wasn’t worried, but the things he talked about scared her. Things like the government running cocaine to finance secret wars, and mercenaries, assassins, and drug pushers. She’d been a mistress to a general at Fort Baxter for a while and knew what the real deal was, and in nearby Vice City was someone who she knew she could count on.

Clad in only her neon pink fish net stockings she stumbled on her way to the bathroom despite the lights being on. The coke would jump start her being sober, so she knew she had a least a little time before she’d crash. Hopefully she’d be close Vice City by then and she could find that cowboy and spill her guts. He was probably one of the few contacts she still had who could help her she thought as she slowly and softly closed the bathroom door looking out at her trick one last time. He was sprawled out naked on the bed still semi-hard. She’d given him the night of his life, but she didn’t want to be there in the morning when reality set in.

She went to the sink and gargled and spit out half a bottle of mouth wash and looked at herself in the mirror and signed. She was pushing forty and knew she was putting on more makeup than ever to cover up the lines and circles under eyes. Sure she was fit and toned with killer implants that fit her tanned frame perfectly, but she wasn’t pulling off the whole college student trying to make up extra money routine. Hell her last ad said she was horny Florida housewife and what’s more she looked like it. Like every other time there were good guys, jerks, and outright assholes but it didn’t seem to matter because she was tired of hopping from bed to bed.

Seemed just yesterday she was twenty-four year old academic working on her second master’s degree with a great professor husband to be who was working on his first book. Then overnight it all came crashing down. First she caught the love of her life the only man she’d been intimate with in bed with a prostitute that was actually a male dressed like a slut. He explained as he threw her out that he needed space to explore his sexuality. He did leave her with student loans and while friends were happy to loan her money or give her a couch to sleep on that only lasted so long. She was either overqualified or underqualified when it came to getting a job and that lead to a drinking problem. So when a perspective employer turned her down, but suggested he’d pay her for a weekend away she jumped at the chance.

For a weekend of normal activity and some sex she made five hundred dollars and with that she abandoned her old life and Lana Lane courtesan was born. While girls hustled on the street for fifty or at the most seventy-five bucks she was clearing two hundred an hour. Not that she looked down at those girls, but she knew how to sell the experience. She posed as a tutor outside Bullworth Academy enjoying the teaching staff, visiting fathers, and even made a few boys men before they headed off to college. In Liberty City she was an escort for dinner, the theater, or Christmas party and was soon the favorite of many an executive. This led her to Ludendorff for the skiing where she rebranded herself as a ski bunny sexpot. She walked away with a ton of ski equipment, bottles of champagne, and plenty of cash. Los Venturas was next where she ran her own small agency for a time specializing in showgirls.

She did try to go straight for a while working as a stewardess making the trip back and forth between Carcer City and London England. In London she said she was a former model and in Carcer city she partied with all the pilots and captains. It ended up costing her job, and she got busted and ended up in Cottonmouth Florida. There she worked as a massage therapist offering extras and couriering cocaine for clients, but the supplier was at war and one night at a meet in a motel in Vice City she walked into a room to find her Columbian contacts murdered. The four Haitian gang members that were waiting for her took a lot more than her money that night.

She was hurt badly enough that she ended up in the hospital and the local cops could care less. They’d impounded her car and all her client’s money was gone, so she was at an all-time low when she met the cowboy. He was working narcotics then and wanted to know about the players, but unlike the others he didn’t threaten. He took care of her medical bills and listened to what happened, and he promised something most cops would never, revenge. A few weeks later she saw on the news about the four thugs being brutally murdered. She remembered feeling a macabre sense of joy; soon she was back in business for her cover as a confidential informant. Once you gave a guy head he was relaxed enough to talk about anything.

Her current situation was one of her own making as she decided to come to the keys and work as a high end bikini girl. Vice City was crowded and way to many of her clients had either been busted or were getting suspicious. She’d worked the yacht and vacation home crowd for a while, but the wild parties and piles of cash from the lower end clients was hard to ignore. So she worked the bars and the beach building up a nest egg. Part of the money went to rebuilding an old Canis Bodhi she’d found behind a client’s property. The sturdy reddish two-door pickup had seen better days, but it was her ticket to freedom. She’d been tempted to take few of those crates for some money, but she knew after this night things would be complicated enough.

She showered checked on her peacefully sleeping client again, and hang cuffed him to the bedpost. The key was nearby and he’d probably get it with some effort if help didn’t arrive, but she needed all the time she could get. She slipped on a bikini, a pair of jeans, and a t-shirt and flip flops then wiped the place clean of her finger prints as best she could. She tosses his note book, some other paperwork, and his M9 pistol into her overnight bag. She considered taking his whole bill fold, but instead just took what he’d owed her and a generous tip for her trouble.

She grabbed one other bag from a locker at the bus station and was soon heading down the highway towards Vice City. Once she crossed the bridge she sighed with relief, but kept going down the road hard in fast. She had a full tank of gas, two packs of cigarettes, and a hell of a tip for A.J. when she saw him. It had been over six months since she’d talk to the guy, but she knew the man didn’t forget people he called friend. Maybe it was time to settle down, and maybe he’d be the only guy she’d be fucking from here on out. As she drove she played with the lighter with Death Before Dishonor stenciled on it that he’d given her.



Many hours later as the morning light streamed in through the open window into the motel room Jenson Fisher woke with the feeling of wanting to kill himself from the collective hangover and gluttony of the night before. When he rolled over he wasn’t shocked to find Lana gone after all she was a working girl not a lover, but at he laid there he soon realized he’d spilled his guts to her like a lover. He practically yanked his arm out of its socket trying to get up, but fortunately he saw the key and was able to free himself. He ran around the room fanatically still naked looking for any trace of her, but she was gone and probably with a big head start. The situation was beyond not good and he knew it. While this might embarrass him in Washington and get him posted in some backwater if the men he’d been sent to observe found out he’d told secrets to some whore he’d be tortured, killed, and fed to the sharks. Information was missing from his briefcase and if she hadn’t taken his weapon he’d probably taken his own life.

After standing in a cold shower for a better part of an hour Jenson began to formulate a plan. He had some time before had to report back in and he had a good memory. All he had to do was recreate his report, but he needed protection from the company thugs in the meantime. He had an answer to that too in the form of his hold fraternity brother Blake Darlington who happened to be assigned to South Florida on some corruption case. He’d have the resourced to protect him and get him back to Washington safely, and maybe he’d even be able to help him deal with this the hooker. He could always tell his superiors he was setup, and his wife would never have to know about any of his field work.

While Jenson and Lana were having their fun Yareli Robina was returning from a day of pleasure and dealing with a pain in her ass. While she was tired when she got home she called Matt Le Tissier a British expatriate who was a locksmith and electronics wizard. He could get you free cable or debug your house a service that was in high demand from the city’s wealthier drug dealers. While he was a shady guy and was rumored to have been a member of British intelligence before moving to Vice City Yareli knew he could also be a good guy. One call to him he’d gladly change the locks for a domestic violence victim for free, and he was happy to provide tips on the more evil scum bags.

He didn’t appreciate being called away from his satellite TV soccer match though, but Yareli turned on the charm and after offering him a small fortune for his trouble and an autographed soccer ball he agreed to come over that night. As she waited for a change Yareli only drank water as she impatiently waited for her debugging expert to arrive. When the phone rang she was enraged thinking it was Tissier calling to cancel because his team rallied or another game was starting.

She picked up the phone and yelled, “I thought we had a deal are you coming or what?”

“Ah excuse me sweetness, but if you want me to come over you have to give me an address.”

She clenched the received and realized she’d parted company with her partner maybe boyfriend about an hour ago. Of course, he was concerned especially with what happened before she saw him and what happened to them. She paused for a long moment before replying back

“Ah sorry A.J. the cables out and they said they were sending out an emergency crew. We have work the next few days so I told them I wanted it now. Everything good with you? Thanks for everything.”

“Ah, no problem but you know you could come over to my place and watch late night movies if you wanted. I really had a good time being with you too, and I’d like to talk with you. It won’t be weird but I’d like to talk to you.”

She laughed and smiled and then heard the buzzer for the front door. “Look I promise we’ll talk and I’ll see you at work tomorrow alright?”

“That’s fine baby but come in for the second shift. I cleared it we’re going out by The Pits to talk to some informants. I’ll fill you in at the station house bye for now honey.”

“Yeah bye A.J.,” she said trailing off as she hung up and walked to the panel by the door and buzzed in her locksmith. She shivered for a moment though thinking about the pits which were a large swampy area on the Northern limits of Vice City filled with dirt roads and secluded spots. If you were a Vice City cop or firearms fanatic it was a place where you could shoot at targets and not be bothered. If you were a gang member or a psycho it was a great place to feed a body to the alligators. If he’d mentioned this to her, in the beginning, she would have run from him. Up to a few days ago, she would have been a concern, but now she didn’t know what to think.

They’d made love, they’d shared a bed, and she knew he couldn’t fake feelings like that or could he? They got along so well how could he just kill her and dump her in the swamp. There was also his side of things to consider. She’d been lying to him every day, and if he knew that it would hurt even the toughest guy. Never mind she was collecting information that would put him in prison. He’d saved her life and they had a bond, and now all she could think about was how she could make him understand the things she felt were real.

As Yareli was wondering if she was going to die or simply follow up on a lead A.J. was dealing with his own internal struggle. She was lying to him but why? He’d made his call from a different spot that night, the parking lot of Rusty Brown’s Ring Donuts a favorite spot for cops and anyone else working the night shift. Tonight for a dozen Double Choc Whammy donuts he’d gotten access to the phone company’s van and put in a phone call on their equipment. The address of the number he called came up in bright digital numbers and letters with Yareli’s name at the top. He sighed and scribbled down the address in his notebook and after thanking the employees hopped out and got two jumbo coffees.


He walked over to the cable company’s truck and after some small talk and handing over one coffee, the driver was more than happy to check with dispatch about work orders. He didn’t find any for that address let alone that neighborhood. The man offered to put one in, but he respectfully said no thank you and went to the beat-up old banshee he was using that night. It didn’t look so hot, but the beast had a lot of power under the hood curtsey of the street racer it was confiscated from. Now though he had to go do something he didn’t want to do thinking about something he hoped wasn’t true. Just an hour ago he wanted to call his mother and tell her he’d met someone. Now he wasn’t sure what he was dealing with.

Yareli was tearing up when Matt came in whistling a tune carrying two large tool boxes. She wiped her face chugged down some more water and explained the situation. After handing over the cash and begrudgingly the soccer ball the man set to work. He found all the wires she’d gotten Blake to admit too, but she had him scan the place thoroughly anyway. He then added some protection devices to the phones and replaced all the locks with new super heavy duty ones including the closet. He increased the number of cable channels she had and showed her how to use her new bug detection scanner. After giving him a six-pack for the road she locked the door and headed to the bedroom.

She found her hidden stash and made marijuana cigarette and found the lighter A.J. had given her the first day they’d worked together. She put both in a small box and went into the bathroom. She stripped down and hopped in the shower and thoroughly washed all the sex and sweat off her body, and washed her hair out good before cutting off the shower and quickly filling the tub. She shivered a little wishing she had the double unit like A.J. had at his place, a large shower right next to the jet bath. There was room for two and it looked very inviting, but for now she had to settle for a warm bath in her standard size tub.

She took what she needed from the nearby shelf adding a jasmine scented bubble bath she’d gotten at a bachelorette party and then the less sexy but life restoring Epsom salt. She lit up her joint and sunk into the water after a long drag. Her body began to relax as the soreness melted away in the warm scented water. It was a small piece of heaven, but her mind was far from relaxed. What the hell was she going to do tomorrow? She’d told Darlington to go to hell, and she knew she had to tell A.J. something even if things weren’t as bad as they could be. How did this all get so bloody complicated!

So after a good soak and some good pot she toweled off and got ready for bed. Things would be better after a good night’s rest, so she went to the closet and got her ultimate comfort tool. Mr. Rabbit was a brown plush floppy eared long arm and legged brown rabbit she’d had since childhood. Her father had won it for her throwing baseballs at milk bottles at a church carnival. Well, he didn’t actually win it, but he realized the game was rigged and pulled a blade on the carny who was more than happy to let her take her pick of the furry creatures on display. Maria had held her up to take down the furry creature that would become Mr. Rabbit who didn’t seem to fit in with all the other brightly colored stuffed animals. He was wonderful to cuddle with and she’d have him close for her whole childhood including the worst parts.

Gunfire outside the house it didn’t matter she slept through it cuddled up with her friend. When she and Maria came home to find her mother dead on the floor her friend picked her up and told her to take care of Mr. Rabbit as she carried her out. The awful time in foster care she couldn’t stand to think about she always had him to hold on too. When the nightmare ended it was Mama Torres who demanded that the police find the beloved stuff animal, and while she recovered she saw that Mr. Rabbit was repaired and stuffed and brought to the hospital. Hell even when she went off to college Yareli would decide if a guy was a good guy or not if he tossed Mr. Rabbit off the bed or put him in a safe place.

As Yareli was drifting off to sleep cuddled up in bed with her furry friend Becker was heading over to the home of Johnny Garcia. The college football legend lived high on the hog, maybe he was trying to recreate the life he thought he would have had in the NFL, but it was hard to explain away a beach house built around a gym. Becker might have used steroids, but Johnny did more in a week they most people did in a whole cycle. He’d won the department body building competition so many times he’d quit to compete and win the boxing and karate championships. He also could take down doors with a single kick, and it seemed every arrest came with a brutality complaint.

The door was answered by Shakeina Bathurst a former Jamaican policewoman and drug runner who was the mistress to Thomas Anderson who was nearby playing with a deck of cards. He was a pool hustler, a card cheat, and burglar who still had a clean record when he took the police test. They both welcomed him into the house and helped him carrying the boxes of food. This was their semi-regular poker night that was held at whosever’s house had been checked for bugs most recently. For anyone in the know though it was a business meeting where some of the most corrupt cops shared money and information. A.J. hated coming to these get-togethers because they reminded him that he was no better than these dirtbags who considered him a friend.

Johnny met the three in the living room wearing a black muscle shirt and sweat pants and came over and gave Beck a hug, but gave the boxes a dirty look. “Hey, man you know this is low carb zone. I got steaks and Caesar salad from Crockett’s Bar & Grill man.”

“Don’t worry I got you, man,” A.J. said handing him a gallon of chocolate milk from one of the boxes. “Guys have been using it to replenish after workouts.”

“Thanks, man I’ll give it a try,” He said picking up the jug and drinking about a third of it. A.J. was glad he got along with this maniac. He’d literally seen him break men with his bare hands and once during a traffic stop he picked up a motorcycle and threw it in the water to the shock of the obnoxious owner.
Nearby Russell Marshall and Natalie Ward were playing pool next to a card table and large bucket of beer. Marshall had slicked back hair and was carrying a sidearm and weapon stuffed in his waistband. The kid liked to shoot, and Ward in only a white string bikini oozed sex and greed. He’d only recently found out she used to be married to Yareli’s Jimmy who she cheated on constantly. Seems the poor guy just signed the papers she gave him and walked out. While A.J. didn’t judge women any harsher than guys who liked to sleep around this one didn’t care who she hurt or who she boned.

Johnny patted him on the back and interrupted this thought and said, “Look food is in the kitchen, beer is in the bucket you want anything else you know where the bar is, and I figured we’d hand out some cash and then play some poker.”

This got several nods and sounds of approval from the crowd with A.J. clearing his voice to interrupt and say, “I got cash for all you people, but comes with a warning. The feds have been around a lot lately and while I haven’t nailed it down yet they’re doing something on the streets.”

Johnny was the first to speak up and say, “You got anything more specific man? I mean got a lot things going on and a lot of people owe me.”

Anderson was playing with his girlfriend’s braids nodded and said, “Yeah man I need a regular cash flow.”

“Guys, when I have something I'll tell you, but focus on the cop work and things, will be a lot easier. If I had something solid I would tell you so you all think you can be cool.”

There was a begrudging consensus from everyone and slowly they all moved to the card table and envelopes were passed around. Little was said with only minor references were made to where the money came from. A.J. played for a few hands then had dinner and a few drinks. Natalie and Russell headed off to the steam room for some fun while Thomas told Shakeina she could show Johnny a good time for his hospitality. It seemed like the right time to go, so A.J. collected his “winnings” in a gym bag along with a Steyr AUG and six magazines. Russell got it off some “foreigner” at the harbor and didn’t want the Austrian rifle. So he handed him the expensive rifle instead of giving him cash. A good deal for him, because Russell didn’t understand what he had.

Before he got to the door Thomas spoke up in a friendly tone that made you think he was asking you for money and before you could say no you were handing it over.

“Hey so where is the new girl? She’s with the program right man? You’re right with the Feds in town we should cool it for a while. I’ve been shaking down all my guys about that serial killer, but nobody knows anything. Oh and Heidi hired me for extra security promised me some first class airline tickets to Las Venturas and some other stuff. Is that cool?”

“Yeah it’s very cool man,” A.J. said turning to his heavy set bearded buddy. “You sure you want to head out there. I’ve been hearing that you owe a lot of people money and if you weren’t a cop there would be consequences. Maybe it’s time to slow it down a little.”

He made a sound before answering and even he didn’t seem to believe what he said next. “No, go out there make some plans maybe scout out a security job or transfer my time out there. I’ll play a few games, but there is plenty else to do out there. I’m a little behind, but I got some investments paying off very soon.” He stopped and glanced at his watch. “I got to get going too Shakeina can find her own way home.”

Both men left with gym bags shortly thereafter wishing each other well in the street before driving off in separate directions. A.J. looked at his rearview mirror and watched his buddy’s Washington four-door sedan drive off into the night. He had a bad feeling about what Tommy was up too, and he knew it was worse then he was saying. The guy was either flush or bust, and he was always looking for a new way to make the badge pay off. He was the first senior officer to arrive that day at the motel where his partner was shot and he killed the dealers. There they were with a briefcase full of cash. He told A.J. it was his and he deserved it or he could turn it in and be a broke friendless cop but a good man. It was so easy and he’d only do it that one time, but everyone says that and it’s never true.

A.J. made it home and fed Cleopatra a steak and then put her out and throwing the cash in a safe. He laid out his gear for the next day including the new rifle which he planned to use for trade and packed the car before letting the dog in and setting up the security system. Before going to bed he opened a file on the desk and looked at a photograph of him and Yareli sitting on the back of the truck after they’d raided the apartment. An independent photographer brought the shots to him before the papers, so he bought them. What is going on with you Yareli was the last thought on his mind as he fell asleep.

Penelope Montenegro was tired of exercising, watching TV, and eating room service anything else one could accomplish in a double room at a hotel without companionship. She flirted with the maid, chatted up the security guards assigned to her, but she wanted to be out and about. So when A.J. called her and said he had a job for her that was a little different but paid well and would get her out of the hotel for the night she jumped at the chance. He did fill her in on all the details, but what would have stopped other performers inspired her.

She’d have a car with a driver the whole night and if she didn’t feel comfortable all she had to do was leave, but she started her night heading out to the Malibu Club at Vice Point. She arrived in platform heels, a mini skirt, and a low cut top carrying two guitars as requested. The night started fairly routine with her performing for a group in a private room of the club as they enjoyed cocktails and appetizers. It was really a mini version of the main room with dim lights and its own bar, but she knew things were going to get wild when the party went across the street to the luxury apartments. This was one-half of a swingers group in from Liberty City here to enjoy the sand and sun and meet up with a group of tanned and willing locals.

The group had a whole floor booked and the apartments that overlooked the ocean had a magnificent view. There were even security guards in black masks wearing tuxes the leader of which took her to a small stage with a private bathroom and told her if she was uncomfortable or simply wanted to leave to let them know. In the bathroom, there was an expensive pair of sandals, a black thong and brightly colored mask with feathers like she’d seen in mardi gras. So she changed and took out her acoustic guitar and walked out on stage. A number of people were already naked and wearing masks and as she played more people came to listen and after talking would hook up with someone new and wonder off.

At one point a black woman with long red hair and her lover a very athletic white man asked if she wouldn’t mind if they play on the stage while she performed. She agreed and they put down a towel and were soon touching and kissing and licking at her feet. She couldn’t help look down after hearing the woman’s moans as he licked her pussy until she orgasmed hard. She returned the favor by sucking on his hard cock and swallowing his seed. The woman said they needed a softer spot if they were going to fuck so they slipped off and the night continued. People had sex, drank wine, and smoked marijuana and not surprisingly eventually a couple wondered over to Penelope when she was on a smoke break.

They were sweet and young, just a few years out of college and they thought she was absolutely beautiful. After some small talk about music, they asked her to join them in one of the bedrooms. Bryan wanted Lucy to be happy and so when she said she wanted to be with another woman they decide to make the trip. In the room, they stood and talked and slipped off the masks and started with light touching. They moved to the bed and she and Lucy began masturbating together before kissing and caressing then they both sucked on Bryan’s cock taking turns until he came hard. Penelope then got Lucy to lie back against the headboard and spread her legs wide and she began licking her wet pussy.

She was moaning and screaming in no time so she invited the now throbbing Bryan to come and take her doggy style while she licked his wife. Him penetrating her made her shiver hitting all the right spot and she pushed back against him as he fucked her like a wild animal as she licked and fingered his wife’s vagina. He lasted longer this time and shot his load into Penelope, but the second she moved off he climbed on top of his wife and started fucking her with his still hard cock. She watched smiling to herself seeing tears dripping down from Lucy’s eyes from such hard orgasms. They cuddled for a bit before they all went into the shower and washed each other. She turned down offers of money but did take their address and phone number of their loft in Liberty City. She never knew when she might go back there, and why not stay with friends. Maybe just her and Lucy and a big dildo though, but Bryan was a sweetie she’d let him watch at least.

Thomas Anderson impatiently watched and waited as boxes labelled Turtle Head Fishing Co. were unloaded from the Marquis sailboat Bahamian Queen. He picked up a night vision camera and scanned the water and then back at the marina beyond pier #2. He’d done this three times already without a problem, and each time it had been profitable. The owner of the Special Fried Vice restaurants ran an afterhours poker game and wanted to help him get out of debt so he made a few calls and soon he was handling security and transport for some packages from the islands. It fell into place pretty easily actually. He knew this one rich kid from Gator Keys who liked racing his sailboat more than going to college. They’d met in a casino in the Bahamas and despite being broke helped the kid out, and made a new friend. Last month his old man refused to pay for food and fuel and there was no way he was going to work. He’d told him that the boat only needed one other guy and had plenty of room for cargo, so they started making runs.

Still though he couldn’t stop feeling nervous, but he figured it was because of the four donuts and three cups of coffee and the large cola. He had a shift in just two hours and he had to go without sleep again. He took another look around the parking area and then his watch before lighting up Cuban cigar something else he and the kid were running. If they left soon he’d have enough time to get an eye opener at the Hurricane Lounge. He watched the two young Cuban kids load the beat up Yankee truck while their buddy an older ex-con stood guard by the cab with a Tec-9. He’d even used old Carlos as backup a few times so he wasn’t worried. He’d escort them to the parking lot by Special Fried Vice meet the contact load it into his truck get paid. The truck driver would hit the road and even after paying everyone he’d be back on top, and with work from Heidi he’d soon be going on vacation.

The peace was shattered so fast that Anderson barely had time to react. Divers swam up to the below surface and climbed on to the sailboat and cut the kid’s throat and his stoner buddy’s before they could even scream. The Cuban kids went for their knives, but these same divers pulled Uzi’s with silencers and red-light sites and cut them down in a burst of fire. He reached into car and pulled out his combat shotgun and chambered a round as he yelled to Carlos, but as he looked over to the truck he saw his buddy on the ground bleeding out, and soon fire began hitting his car. He tried to reach for the radio this was to serious not to call in, he’d worry about explaining later, and maybe Becker was up listening to the damn scanner.

It didn’t happen, though. The windows were blown out and bullets pulverized the dashboard. Anderson mustered all the courage he could and ran towards the box truck firing off in the direction of the shooting. He was sure he nailed one or two of them but felt the twinges of pain as bullets hit their mark. He fell to the pavement and was bleeding badly he struggled to get to his feet as he pulled his .45, but his last view was what looked like a Swat guy clad in black with night vision goggles standing over him. The man held the weapon on him, but they both knew how it would end so he made on the last attempt to shoot him before the killer emptied the magazine into the corrupt cop. Killed while brokering a drug deal wasn’t how Anderson wanted to go, but he knew long ago the path he chose could lead here.


Jeremías Ruiz was the daytime manager at the Ocean Bay Marina, and a large part of his job was not noticing things. Speed boats coming and going at all hours, he didn’t recall, but he was sure they had fishing gear. He didn’t recall a boat owner loading 20 cases of automatic rifles and heading out, just like he didn’t remember helping another man offloading sacks from his boat. If you asked him about Detective Anderson well that was a secret operation and none of his business anyway. What he saw that morning though was something he’d never forget and he was shaking when he dialed the phone for the police.

By the time Xavier Montreal arrived to take charge of the scene the officers there were having a hard time keeping back the reporters and boat owners and crews from getting onto the property. He’d seen worse and by Vice City standards this was hardly a massacre, but it was still a mess and he had to sort through it all. Jeremías Ruiz who was now sitting on the back of ambulance informed him he’d been going through his usual routine arriving before shift change to make coffee and bullshit with his friend his nighttime counterpart. He’d head to the office and found his friend and the two night time guards killed. All parties were armed but never got a chance to return fire.

Walking out into the marina area there were two bodies in the bay which the dive teams were recovering, and the two more were on the dock. The body of a local hood was laying against a truck which was empty, but for food containers and beer cans. What made this slaughter stand out were two things. The first was that nobody made any effort to clean up the scene, and the second and more important element was that Detective Thomas Anderson body was identified positively. Even if there was any doubt he had his identification and badge on him. The car which was now shot up whiles it wasn’t department issue it was the type detectives liked to outfit for their street work.

Montreal processed the whole scene in mind for a moment and then went to call downtown from the mobile commander center. Perhaps in the right light, they could make it seem like Anderson stumbled into a deal gone bad and was taken down before he could call for backup. It was bullshit, but maybe they’d play it that way. As he dialed he remembered the guy who he’d only met a few times but was the life of the party. While he called on a secure line the news was out through the whole department before he hung up the receiver. Someone had killed a cop and someone was going to pay.

Yareli had spent a leisurely morning getting ready for work. She packed a bag of stuff for later including a good pair of boots for the swamp, and for the most part had put the idea that her partner now lover was going to killer her and dump her body in the muddy water. Things had been confusing, to say the least. She looked at herself in the body mirror in the bathroom and wondered what the hell she was thinking with her clothes. Platform heels, tight faded jeans, a wife beater tank top that left little to the imagination, and to top it off red bandanna around her head and huge hoop earrings.

She looked like the gang girls who hung out around her house growing up. Maria had even been more hardcore often wearing a Vice City Mambas jersey to conceal weapons. She might have looked ghetto as all hell she still looked good and just collected all her gear and headed to the station. For years her mother lived with a so-called psycho who never touched her or his little girl. So she could live with the risk. A.J. Becker might have been tough, he might have been corrupt, but he wasn’t a bad man.

https://youtu.be/aMICD3aMZpw

As always the station was zoo after lunch with the day watch trying to finish up everything before the end of shift, but as she pushed her way through to the detective’s section sergeant Virginia Juderías grabbed her by the shoulder guided her over her office and slammed the door. Virginia was known as she-wolf and had come up through the department hard and had the scares to prove it. One of the few Latina women of rank she’d proved herself every day on the street before taking promotion. The busty former construction worker was on her third marriage and could drink most men under the table. If you were a female in her station house though she was mom and that was a comfort.

“What the hell going on sarge? I don’t exactly have time to chat.”

“Oh you make time girl now sit down and shut up I have somethings to tell you,” she said as she waited for a reluctant Yareli to sit down.

“Now first this federal boy came by who look like he slept in his clothes dropped off this sealed file for you. He wouldn’t follow procedure and was pissed I didn’t let him in to put it on your desk. I didn’t read it but what are you involved with?”

Yareli took the file and shook her head. “Can’t talk about it and I won’t Mamá, but I’m okay. Is there anything else?”

“Yeah Detective Anderson got killed last night. The situation isn’t good. Your man Becker was tight with him back in the day. You might want to see if he’s doing okay he’s up on the roof working out.”

Yareli sighed and rubbed her face and nodded before replying, “He isn’t my man he’s my partner. We’ve been through some shit is all it doesn’t make us a couple.”

Juderías walked up behind her friend and rubbed her shoulders and said, “Eso es lo que dije sobre mi segundo marido. Tuvimos ocho buenos años antes de que esos bastardos lo mataran. Cuida de él niña.”

Yareli put a hand on her friend’s before getting up and going to her desk where she staged her gear. The captain called her in to give her the official line about what had happened. It wasn’t much, but the department was going with the idea he was working on a case. No drugs were found on the scene, but it looked like whoever launched the attack had skills and were sending a message. Whatever it was nobody knew yet, but it seemed they had no trouble killing a cop. A.J. had mentioned his buddy in a few times and regarded him as a fun guy who let the rush of gambling get the better of him. After the talk and the assurance the matter was being handled Yareli took the federal file into the women’s locker room and found an empty stall.

The file was the same one she’d been shown a while back on the helicopter attack on the Shark’s compound. What was new was plenty of hand written notes in red ink by Darlington and a few photographs. One featured two army buddies who were in hunting attire with Becker nearby similarly dressed. It noted both men had left the country within days of the attack and were probably operating in Africa as mercenaries. Another photo showed a chopper pilot next to an impressive looking attack helicopter and next to a much younger clean cut A.J. Becker. There were some other notes, but it was all speculation no hard proof, but it showed Darlington was still working the case.

While Yareli locked the file in her desk and put things in order A.J. Becker was doing another repetition on the weight bench. He’d gotten up to the roof top gym hours ago and had done a little of everything including jump rope and heavy bag. He was just in shorts and sneakers at this point and was enjoying the warm rays on his body. He’d already heard about Tommy Anderson and didn’t know how to feel. His buddy was dead but that was part of the job, and when you pulled the shit they did well it became just that more likely.

https://youtu.be/lawk5PbYZuM

He’d been mentor during his uniform days and always made the argument that you could do the job just fine and take money anyway. In Vice City everyone was offering you money and you weren’t human if you didn’t say yes once in a while. Tommy made it seem so easy and after that bloody day at the hotel he felt entitled. The next thing he knew it was six months later and realized he hadn’t touched one paycheck. Food and booze was willingly given, his cars were practically new, and he was paying the rent and his then wife Caroline’s student loans. When Caroline left him after she finished law school he wasn’t even angry.

She was a good wife and never asked where the money came from and only wanted simple luxuries like not having to worry when she was buying books or groceries. If she called the station when he was supposed to be working overtime and he wasn’t there she simply figured it was side work. Free stuff all the time was because people liked him, and the fact that there were three gang members guarding her car when she went out was a sign of respect. When she did leave she didn’t sneak off she waited for him and explained things.

She’d met someone and he’d been offered a job in the capital and he got her one as well. She hadn’t slept with him, but she loved him too but didn’t want to worry any more. She’d offered to pay back all the money for school and everything else. He just told her to mail him the paperwork, and not think badly of him. They made love one last time among all the packed boxes, and a few weeks later he got the divorce papers. She didn’t ask for anything and she even stayed Mrs. Becker for another two years before she got married.

She would probably be sad to hear that Tommy was dead who she referred to as the guest who was hard to hate. He’d crashed with them a few times when his marriage was on the rocks, and made himself at home in the worst way. Still the guy would fix breakfast or surprise her with a new text book to make up for a dirty bathroom or grabbing her girlfriend’s ass. She called every other month and last time she’d mentioned there was a federal agent with his thug trying to get stuff out of her. Clearly he didn’t know he was dealing with not only a skilled lawyer, but a devoted ex-wife who still had love for him. It was just another thing that was bothering him, but he couldn’t put it all together yet.

He knocked out a few more sets before the lovely Yareli came into view, but he’d heard he heels on the metal landing pad behind him long before she walked in front of the weight bench. He sat up and began wiping his face with a towel and smiled. “Hey baby I put in an order for smokes, snacks, and energy drinks at the place on the corner. Can you go pick it up while I shower and get ready? The truck should be fueled and cleaned and sitting out front you can get anything else at the store you want, but we’re going to have dinner when we get there so save room.”

“Yeah about that A.J. should we go and do this tonight? I mean they’re working on Anderson’s case, and we have stuff to do here and…”

“Look I’m just asking you to get the stuff while I shower if you don’t want to we can make the pickup on the way out. Besides all the paperwork is done so you can sleep in the truck if you want I’ll be doing the driving.”

“Damnit A.J. your friend just died and I don’t want to go out to the pits!”

“I’m cool with things and what is the problem that’s where my informant is most of the time. Oh wait you think I’m going to take you out there and,” before he finished the sentence he stood up and grabbed Yareli before she was ready and just held her for a long time. He caressed her hair and sighed and looked out over the city.

“How could you think that Yareli? I wouldn’t do that to you you’re my partner; you think I just fucked you because it was convenient. I have feelings for you honey, and I know you’d never betray me. I couldn’t hurt you you know that right honey?”

https://youtu.be/xDpPoytXVvo

Yareli felt herself get choked up and just laid her head against his chest and whimpered out something that sounded like a yes before she cleared her throat and nodded. “I’m glad it wasn’t a onetime thing. I like fun too, but it wasn’t just that was it?”

He gave her a squeeze again and then broke away and went to his gym bag. “Not for me it wasn’t and when we’re done with this case we’re going to have a long talk. I want make some changes for the better, and I want you there with me, and I don’t mean just in the car.”

After a minute he pulled out a little leather porch and took out an arrowhead on a strip of leather. He walked over to Yareli and put it around her neck. “I hope you like it. This is cutesy of Seminole friend of mine. It’s real not tourist stuff it’s the real meant for a warrior.”

Yareli reached out and touched it and took a long look at it. “You didn’t have to cowboy, but thanks I like it. I’ll get the stuff and meet you out front then maybe you’ll tell me about who we’re going to see and why they can’t hop on the bus.”
https://youtu.be/ioiiMuKkMTU

With city traffic it took the better part of an hour to get close to the destination, but eventually they were out in the country heading down a dark road with trailers on one side and the swamp on the other. The pair didn’t talk much, but A.J. was feeling pretty good that they’d cleared the air about somethings. So far she was more than willing to cover his back, and didn’t seem to object to making a little money on the side. She was right though he did feel for the loss of his friend, and just because you lived by the sword didn’t mean you had to like the results. Now though it was time to take care of business. A large neon sign came into view letting them know they’d arrived.

The top of the sign was marked with large neon letters reading Buddy’s and lit up below it read scrapyard, store, garage, and deli. Beneath all that was a signed labelled specials listing donuts, shotgun shells, and wedding dresses. As A.J. pulled in Yareli began to laugh and said, “Wedding dresses and donuts oh god I’m in hickville.”

A.J. pulled into an empty spot out front and stepped out and then smirked. “My ex-wife got her dress here thank you very much and she looked damn sexy. Lingerie too come to think of it. You ‘d like Bobbi Jo her mom is half Cuban.”

Yareli didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or annoyed, but as she quickly followed A.J. inside the store portion of the building next to two garage bays she asked, “How many freaking ex-wives do you have? If you think I’m disposable cowboy.”

“Perish the thought and don’t worry I love them all.”

Inside the store was jammed pack with stock of all kinds. There were piles of laundry detergent next to fishing gear with inflatable rafts hanging from wire attached to overhead lights. It was basically three jammed pack isles with a counter near the front door and off to the right there was a long counter next to a deli display. On the left side there was a door to the garage and several large refrigerated display cases filled with everything from beer to soda, and plastic bottles with straws with a sign saying homemade lemonade. That’s where they heard from out of the doorway behind it someone yell “we’re closed unless it’s an emergency and I’m talking baby formula or out of gas not you’re out beer and you’re having a party. Trying to rob the place you’re in for a world of hurt.”
The next sound was of a shotgun chambering a round which made Yareli go for her weapon Becker waved her off and kept walking into the store and yelled out, “What about ex-husbands do I get a sporting chance?”

There was a long pause then a heavily pregnant woman with long dark hair flowing down her back in jeans and an oversized tank top walked through the door. She had fill tattoo sleeves on both arms and was holding a baby on one hip and holding up a shotgun. She laughed and walked over to the counter and put down the weapon. “Hey A.J. who is your friend? To answer your question lying ex-husbands get shot twice.”

Becker pretended like he was hurt and laughed and replied, “I never lied I just spared you the truth once in a awhile.”

She turned to look at Yareli and smiled and said, “Don’t believe anything he says darling. Also he isn’t all bad. We were married while he was in the service. I was the high school girlfriend and he wanted me to have health insurance, and he wanted to have someone to screw while he was home on leave that wasn’t a hooker.”

“Was being married to me all that bad?”

“You had your moments,” she said with a laugh before picking up the little girl putting her in a carrier at the end of the counter. She looked back over at Yareli who’s mind was going a mile a minute and her eyes showed it. “Don’t worry honey he was good to me, and we can laugh. Hell he’s friends with my husband. Oh and none of my kids are his so it’s cool.”

As she walked over and reached to shake hands two barefoot young girls in pink t-shirts and jeans came running out and ran to Becker yelling “Uncle A.J.,” over and over again until they were hugging him around the waist.

“This is Dakota and Lulu, and you already met Loribelle my youngest. By the way A.J. she loves that stuffed monkey you mailed her. She sleeps with it every night. Seems every time my husband is back from being away for a while I get pregnant. Dakota was after being on that oil rig, Lulu was after working for that hunting outfitter in Canada, and well Loribelle was after guarding those African diamond mines.”

“Glad to hear she likes it, and Jimmy was always a man of habit. So where are the boys at? They made a big deal that I had to come out here, so they could tell me something.”

“Not sure what it is but he came back from the city all excited, but they we heard you got hurt so he decide to wait. He did say he confirmed whatever it was.”
Yareli was dealing with the situation as anyone would when people were talking about others and sharing things you had no idea about. She was looking at the noisy cooler behind the deli counter and the posters behind it for some off brand tequila she didn’t know, but Bobbi Jo looked very much like the blond haired Sue depicted in the pictures. She was surprised by a tugging on her jeans by Lulu. She looked down and smiled at the little girl and caressed her hair and smiled.

“Hey there I’m Yareli.”

“Hi Yareli are you A.J.’s mom?”

Bobbi Jo giggled and responded before Yareli could and said, “Honey she’s not his mom you know A.J. mommy. She makes you cookies.”

“I know but is she the mom for his house you know a wife? You said A.J. needs one to be nice to him and stuff.”

Yareli began laugh as Bobbi Jo turned red and looked at the little girl and said, “no but he’s special to me.”

“Oh so you can be my auntie.”

All the adults began laughing and Bobbi Jo took all the children with her out to their house on the edge of the property and told the pair they could find the boys in the back. She yelled out dinner would be ready in thirty minutes so not to take too long. In the rear of the scrapyard there was an old wooden barn with a workshop setup next to it. The pair walked into the well-lit barn and saw two heavily tattooed men with shaved heads and beards tossing wads of money from a backpack into old ammunition container. They looked up and began smiling and laughing.

“Hey Jimmy hey Wyatt I’d say that looks like provable cause right there.”

“Really how so city cop?”

“You’re both probably guilty of something,” he said laughing before turning to Yareli. “Boys this is my partner Yareli, and Yareli this is Jimmy and Wyatt better known as the McLean boys.”

Jimmy was the first to come over and give her a bear hug in response to her holding out her hand. He smelled like sweat, gun oil, and cheap booze, but was also a big bear of a guy. Wyatt did the same but asked if she wanted to go out for cheeseburgers and beer. His brother quickly slapped him on the back of the head and told him to be respectful to Becker’s woman. They then passed out cold beers and explained they trained with Becker years back, and all served together. They had a few years on Becker and had been in the Navy before being bikers for a while before joining up again this time in the army as experts in weapons and demolition. They’d grown up in the same area, and when Becker left to go to the big city he introduced Jimmy to Bobbi Jo.

A few beers later Jimmy continued, “Yeah the money is our share of what we got back for the Iron County Bikers. Seems some guys from Peru sold them some guns and only the fucking samples worker. They were pissed but couldn’t find the guys so we tracked them down to the city. Couldn’t get ahold of you man so we took the trip in.”

“So this was a recovery for a percentage type of job.”

“Yeah we got those assholes, and the good guns and some cash.”

Wyatt took out two big rolls of cash and tossed them to Yareli. “Yeah this is for you guys your city and all.”

Yareli tossed the money back and just said, “No need you’re family right and we didn’t do anything.”

Jimmy smile and shock his head handing Yareli another beer and looking at Becker and said, “I like this one. Oh the wife made that great gumbo of her’s and we got biscuits and your favorite beer.”

Becker nodded and smiled. “That’s great man and I’m happy to come out and visit, but you said you had something important and I take it a few dead Peruvian gun runners isn’t it. Also Bobbi Jo called me the day that fed showed up. Seems he was scared of the dogs.”

He smiled to Yareli and said, “He’s always thinking about business, but yeah I think you guys will like this.” He moved back and settled down on wooden crate.

“Yeah so we’re going through the city talking to fucking everyone. I mean bars, hotels, and strip clubs trying to find these guys. Lot leads to guys who do guns and other stuff, but I swear if we got twelve names the right one was the fucking thirteenth.”

He stopped and took out a cigar from a nearby box and offered it around everyone including Yareli took one and lit up before he continued. “Well meet this one guy who is in the middle of a bender who is crying into his beer about something. So I ask him what has him so upset and he lets it all out.”

Jimmy explained that he’d met a part time Pay and Spray employ did some custom work on the side. It all started when after visiting a friend at the Ocean View Hospital in the parking a guy admired his custom Burrito. The nurse or whatever started asking him about all kinds of customizations. The guy who went by Carlos ended up working on an ambulance with him. Seemed the guy wanted to learn, but they couldn’t do all the work together. So when he finished it he brought the rig to a garage near the Farmacia Central. He said the guy paid him extra, but what every he saw there rattled him something awful. They found the guys they wanted the next day, but they also heard the kids overdosed that morning.

Wyatt began explaining the reference the guy made to location, but it didn’t take long for Yareli to interrupt and say, “The Farmacia Central isn’t far from Café Robina. Fuck that’s a drive across the bridge to the hospital, but there are all kinds of places for rent down there, and Screw This has all kinds of stuff. Fuck he’s right in our backyard. Becker you think this could be our guy?”
A.J. nodded and looked back over at Jimmy and asked, “What kind of custom work did he do for thus guy anyway?”

“Oh like everything. Armor, increased the speed, and all kinds of surgical stuff and mountings for weapons. He thought at first the guy wanted a rolling hospital, but by the end it was a fucking torture chamber. Figured you’d know someone who’d want something like that.”

“I think we need to look into this driver, but that will have to wait until we get back to the city. Chances are that guy was doing some nasty things in that space.”

The hunt would have to wait a little bit though as they got to enjoy a meal as a family of sorts. The three little girls were giggling and kept asking Yareli things the whole time as they enjoyed the hardy spicy gumbo. A.J. smiled on as Yareli happily told the girls all about being a police woman, and even blushed as A.J. told them about her brave rescue. Bobbi Jo explained she was Tequila Sue for Red Arrow Tequila, and how Jimmy didn’t believe that the signed calendar he had on his wall was from his wife. She hated dying her beautiful dark hair blond, but the company said she wasn’t all American enough. Being of a mixed background she already thought she was, so her contract wasn’t renewed. After the meal the girls showed Yareli the Rottweiler kennels by the house and she got to meet Cleopatra’s sister Bellona who also seemed to like Yareli.

Wyatt and Jimmy made a living as mechanics, doing odd jobs, and from time to time ripping off smugglers. For A.J. they were what he could have been if he’d come back home and stayed, and while they didn’t have the perfect lives it was filled with a lot of love. The two brothers worked together, a happy husband and wife, and three happy little girls. While Bobbi Jo fed little Loribelle Yareli was drafted into reading a story to the other two. He watched her sitting between the two girls on the couch happily reading a children’s book. After getting some large cups of coffee and some donuts it was time to go.

Wyatt said he and Yareli were welcomed to sleep in his trailer that was on the next lot over, but Bobbi Jo said she hadn’t been over there in a month to clean. Despite his protests she said she’d have it cleaned up by the next visit and more suitable for guests of and not just dogs. The boys showed them some weapons, and told them they could come back or deliver whatever they wanted. So sometime after midnight they hit the road, but unlike on the ride down Yareli slid over and leaned on Becker for the drive back. It was a comfort and meant the world.

Yareli Robina spent half the night trying not to think about what happened on the precinct roof, which became increasingly difficult once she realized she’d been dragged to what amounted to a family dinner. Sure the Andersons had given them some pertinent information but it couldn’t have been further from an informant meet as far as Yareli was concerned. Then there was the way Becker looked at her, and casually touched her, like they were on a date instead of on the clock.

The ride home was quiet but there was so much said in the silence. Her head on his shoulder seemed like a natural thing and as she drifted off, Becker slipped his arm around her to keep her close. Even planted a kiss on the top of her head before they made it into the city proper. The sigh he heard from Yareli made him chuckle a little, the sound of which stirred her awake. But she didn’t pull away like he expected her to, instead she shifted her body around and grabbed his cigarettes off the dashboard. Yareli only lit one, took a few drags before holding it up to his lips, allowing him to finish it. And still they didn’t speak until he pulled his truck alongside her car in the station lot.

“This was fun,” he said with a smirk as he cut the engine. Becker glanced down at the necklace he gave her and raised his eyes in time to catch the smile on her face before Yareli rolled her eyes. “What? You didn’t have a good time?”

“You told me we were meeting informants not having family dinner,” she said with raised eyebrow and Becker shrugged his shoulders. “That was a dirty trick you pulled partner.”

“Yeah well, it was better than the alternative don’t you think,” he said with a wink as he threw open his door. “I can’t believe you thought I would feed you to the gators.”

“Yeah well sometimes I forget that under all that slick talk is a hick just waiting to rear his backwater head,” she teased, a little uneasy now that they were back at the station. It only served to remind her of the complicated situation she’d gotten herself in.

Sleeping with Becker was supposed to make things easier, Yareli didn’t anticipate the possibility that they might actually like each other. It was more than simply enjoying each other’s company. His talk of making changes for the better and having her with him “not just in the car” excited her. And Yareli wasn’t the type to fall for anybody’s sweet talk. Becker was being sincere and it shocked her to her core. Men like him weren’t supposed to be honest. Men like him weren’t supposed to be generous and kind.

Then there was that file Darling left. Yareli knew it’s purpose and she wasn’t falling for it. A bunch of old photos with slanted notes only proved one thing as far as she was concerned, that Becker kept questionable company. So did she, everybody born in Vice City had friends, family even, who operated on the wrong side of the law. That didn’t mean you loved them any less, it also didn’t make you guilty by association alone. An outsider wouldn’t be able to understand such a dynamic, especially if said outsider was a DEA agent with a bruised ego who was clearly in over his head. As confused as she was about Becker, Yareli was just as certain about Agent Darlington and she wasn’t about to let him ride her back to a corner office in D.C. She knew she had to change her focus and put Darling under her microscope, while still keeping tabs on Becker. Her gut told her that Darling wasn’t telling her everything and she knew for certain her partner still didn’t trust her completely. Self-preservation was top priority for both men and Yareli planned to use that to her advantage, she just hoped that her plans wouldn’t get her killed.

After packing up for the night, Detectives Becker and Robina parted ways. He was headed over to the Blue Line to commiserate with his buddies over the loss of their brother in arms while Yareli headed home. She made him promise to call her if he needed a ride but Becker waved her off as he climbed into his truck. Part of her wanted to follow, but she knew that if he wanted her there Becker would have asked so home she went. Her intentions were to add the new information to her notes on the Bikini Murders but she ended up with her face buried in the heist cases. Maria was only a week away from her transfer to county and Yareli was no closer to figuring out who hijacked her score. The sicko killing her doppelgangers had her a bit preoccupied. Blake had been right about one thing, she needed to step back from that whole thing and what better distraction could there be than trying to get your friend out of a murder wrap.

Yareli wasted no time getting all the case files spread out on her dining room table. She didn’t even change her clothes, just kicked off her shoes at the door and tossed her jeans on the couch before she grabbed a beer and got to work. The only indications that time passed were the amount of cigarette butts in the ashtray and empty bottles on the table. She knew she should get some sleep, but the nap she took snuggled up next to Becker was refreshing enough. And it wouldn’t be the first time she pulled an all nighter before a shift. Plus she seemed to be on a roll. The ballistics reports from Maria’s heist matched those of a gangland execution a few months before and those of a raid on a stash house in little Haiti. All three were carried out with military precision. The only evidence was bodies and shell casing, the only things Yareli needed to connect the dots. She had a hunch that whoever responsible had crossed the line last night, murdering a cop in cold blood. The details were sketchy at best and everybody knew Tommy had demons but nobody deserved to go out like that. She was sure the department would want to get the investigation over quickly, painting Tommy as a choir boy cop who stumbled into some nasty business that cost him his life. Looking into the shooters would mean digging into all of Tommy’s side business and the department couldn’t have their dirty laundry aired out on the cover of Vice City News. If Yareli wanted to find the shooters she’d have to do it quietly and without much help from any of her colleagues. With the exception of Becker of course, she was certain once she laid out all she’d found and made it clear she wasn’t looking to out his friend, he would jump at the chance to deliver a little vengeance.

She was putting all her ducks in a row when she heard voices in the hall. Yareli glanced at the clock on the wall and rolled her eyes, half past two and she was supposed to be meeting up with Becker at his offsite office at 10. Sleep was probably a good idea, even though she wasn’t at all tired, Yareli set about putting all the files in order so she could present everything to Becker first thing. The voices grew louder though, closer to her door, and Yareli scooped up her .45 sidearm before heading down the short entry way. She flipped the safety and chambered a round at the sound of a booted foot on the door. With the barrel of her pistol pressed against the door, Yareli took a peek through peephole and shook her head at what she saw.

“Put it on safety Robina,” Detective Johnny Garcia said, his speech only slightly slurred and Yareli rolled her eyes when he spun around with one hand raised. The other cradled a possibly passed out Lieutenant Andrew Jackson Becker. “Venga mami, abre la puerta...this fucker ain’t light,” he said before he kicked the door again. The fact that he didn’t put all his weight behind it was the only reason she unlatched the door, but she didn’t put her gun away. Nor did she engage the safety. They had a history her and Johnny. She’d experienced enough of his roid rages to know that he was unpredictable sober. “Place still looks the same,” he said with a cocky grin as he sauntered past her and Yareli sucked her teeth.

“What the hell are you doing here Garcia?! And what the fuck happened to him,” she asked as he dropped a snoring Becker unceremoniously onto the couch.

“Things got a little out of hand tonight,” was all he said but Yareli gave him a look that said she required more information. “Mira, he ain’t taking this Tommy shit well at all. We were only supposed to be having a few beers and call it a night. Before I knew it this guy was downing whiskey shots like water, talking bout how he wouldn’t have made detective if it weren’t for Tommy’s sorry ass. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the guy like a brother too but him and Becker...they went way back. Anyway some assholes from the Point came over talkin’ shit and this guy went total apeshit. Took six of us to drag him out and another three to get him in the car before he blew chunks all over my dashboard. I told him I was taking him home, he says fuck that take me to my partner’s place so here we are...and now he’s your problem.”

“What the fuck Johnny I don’t have time for this…”

“Well make time,” he said with his brow knitted and Yareli shook her head. “You wanted the gold shield, this is part of the deal. Besides, he needs a woman’s touch…”

“Then why didn’t you take him to Michelle?”

“I tried, he wasn’t having it. Like I said he’s your problem now,” he said with a snort before he head for the door. Yareli followed him out to lock up but he stopped just outside the door with that stupid grin on his face. “And don’t worry Robina I didn’t tell him about us…”

“Well that’s great since there’s nothing to tell…”

“Not why would he care...hmm,” he said with a snort and Yareli rolled her eyes. “He didn’t say but you damn sure confirmed it. You have a good night future ex-Mrs. Becker.”

“That’s not funny John...”

“It’s not and honestly I can’t figure what he’s got that makes perfectly reasonable women turn into lovesick puppies…

“I look lovesick to you?”

“Not yet...anyway...mis labios están sellados,” he said with a wink and headed down the hall.

Yareli slammed the door behind her and set the heavy duty deadbolts, all the while muttering long strings of profanity in English and Spanish. She knew people would talk, hell they probably already assumed given how close she and Becker had become so quickly. All those close calls and long hours stuck in the car, it was bound to happen eventually. And if she were being honest, Yareli didn’t much care what anybody thought about her. So long as Becker knew she wasn’t some badge bunny who couldn’t pull her weight, nothing else mattered.

That didn’t mean she was at all pleased with the idea of nursing a drunk cowboy back to sobriety. If they didn’t have work to do she would have left him to sleep it off. They didn’t have time for that, so Yareli put on a pot of coffee and started a cold shower before she went to wrestle Becker out of his vomit stained clothes. Halfway through peeling off his jeans, she got a flash of her mother and father in the same position. Yareli shook away the thought, as much as she loved her father, Becker was no alcoholic career criminal. If they did stay together, she doubted this would be something she had to get used to, so she grit her teeth and held her breath as she stripped him down to his snug boxers before she gave him a not so gentle pat on the cheek.

“Up and at ‘em cowboy. I’m not about to let you stink up my couch,” she shouted as she hoisted him up to his feet. Becker barely opened his eyes but that didn’t stop Yareli from dragging him to the bathroom and shoving him into ice cold shower. He muttered some sort of protest but lacked the coordination to put up any real fight. Yareli lit up a smoke and plopped herself down on the edge of the tub while Becker called her every name in the book. He made several unsuccessful attempts at getting the sliding door open before he finally gave up and sat down beneath the spray.

It was ten minutes before he reached up, blindly adjusted the temperature, and stood to pull off his boxers. Becker didn’t speak a word as he used Yareli’s raw bar of soap to clean himself from head to toe. When Yareli announced she was going to throw his clothes in the wash, all he did was grunt as he turned his back. She didn’t take it personally, he was hurting, Yareli could see it in his bleary eyes so she held onto her joke about doing his laundry for the second time.

“There’s a towel on the sink when you’re done and a toothbrush in the medicine cabinet,” she said quietly before she left him alone, closing the door behind her.

Yareli was putting his clothes in the dryer when Becker came out of the bathroom with the towel slung low around his waist. She did her best to keep from ogling him, as he staggered through the living room and flopped down on the couch, put his foot up on the coffee table. His skin was beet red and he smelled of her lavender soap and mouthwash but he still looked like shit warmed over. The coffee would help with that. Yareli brought him one of her big boy cups filled to the brim and sat down on the coffee table across from him.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Only thing I wanna talk about is how the hell I ended up here,” he said, resting the cup on his thigh. Becker didn’t look at her, head back on the couch and eyes trained on the ceiling but still Yareli didn’t take it personally.

“Garcia brought you…”

“Why the hell would he do that?!”

“Because you told him to,” she said, quickly though she kept her tone even. “He tried to take you home but you said you didn’t want to go.”

“Yeah well I’ll be on my way as soon as my pants are dry,” he said finally taking a sip and Yareli sucked her teeth. “How the hell did he know where you live...I don’t even know where you live and I’m supposed to be your partner.”

“We knew each other from before…”

“Let me guess you fucked him too,” he sneered, finally setting eyes on her and Yareli almost lost her cool, but she took a deep breath before giving him an answer.

“So what if I did...that was a long time ago. Back when he was still in uniform and we’ve barely spoken since...and I told you I was staying here…”

“You told me this was your parents’ place…”

“It is! I’m basically subletting. You wanna see the lease,” she said standing and Becker rose with her. Yareli took another long slow breath, shut her eyes and counted to 10, before she spoke again. “Look I know you’re hurting but this is bullshit. You wanna leave, fine, I’m not about to stop you but I took your keys and your wallet so have fun trying to get back to your truck because I’m sure as hell not putting on pants,” she said, her voice rising at the last, before she shoved past him and stormed off to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She wasn’t sure why he was giving her the third degree now, after the night the spent together and all he said on the roof, but she wasn’t about to be interrogated in her own home.

The sound of that door brought Becker back to his senses. So what if Garcia had her first, the fact that she never mentioned it proved how little that relationship meant to her. He knew of other men she’d been with; Briggs, the guy she knew in D.C., an old college boyfriend. No matter how she downplayed those relationships, Becker could tell by how Yareli spoke of them that those guys meant something to her. Garcia was probably just a booty call, so insignificant that his presence in her life wasn’t worth repeating. Then there was the “lie” of where she lived. Her explanation seemed plausible enough and he hadn’t been so forthright either. Sure, she knew of El Swanko but that apartment in the Hyman was his along with a host of other properties around the city. He’d lied just as much as she had but she wasn’t the one throwing it in his face at every turn. Very rarely did she question anything regarding his personal life, with the exception of his dealings with Michelle, but even that was done in a roundabout way. But still, there had to be a reason for her lack of candor. Digging for it while he was piss drunk was the least productive route to resolution, especially when she was taking care of him. Again.

Becker gave the towel around his waist another tuck before he trudged over to that closed door and gave it a few quick taps with his knuckles. She didn’t respond so he knocked again.

“Yareli?”

“What!?”

“Can I come in?”

“Well it’s not locked if that’s what you’re asking,” she said and Becker could hear her neck rolling. It wasn’t exactly an invitation but then again, he didn’t much deserve one at this point so he didn’t press, simply turned the knob and stepped inside. “I’m not taking you home Becker..no matter how nice you ask.”

“Relax Robina I’m not going anywhere...I don’t wanna go anywhere,” he said after a long sigh and sat heavily on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.

He didn’t say anything for a long while after that and Yareli didn’t press, allowing him to gather his thoughts while she toyed with the ears of her stuffed rabbit. It was a nervous habit, soothing her when her parents fought, when she was relegated to overcrowded group homes. And the action didn’t fail her now. She didn’t know what to think with all his barking and at one point, Yareli thought she might have to get her gun, but she realized quickly that would be foolish. She wouldn’t be able to pull the trigger, not on him unarmed, maybe beat him unconscious but never a bullet.

“It’s just this whole thing with Tommy...and you being so secretive...I’m sure you have your reasons but…”

“A.J.,” she said quietly as she moved to sit beside him. One leg wrapped behind his back, the other draped across his lap as she encircled him in her arms. “Look I should have told you about Garcia…”

“I don’t care about that,” he said and Yareli opened her mouth to dispute it but Becker silenced her with a kiss and took her hand in his. “Really I don’t. We both have skeletons. I’m sure if you asked around I may have been in your circle a few times before we got put together,” he said with a chuckle and rest his head on hers. “I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m sorry. I got no right questioning you like that, especially after you washed my draws for the second time.”

“Well I wasn’t going to mention it but since you said it,” she said with a giggle and kissed his neck.

And again they were silent, simply enjoying the comfort that came from the oddly familiar embrace. Her free hand roamed up and down his back, while his traced gentle circles along her thigh. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not for people like them but here they were falling in love. The brash hoodrat turned federal agent turned informant and the corrupt cowboy cop. On paper, it was a match made in hell, doomed for failure. But it was the nuance of their character that pulled them together and would allow them to unravel the very complicated situation they found themselves in.

“A.J.?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry about Tommy. I didn’t really know him but I know you guys were close...I can’t imagine how you might be feeling right now, except that maybe you want to see the assholes who did this in the ground,” she said quietly and Becker let out a snort, kissed her palm. “That won’t happen if this case gets closed. I saw on the board, they got Montreal on it and that moron couldn’t find his way out of a parking lot with a map. You know as well as I do that he’s gonna call it wrong place wrong time just to get it off his desk without even attempting to round up the players...and I don’t care what he was into,” Yareli said, cutting off any objections Becker might have about her digging into his buddy’s background. “We can piece this out without airing out his dirty laundry. He was your friend Becker, he couldn’t have been all bad. Even if he was, he didn’t deserve to go out like that…”

“Listen babe, I hear you but I’m not in any condition to really hear you,” he said and lean back to scoop up Mr. Rabbit. “This is uncharacteristically cute,” he said with a smirk as he placed it gently on the nightstand, propping him up between the lamp and alarm clock.

“Whatever Becker, don’t judge me,” was her quick response as she slid back to rest against the upholstered headboard. Yareli patted the space next to her, making Becker grin a little as he stood to drop his towel.

“You’re overdressed,” he said with a yawn as he slid into bed and rolled around a bit. “No wonder you raved about mine, this mattress is terrible…”

“Well the floor’s available…”

“Then you’d be down there with me,” he said, lazily blocking the jab that came at his ribs. Becker grabbed her wrist, yanking her down beside him and planted a big wet kiss on her cheek. “Admit it Robina you like snuggling with big strong cowboys…”

“And petite latin women…”

“A woman who knows what she likes. Nothing wrong with that,” Becker said with another yawn as Yareli slithered out of his grasp. He started to protest but was greeted with the sight of her stripping down. With her back to him, she couldn’t see the way he bit his lip as she bent to push her panties down her thighs before she pulled off her tank top and bra all at once to toss on the floor. Becker was sure to correct his glare when she turned back, even when he noticed the arrowhead dangling around her neck. It was a simple thing, a bit of knapped flint edged in silver wire with a couple glass beads on either side to keep it centered. It probably costed nothing to make but he was honored to receive it and Becker was glad Yareli hadn’t taken it off.

When she finally got into bed, Becker pulled her in close with both arms wrapped tight around her middle and took a long deep breath of her scent. Coffee, cigarettes, and something mildly feminine and he couldn’t get enough with his nose buried in the back of her neck. He heard her quiet giggle as she settled down beside him, slipped her foot back to nestle between his hard calves. He’d been in love before, with both his ex-wives, but it never felt like this. It occurred to him, as Yareli gripped his forearm, that they were two pieces from the same fucked up pie. She understood him in ways that the average woman couldn’t. She didn’t need him to make her feel secure. The .357 she had in a holster mounted behind her nightstand, along with the machete behind the headboard was security enough. But most importantly, she didn’t need him to be anything more than the hard drinking badass with questionable moral that he was. With Yareli, A.J. could just be A.J. the only problem with that was she made him want to be better. A better cop. A better man. And that had to mean something, so he held her close. Allowed the steady sound of her breathing to lull him to sleep.

But that only lasted for so long. Becker was deep into a dream about deep sea fishing with Tommy when he felt a nagging in his groin. In his dream, he’d speared a marlin that was every bit of eight feet long but when he dragged it aboard, the thing morphed into a mermaid Yareli flopping around naked on the deck. Becker shift his eyes to Tommy, who only shrugged, and said “Maybe you should wake up Rook?”

And so he did, to find his throbbing erection nestled between the honey toned globes of Yareli’s perfectly round ass. He remembered seeing her in uniform once or twice and thinking no cop with a body like that could be worth the time it took to train. Even after they were partnered, he couldn’t believe somebody who looked like her could keep up with him but she proved herself with that first bust and continued to do so every day they’d been together. It almost got to the point that he didn’t see her curves, didn’t notice the way the weight of her gun tugged her jeans down a little on one side, or how her badge always seemed to get caught in her ample cleavage. That first sleepover changed all that, then they slept together and all he could think about was how good it felt to be inside her. How those round hips made perfect handholds for when he took her from behind. How her breasts were the softest pillows known to man.

“You know I can feel that right,” Yareli grumbled beside him, shocking him out of his revelry. Becker hadn’t even noticed he’d begun rutting against her, and froze midthrust. But all she did was laugh as she reached back to grip his shaft and lifted her leg, positioning him for entry but Becker stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Not like that,” he said quietly, his lips pressed to her ear as his hand made it’s way to settle between her thighs. “I want to look at you.”

It wasn’t the first time he said something like that and Yareli reacted the same way as she had on the boat, with her tongue in his mouth as she spun in his embrace. His hands went immediately to her ass as she raised her leg up to wrap around his hip and Becker used those powerful hand to lift her just enough to slide his cock into her warm velvety core, all without breaking the kiss. She moaned into his mouth as he rolled her over, rough hands tangled in her hair and gripped her thigh, holding her close so that he could remain inside her. For a while he didn’t move, and she didn’t mind, enjoying the feeling of him inside her. His weight pressing her into the mattress. His hand running up and down her thigh as he kissed her hungrily.

It was Yareli who finally broke the kiss, pulling her head away to look up into his eyes. “A.J. I…”

“Shhh let’s just enjoy this,” he said quietly, running his hand through her hair. “I’m here...you’re here...and it feels good…”

“Sooo good,” Yareli moaned, running her nails down his back and Becker let out a quiet chuckle as he slowly rocked his hips back.

“Right, so let’s not ruin it with too much talking okay,” he said as he slipped his hand into hers to push it above her head. Becker braced himself with the other, propping himself up on his elbow as he made long deliberate strokes with his thick cock. His eyes never left hers, watching as she moaned and gasped every time he bottomed out.

https://youtu.be/OZuW6BH_Vak

He wanted to take his time, to draw out the sheer delight that was being inside her but Becker lost all composure when Yareli started mumbling in Spanish. His pace quickened with every muttered “Papi” or “Como eso” and in no time her legs were up on his shoulders. Her hips lifted off the bed as she bounced back against his thrusts, and still he held her gaze.

“Fuuuuck Papi... sientes tan bien dentro de mí,” she gasped, her nails digging deep gashes into his thigh and a low growl erupted from his chest as Becker gripped her ankle and flipped her over onto her stomach. One hand gripped her hip while the other fisted her hair, yanking her up onto her hands and knees, making her cry out but that didn’t stop him from leveling a hard swat to both her round cheeks. “I thought you wanted to look at me,” she groaned, craning her neck to look back at him as Becker plowed into her with one hard thrust.

“I did...now I’m...gonna...fuck you…’til you...can’t...see...straight,” he grunted, each word punctuated by a powerful thrust that forced a lusty whimper from his partner.

“Mi Dios Papi... es tan romántico...creo que podría llorar...”

“Oh yeah, well I’ll take that too,” he growled as he yanked her up off the bed with a handful of her hair so she sat in his lap.

Once he had her in position, Becker dropped his hand down to pinch and pull her nipple while the other worked her clit, all the while hammering his cock into her with hungry fury. The time for talking was over, neither of them could make words anymore with the way they threw their bodies into each other. Becker alternated between biting her neck and grunting in her ear while Yareli held on for dear life. One hand grip the back of his neck while the other held his wrist, keeping his hand in place between her thighs. And she matched his pace, forcing his cock to pound against her g-spot with each stroke.

The climax he gave her was explosive. Yareli saw stars as her body tensed. Her nails dug welts into his neck as her hips writhed uncontrollably. As her orgasm crested, Becker grabbed her jaw in his fist, forcing her head around so he could shove his tongue in her mouth. The kiss they shared was ferocious but it wasn’t until Yareli bit down on his bottom lip that Becker lost his load. His arm around her waist, holding her steady as his hips pistoned erratically against her. Weak from his orgasm, Becker collapsed onto the bed, trapping a giggling Yareli a moment before she wiggled out from beneath him. He didn’t allow her to go far though, their legs tangled and his arm firm around her hips.

“You took your pill today right,” he asked breathlessly and Yareli burst out laughing.

“Hell of a time for that line of questioning ain’t it Becks.”

“Probably, but humor me,” he said with a tired grin and Yareli sucked her teeth as she rolled over and reached into the nightstand. She came away with a half empty pack of cigarettes and a pastel pink plastic disk that she flipped open to reveal a foil pack of tiny round pills.

“Haven’t missed a day all month,” she said cockily as she shook a cigarette from the mangled box. “No half breed babies for you to hide from your family,” she added with a snort as she tossed the pills back in the drawer and lit her smoke.

“Maybe not but I damn sure wouldn’t hide ‘em from my mom. The rest of those shitbirds definitely...and not because said babies would be half Cuban,” Becker groaned as he rolled over onto his side, turning his back to Yareli.

He was snoring before Yareli finished her smoke but that didn’t stop her from planting soft kisses along his back as she snuggled up behind him. Becker reached back to take her hand, kissed her palm before placing it against his chest and Yareli couldn’t help the way she swooned. And as she drifted off, she found herself replaying his last words. Part of her knew it was nothing, but she couldn’t deny the grin that came to her lips at the way he spoke of their hypothetical children. Children she had no intention of having but she found herself reassured by his acceptance. She didn’t allow herself to dwell on the fact that Becker would probably kill her if he found her out. It was like he said, “I’m here, you’re here, and it feels good so let’s just enjoy it.” Besides, she had pieces in motion and, lord willing, Yareli would figure her way out of all this.

https://youtu.be/OozIDOzGWH4

Outside, in a beat up old Burrito, Charles Cruise seethed. Tonight was supposed to be the night when he finally revealed himself to his new love. She’d finally come home from that busy downtown apartment with that asshole in cheap suits who didn’t appreciate her. She could finally be his, he’d have to punish her of course for the little trick she pulled with her surrogate but once that was done Charles was certain that he could make her see how perfect she was for him.

He’d been watching her place all night and when she arrived alone, he took it as a sign. This was his moment but of course he got cold feet. His wife always teased him for his lack of fortitude. Well it was more like berating but he showed her eventually. Showed her so well that her overbearing mother had no choice but to cremate what was left of that snotty whore’s body. Remembering the look on her face as he sliced into her fake tits usually brought a smile to his face but now, poor Charlie couldn’t seem to get his jaw to unclench as he watched a juiced up meathead carrying his precious Yareli’s trigger happy partner fireman style into her apartment building. ‘How dare they disturb her,’ he thought, his hand on the door latch. But Charlie didn’t have the balls to pull it, and his inability to move only served to further inflame him. He couldn’t imagine she’d allow him stay so when the meathead returned alone Charles drove his head into the steering wheel with such force that he open a three inch gash across his forehead. Blood ran freely down his face and into his eyes as he watched the lights in Yareli’s apartment. He could see them moving around then one by one the lights went out and poor Charlie was devastated. In his twisted mind, he imagined all manner of debauchery happening between the two detectives and he cursed himself for the involuntary erection that sprang up in his heavy cargo pants. A normal man would have thought of something else, maybe even rub one out. Charles Cruise wasn’t a normal man. He slipped on a pair of brass knuckles, bit down on the brim of his baseball cap, then proceeded to beat his crotch with his fist until his cock shriveled in his lap. He could feel the bruises develop and he was certain his entire groin would be black and blue come morning but Charlie didn’t care. He deserved it for being so weak, so useless.

Tonight was not the night. He was not ready. And as the sun rose over Vice City, Charles Cruise came to the realization that he could not force the meeting with the love of his life. That’s not a story he could tell their grandchildren. It had to happen organically and for that he could wait. But until that glorious day came, he resigned himself to practice.

It was a little after seven when Becker slide out from beneath his sleeping partner. He was careful not to wake her, even pushed the pillow he’d been sleeping on into her arms before tucking her stuffed rabbit beneath the sheets with her. Naked, he tiptoed out to the living room and found the laundry closet behind a set of mirrored doors. The washer and dryer sat side by side beneath a shelf stocked with all manner of laundry supplies. There were a few bras and lacy panties draped over a drying bar that Becker tried to disregard. Regardless of the fact that he’d seen her everything, the sight of her delicates still gave him pause and his hand went up to run his fingers over the padded satin before he shook his head and grabbed his own clothes from the dryer.

Once dressed, Becker took note of his surroundings. Standing in the middle of the living room, he scanned the area for any clues as to who this woman really was. There were very few pictures. One of her in a cap and gown flanked by the Torreses, another of a toddler held up by a heavily tattooed man as she blew out three candles on a birthday cake. That one he picked up and upon closer inspection he realized that toddler was a three year old Yareli Robina with her convict father, giving her a big kiss on the cheek. He studied the photo a moment, wondering how someone so young could have such hard eyes and how it was that a daughter could look so much like her father. Then he noticed the writing on the cake, and despite it being upside down and backwards, Becker knew that wasn’t her name neon pink icing. There were too many letters but his befuddled mind couldn’t quite make it out. The solution was a simple one though and he flipped the framed picture upside down and looked at the reflection in the mirrored door.

“Feliz Cumpleaños Machita...who the hell...ohhhh Little Macho,” he whispered as he put the photo back and turned his attention to the dining room table. “I’ll have to remember that.”

Aside from the full ashtray and scattered empty bottles of Pride Brew, copies of several police reports were spread out on the table top. A couple manila envelopes were on the top of the accordion folder he’d given her that first day. Becker picked those up too but he didn’t have the heart to break the seal. He also wasn’t in any condition to deal with what might be inside so he focused on what his partner left out in the open. At first glance, only one of the cases was actually theirs but judging by the little color coded sticky tabs, Yareli was making connections and Becker couldn’t help but take a closer look.

“Great tits and a good eye...why the hell did the feds let you go,” he muttered as he quietly sat to sift through what she had. It was incomplete but good start and Becker got the idea that she was trying to connect the heists with the ambushes that had been targeting the local gangs. It seemed like everyone had been hit. Drugs, money, guns, it didn’t matter and with all the carnage, surprisingly, no war had broken out. It was as if the gangsters knew some external force had been muscling in on their turf, and worse, they were scared. She had a list of names scrolled on a legal pad and Becker shook his head at the name on the top of the list. Her uncle, Umberto Robina, and he wondered if the names were suspects or witnesses.

Becker jumped up at the sound of Yareli’s alarm and quietly put everything back the way he found it. He was certain she would know and if she asked he wouldn’t hide it but he wouldn’t offer. He could be just as secretive but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t cook her breakfast.

Yareli was awake well before her alarm went off but she held herself in bed listening to Becker’s quiet footsteps as he moved around her apartment. She did a quick mental checklist of any incriminating evidence and remembered that was the first thing she put away before calling it a night. He knew how light of a sleeper she was and wouldn’t risk her waking up to the sounds of him tossing her place. Yareli was certain he would stick to what was left in plain sight. But still her hands shook as she listened as papers were shuffled and a picture was lifted and put back. She could hear him muttering to himself, just not what about, but she guessed it was all innocent especially when she heard butter sizzling.

That got her out of bed but she headed for the bathroom to get her day started. She had a lot of ground to cover before they got going and she didn’t want to give him any opportunity to coax her back into bed so she dressed simply in torn jeans and a LoveFist t-shirt with the sleeves torn off. The armholes were so wide that her sports bra showed but the look was far from sexy. Yareli combed a little mousse through her long tresses before twisting them into a tight bun on the top of her head that she would surely jam a pencil into later. Next came her shit kicking boots and her guns. One on her hip, another in her ankle holster, and two in her shoulder holster. The badge was last and she grabbed it from the lock box on her dresser, along with Becker’s keys, wallet, and badge. Yareli placed them all on the counter, lined up in a neat little row, smirking a little as Becker fumbled with her coffee pot.

“How the hell do you put the coffee in this thing,” he muttered and narrowed his eyes at Yareli’s snicker. “Here I try to do something nice and you laugh at me...some partner you are.”

“I’m a kick ass partner who didn’t make you sleep on the balcony last night,” was her snarky reply as she made short work of the moka coffee pot. “Is that grits? I didn’t know I had those,” she added with a snort, glancing in the pot he diligently stirred.

“I was just as shocked as you are,” he said with a chuckle, putting a lid on the pot as he took it off the flame. “Breakfast of champs Robina. How do you like your eggs?”

“Make ‘em bounce…”

“I’ll do no such thing,” Becker said with his nose scrunched up and Yareli shrugged her shoulders.

“Why ask if you’re not gonna do it the way I like,” she said with raised eyebrow and a grin spread across Becker’s face. “Never mind Becker do what you want.”

“What?! I didn’t say anything…”

“You didn’t have to…”

“Come on Robina, don’t make it weird,” he said with a wink and Yareli rolled her eyes.

“I’ll just have coffee. Thanks but no thanks,” she said and reached to pull two mugs down out of the cupboard. “So did you learn anything on your exploratory mission this morning,” she asked with a smirk as she made both their coffee, adding a little extra sugar to Becker’s but the same amount of cream.

He moaned a little at that first sip before he gave his answer. “Actually I learned a lot Machita,” he said with a grin and Yareli’s nostrils flared ever so slightly, fist clenched around her mug. “But mostly you’re a better investigator than you let on. I took a look at what you got...a couple holes still but I think we might be able to fill ‘em together. I’ll talk to Colins about getting Tommy’s case, the files at the very least. You might be onto something Machita…”

“Don’t call me that,” she said through clenched jaws as she set her mug down. Becker did the same and took a step to her and Yareli bowed up a little.

“Either that or Beatrice, pick one,” he said, leaning down so they were almost nose to nose. She wanted to hit him, he could tell by the way she rolled her neck. When she didn’t Becker took the opportunity to kiss her, just a quick pressing of his lips to hers before he stepped back and said, “Good morning.”

“I hate you…”

“Yeah, yeah line forms to the left,” was his smirking reply as he turned his attention back to the stove.

Eggs were made as specified and they sat down at the clear end of Yareli’s dining room table to eat, all the while discussing her various theories. The back and forth was easy between them and by the time the dishes were cleared, they agreed on a starting point. It all hinged on whether or not Becker could wrestle the rest of the files from Colins. He pretended to be wary about that last part but Yareli didn’t bite. “Nobody says no to the golden boy,” she said as they climbed into her car and Becker shrugged his shoulders. He had a rebuttal but it was drowned out by the powerful rev of her supercharged engine as Yareli peeled out of the parking lot. Once they hit the street, she never took her foot off the gas. Her superior officer advised her to put the cherry to use but Yareli just shrugged her shoulders and mumbled something about it being cheating as she weaved in and out of lanes. Needless to say, Becker couldn’t wait to get out when Yareli skidded to a halt behind his truck in the lot behind the cop bar.

“I’d call you a show off but I know that’s just how you drive,” he said shaking his head and Yareli offered him a wink. “I got a couple things to handle…”

“Like shower and change your clothes,” Yareli said and lit up a pair of cigarettes. She handed Becker one and he thanked her with a nod.

“Yeah that too. What say we meet up about lunch time? Give me a chance to wrestle Tommy’s case off Montreal. Burgers at the Deli...say noonish?”

“You’re the lieutenant, right,” she offered with a smirk and Becker rolled his eyes as he threw open the door.

“Damn right I am.”


Blake Darlington was coming out of the elevator at the Hyman when he caught sight of Det. A.J. Becker strolling through the lobby. He watched as people greeted him as if he were some sort of rock star, it all made him sick to his stomach. And now it seemed Yareli had fallen for his swagger. He should have known better than to trust someone with blood ties to a drug kingpin, whose own father was serving multiple life sentence for everything from trafficking to murder. Darlington had thought that her time with the Torreses had set her straight but he guessed all that had been reversed once she came back to this cesspool.

Backsliding came easy in Vice City. Even he had slipped off the straight and narrow, with callgirls and the occassional line of blow. It was hard not to get sucked in with the glitz and glamour, the sun and sand. No one was above the seduction, even priests in this town had habits. The best you could do was try to stay ahead of the crash, the moment when the city took hold of you for good. With the possibility of his investigation going up in smoke and his eyes still bloodshot from a night of hard partying, Blake Darlington was at his tipping point.

He grabbed a newspaper and sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs near the window to wait, all the while his mind racing. Murder was out of the question, at least in the swanky lobby of a luxury apartment building. Too many witnesses, and VCPD wasn’t known for allowing cop killers to make it to trial, let alone the precinct. And dying would surely put a wrench in his career plans so he ticked that idea off his mental list. He could blow Yareli’s cover but that would surely have consequences that couldn’t be mitigated with clever words. She hadn’t said but he was almost certain that Yareli had reunited with her delinquent relatives. If she came up missing, there’s no telling what hell the Cubanos might send his way. That wouldn’t work either.

Becker was coming back by then, with two overstuffed military duffle bags and a long metal briefcase that probably contained a gun or two in tow. He moved purposefully through the lobby without taking his eyes off the front door, unperturbed by the many sets of eyes tracking his strides. The place was full of feds these days and his exit had been long overdue, he just didn’t have the heart to leave Michelle alone. Or he simply couldn’t, he didn’t have a choice now. Whether what he had with his partner was permanent or not remained to be seen, either way he couldn’t keep stringing Michelle along knowing that their relationship would never be a two-way street. She would always need to be taken care of and as much as Becker felt for her, he knew it wasn’t love and that wasn’t fair to her. Hell, it wasn’t fair to him either so he had to let her go. She would be devastated, probably spiral towards some disastrous end but he couldn’t let that stop him. And it wasn’t like he would toss her away, he would continue to be there for her but he had to make it clear that she didn’t need to be there for him. She had to move on with her life, for her own sake. It all sounded good in his head but deep down, Becker knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

Michelle had been chain smoking all night waiting for Becker to come home. She’d heard about Tommy from one of the girls she partied with and rushed to El Swanko to take care of the only man who ever treated her like she mattered. Of course he never showed and she stayed up all night with only Cleopatra as company. She barely slept, waiting for the horrible news that her Becker had gone out in a hail of gunfire like his friend. She knew Tommy pretty well, had entertained him once or twice, and he was always nice to her. Always quick with a joke or sweet words to make her smile, there weren’t many like him around and she was certain Becker hadn’t taken the news well. She was prepared to do whatever it took to ease his pain, which usually included a home cooked meal, a hot bath, and meaningless sex. It wasn’t meaningless to her, of course, but Michelle would do anything to make him happy. To show him that she was capable of being a loving wife, maybe even a mother if she could kick the pills and blow.

The sound of Cleopatra’s tags jingling startled her awake and Michelle jumped off the couch just in time to see Becker as he trotted up the stairs. He must not have seen her and she started to follow, but thought better of it and headed for the kitchen instead. It was still early, a little before ten and she doubted he’d had breakfast so she got to work. Fresh coffee was brewed, eggs fried sunny side up the way he liked them, bacon, sausage, and she even squeezed some from fresh orange juice while she waited for him to come downstairs. She heard the shower and again she started to join him but again she stopped herself. With the smell of food in the air, he had to know that she was downstairs. Michelle sat down at the counter to wait, all the while a knot growing in the pit of her stomach.

It had been nearly a week since they spent any real time together and usually that wouldn’t concern her. Becker wasn’t the type of cop that adhered to a schedule, often disappearing for days at a time but he’d always check in with her every now and again so she knew he was alive. Recently, the frequency of those calls had waned and Michelle couldn’t help but think that his new partner had something to do with it. She’d met her at the ceremony where she and Becker had received commendations for bravery. Despite how everyone seemed to fawn over her, Michelle was unimpressed by the tan skinned Latina in her dumpy uniform. Her face was all scratched up from whatever the two detectives had gotten themselves into and she hadn’t even bothered to try and cover the damage. There were bags under her eyes and her hands were rough like a man’s but Michelle saw the way Becker looked at her. Noticed the way they snickered together throughout the ceremony. And even though he denied it, Michelle was certain he was sleeping with her, which only made her more suspicious of the woman. Something was going on between them, something more than simple friendship and it made Michelle sick to her stomach.

But she put on a brave face as Becker came rumbling down the stairs, empty handed save his beat up old canvas military jacket. His badge already dangled around his neck. Gun on his right hip, at his back and beneath his left shoulder. All signs that he had no intention of sticking around for breakfast, but still she made him a plate while he stood at the door.

“I wish you wouldn’t have gone through the trouble,” he said without looking at her. Becker could hear the sniffles as Michelle moved around the kitchen but he wouldn’t allow it to break his resolve.

“It’s no trouble...I just figured you probably had a long night. You need to eat, so sit down…”

“I already ate,” he said quietly, finally gracing her with his eyes. “Look, honey, sit down with me a minute. We need to talk.”

“No we don’t,” she shouted, slamming the plate down on the table before bursting into tears. “I know what you’re going to say A.J. and I don’t want to hear it. What’s so wrong with me wanting to take care of you...wanting to show you how much I appreciate what you’ve done for me?! I love you A.J. and I don’t care if you don’t love me back…just don’t make me go. Don’t shut me out...please...I don’t think I can take it.”

“Nobody’s shutting you out Michelle,” he said quietly, countering her desperation with reassurance. Becker took her in his arms, kissed the top of head, allowing her to sob on his shoulder a few moments before forcing himself to say what needed to be said. He had spent years telling her what she wanted to hear but that had to change. “You have to move on with your life. Waiting around for something that will never be isn’t good for you honey...it’s not fair to either of us. I can’t give you what you want Michelle...I can’t and you deserve so much more than this. You deserve someone who will give you everything you need and that guy isn’t me. He’s out there, I’m sure of it, but you won’t find him hanging onto me. You have to let me go Michelle. You’ll always have a friend in me but you have to get your love someplace else,” he said, stepping away from her.

Becker thought he’d done a good job. He was gentle and reassuring. He hadn’t insulted her and made it clear that he didn’t want her gone from his life completely. It was her reaction that told him otherwise. The hard shove that barely moved him. The slap that followed. Her mouth moved a mile a minute as she stormed around the kitchen, hurling things at him with fury in her eyes. And he took it, dodged projectiles as he tried to decipher the words from her shrieks. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in such a situation with a woman but he didn’t expect it from Michelle. Especially when she started in his partner.

“You think that banana boat bitch is going to take care of you the way I do! You think she gives a fuck about you! She’s just using you for the badge and you’re too stupid to even realize it! You think she’s better than me because she’s got a straight job. How many other cocks…”

“Dammit Michell! That’s enough,” he shouted so loud Michelle jumped back, threw her hands up to protect herself from blows that never came. Usually something like that, the reflex to protect herself, would have cooled Becker down. Not this time, he’d had enough of her bad mouthing his partner. “Get your shit and go. I’m done with you and that’s the end of it…”

“Please Becker don’t do this to me...after all we’ve been through…”

“I said get out Michelle,” he said as he snatched his jacket off the back of the chair. “I already called your driver. Don’t worry about cleaning up, Dixie’ll take care of it when she gets here.”

And like that he was gone. He should have been worried about her torching the place but Becker didn’t care. She wasn’t the first woman he’d left in tears amongst the shrapnel of broken china. Bobbie Jo blew a hole threw their trailer door with a 12-gauge when he left her. That’s how he knew she still loved him, otherwise she wouldn’t have missed. Caroline made it easy on him but there were a few women in between, and since, that tried to wrangle him before Michelle came along. It was an impossible task, trying to change a man who didn’t see the need. He liked his life on the edge and had resigned himself to the possibility that he might never find someone who could keep up.

Becker couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips as he thought of her. The morning they spent together and the night before. It all felt so easy, even with her convenient explanations and half truths. Despite what Michelle thought, Becker wasn’t blind, he simply didn’t care. He knew that whatever had developed between him and his partner was real, regardless of who she might be working for. If she was working for anyone at all, it had to be. Nobody was that good.

Yareli was having similar thoughts as she sat in her car on a quiet stretch of Washington Beach. After spending a few minutes with Maria going over her account of the heist and assuring her that she would do everything in her power to keep a murder wrap off the table. She’d even enlisted the help of her adopted father, a retired district attorney to take over for the public defender’s office. That was the most she could do about it until she ran through everything with Becker.

Everything regarding Maria anyway. Unsure of how much she could trust her new partner, Yareli had been playing that case as close as she was everything else. She knew Becker and his crew had been connected with some pretty heavy stuff and robbing armored trucks was not out of their wheelhouse. The fact that there hadn’t been anymore heists since, and Big Body’s financier never showed to collect his money had been all too suspicious. Then there was the little nugget Maria dropped about one of her cohorts boning a lady cop. Granted she didn’t have a name but Yareli now knew that lady cop was Natalie Ward. The same Natalie Ward who’d been charged with guarding various caravans in conjunction with the FBI. All this she put into three separate files. One for her and Becker. One for Darling. One for Ofc. Mike Briggs.

His was a bit thicker than the rest because it included everything Yareli had compiled on her partner. The ex-jock took his coffee on the same bench everyday while he read the newspaper. It was his way of gathering himself before shift, the calm before the storm he called it, and Yareli hated to interrupt his ritual for something that would surely give him stress. But she didn’t have a choice. Briggs was the only person she could trust, the only person she knew would do exactly as she asked without too many questions. But most importantly, Ofc. Mike Briggs was one of the few cops in Vice City who stayed on the straight and narrow. Vice City born and bred, civilians who usually shunned the uniform had no problem giving Briggs statements because his face was one they knew and trusted. He was one of the good ones, even criminals respected him knowing that if he put the cuffs on them they’d make it to the station in one piece, with all their valuables intact. That’s why he was still in uniform. Briggs didn’t play ball, but he steered clear of Internal Affairs and made good collars. Plus his bat made the Little Havana station softball team unbeatable. He understood his position and didn’t mind his stagnant career.

“This can’t be good,” he said, shaking his head as Yareli approached. Briggs folded his newspaper and made a show of looking up and down the boardwalk before finally setting eyes on his ex-partner.

“Can’t a girl visit with her old partner…”

“Sure if she’s empty handed or half-naked,” was his chuckling reply as Yareli sat heavily beside him. “Plus I saw the look on your face when you got out the car so cut the shit. What’s in the folder?”

“If things go well you’ll never have to find out,” she said and Briggs sucked his teeth as she dropped the sealed manila envelope in his lap. “Just keep that someplace safe for me. If I survive this we can drop it in that firepit on your deck.”

“Fuck Rel...it’s that guy ain’t it…”

“The less you know the better…”

“Fuck if it is Yareli! God dammit! What did I tell that first day?”

“Keep your head down and your nose clean but come on Briggs you know that’s not my style,” she said with a snort and Briggs shook his head. “It’s not like I went looking for it. It kinda just fell in my lap. I didn’t have a choice.”

“That promotion came with strings didn’t it?”

“More like a noose but I’m trying to keep my neck from getting snapped.”

“So why bring this to me now,” he asked, tucking the file into his newspaper. When Yareli didn’t answer Briggs let out a chuckle and threw his arm around her neck. “Listen, Rel, I been around and we were on the same path once. Me and Becks but he went left, but not as hard a left as the company he keeps. You been riding with him long enough, I’m sure you’ve seen what he’s capable of, good and bad. There’s a reason they love him on the streets almost as much as they do in the precinct. I may not agree with his methods but that doesn’t make them any less effective. He’s a warrior Rel, through and through, and sometimes you gotta do things in the field that the outside world don’t understand. You get that, Yareli, I know you do. You’re not some bimbo with a badge. The same thing he got in him, you got in you or else you wouldn’t have survived in that basement...and I’m sure he sees it too. Don’t let those strings tie you down Robina. You’re better than that,” he said finally, gave her neck a squeeze and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Remember that collar back when your were still a rookie. Woman killed her husband, cut his head clean off with a machete cause he’d been beating her for years. You kept telling me it didn’t seem right…’Too many pictures of her in his wallet.’ You must have said it a million times at the scene…”

“Battered women don’t usually look like that…”

“Yeah you said that too and I didn’t agree but you went with your gut and it turned out she’d been banging her stepson. Husband found out and threatened divorce so she took off his head, fabricated the whole abuse story. You saw right through it…”

“That’s a great story Mike but I don’t see the connection,” Yareli said with smirk and again Briggs shook his head.

“The point is you’re a good cop Rel and you would have made rank without those strings. Sure it might have taken a few more years but you would have done it so don’t let them hold it over your head. You don’t owe them shit. And trust your gut.”

“Yeah well my gut’s telling me that you’re the only one I can trust.”

“I’ll always have your back partner but give Becker a little more credit. He’s not an animal...speaking of animals,” he said with a smirk and Yareli immediately dropped her head, knowing where the conversation was heading. “How’d he do with that scuzzy bear of yours?”

“It’s a rabbit thank you very much and he treated him with the respect he deserves,” she answered with a shove. Briggs exaggerated the blow, stumbling to his feet as if he’d been shot.

“See, not an animal,” he said with a wink, held out his hand to pull Yareli to her feet. “I’ll take care of this for you but promise me I won’t have to open it.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I need better than that Detective,” he said as he walked off, the newspaper tucked under his arm.

“Well that’s all I got,” she mumbled as she headed back to her car.

https://youtu.be/p0OX_8YvFxA

Yareli climbed inside feeling like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Granted she hadn’t unburdened herself completely but what little she divulged to Briggs was enough to keep her from drowning. If only for the moment, Yareli still had a couple more things to do before joining Becker at his office above the Little Havana Deli. She headed over to Avec Moi Holidays to book a few trips. Only one of them mattered but the plump brunette was more than happy to be discrete once Yareli handed over four knots of cash that easily totalled ten grand. The money didn’t matter either, most of it was Darlington’s. What little that came from her own stash would be worth it in the end. She tucked all the travel documents into the lockbox beneath her rear seat before heading over to meet her new partner.

When it was all said and done, Yareli was a half hour late and Becker was already eating by the time she came rushing up the stairs. He didn’t look up from his burger, so he didn’t catch her smile at the tray of food set up beside his own. There was a fresh back of Redwoods leaning against the still frosty styrofoam cup alongside the burger and fries and her mouth watered at the aroma of charred meat. Files were scattered on one end of the table. A corkboard had been mounted on the wall behind where Becker sat, shoveling down his burger. He shift his eyes to her as she slid into the chair beside him, flipped the cap off the cup, but didn’t say a word as Yareli dunked a fry into the milkshake.

“Look, I know we said noon but I had...I got tied up…”

“Save it Robina,” he grumbled, pushing his own plate away. “Eat your burger so we can get to work.”

“Don’t be like that A.J. I had to bounce some things off Briggs,” she said and Becker turned in his chair, jaw clenched tight. “None of my things...what do you think I am?! Cop things...and other things,” she added with a smirk and Becker rolled his eyes. “Really. He’s my friend Becker. I can have a conversation with him with my clothes on.”

“Sure you can,” was his snorting reply as he stole one of her fries. “So what’d the jailbird have to say?”

“Nothing new but she confirmed the ballistics. One shooter from one direction. She got a glimpse of him when she came to but he was covered from head to toe. Tactical pants, ski mask, thermal shirt, and military boots. All black. No body armor so either he knew he wouldn’t get any push back or he’s as nutty as you are when it comes to gun fights. Average build, taller than me but shorter than you. Said he seemed pretty choosy about what he took. Only took the cash and loose stones.”

“So we’re looking at a sniper, or a hunter at the very least. Loner. What are you? 5’8”...130?”

“You’re cute,” Yareli said at Becker’s intentional lowball of her weight and Becker smirked.

“So somewhere between your 5’8” and my 6’3”. 150-220 pounds…”

“That’s pretty vague even if we had a face.”

“Sure is, no wonder it’s not in the initial report…”

“It’s not in the report because she never said anything. You know Maria, only thing she trusts with a badge is me...and you for some reason.”

Becker shrugged at that before saying, “Well we’re not getting anywhere with that. How about the robbery itself?”

“That’s where things get a little fishy,” Yareli said, pushing her lunch aside to dig into her bag.

Becker noticed one of the files he saw this morning was missing but didn’t say anything as Yareli handed him one of his own. He brushed his greasy fingers across his t-shirt before flipping it open. He didn’t say anything as he scanned through the first few pages, seeing nothing new but his breath caught when he came to the memo with the word “Privileged” stamped across the top. It was a copy, and Becker wondered how she got it but the letterhead was legit so he didn’t question the information below it. Three names were highlighted. Russell Marshall. Natalie Ward. Jason Eckart. There was a list of registered truck numbers with a few highlighted and Becker turned the page to find crime scene photos from the most recent heists. The same numbers highlighted on the list where on the back of the plundered trucks. That first bit of evidence could easily be explained away. No amount of verbal acrobatics could soften what he saw next. Four still shots from a porn shoot showing Detective Natalie Ward in various compromising positions with one of the dead suspects. In one of the photos, Russell Marshall sat in a chair with his pants around his ankles, his hand a blur in his lap as he watched his partner spitroasted by Maria’s co-conspirator and an unnamed man.

It was a lot to process, and Becker couldn’t do it in front of his partner. He also couldn’t say nothing, not after all the work she’d put in, but he was having troubling finding the right words. Any other rookie, Becker would have read them the riot act. Accused them of trying to pin this whole thing on good, honest cops but he couldn’t do that to her. A woman’s life was on the line, a not so innocent woman, but even Becker didn’t want to see anyone railroaded for poor decision making.

Then there was the fact that Yareli brought it to him first. Sure, she compiled everything behind his back but presenting it to him was a show of faith that he couldn’t push aside. She had enough to take to Internal Affairs. Becker had seen people go down with less but she didn’t do that. She brought it to him first. Becker shook his head as he closed up the file and let out a heavy breath as he lean back in his chair. He shift his eyes at her, a small smile came to his lips.

“So is this why you thought I was taking you on a one-way trip to the pits?”

“Can you blame me?”

“Can’t say I do...I mean...shit Robina...this is...how the hell did you get all of this?”

“Well first off Capt. needs to do a refresher on proper protocol for privileged information. I found that memo on the copy machine but I didn’t think much of it until Maria told me one of the guys was bragging about getting paid to rawdog a cop. I took his photo to Collar and Cuffs and...uhhh...compelled the clerk to rundown any videos featuring him. He came back with a list that...Dios Mijos,” she said with a disgusted shiver and spread her arms .

“That many huh,” Becker said with a chuckle and motioned for her to continue.

“Mira, he stuck his dick in anything...AN-Y-THING...but there was a series called “Working Girls…”

“Let me guess the starlets weren’t bikini girls?”

“Ni una sola Papi...and Det. Ward was in all three so I headed over to InterGlobal Films to...uhhh…”

“Compel,” Becker supplied with a grin and Yareli shrugged her shoulders.

“Sure why not...anyway I got a PA to show me stills from all three films. I was just as shocked as you were to see Marshall whacking it in the corner. I’m far from a prude but…” Becker’s tongue in her mouth cut her off and it took Yareli a moment to regain her composure but he was pulling away before she could push him off.

“First let’s leave the ‘Papi’ stuff in the bedroom. It does things to me,” he said with his hand on the back of her neck, his thumb tracing her earlobe a moment before he leaned back in his seat. “Second, the idea of you rolling up to InterGlobal and Collar and Cuffs has got my pants kinda snug. And lastly,” he said, pulling her into another long kiss and Yareli did nothing to stop it, even let out a pouty little moan as he pulled away. “It’s so fucking hot when you show your smarts,” he said and planted a kiss on her forehead. Yareli couldn’t help but blush at that as Becker leaned back in his chair his eyes on the ceiling a moment before he turned back to look her in the eye. “Thanks for bringing this to me...ballsy move and I appreciate it…”

“I feel a but coming on,” Yareli grumbled, arms folded across her chest.

“No, no buts partner. All this is circumstantial though. You want to help Maria we’re going to need something concrete…”

“Only thing more concrete is a confession,” she said and Becker raised an eyebrow. “I’ve known Natalie a long time. She might be a scumbag, a whore even, but she’s not an idiot.”

“No she’s not but Marshall...he ain’t firing on all cylinders. She’s the brains of that operation and everybody knows it,” he said with a huff and rest his hand on her thigh. “Look we have to be delicate about this babe…”

“No Papi, no babe,” Yareli said and pushed his hand off her lap.

“Fair enough,” was his smirking reply as he pushed the file back towards her. “Keep this someplace safe until we figure out all the moving parts..and that doesn’t mean it’s going on the backburner but we have to think this all the way through. I mean it, Detective.”

“I hear you Liu but we’re running out of time.”

“Maria goes to county this week right? Last I checked she hasn’t gotten a hearing yet and I know she’s not taking any deals…”

“Especially not with Alfonso Torres coming out of retirement to take her case,” Yareli said before taking a loud sip of her shake. She didn’t see the way Becker’s jaw clenched at that.

“So she’s definitely going to trial, which will be a long way off. Just give me a couple days to wrestle with this. Can you do that for me?”

“I’ll give you a week,” she said with hard eyes on him and Becker held her gaze, stuck out his hand for her to shake. Yareli hesitated but, eventually she took it.

And they moved on to the next case on their roster. Well it wasn’t exactly their case but they’d taken it fair and square. Just as Yareli said, Becker had no trouble getting them assigned to Tommy’s murder and they quickly made connections between all the ambush cases. His tactical mind provided a profile of the group that Yareli couldn’t question. Five or six guys, all with military experience and weapons. Probably outsiders taking liberties with the city’s recovery efforts. High caliber weapons and high tech equipment that you couldn’t find on the streets or any store. After studying the crime scene photos for a while they decided they needed to see the scene first hand, so Becker could use his military expertise to better discern how the whole thing went down.

As he spoke, Yareli found herself in a similar situation as he described when she explained her case. He was smarter than he let on and that should have raised red flags concerning her operation with Darlington but there was none of that. Only butterflies and moist panties. She was glad when he suggested they take a trip to the hospital to rundown the lead his buddies in the swamp gave. Nothing kills the libido quicker than the reminder that there was a homicidal maniac on the loose torturing women who looked like you. He left her to clean up the mess, “because she was late”, and headed downstairs to stock up on supplies for the long night he anticipated. It was her idea to drop her car off back at her place, but it was his idea to race. They made a gentleman/woman’s bet; a home cooked meal for Becker and unlimited access to his pool and hot tub for Yareli. To Becker, it was a win/win but he still drove like a bat out of hell and beat Yareli by a nose. She didn’t seem too broken up about it, they even discussed menu options on the ride over to Ocean View Hospital.

“My only request is that it be made from scratch and include red meat,” he said and Yareli shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m sure I can think of something.”

Their first stop was Ocean View Hospital and after a little flirting with a young, slightly overweight representative in the human resources department Becker got them access to the employee records. Hurricane flooding had destroyed much of the paper files but after some generous private donations Ocean View had begun the use of an electronic filing system that cut their leg work in half. Unfortunately, there were more Carloses in the system than the detectives anticipated. Even after weeding out the ones who didn’t work in the medical field, there were still at least 30, most of whom had Little Havana addresses. It was Yareli’s idea to cross-reference those who might have worked with their latest victim, her own childhood friend Marcia Valencia. That narrowed the list to ten and all but one of those had been working at Ocean View before the storm hit. They hit another roadblock when they found that last Carlos had transferred to West Haven Community Healthcare Centre a month before the Valencia murder.

West Haven was their next stop but lucky for them it was a quick one. Carlos de la Cruz had only been under their employee for a couple weeks as an EMT before he was terminated for losing track of his ambulance. As they were heading out Yareli ran into one of the kids from her first group home. .Becker left her to grab a couple coffees while she caught up with an old friend. All grown up, LaShawna Randall worked as a Triage nurse in the emergency room and once she found out who Yareli were looking for she was happy to offer her own creepy encounters with their person of interest. Following her around town. Showing up places she’d been and lying about it. “You know that weirdo showed up at my daughter’s birthday party dressed up like a clown, then ran out when my husband finally showed up. What type of shit is that?” There were other things, little things that made Yareli’s skin crawl and by the time she was done talking, Carlos de la Cruz had graduated to prime suspect. “As creepy as he was to his co-workers he was good at his job. Losing the ambulance aside. Strapped as everybody is around here, I’m sure somebody would hire him again.”

She made a good point and Yareli thanked her for the information before exchanging numbers under the pretense of catching up. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hang out, the three of them, LaShawna, Marcia, and Yareli, had been thick as thieves. She didn’t look anything like her but if this de la Cruz knew of their connection Yareli didn’t want to risk the possibility of her being victim number 8.

By the time she joined Becker in the emergency lot, it was close to seven. They both agreed that anyone with personnel access would have already called it a day, putting an end of their hospital visits for the night. It was his idea to follow up on the tip given to them by the Anderson Brother’s by way of an unfortunate mechanic. Yareli had almost forgotten about it until Becker reminded her. “Doubt he stuck around but can’t hurt to take a look around,” he said and Yareli could find no fault in his logic. It had been a long day of mundane police work and the monotony was starting to get to her. The cheap hospital coffee, while tasty, did nothing to quell the yawns that Becker had been snickering at all day, even after Yareli reminded him that her lack of sleep was his fault.

“You opened the door Robina…”

“If I didn’t Garcia would have kicked it in and I just got my locks changed. Plus, my neighbors do enough talking about me as it is,” she said and Becker shrugged his shoulders as he pulled into the alley between Screw This and Sunshine Autos. Farmacia Central was at one end, the other opened up to Bayshore Ave. and Becker parked his truck in the middle with the floodlights and cherry going so that no one would come speeding through. They split up, working in opposite directions with their flashlights out, combing the alley for possible locations for a makeshift garage. The longer they looked, the less likely Yareli thought they’d find anything of interest. The station house was only a block away and the alley itself was a common shortcut. Anything of value would have been long gone by now. Frustration and a growling stomach had her ready to call it quits. She’d already made it to the end of the alley, a few more steps she would have been on the west side of Bayshore. The lights from Little Havana Police Station were clear from where she stood and she shook her head as she lit up a smoke.

“Esto es tan jodido,” she muttered, turning on her heels to head back down the alley. When she didn’t see her partner, Yareli tossed her cigarette and pulled the gun from her waist. She flipped the safety as she edged around his empty truck, grabbed the portable radio from the dash and hooked it onto the chain with her badge. It was a few more steps before she saw the open roll door, saw the light of his torch as he moved around inside.

Even in the dim light, Becker knew this was a crime screen. The smell of bleach and ammonia was still thick in the air, but he doubted a murder had taken place. A quick scan of the floor revealed no hidden drains and the floor had been swept clean. Pre torn strips of electrical tape were still tuck to a metal workbench scattered with papers. It was mostly receipts and newspaper clippings but as he shifted them around a bit, Becker noticed something shiny on the bottom. A photo and when he pulled it out his breath caught. Nostrils flared. Jaw clenched tight. It was him and his partner at the crime scene. Yareli was seated on the hood of her car, cigarette burning between her fingers while he looked down at her with his hands tucked in his pockets. The sicko had been watching them and Becker’s blood boiled at the thought of this fucker toying with his partner. He knew he couldn’t let her see it though, couldn’t let anybody see it or the case might get reassigned. He’d have to come back on his own, he thought as he folded the picture and slipped it into his back pocket. And just in time too, Becker turned at the sound of her measured footsteps.

“Well somebody’s been doing something in here,” she said with a loud sniff and Becker shook his head.

“Probably, but not what we’re looking for...what’s the matter,” he asked at the sight of her gun and the radio dangling against her chest. “Don’t tell me you were worried about little ole’ me...that’s ...wow Robina...I’m touched.”

“You’re an asshole is what you are,” she said, shoving her gun back into her hustler before yanking the radio off her chain. “What the fuck Becker, you can’t just disappear like that.”

She wasn’t yelling and Becker wasn’t sure if it was from exhaustion or genuine concern, either way he had an overwhelming desire to put his arm around her. He gave her a nudge with his elbow instead. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. Look why don’t we grab a bite to eat and I’ll take you home so you can get a full night sleep. We can go at this again in the morning,” he said opening the passenger door but Yareli didn’t get in.

“Why don’t you lock up? I know a place close by…”

“Your uncle's place? You can’t be serious…” Becker was cut off by Yareli’s hearty laughter and was none too pleased about it but that only made her laugh harder.

“Awww Papi, tienes miedo...pobrecito,” she cooed, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Stop it…”

“Tio Berto’s harmless without my dad,” she said with a smirk. “And he wouldn’t dare do anything with me there. They don’t call me Machita just because we look alike. Te protegeré de los espantosos cubanos Papi.”

“I said stop it,” he said fighting a grin as he gave her a playful shove into the truck. “We’ll go but I’m not leaving my truck. It’ll be in pieces by the time we’re done.”

Yareli had no argument for that and in a matter of minutes they were seated at a booth in Cafe Robina. It had been a while since she’d had the pleasure of her family’s recipes, and despite her usually indifferent self, Yareli allowed herself to dive deep into reminiscence. When her uncle appeared, she didn’t shy away from his embrace and even accepted his offer of a menu free experience. Within minutes their table was covered with dishes she hadn’t enjoyed since childhood. Congri, lechon asado, ropa vieja, arroz con pollo, yuca con mojo and of course a healthy portion of meduros. All the comfort food had unintended side effects though. Aside from the general high brought on by a full belly, Yareli let loose the vice like grip she kept on her tongue. It started with the disappearance of the non regional diction she practiced in her first year of college, then her usual antiseptic Spanish was replaced by the language she heard as a child.

Eventually she stopped speaking English altogether, making conversation with Becker a little difficult but he didn’t seem to mind. The longer they sat and ate, the more they talked and laughed. They’d shared many a meal together but this one was different. Void of tension, it was as close to a date as either of them had in years. Yareli shoved forkfuls of meat into his mouth without hesitation and Becker didn’t think twice about reaching to touch her hand across the table. And when it was time for dessert, they shared a sampler of arroz con leche, flan, and tres leches cake. Before they knew it three hours had passed and Tio Berto was bringing over a paper bag full of pastelitos de guayaba to their empty table.

“Tu abuela me mataría si no enviara a mi sobrina favorita a casa con golosinas,” he said and Yareli couldn’t hold her grin as she snatched up the bag. “Me alegra que hayas venido incluso si trajiste un cerdo contigo…”

“Sé bueno. El blanco entiende …”

“Sí claro,” Umberto said with derisive laugh and shift his eyes at Becker. “Veo cómo te mira Machita ... fingiría entenderte también.” Yareli smirked at that and shift her eyes at Becker.

“The white boy understand just fine,” he said with a smirk at Yareli before turning his gaze to her uncle. “Don’t forget, I’m not the only pig at this table so do like Machita says and be nice Tio.”

Both Yareli and her uncle got a good laugh at that before he pulled her into another long hug. He whispered something that made her eyes well up a moment before he planted a kiss on both her cheeks and told her to be safe. All Becker got was a stiff nod as he slid out of the both and followed Yareli outside. He didn’t ask what her uncle said to her, nor did he give in to his desire to put his arm around her as they walked back to his truck. He did open the door for her and did the honors of lighting their post meal smokes. It was Yareli who initiated contact, slipping her hand into his as she slid closer to him on the bench seat.

https://youtu.be/QnhWML43NI8

It was that contact the directed Becker to turn off the police radio and head south instead of east, taking them on a brief tour of Little Havana. But it wasn’t until they crossed into Vice Port that Yareli asked where they were going.

“I told you I was taking you home,” he said quietly, sliding his arm around her shoulders and Yareli looked up at him skeptically. “It’s been a long day partner. Just relax...I got you.” She may have sucked her teeth but there were no more questions as Becker took the scenic route from the Mainland to Vice City Beach. Not once did he take the truck over 40, one hand on the wheel while the other traced up and down her arm. He extended the ride as best he could, riding the perimeter of Ocean Beach then zig-zagging across Washington Beach to cross over to Vice Points little island and back again. Still it wasn’t long enough. When he pulled into the lot beside Link View Apartments, Becker hoped she might ask for another lap, but of course she didn’t. She also didn’t seem to be in any rush to get out.

“This was…”

“Yeah it was,” he said with a grin as Yareli planted a kiss on his jaw. He wasn’t expecting that and it showed in his face. Eyes wide with the color rising on his perpetually tan skin.

“You could...I mean if you don’t...I mean you don’t have to…”

“I can’t...not tonight.”

“Yeah that’s what I thought,” was her quick reply as she threw open her door but Becker caught her hand, pulled her back.

“I want to...believe me I do but some things can’t wait…”

“You don’t have to explain…”

“I know that but I am anyway, so get over it,” he said and pulled her into a kiss that had her moaning into his mouth. “See you in the morning partner,” he added, giving her a little push that made her giggle.

“Why don’t you just come get me? Save us a few minutes.”

“I’d love to sweetheart but it’s your turn,” he said with a wink and Yareli rolled her eyes.

“Fine but you’re taking me to breakfast and you better be ready when I get there.”

“I’m always ready for you Machita…”

“Uggghhhhh I hate you!”

“Ehhh that might have been true once,” was his quick reply to that and Yareli gave him a quick jab to the ribs but Becker caught her hand and kissed her knuckles, making her blush as she pulled away. “Nine o’clock Rook not 9:30,” he shouted after her and Yareli flipped him the bird as she headed inside.

Yareli didn’t really know what to do with herself once she got into her apartment. It was barely 10 and despite what Becker thought she wasn’t as tired as she seemed. Frustrated, yes, but when wasn’t she. That was the job, no matter how personal her caseload had become. After a long hot shower and a fat joint, the young detective decided to take her superior officer’s advice and relax. The accordion folder that had become the bane of her existence remained tucked in her beat up leather shoulder bag. Work pistols were locked away and she vegged out in front of her floor model television with a carton of her favorite Cherry Popper ice cream, banana split. Her feet kicked up on the coffee table, it wasn’t long before she started to feel guilty and bored. Nothing that another joint wouldn’t cure and before she knew it, she was on the phone with Penelope. Giggling and flirting mostly, but Penelope had an uncanny ability to see through Yareli’s bullshit and put her mind at ease.

“Getting shot is probably the best thing that could have happened to me,” she admitted after Yareli express regret over getting her involved. “I’m out of that shitty apartment and that shitty club. Sure I’m still shaking my ass but to the music that I want to play and the money...es todo mio. No Vincetti tax on my tips. No greasy dirty dick construction workers pawing at me. And get this...I met a man. No llores por mi mami. Penélope está bien ...bullet wound and all.”

She offered to come by for a visit but Yareli declined which lead to a good amount of teasing over her budding relationship with her new partner. She tried to insist there wasn’t one but once Yareli gave details of their little nautical outing Penelope started calling Becker “su novio” and singing playground songs about kissing in trees. Yareli wanted to be mad at her, to deny it, but she couldn’t stop giggling like some 16-year-old with a crush on the coolest boy at school. And of course, Penelope reassured her about that as well.

“Te amo mami...you know that but you’re stubborn as fuck. Maybe it’s not love but who gives a fuck? When’s the last time anybody made you feel so good?”

Yareli couldn’t answer that and she knew that her intimacy issues ran deep, stemming from a childhood full of heartache and abuse that she’d never attempted to work through. Roxie took her to therapy but she learned very quickly how to manipulate that bewildered white woman and she passed multiple psych evals with flying colors. She wasn’t crazy, she just didn’t want to feel and for a long time she was okay with that. Being alone eliminated the fear of being abandoned and disappointed. Physical abuse she could deal with but you can’t cure heartache with a bullet.

https://youtu.be/9G42rmPvbbU

Despite all that, Yareli got off the phone feeling wholly better about life in general. And starving. Well Stacked Pizza was only a few blocks away. She started to walk but thought better of it, tucked her .38 snub nose in the back of her cutoff shorts, grabbed her keys and headed off into the night with Wave FM blasting through Pantera’s speakers. A large meat lover’s and a six pack seemed like the perfect end to an imperfect day. The humidity was almost zero and a breeze blew in from the ocean making the night air crisp against her skin. Had it not been Yareli might have taken her pizza home, instead she dined on the hood of her car watching the revelers pass her by. She even shared a couple slices with some drunk frat boys. It was probably all the weed she smoked but Yareli was feeling better than she had in months.

But of course, nothing for Yareli Robina could be that easy. People had been shitting on her good times since her kindergarten teacher told her she couldn’t play baseball with the boys. Sure her mother went down to the school and ripped the old lady a new one but the damage had already been done. She saw the group of half dressed women strutting up the street in their clear sandals and low cut dresses. Fake tits jiggling for all to see. Sunglasses on at night. They may have called themselves escort, pornstars even. Either way it was just a pretty way to say prostitute and Yareli started to leave when one in particular caught her eye. That one began whispering to another one and pretty soon the two pushed past their entourage and were charging straight for her. She could have left, she had time but Yareli Robina never ran from a fight especially from bottle blond bimbos who thought her city belonged to them.

“You think you’re better than me bitch!” Michelle shrieked and Yareli smirked a little as she closed her pizza box. “Don’t act like you don’t know who I am!”

“You do look familiar but then again you guys tend to look alike soooo…” Yareli trailed off with a shrug and Michelle spit in her face. That got Yareli on her feet, pistol in hand as she grabbed Michelle by the throat. All the pot did nothing to slow her reflexes. “You’re right Michelle,” she said quietly, almost a whisper. One of the other hookers took the opportunity to edge closer but froze in her spot at the sight of Yareli’s .38 leveled in her direction. “I know exactly who you are...and I know I’m better than you and it ain’t got shit to do with Becker…”

“You think he’s going to stay with you! He always come back to me...ALWAYS!”

“That might be true but I damn sure won’t be running around making a fool of myself in the streets if he does,” Yareli said, giving Michelle a hard shove that sent her sprawling. “You’ll never catch me fighting to keep a man that don’t want to be kept, you dumb bitch...and that’s what makes me better! Nothing else!”

With that, Yareli got in her car and peeled out, hoping she ruined their night like they’ ruined hers. It could have been worse, she could have beaten the poor girl senseless but what good would that have done. Yareli didn’t mind a fight but wasn’t about to come to blows over a man that didn’t belong to either of them. That wasn’t her style and she wished more women thought like her. Part of her hoped that the confrontation, or lack of one, would teach Michelle a lesson she should have learned a long time ago.

That didn’t make her any less pissed off the next morning, especially when Becker came strolling out of his house twenty minutes after Yareli started leaning on the horn. He did have a couple packs of cigarettes though and coffee that tasted like he purchased a proper pot. The profanity laced speech Yareli worked out while she waited evaporated with that first sip, as did the desire to rehash the previous night’s altercation with Michelle. They had work to do and she wasn’t about to waste time dealing with shit that didn’t matter.

Even though she had the wheel, Becker set the day’s agenda and Yareli had no complaints, a fact that he commented on more than once but she didn’t bite. They had a cop murder to solve and a psycho to catch, pushback wouldn’t expedite either. Most of the morning was spent at the marina filling in the gaps in Montreal’s report. After lunch at Jaime’s truck they hit the hospital circuit again. With a name, they figured it would be easy to get an address or at least a photo but it wasn’t that easy. Both Shulman and Shady Palms had multiple Carlos de la Cruzes and none of them had worked at West Haven, and none of them were their guy.

They were heading back to the station when Becker had the brilliant idea of checking their system. Everybody born in Vice City had a rap sheet, even Yareli had a few sealed juvenile offenses under her belt. And a couple outstanding warrants for an alias she used when she first came back. Of course, Carlos de la Cruz was no different.

“Carlos de la Cruz...born June 13, 1952…”

“Gemini born on Friday the 13, no wonder he’s a fucking nut,” Yareli said and Becker shook his head as he flicked his cigarette out the window.

“Not many priors. Mostly just petty shit when he was a kid...well petty shit and a simple assault charge for cutting a girl’s hair at Vice High…”

“Dios Mios! I remember that,” Yareli shouted, slamming on the brakes in the middle of Bayshore Ave. “And it wasn’t just one girl. The rumor was he was making an offering to Oshun for a prom date…”

“What?!”

“Santeria stuff,” she barely explained and Becker furrowed his brow, perplexed. “As much time as you spent in Little Havana you don’t know what Santeria is? Nevermind, that’s a conversation for another day...and that’s not even how it works. Anyway, he cut a good dozen girl’s hair before he clipped the wrong one. Her dad pressed charges and we never saw Crazy Cruz again. I was only a freshman and I had my own problems back then so I didn’t keep up with the gossip.”

“Sounds like the makings of a madman,” Becker said with a snort, turning his attention back to the screen. “He must have went north because I got a couple outstanding traffic tickets...and hmmm...you think you can get in the DEA backdoor again?”

“Of course.”

“Good, after we go pay the de la Cruzes a visit.”

It turned out the de La Cruzes lived only a few doors down from Marcia Valencia in the same Vice Port apartment complex, and neither detective thought it was a coincidence. Yareli did her best to maintain her composure as they headed to the door marked 107 but she couldn’t stop glancing at 103 with it’s well maintained yard littered with children’s toys. It was stark contrast to the de la Cruzes’ property that was overgrown with weeds. There was a shrine of some kind just outside the door and Yareli kissed her fingers and crossed herself before knocking on the wrought iron screen door. Becker took up a position behind her, facing the street while they waited for whoever was inside.

It was three more knocks before a stout woman dressed in all white came to the door. She opened it only a crack but it was enough for Yareli to be bombarded by the heavy scent of cigar smoke and sage. There was some sort of ritual going on, the smell of fire water was heavy on the elderly woman’s breath but her eyes were clear. Her speech even and calm as she asked for a moment to clean up. Yareli was respectful enough not to roll her eyes or force entry. She may not have practiced but her mother instilled a good amount of reverence for the religion of her maternal grandparents. Reverence and fear.

“When we get in here, don’t touch anything. Don’t drink or eat anything. Don’t sit down,” she whispered to Becker just before the elderly woman returned to open the door.

Perdóname por hacerte esperar, hija de Oyá. Tu madre no me dijo que ibas a venir...and with a white man no less,” she said with a glance at Becker before she set her eyes on Yareli again. “You’ve come seeking guidance. Sit, relax…”

“We’ll stand,” Yareli said quickly before setting her lips in a tight smile. “I don’t want to take too much of your time Madrina. This is Det. Becker and I’m Det. Robina…”

“Sé muy bien quién eres mija...y el toro,” she interrupted with a stiff nod at Becker who was too busy taking in his surroundings to notice. There was very little furniture but one wall was dominated by three shrines. One blue, one red, one white and all with specific adornments that Becker couldn’t begin to decipher but his eyes kept coming back to the red one with its axes, stones, mangoes and bananas. “You’ve come looking for information.”

“Your son,” Yareli said and the elderly woman sucked her teeth as she sat heavily on a mound of pillows on the floor.

“I have six, one more useless than the others.” That got Becker’s attention and he cleared his throat, bringing Yareli’s eyes to his before he shifted his gaze to a small table under a window in the rear of the living room. On it was a picture of a chubby kid in an ill-fitting suit, flanked by two white candles.

“Which one is that,” Becker asked before Yareli could but the women pretended not to hear.

“We’re looking for Carlos Madrina,” Yareli asked in a more even tone, holding the woman’s gaze a moment before shifting her eyes to the picture. “Is that him? Abuela me dijo que los altares para los vivos son una mala suerte.”

“Sí, sigue caminando por esta tierra, pero yo lo enterré hace años, mi Carlos,” she said and Yareli couldn’t help hear the venom in her tone. “He had such promise, even if he was a little...mullido. His brothers teased him for being such a good boy but he always promised to take good care of me. Even dropped out of school to work two jobs so that I could focus on my practice. Then he met that woman...esa puta diablo blanca. Ella volvió a mi buen chico contra mí…”

“What do you mean, turned him against you,” Yareli asked but she had a feeling what that might mean.

“He came home one day talking about becoming a doctor,” she said with a derisive laugh and flip of her hand. “Boy could barely read talking about wanting to be a doctor. Next thing I know he quit his jobs to go to back to school so I kicked him out and he moved up north with his whore. Said he was going to live a better life, his own life. You know he had a nerve to marry that girl without my blessing. His own mother. His useless brothers were there though and his good for nothing father…”

“You remember this wife’s name,” Yareli asked and again she laughed.

“Who cares? She’s dead now anyway. Serves her right for sleeping around on my boy…”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a picture would you,” Becker asked and again the bitter old woman scoffed.

“Por favor Madrina. Creemos que tu Carlos podría tener algún problema,” Yareli said and the woman shot to her feet before disappearing behind a curtain. The sound of drawers being slammed around and muffled curses had both detectives reaching for their guns but the little woman came back with few crumbled photos ad shoved them into Yareli’s hand.

“Tus vientos están cambiando, hija de Oya, ahora que has encontrado tu trueno. Encienda una vela roja y su camino será claro,” she said as she clasped Yareli’s hand and held her gaze. “Sólo una hija de Oya puede mantener un hijo de Chango.”

“You sound like mi abuela.”

“Then she is a wise woman.”

Yareli liked to think that she was above primitive superstitions. That’s not to say that she didn’t believe in a higher power, but growing up the way she did, in the place that she did, it was hard for her to believe that anything was looking out for her best interest. All that said, she still had goose bumps as she left the home of the Santeria priestess. The religion may have missed her mother but Yareli still remembered the stories her grandmother told of divine warriors, gods, and goddesses who shaped the world. The tales of Oya had always been her favorite, the warrior goddess who rode into battle on tornados and seduced the secret of lightning from the mighty Chango. Her grandmother always said she was drawn to her because their spirits were intertwined but even as a child Yareli felt it was her grandmother's way of enticing a connection. To her those words from a complete stranger were unsettling, too unsettling to ignore. Whether or not Becker was her Chango was debatable but Yareli stopped at the botanica for a few red candles anyway.

“These don’t even look like the same guy,” Becker said as soon as she got back in the car. He had a picture in each hand. One of a puffy faced kid with an unfortunate bowl cut in a cap and gown, the other was a wedding announcement for Charles Cruise and Bethany Vogel.

“So he lost a few pounds…”

“In his nose and gained it in his chin,” Becker said shaking his head and Yareli shrugged her shoulders. “Blue contact lenses and highlights…”

“No wonder his mom was so pissed. He shed his whole identity…”

“Probably why the trail went cold. Ready to do some paperwork Rook,” he said with a pat to her thigh and Yareli rolled her eyes.

While the detectives were hard at work preparing briefings for their new Bikini Murder suspect, the murderer himself was adding another body to his tally but this one would go unnoticed. He waited until well after midnight, used his own key to gain entry to his childhood home. The place still looked the same and it gave him chills to walk on those dingy carpets again. He found his mother curled up beneath her canopied bed as tears flowed freely down his cheeks. He couldn’t believe she would betray him but he heard the APB over his police scanner including his full name and new alias. He would have to go into hiding now but not before he made his mother pay, for this and so much more. As much as he believed she deserved it, Carlos took no pleasure in the killing of his mother. The woman that brought him into this world, who reinforced his cowardice. As he held the pillow over her face, he believed she would be proud of him for all he’d done. For finally standing up for himself against the whores of the world. Against her, but still he cried even after she stopped struggling and Carlos tucked the pillow back beneath her head, pulled the blankets up around her. He planted a kiss on her forehead and told her he loved her one last time before slinking off into the night.

It was another week before the neighbors called to complain about the smell coming from apartment 107. With scorching temperatures and humidity through the roof, the body was almost unrecognizable by the time the EMTs got inside. The coroner chalked it up to old age and no air conditioning, ending any investigation before it started.

Still the death of Madrina Marisol Santana de la Cruz made the news and Yareli knew as soon as that picture flashed across her television screen that it was matricide. No one but Becker would believe her but she didn’t feel right bringing it to his attention on the day of Det. Thomas Anderson’s funeral. It would have to wait, at least until tomorrow so he could spend his day in mourning.

And Yareli was less than comfortable with the idea of seeing him through it. Despite growing up in a relative warzone, she hadn’t been to many funerals growing up. All her grandparents were still alive and she wasn’t allowed to attend her mother’s because her social worker feared her distraught, reckless family members might attempt a kidnapping. Life with the Torreses had been pretty much death free with Alfonso being orphaned as an adult and Roxy’s father passing away before Yareli came into their lives. Buela Flora was pushing 90 and still raising hell in her south Florida retirement community so the 30-year-old detective didn’t have to deal with the ceremony of death until she joined VCPD. Almost every week while she was in uniform there was a homegoing for some fallen comrade and skipping out on paying your respects was frowned upon. Even if you couldn’t make the service, the wake was a must. As was the repast, which was just an excuse to get drunk and hit on vulnerable widows as far as she could see. But still she went, with a stoic look on her face. Dress blues starched and creased. Shoes professionally shined. Whether the cop in the box died on on the job or beneath a whore didn’t matter, respects still had to be paid.

There was no skipping Tommy Anderson’s service. Though she could count on one hand how many times they’d actually spoken, they were in the same unit. Her partner, a pallbearer. Yareli didn’t have a choice. And he didn’t say but, she thought Becker might need her in the aftermath. She had to be there for him and that wasn’t a hard decision to make. She even offered to drive him and when he declined, Yareli insisted. “Don’t try to be a hard ass A.J. I’d rather not have Johnny in my place again,” she told him. That got him to laugh a little before he finally accepted.

Even though they arrived together, that gloomy Monday morning, Yareli mostly kept to herself. She hated funeral small talk, hated her colleagues inappropriate behavior even more. The rehashing of Tommy’s embarrassing moments. The boisterous laughter with little regard for the widow was grating on her but she couldn’t leave and she refused to make more of a scene, so Yareli bit her tongue and found a quiet corner to watch the spectacle. The service itself was quick with the widow’s request that only the clergy from Washington Beach Church be allowed to speak, and Yareli couldn’t blame her. She counted at least four scantily clad women of various ethnic origins sobbing and carrying on. Who knew what one of them might say given the opportunity to speak. By the time the service ended, the skies opened up creating the perfect opportunity for those not in mourning to ditch the internment. Yareli wasn’t exactly in mourning but she was glad to see a thin crowd huddled beneath the tent as Detective Tommy Anderson was lowered into the ground. She hugged the widow and her bewildered teenagers before ducking back to her car to wait for Becker to finish up his last drink with his buddy. Him, Garcia, Marshall, and Capt. Colins all stood around the uncovered grave, passing a flask while the widow looked on stone faced. Yareli would have loved to know what was on her mind but didn’t have the heart to ask. What could she say? Luckily she didn’t have long to think about it, Becker was jogging back to the car.

https://youtu.be/B3l0kpl5tA4

“The guys want to meet up at Carosello...Tommy loved that veal parm,” he said, tossing his hat into the back seat. Becker let out a heavy sigh, closed his eyes and put his head back, and Yareli reached to take his hand. He opened his eyes to glance at the easy way her fingers clasped his and the corners of his mouth lifted a little. “I’m not in the mood but it don’t feel right skipping out.”

“So go, have a couple drinks...reminisce...I got your back,” she said quietly as she brought her beast to life.

It was a long quiet ride downtown but Becker never let go her hand. Even when she broke contact to shift, he’d reach out to lace their fingers together as soon as she set the clutch. It seemed like a natural thing, leaning on her. They’d been leaning on each other a lot lately. Between Tommy’s murder and Yareli’s stalker, they’d been spending long hours together, mostly alone. And the shrinking of their world had some unintentional consequences. The hours had become less about work and more about being together. Making her laugh had become the highlight of his very dark days and despite circumstances, Yareli had been doing more of that lately. Slowly but surely, she was letting him in. The walls were still there of course but Becker had learned to navigate his way around them with delicately worded questions and self-deprecating humor. The sex helped too. There was very little pretense in their pillow talk. Void of the literal and figurative armor that facilitated their survival on the perilous streets of Vice City, they were allowed to simply be. There were no ranks to adhere to, no case logs hanging over their heads. They were just a man and a woman enjoying each other.

Despite their crisp uniforms, Becker was enjoying this moment with his partner. Their fingers laced together as she absently sang along to Wave FM. Truth be told, Yareli had a terrible singing voice and they often argued over her made up song lyrics but it made the moment that much more endearing. There was a time not too long ago when she wouldn’t even speak to him let alone sing in his presence. It was comforting in a weird way, and he soaked it in. In a matter of minutes, they’d have to put that armor back on to have drinks with his buddies.

Carosellos Italiano in Downtown Vice City was a sea of blue and tan. Squad cars and department issue detect cars lined both sides of the street. Yareli went straight for the bar, muscling her way into a stool, leaving Becker to his own devices for the moment. She kept her eye on him though, as she sipped her club soda. Staying sober seemed like the right thing to do, given how he showed up the night they found out Tommy was dead. She tried not to notice the glances in her direction from the high top table occupied by the “bad boys of the Little Havana station, tried not to wonder of the commentary that came with it.

Lucky for her distraction was on it’s way, in the form of a 5’3” olive skinned Colombian woman balanced on a pair of stiletto pumps. She was decked out in all black but the dress she wore was less than appropriate. Penelope Montenegro didn’t mind the long looks as she sashayed her way through the press. The strapping young man who had been her guardian/driver/errand boy for the last few weeks did a good job of clearing a path for her. He was a sweet kid, not even 25 and barely touched by the debauchery of Vice City but the guitar player turned stripper turned lounge singer had made it her mission to give the boy a taste of what her adopted home had to offer. It took a couple days but eventually Penelope got him into her bed and showed the wet behind the ears white boy what it was like to screw a Latin woman with loose morals. Needless to say, he was hooked and when he told her he would take a bullet for her she believed him. And not because A.J. Becker was paying him. The boy was in love and Penelope couldn’t blame him, but she found his lack of experience endearing. He was sweet and honest, strong and thoughtful, all qualities she didn’t think existed in men. She wouldn’t admit it to him but the jaded failed rockstar might have been falling for him too.

As she scanned the crowd, Penelope caught sight of her sometimes girlfriend brooding at the bar. She gave her escort’s jacket a tug before drifting out of the path he forged to make her own. It only took two strides for him to be out in front again, shouldering his way through the press.

Yareli turned toward the commotion in her periphery, hand on her pistol, ready to draw on the bulky white boy who seemed to be charging right at her. When their eyes met, his face softened a little but Yareli didn’t relax her stance until Penelope pushed her way out in front.

“Calma mami,” she said with a grin and reached to take Yareli’s hand away from her gun belt. “Room full of cops and still paranoid,” she said shaking her head as she reached to cup her face and planted kisses on both cheeks. “Necesitas ordenar tu vida mija.”

“Mira, no tienes idea...who’s your friend,” Yareli said with an appraising look that only made Penelope giggle. It was more protective than anything else. Their relationship was as fluid as it was constant.

“This is Zack…”

“Zack Dedham,” he said, offering Yareli his hand but, of course she didn’t take it right away. “Det. Becker hired me to look after Ms. Montenegro after...the incident at her apartment.”

“Is that right,” she said as she took his offered hand. Her eyes were on Penelope though, mouthing the words “be nice” and she shrugged her shoulders.

“Yes ma’am…”

“Damn do I look that old,” Yareli said shaking her head as she regained her seat. “Your boss ain’t around kid. Yareli works just fine, that’s too familiar Robina will do. What are you doing here?”

“Coming to pay my respects,” Penelope answered with a sad smile and Zack lifted her guitar case as proof. “Tommy was one of my best customers and not for the tips...Tenía un gran corazón ... un buen corazón. Some of the girls went to the funeral but I didn’t feel right going with his wife and kids there so here I am to serenade the mourners…”

“More like revelers,” Yareli interrupted with a scoff and Penelope sucked her teeth.

“Tommy would have liked this just fine.”

“Too bad he’s not here to tell us so.”

“Well, haré mi trabajo y tú haces el tuyo,” Penelope said with a wink and nodded toward the stage.

“Si, claro...good to meet you Zack. Anything happens to her, I’ll kill you,” she said with all the sweetness she could muster and was surprised by the smile that came to his face.

“Umm...yeah they both told me you’d say that,” he said with a nod and Yareli couldn’t help but chuckle at that as they moved away.

Alone again, Yareli allowed herself to look over at Becker’s table a moment before her attention was stolen by the woman on stage. Her set list wasn’t exactly melancholy. There was a lot of Springsteen, Bon Jovi, and Mellencamp, but everybody seemed to enjoy it singing along and shouting out Tommy’s name. As she watched, Yareli wondered how it was that Penelope didn’t make it. She was beautiful and talented, her accent disappeared when she sang. By the second song, she had the crowd eating out of the palm of her hand allowing her to slip an original song every now and then. Penelope was on the second bridge of “Tommy’s Song” when Becker appeared at her side. Beer in one hand, his hat tucked under his arm, he didn’t say anything but Yareli could feel his eyes on her and the corners of her mouth rose ever so slightly. The song came to an end and the crowd erupted, giving Penelope a standing ovation but Yareli was too preoccupied with the hand resting on the small of her back to join in.

“How come you didn’t come over,” Becker asked, lips on her ear. The applause had died down by then and Penelope had moved on to her next song. He didn’t have to whisper. A thinly veiled excuse to touch her and Yareli wasn’t fooled.

“And subject myself to Garcia’s poor excuse for wit and Ward being Ward...too many witnesses Becks,” she said with a conspicuous glance around the room. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, I already said my goodbyes but I’m guessing you want to watch your girlfriend,” Becker teased as he leaned on the bar behind her and Yareli rolled her eyes.

“I think she’s moved on actually,” she said with a nod at Zack, standing sentry behind Penelope as she played. “She let him carry her guitar,” she added with a raised eyebrow and Becker let out a chuckle.

“You don’t say? I didn’t think Dedham had it in him. Good for him. He’s a good kid...little green but a go-getter.”

“Seems like it,” Yareli said as she slipped out of her stool, intentionally brushing her body against his as she got to her feet. “We don’t have to stay. Her private shows are better,” she added with a grin and Becker shook his head as he fell in behind her.

They were almost to the door when a tall blonde entered the crowded restaurant. She was impeccably dressed in a black pantsuit and tastefully revealing blouse. Her hair was swept back in a bouffant french twist that accentuated her high cheekbones and striking blue eyes. Her makeup was soft, enhancing the soft line of her jaw and heart shaped mouth. She was beautiful stone face but her smile lit up the room and when Becker saw her his breath caught.

“Caroline?”

“Don’t look so surprised honey,” the woman said with a glance at Yareli before she stepped into Becker’s open arms. She planted a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth and took his hand as she stepped away. “Wendy and I still keep in touch. Little T was just up for the summer interning at Jerry’s firm.”

“Yeah Tommy told me about that but I didn’t think you’d make it down being a hotshot defense attorney…”

“Oh please Andy,” she said and Yareli let out a little snort that seemed to remind them both that she was there. “Tommy was a good friend to us. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t come to pay my respects?”

“You always were better than me at that kind of stuff…”

“You mean social etiquette stuff,” Caroline said with a raised eyebrow and shift her eyes at Yareli before offering her hand. “Caroline Hawthorne...formerly Caroline Becker, and you are Det. Yareli Robina.” Yareli took her hand for a tentative shake and Caroline let out a quiet laugh. “Your reputation precedes you my dear. Smart, young, ballsy. Vice City is lucky to have you back.”

“Yeah, well I don’t feel lucky being stuck with this mayhem magnet,” Yareli teased, much to the ex-wife’s delight. “I’ve had more near death experiences in the last few months than my entire life growing up in Little Havana. And don’t even get me started on all the paperwork.”

“If what I’ve seen on paper is true, you’re more than capable of holding your own,” she said shifting her eyes between the two detectives a moment before leaning into Becker once more. “I see you’re heading out and I can’t say I blame you. I won’t keep you.” As she stepped away from her ex-husband, Caroline reached to embrace his new partner, shocking them both. “I met your friend and he’s not who he says he is,” she whispered in Yareli’s ear before pulling away with a smile. “I’m in town for a few days helping Wendy with all the paperwork, perhaps we could get together over drinks. I’m sure I have some embarrassing secrets that might get you out of Rookie duties,” she added with a wink and Becker rolled his eyes.

The three parted company then, Caroline getting lost in the crowd while the detectives headed for the door. Jackets were shed and tossed in the backseat, along with ties and hats before they settled into their respective seats. Becker lit up a couple smokes and leaned back in his seat as Yareli pulled away from the curb. The ride back to his place was just as silent as the rest of the rides they’d taken together that day but the mood was different. Tense wasn’t exactly the right word to describe it but it was clear to him that Yareli had something on her mind. If he learned anything about his partner it was that she would not be prodded so he smoked his cigarette in uncomfortable silence, watching the late afternoon sun chase away what was left of the storm.

By the time they crossed North Bridge onto Prawn Island, Becker decided to take the sun’s lead and chase away the clouds he felt brewing in the car. With the way she was driving, right hand on the wheel with the left out the window, Yareli made it almost impossible for him to grab her hand so he gripped her thigh instead and she gave him a look that might have stopped his heart if he were a weak man but all he did was smirk.

“You still owe me a meal you know,” he said, flicking his cigarette butt out the window and Yareli sucked her teeth. “Come one Robina, bets a bet. Flake out, your word means nothing.”

“Fuck you...Andy,” was her quick reply as she pushed his hand off her leg.

“What’s that for!?!”

“I’m sure Michelle is more than willing to whip you up something good and hot...probably give you a pornstar quality blowjob before she does the dishes too.”

“Yeah, well she’d probably poison me...or worse bite my dick off!”

“Why the hell would she do that...since you always come back to her anyway,” Yareli said in unsettlingly even tones. She barely looked his way as she drove, making it hard for Becker to get a read on what was going on in her head. “I’m not interested in your collect-a-broad program.”

Becker couldn’t help but laugh at that, and it wasn’t just the wording. It was the first hint that Yareli shared his feelings, that what was happening between them was real. He could feel her barely controlled rage and it turned him on a little knowing that she probably wouldn’t be angry if she didn’t feel threatened. But instead of easing her fears, Becker choose to fan her flames.

"I don't know what you're so pissed about babe. It's not like you and Briggs don't have a similar arrangement..."

"I haven't fucked Briggs since before that little boat trip... and besides he's not in love with me!"

"Well I haven't been with Michelle in as long," Becker said, turning to face her. He wanted to see the look on her face when she realized he was telling the truth. Yareli was better than that though. She wore her rage like a suit of armor, protecting all those emotions that she saw as a liability. If not for all the time they’d spent together, he might have missed the way her brows straightened. The way her jaw loosened as she looked him up and down.

"So why the hell are you yelling at me then?!"

"To be fair, you’re doing all the yelling babe,” he said, returning his hand to her thigh

"I'm only yelling because that coked out bottle blond skank spit in my face!"

"She did what! Wait...when did you..never mind it don’t matter. I'll talk to her about it, but do me a favor? From now on, if have an issue can you just talk to me instead of stewing. It's not good for our relationship..."

"So we're in a relationship now," she said skeptically and even Becker was a little surprised by his word choice but he didn’t let it stop him.

"We'll you're my partner right? And we've already established exclusivity...plus you made me rub your feet the other night."

"Yeah that was kinda nice," she said finally gracing him with a smile. It was a cocky one but Becker took it as a good sign. A better sign was when she drove past his house, steering them towards her apartment building. “I gotta get out of this get-up and grab a few thing…”

“What happened to dinner,” Becker pouted and Yareli reached to pat his cheek.

“You got a stove at your place right? Corner Store is only a block away. Anything I need I can grab from there.”

“You just want to use my hot tub,” Becker said with a smirk and Yareli shrugged her shoulders.

“So you don’t want to see me in a bathing suit,” she asked with a raised eyebrow. She expected to catch him off guard but she should have known better.

“Not if it’s a one piece I don’t,” was his quick reply and Yareli burst into giggles as she jumped out of the driver’s seat. “And don’t forget those shorts,” he shouted after her.

Yareli had something better than those shorts in mind. Sure she shoved them in an overnight bag, along with her guns and a set of clothes for work but she thought Becker might appreciate seeing her in something a little less functional for a change. The white bikini with matching cover-up might have been too much anywhere else but in Vice City it was perfect day wear, even with the wedges. Gold rimmed aviators completed the outfit and once she released her hair from that awful bun it was almost as if the Vice City detective disappeared. At least that’s the impression Yareli got from her partner when she finally made it back outside. His eyes were elsewhere, looking out over the golf course when she popped her trunk but she caught the lusty glare of his reflection in the side view mirror. And the double take as she settled into the driver’s seat.

“You gonna be able to drive in those,” he teased with a nod at her sandals and Yareli sucked her teeth.

“Por favor Papi,” she said, revving her engine a moment before letting the tires spin into a half donut before she peeled out of the lot. “Roxy made me learn in heels. If you can drive in heels you can drive in anything.”

“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it,” he said with a grunt, eyes on her bare legs as she manuevered through traffic.

They were at El Sanko Casa in no time and Becker was nice enough to grab her bag from the trunk, if only to have an excuse to walk behind her. He’d seen her in less of course but it was something about the way the snug dress rode up her thick thighs as she strutted across the cobblestone drive. His brain registered every jiggle, every shift of her hips in slow motion. By the time she made it to the stairs, his slacks were so tight across his crotch that he had trouble fishing his keys out of his pocket. Yareli seemed more than willing to help though, shoving her hand into push past his erection and deftly retrieving the keys.

“Smaller hands,” she offered with a wink as she held the keys up to him and Becker let out a hungry grunt as he snatched them from her hand.

Cleopatra was bounding to the door as soon as they stepped inside but she paid no attention to her owner, pushing past him to greet her new friend and Yareli immediately squatted down to return the favor. The sight of her ass hanging out the bottom of her dress quelled any bitter comment about being ignored and Becker rushed off to shed his dress blues. Unlike his partner, his would remain in a ball on the floor until he needed them again, or Dixie found them to send off to the dry cleaners. Either way, it didn’t matter to him, Becker had more important things to think about like what Yareli packed in that bag. What she might make him for dinner? How long he had to wait before he could tear that tiny bikini off her? Would she let him take her in the hot tub or would he have to drag her off to his bedroom? Or would she be cool with the sofa? Maybe he could bend her over the kitchen counter before she got started? With all those thoughts swirling around his head, Becker had a hell of a time tucking himself into his nylon swim trunks.

Coming downstairs to find Yareli bent over in the refrigerator as she rattled off a list for Heath didn’t help. He seemed to be having a tough time keeping his focus as well. Becker couldn’t blame him but he did clear his throat as he stepped into the kitchen, bringing the young man to attention.

“I see you’ve met my new partner,” Becker said with a smirk as he slipped in behind Yareli to grab a beer. And give her dress a quick tug to cover her ass, which didn’t make much of a difference since it was basically sheer.

“Partner,” Heath said his voice cracking a little as his face turned beet red. “Sorry sir, I didn’t know you were home.”

“Det. Yareli Robina, Heath Vanderbilt…”

“I introduced myself when he came in but he was too busy fumbling with his gun to notice,” Yareli said with a snort as she closed the fridge and moved to survey the pantry.

“You know he’s not my butler right?”

“I’ll take his post while he’s out. I’m sure I’m a better shot anyway...no offense Heath,” she said with a wink, making the young man blush again before he began riffling around one of the drawers for a pen and paper.

“None taken ma’am and I don’t mind sir, really.”

“See he don’t mind,” Yareli said with a grin at Becker but all he could do was shake his head before grabbing a few hundred bucks from the strong box on top of the fridge.

“Grab a couple cases of pride brew and a few bottles of rum on top of whatever else she wants. Take the Rancher. Keys are in the garage,” he told Heath before patting his thigh and heading out to the backyard with Cleopatra following closely behind.

The sun was just about setting by then as Becker went about turning on the hot tub before stretching out on one of the loungers situated by the pool. From his seat, he watched Yareli move around his kitchen like she owned the place, digging through cabinets and setting out pans. At one point she poke her head outside, inquiring about his “grill situation. When Becker confirmed that there was one she went back to Heath, scribbling feverishly before they both disappeared. A few moments later he heard the garage door open on the other side of the house then the gate open and closed before Yareli reappeared in the kitchen. The dress was gone, replaced by a pair of low slung cut-offs and Becker grit his teeth when he realized just how tiny that bikini top was. With her hair up in her usual messy bun, there was nothing to obstruct his view of her ample breasts. She’d turned on music, he couldn’t hear it but he could tell it was something Latin by the way she moved around the kitchen. He resisted the urge to go inside, using Cleopatra for a lazy game of fetch to distract himself from the swaying hips a few hundred feet away. But even she got bored with it after a while and lay down in the grass with her favorite bone.

Eventually Yareli did come outside to fuss with the grill before calling out to him. “Oye papi ... quiere otro?”

“Sí y un humo por favor,” he said and Becker heard her laughing as she headed back inside..

She came back a few minutes later with two beers and a pack of Redwoods. It wasn’t until she got within a few feet that Becker noticed the joint tucked behind her ear. “We gotta work on your Spanish partner,” she said with a smirk as she handed him his beer and pushed one of his legs down to make room for herself on the end of his chair before she lit her joint, then his cigarette and let out a thick plume of smoke. “You don’t mind do you?”

“Not at all...and what’s wrong with my spanish?”

“I don’t know ...I mean it’s not bad...it’s just…”

“What? I’m white. Excuse me if my tongue doesn’t move that way…”

“It ain’t your tongue that’s the problem,” she muttered under her breath, making Becker smirk into his beer. “Anyway, you doing okay,” she asked, running her hand up his arm to settled on his shoulder, bringing a solemn smile to his lips.

“Yeah...and thanks for sticking around today. Means a lot.”

“I told you I got your back right,” she said and planted a pot laced kiss on his lips. It was supposed to be quick but Becker pulled her down against his chest, making her giggle into his mouth a little before she pulled away. “Save it for after dinner. Wouldn’t want your gopher to walking in on us,” she said, though she did move to lay with her back against his chest.

“He’s not a gopher...more like a protege…”

“Tomayto, tomahto.”

As Det. Becker and Robina basked in a tender moment alone, Agent Blake Darlington sat alone in the Hyman condo that was supposed to be hers wondering how it was that he could screw everything up so terribly. It had been weeks since he’d seen her, let alone spoken to her, and he was starting to think that she had gone completely native in the aftermath of their fight. When he got no response from the package he’d left at the station, Blake had already began making contingency plans.

Needless to say, he was shocked to receive a fat manila envelope from a courier with his name scrolled across the seal in Yareli’s bubbly penmanship. He half expected some sort of improvised explosive or aerosolized poison but found neither, just a a couple of plain office files and an envelope. Blake opened that one first.

Dearest Darling,
I understand our last meeting was less than productive, but are you trying to get me killed? Or maybe it's you who has a death wish, either way I would advise you to steer clear of the station from now on. I'll give you a pass this time because, well, I did kick you in the balls so I guess I had it coming. Anyway, despite how we left things, I'm still working this case so act accordingly. Still nothing worthwhile on Becker yet. We're pretty well tied up with this psycho and now his buddy is dead so you can cross Tommy Anderson off your shit list. Enclosed is what I've dug up on Garcia, Ward, and Russell and it's more than enough for an indictment, just keep my name and "informant" out of all the discovery paperwork. I'm as good as dead otherwise. I'm handing over all this in good faith and in a professional manner so that you can see what that looks like and you understand that when I give my word, it means something.

Hot Latina Ass​

P.S. Happy Birthday. Hope you appreciate the gift.

After reading it, he couldn’t help feeling a little uneasy. For starters he didn’t recognize the handwriting, cutting down the chances of it and any of the information she alluded to being traced back to her. Secondly, the tone was surprisingly even. He’d known Yareli for years and the only time she resembled anything like levelheaded was when she had something working. All Blake could do was hope whatever it was worked in his favor. Setting the letter aside, he poured over the files she sent and was surprised by the contents of the first one. It seemed Yareli had compiled a dossier on herself. There was a redacted juvenile rap sheet that he very quickly realized was hers from details she had given him herself. Candid photos of her with known criminals, coupled with mugshots and notes on convictions. He didn’t have to go through it all to realize what she was getting at but just in case, she included a note at the end. “Save the circumstantial bullshit for the suits in D.C. because it means fuckall around here.” There was more to it than that but he didn’t have the energy to argue with someone who wasn’t there so Blake pushed it aside in the hopes of finding something worthwhile.

After flipping through the first few pages, Agent Darlington let out a long whistle. He couldn’t believe she’d actually done it. Between the pictures of Dets. Ward and Marshall in compromising positions with one of the dead robbery suspects and a written statement from a local gym owner named Benny Rubia that named Johnny Garcia as the one who tipped him off about the schedules and routes. What he had on his own was enough for an indictment, Yareli handed him a conviction. He would have kissed her if she were there, then ducked of course because a fist would surely follow.

Unfortunately the excitement was short lived. He was on his way to the secure phone when he heard a gentle tapping on the door, rooting him to the carpet for a moment while he went down the short list of people who knew he might be there. The apartment was still off the books and only a few agents knew of Operation Flashpoint. Those that did wouldn’t just drop in unannounced. Blake talked a lot about his dealings with Yareli, none of it professional, but he’d yet to divulge their blow up. Given his recent spiral, a bar room brawl was a good enough explanation for the swollen jaw and shiner she gave him. The limp, from a drunken spill down a flight of stairs. He couldn’t remember the last time he showered. Evidence of last night’s trip to Pole Position still showed on his collar and came up every time he burped. Blake Darlington had become an absolute mess but it was never more apparent than when he opened the door to see the look of horror on his fiancee’s face.

“When you sent a Stretch to the airport I assumed you were busy,” she said, her eyes slowly filling with tears as she reached up to touch the fading bruises on his cheek. “Blake, honey, what’s happened to you?”

“Ava...baby...what...how did you...nevermind,” he said, his jaw clenched tight as he took her hand, pulling her inside. Realization hit him like a ton of bricks. This was his “gift” from Yareli, that conniving little vindictive genius. “It doesn’t matter honey, I’m fine...I’m so glad you could make it…”

“Oh, Blake, how could I not when you send me this,” she said pulling away to show him the charm bracelet on her left arm and he recognized it immediately. Most of the charms had been replaced with ones that suited Ava but Yareli left the ones that he would know were meant for her. Like the diamond encrusted revolver and white gold badge. He’d given it to Yareli the night before she was to go back to work, a good luck charm and he hadn’t regretted it until now.

“I do have good taste don’t I,” he said with a tight grin and Ava pulled him into another hug.

“It’s lovely honey...with little bits of me and you. Mother says a man who buys his woman gifts on his birthday is a man worth keeping,” she said with a delighted giggle and pressed her body to his. “I could give you your present now or we can wait until after dinner.”

“Now please...but not here...I ughhh...this is basically an office. I got us a room...a suite at the Marina Sands in Ocean Beach for the weekend. You’ll love it babe. Right across from the marina and a couple blocks away from the beach. In room spa treatments...the works. Give me a few minutes here to finish up and we can head over…”

“Or I can head over now and get us all checked in,” she said with a grin and Blake had to bite back his initial reaction. “Why risk them giving away the room?”

“You’re right honey. I’ll call you a car,” he said as casually as he could muster. “Relax it might be a minute,” he said as he yanked the house phone off the cradle and called the front desk. And all while he spoke Blake moved further and further away from where Ava had plopped herself down on the sofa. The same sofa he and Yareli made a mess of on more than one occasion.

He’d underestimated her, on so many levels, and if he were being honest, Blake deserved this little bit of getback. And it could have been worse, so much worse. Yareli could have easily told Ava everything they’d done, that he never mentioned her. Hell she could have simply told her she existed at all, as far as Ava knew his Vice City connection was someone he knew from Quantico. When she assumed it was a man, Blake didn’t feel the need to correct her and that alone could have put their relationship on the rocks. One thing became clear as he listened to the hold music at the Marina Sands Hotel, as vindictive as this whole scheme was, Yareli was careful not to prod Ava directly. Flying her first class. Sending her a limo. The bracelet. The whole plot was strategically designed to make Blake dance, not ruin his fiancee’s life and there was something almost admirable in that. He made a decision right then and there to enjoy the weekend “away” with the “love of his life”. Once Ava was safely on a plane back to D.C. Blake Darlington would figure out how to repay Det. Robina.

As he dealt with his fiancee’s unexpected arrival, Yareli Robina lounged in A.J. Becker’s hot tub. With a belly full of carne asada and a fat blunt of San Andreas Kush, she couldn’t be more relaxed, especially after beating her partner in a best of five match-up of rock-paper-scissors to decide who cleaned up the dinner mess. With the sliding glass doors open, she could hear him grumbling and cursing as he loaded the dishwasher while she sipped her mojito. Sobriety was well behind her now and with it went the last bit of tension concerning her partner. Penelope was right, as she usually was when it came to matters of the heart. Regardless of the chaos happening around them, what was happening between them was real and it felt good. So damn good, but that didn’t mean it had to be love or that it would be forever. Regardless of what he said on that rooftop or in the car only a few hours ago, Yareli still had to do her job. And whether she liked it or not, what she found could mean the end for him. And them.

At the moment though, all that was drowning in white rum with the rest of her rational mind. Her head back, Yareli watched the stars through smoke rings and allowed her thoughts to meander to nothingness. It was comforting in a way, the blankness, especially because she knew it wouldn’t last.

“I’m pretty sure that thing’s gonna explode before the cycles done,” Becker said as he eased himself into the churning water across from her and a sluggish grin spread across her face as she lifted her head to look at him through hooded eyes. “I don’t think I’ve seen you so relax Rook.”.

“Never seen me in a hot tub…”

“Yeah, it’s the hot tub alright,” he said with a smirk and lean back to rest his head against the padded edge. “You probably shouldn’t stay in here for too much longer. You drank that last pitcher by yourself.”

“Ehhh it was mostly seltzer,” she said with a raised eyebrow, making Becker laugh a little. “I watched you mix it.”

“Yeah, well you were hitting it pretty hard. I’m not up for babysitting tonight.”

“I ate plenty thank you very much.”

“I should be thanking you,” he said with a grin and Yareli found herself blushing again. “For dinner, for keeping me company...you didn’t have to but I’m glad you did and I appreciate it...I appreciate you. I need you to know that. These last couple months with you…”

She was in his lap before he could finish, and Becker didn’t seem to mind the interruption of her tongue in his mouth. Her ass in his lap. His hands went immediately to the teethers at the back of her neck, nimble fingers pulling them apart but Yareli caught the top before it could fall. “No aquí Papi,” she said with a giggle as she stood on shaky legs but Becker was quick to steady her with firm hands at her hips. “Las cosas que quiero hacerles a los vecinos no deben ver.”

“Oh come on! I got eight foot hedges,” he groaned, clambering out of the hot tub behind her. “And I’m pretty sure they shoot porn across the street.”

“Well this show if for your eyes only...al menos por esta noche,” she said before dashing towards the house.

Yareli didn’t hear the growl that came out of Becker at that little dig but she felt the force of his aggression when he caught up to her in the kitchen. One hand gripped her wrist to pull her back, the force of which caused her wet feet to slide out from under her. But of course, Becker caught her before she could fall, spinning her to face him with a hungry look in his eye. “We just talked about this Robina,” he grunted as he yanked her top off and tossed it aside. The bottom came next but he couldn’t be bothered to untie it or pull it down, instead he pulled at the flimsy strings until they snapped off in his fist. “All of that is mine now,” he said running a possessive hand along her hip and Yareli burst out laughing, even as Becker spun her around to bend her over the counter.

“Aww que es tan lindo Papi,” she said smirking as he groped and fondled her ass with one hand while the other wound the length of her hair around his fist.. “You think the pussy’s yours ‘cause I’m not giving it to nobody else...Asi no es como funciona. De ningún modo Papi...you gotta earn that…”

“How ’bout I sign my name on it,” he grunted as he leveled a hard swat to her ass, making her knees wobble a little before he reached around to cup her sex, roughly spreading her lips as he pull her up by her hair to put his lips to her ear. “Admit it Robina, you’ve never screamed anybody’s name the way you do mine when I’m inside you,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper, as he pressed two fingers inside her to tickle her g-spot. “Ass like this...mmm...baby you can get it from anywhere but you keep coming back to me. You know why?”

“Por que Papi,” she gasped as he slowly stroked her pussy while steadily grinding his hard-on against her ass. Yareli meant to be facetious but it didn’t come out that way, she heard the plea in her tone and she couldn’t be mad at Becker for the chuckle that came with it.

“Porque tengo lo que necesitas.,” he growled and gave her ear a nip as he slipped his fingers from her hot center to push down his shorts. Just enough to get his cock free before he plowed into her in one hard thrust. “Ain’t that right partner,” he groaned as he forced her down, pressing her chest into the counter and attacked her with short pounding strokes.

Yareli didn’t have it in her to deny it and it had nothing to do with her buzz. She couldn’t even tease his oddly accented Spanish, because he was right. Whether he was simply tough talking or he genuinely believed it didn’t matter, Yareli knew it was true. He knew exactly how to touch her. Even that first time, as forgettable as it was, it was better than all the casual sex with Darling. All the things she had to tell Briggs, he seemed to just know she liked. Sex with Becker had been like a breath of fresh air, even when she couldn’t breathe.

“That’s what you need right,” he asked, his chest pressed to her back as he slowly rolled his hips against her. Becker reached to take her hand, lacing their fingers together as he planted soft kisses across her back and shoulders, raising goosebumps as he went. “Somebody to make you feel good even when you’re doing bad things...like fucking your partner on his kitchen counter. I make you feel good don’t I baby?”

“Si Papi...sooooooo good,” she couldn’t keep herself from saying as she worked her hips in time with Becker’s. “I’ve never...fuck Papi you’re gonna make me cum…”

“Oh yeah,” Becker said with a chuckle as he worked his hand out of her hair to caress down her back, around her waist and up her stomach to settle on her breast. “Don’t let that stop you baby...you never what?”

“No puedo ... me haces ... no es justo,” she tried to say between pants as Becker nibbled and sucked at her neck, all the while twisting and pulling at her nipples.

“What’s not fair baby,” he asked with a chuckle, running his nose along the back of her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. Becker had her right where he wanted her, teetering on the edge, and Yareli couldn’t do anything to keep herself from falling. “That you fit me like a glove...that I can’t stop thinking about how good your body feels pressed against mine...that when I’m inside you...it never feels like just a fuck,” he groaned, slowly rocking his hips back and forth, giving her long deep strokes that seemed more like love making than anything else.

The way he held her, they were connected from head to toe. Fingers laced together. His feet planted firmly on the linoleum alongside hers, keeping her in place. Even their breathes seemed to synchronize as Becker gradually quickened his pace until Yareli was calling his name with each thrust. Her knees buckled but he caught her with a strong arm around her waist and hoisted her up to stand on her tiptoes as he bucked his hips hard against her.

“Venga Papi...estoy tan cerca ... tan cerca...the way you touch me...no puedo tomarlo...Fuck A.J.,” Yareli moaned, head back against his chest as she whipped her hips in tight circles against his thrusts. “Como eso Papi...make me cum…” She trailed off in a long string of breathy moans and an indecipherable melange of English and Spanish that announced her climax.

Becker wasn’t too far behind. The feeling of Yareli’s velvety channel undulating around his shaft drove him to his own explosive orgasm. But he didn’t release her, even as his spent cock slipped free of her opening, Becker still held her close. His breath came out in heavy pants as he shuffled out of his trunks, leaving them in a puddle on the kitchen floor as he moved them to the living room. If not for Yareli’s shivering, he would have collapsed on the sofa but Becker couldn’t allow her to be the least bit uncomfortable so he hoisted her onto his shoulder for the short trip up to his bedroom. He expected her to offer some form of protest but there was none.

“No barricades tonight right,” he teased as he set her down on the edge of the bed and Yareli surprised him again.

“Nada Papi,” was her grinning reply as she pulled him down into bed, immediately putting her head to his chest as Becker pulled the blankets up around them.

For awhile, they just lay there, as their breathing returned to normal. Their legs tangled beneath the sheets, fingers laced together at his chest while his free hand glanced up and down her arm. Yareli let out a long sigh and pressed her lips to his chest before pushing herself up to sit on the edge of the bed. She arched her back, stretching a little before she stood and padded off to the bathroom. Becker sat up as well, thinking she might need some assistance again but let out a chuckle at the sound of her making water with the door open before she started the shower. He started to join her, but just as he made his way to that open doorway, he caught the sound of her singing and paused.

The song wasn’t at all familiar and his booze soaked brain wasn’t fast enough to translate it all but Becker comprehended enough to know that it was a love song of sorts. As usual her vocal ability left a little to be desired but Becker was rapted by the conviction in her tone. It was clear she had no idea he was watching, or else she would have dialed down the volume, but he wondered if it was her usual shower song or had it been brought on by the moment they shared. He didn’t want to read too much into it but he couldn’t help but think it was the latter. They’d slept together a handful of times now, and every time they cuddled after but this felt different. Before he could think too long on it, Yareli was getting out of the shower and Becker jumped back from the door, only to knock into his dresser. The corner of which jammed into his naked hip.

“Fuck,” he groaned, limping away and Yareli giggled as she toweled off.

“That’s what you get for peeping,” she said with a smirk as she wrapped her hair in a towel and made her way back to the bedroom. “You could have come in…”

“You know I hate your singing.”

“Sure you do,” she said with a wink as she rifled through his t-shirt drawer and came away with a crew neck undershirt. “I’m outta smokes.”

“Top drawer of the night stand,” was Becker’s grumbling reply as he limped off to the bathroom.

While her partner showered up, Yareli found herself tiptoeing around his room. Peeking into drawers and in the back of his closet, what she was looking for was simple and it had nothing to do with the dossier Agent Darlington left with her sergeant. Her search had very little to do with crime at all and women had been doing it since the beginning of time, which is why she always thought it odd that law enforcement was such a boy’s club. She checked all the usual spots. Ran her arms under the mattress only to find a stubby shotgun, sheathed tactical knife, and Mac with a few preloaded clips. The false bottom in his underwear drawer yielded nothing but a few stacks of cash. His nightstand was a mess of condoms, half empty cigarette packs, and pill bottles with no labels. No trashy lingerie, not even a crumpled photo of another women. Not even Michelle and for some reason that made her a little angry. What kind of man has nothing from his past? As many of his women as she met, for Becker to have nothing seemed all too convenient. But how could he have known she would come to spend the night? He hadn’t invited her, and this was the first time she’d been to his place since she broke him out of the hospital. Maybe he didn’t have anything because he was telling the truth? There was no one else, only her, and Yareli didn’t know what to do with that realization.

“See anything you like,” Becker said with a smirk as Yareli scrambled out of his closet. “Talk about me peeping…”

“Like you didn’t go on a tour of my place,” she said easily as she flopped down on his bed to watch him towel off. Yareli found herself licking her lips at the sight of his muscled back. The skein of scars only served to enhance his overall appeal and Becker winked at her appreciative glance as he tossed his wet towel on the bathroom floor.

“Fair enough,” he said with a grin as eased himself down beside Yareli as she lit two Redwoods. “I don’t usually bring women here…”

“That supposed to make me feel special?”

“No...well yeah...I mean...I’m just saying I don’t make it a habit of bringing random chicks to my place, that’s all. Take it how you want to…”

“I’m teasing Becker,” Yareli said with a chuckle as she lean her head on his shoulder. “Relax, I wasn’t looking for anything in particular...well maybe if there’s a third ex-wife. I mean really Becks you’re not that old, how could you have been married twice already.”

“You mean to tell me you’ve never been…”

“Nope…”

“Not once. Come on Robina, you mean to tell me some guy’s never made an ill advised attempt to lock you down,” Becker said with a chuckle as he reached across her to ash his cigarette.

“Sure I’ve been asked...plenty of times,” she said and Becker looked at her with his brow furrow. “Okay, three times but twice by the same guy. I said yes once but he wasn’t who I thought he was...and let’s leave it at that.” Yareli didn’t want to get into the fact that her ex-fiancee was one of the dirty DEA agents implicated in the investigation that ended her career. “I’ll probably be a terrible wife anyway,” she offered with a shrug and Becker shook his head.

“That’s bullshit Robina. You cook, your apartment is always clean…”

“I like chasing bad guys and driving muscle cars,” she added with a chuckle and again Becker shook his head.

“Means life with you would be exciting. Stop dating pussies and...well…”

“What?! Married men. You can say it,” she said laughing and Becker shrugged his shoulders. “To be fair I wasn’t dating Briggs or...that other guy. Haven’t actually dated since I put on the uniform. Probably why I keep ending up in screwing my partners…”

“Aww don’t tell me ole’ pot belly Kelly got a piece too,” Becker teased and Yareli gave him a quick shot to the ribs that was on the wrong side of playful. “I had you all wrong Robina…”

“Fuck you Becker,” Yareli said giggling as she rubbed the red patch her knuckles made on his chest. “That asshole wasn’t my partner. Sure I saved his life but that was more out of spite than anything else. You and Briggs are the only ones…”

“And Garcia,” Becker supplied with a smirk and put his arm up to block a fist that didn’t come.

“To be fair he was never my partner and I didn’t know he was a cop tell the morning after…”

“And how long did you date for,” Becker asked quickly and Yareli rolled her eyes, easily recognizing the interrogation tactic but she answered anyway.

“Little over a year when I first came back. Having a cop boyfriend comes in handy when your street racing,” she said with a smirk and Becker narrowed his eyes at her a moment before he shot straight up in bed.

“No shit! He’s the second guy ain’t he,” he said with a laugh and Yareli put her head in her hands. “Damn no wonder he’s always so salty when your name comes up. You shot him down...that’s cold partner.”

“I’d just met Penelope and pulling in g’s with my Stallion. What I look like being tied down,” she said with a snort as she stamped out her cigarette butt. “And he’s a fuckin’ animal anyway...I can only imagine what he says about me behind my back….and no I don’t want you to tell me, nor do I want you to start acting all chivalrous when he says something you don’t like…”

“I don’t let nobody talk bad about my partner Robina...especially…”

“No Papi, none of that...quien es mas macho bullshit. I don’t need you to protect me Becker…”

“But…”

“No buts,” she said, putting her hand over his mouth and Becker smiled beneath her fingers. “You start sleeping with someone nobody bats an eye but me...it’s different for me. Bad enough people look at me funny for making detective in six years. They find out we’re sleeping together…”

“Look Yareli, I get it but you can’t stop me from wanting to protect you…”

“Just worry about the bullets, okay Papi? The words don’t mean shit,” she said as she slid down to lay against his chest and threw her leg over his. “And umm...speaking of words…”

“I meant every one,” he said as he slipped his arm around her back, fingertips grazing over the top of her bare ass. “On the rooftop. On the counter. All of it. You’re more than just a piece of ass Robina. You're my partner...my friend...and I care about you. More than I probably should but I’m over trying to talk myself out of it...and I think you are too.”

“Whatever, just don’t get weird while we’re on the clock,” she said as she nuzzled against his chest, not wanting him to see the way she blushed. Yareli knew it was a bad idea but he was right, she was done trying to rationalize an irrational situation. With that thought in mind, she allowed herself to drift off but not before feeling Becker take her hand and put it to his lip before he too began to snore.

It was a little before sunrise when the phone on the nightstand started ringing but neither detective was interested in being disturbed. A blow job in the wee hours of the morning led to a second round that pushed them both to exhaustion, which facilitated Becker talking Yareli into taking a sick day.

“I’m definitely going to regret that,” Yareli said with a giggle after riding them to another orgasm and Becker looked up at her with that cocky smirk of his.

"Call out. I want you to stay with me baby," he said, yanking her down to lay on his chest before she could slither away. “We could sleep in for a change. I’ll even make you breakfast…”

"You actually want me to stay...not for a fuck or to feed you," she said with a chuckle as she settled against his chest

"I wouldn't mind either but do you have to say it like that,” he said sharply and rolled her off him, but still, her held her close. Becker pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and smiled a little as he looked into her eyes. “I just want you to stay with me that's all. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Okay Papi but if Colins…”

"You let me worry about Colins, you worry about keeping that hot Cuban ass in this bed."

Needless to say, Yareli was none too pleased when the phone started ringing for the second time. If she were at her home, nothing would have stopped her from yanking the cord out of the wall but she couldn’t do that here. There was no telling who could be calling Becker before dawn on a Tuesday morning and he didn’t seem to concerned, snoring blissfully beside her. Yareli had to shake him twice before he finally stirred enough to even acknowledge the incessant ringing.

“Somebody better be dead,” he grumbled into the receiver, half on top of Yareli who snickered against his chest. “Wait...what?! Slow down Cap, I had a long night...Holy shit you’re serious...Yeah...Yeah I’ll get her and bring her in,” Becker said already out of bed and fishing around for underwear before he even hung up the phone.

“What the fuck is going on Becker?”

“Somebody broke into your place last night.”

“What?! Why the hell is Colins there?”

“Unis at Vice Point didn’t like what they saw I guess...I don’t know just get dressed so we can find out.”

“So much for sick day,” Yareli grumbled as she dragged herself out of bed.

Ten minutes later, the two detectives were on the scene of a B&E at Link View Heights. Yareli shook her head at the amount of uniforms and police tape for a simple break-in. She made a joke to her partner about Vice Point cops having too much time on their hands as they ducked under the police tape but all he did was shrug his shoulders. Becker never missed an opportunity to ridicule the “beach patrol” and that’s when she started to get nervous. Her stomach was in knots before they even got to her floor and seeing Colins big body in the hall as soon as the elevator doors opened only made it worse.

“Must not have been too hard to find,” he said with a nod at Becker and Yareli bit her lip to keep from saying something she might regret. To either man, instead she fell in behind them and was greeted by a flurry of activity in her apartment.

She immediately got flashbacks from when her father was taken away and drew in a ragged breath as she tried to get a handle of what might have happened. CSU was all over the place, dusting for prints on the balcony, around the sliding glass door, and in the kitchen. There was broken glass in the dining room and a blood trail leading to her bedroom. Yareli followed it, detaching herself from the fact that this was her place as she went but her breath caught at what she saw. Dresser drawers lay open. Clothes strewn everywhere. A half packed suitcase in the middle of the bed. The closet door open with a trail of empty hangers between it and the bed. It wasn’t until she made her way to the closet to check the safe that she noticed the footprints on the headboard and looked up. There on the ceiling written in blood was a message from the intruder.

“Para quemar con el deseo y guardar silencio al respecto es el castigo más grande que podemos llevar en nosotros mismos,” she read aloud and a chill ran down her spine. That psycho had been in her house. Touched her things. He’d packed her a bag. How long had he been watching her? Toying with her? And all over some twisted crush.

“Security cameras were turned off and...holy fuck! Is that blood,” Becker shouted behind her but Yareli didn’t turn around, her eyes still trained on the ceiling. “Tell me you got some nutso ex-boyfriend who might have done all this,” Becker said quietly as he moved to stand behind her, close enough to feel the heat rising off her body but he held himself from touching her. All Yareli did was shake her head but Becker could see the tears streaming down her face, the way her jaw clenched tight. “When I get my hands on this asshole…”

“When?”

“You heard me,” he said, as he pulled on a pair of gloves and began doing his own inventory of her bedroom. “A cell’s too good for animals like him,” he muttered as he ran his hand along the back of the headboard, then the nightstand to find both her weapons still in place. “This wasn’t a robbery…”

“No shit asshole,” Capt. Colins billowed from the door before ordering everybody out of the apartment. He waited a moment, while the other officers scrambled to follow his command, his eyes scanning continuously between his own detectives. It wasn’t until he heard the front door slam that he spoke again, but not before giving the living room a once over to make sure they were truly alone. “Look, I don’t give a shit what you two get into on your own time but I damn well better be able to get ahold of you…”

“You found me just fine,” Yareli muttered without looking at him and Colins took a purposeful step in her direction only to be cut off by her partner putting his own big body between them.

“You can’t blame her for this Capt. That’s not her blood on the ceiling. She didn’t break into her own place,” Becker said as Yareli moved to her safe in the closet.

“No shit asshole but I’m sure you both know who did! You think this Van Gogh bullshit is why you got called in,” Colins said before turning on his heels and storming out to the living room. Becker had to nudge his partner to get her to follow but once they made it to the dining room he wished he hadn’t. “The piece de resistance,” he said of the photos spread out on the table. There was a photo of the last two victims with a photo of Yareli in the same outfit beside it. There were also pictures of her taken from the crime scenes. “When the hell were you two assholes going to tell me that this animal’s been picking up girls that look like you and using them like voodoo dolls!?”

“That’s my fault Capt…”

“You damn right it is Lieutenant,” Colins said with hard eyes on Becker but his subordinate gave it right back.

“I knew you’d take her...us...off the case and that happened she’d be dead already…”

“Or worse,” Yareli supplied absently, her eyes on the photos.

“Right, and we’ve been closing in ever since that first one. Even got a name…”

“How’d you get that?”

“His mother…”

“She’s dead now, too. I saw it on the news yesterday morning...pretty sure he killed her ,” Yareli said as she picked up one of the pictures, studying it closely before she disappeared in her bedroom again.

“I don’t like not knowing what my detectives are up to Becker, you know that. You should have came to me when you first got wind of this now my hands are tied. I can’t have it getting out that somebody’s hunting down Cuban girls that look like her. At best, we get bad publicity. At worse, a race war. I got to put her in protective custody until we deal with this nutjob.”

“The hell you are!”

“You ain’t got a choice Robina…”

“Fuck you Colins…”

“Let her stay with me,” Becker said quickly, putting himself between them again but Yareli shoved him out of the way only to storm towards the balcony. Both men watched her go but Colins moved like he might follow until Becker put a hand on his chest. “Come on Colins, hear me out. This guy found where she live, hell I didn’t know where she lived until a couple weeks ago. You think some halfbrain unis are gonna keep him off her,” Becker asked and his Captain looked at him like he was thinking it over. “I got the best security in the city and you won’t have to worry about not knowing where she is and she’ll be less likely to murder you if she can still work.”

“And you won’t let her out of your sight,” Colins asked with a raised eyebrow and Becker put his hand over his heart. “What makes you think she’s not thinking about putting a bullet in your head...nevermind...wouldn’t want you to incriminate yourself. Go talk to your partner Lieutenant.”

Becker found Yareli pacing along the length of the balcony like a tiger in a cage. A cigarette burned between her fingers but from the looks of it, she’d yet to take a proper drag. She didn’t look at him as he came outside, not even when he grabbed her shoulder and sat her down. Nor did she raise her eyes when he sat down beside her and took her hand. She didn’t pull away either and Becker marked that as a win.

"Hey...look I know it's not ideal..."

"I'm not shacking up with you Becker. Fuck that," she said, but still she didn’t let his hand go

"It's not shacking up if you have your own room,” he said with chuckle that finally got her to raise her eyes but the look she gave him wasn’t anything pleasant. Becker soldiered on anyway, kissed her palm and smiled a little as he said, “Come on Robina, there's a pool and you know you love Cleopatra. Plus the added security, I don't have to worry about some psycho creeping in your window at night."

"So you don't have to worry? What about me? What do you think everybody's gonna think when they see us riding in together," she said, the last in a harsh whisper as she yanked her hand from his.

"Hate to tell you this Robina but they're already thinking it...and who the hell cares. What happens between me and you is between me and you. Who gives a damn what anybody thinks about it because they sure as shit won't say it to your face,” he said and Yareli looked daggers at him but Becker held her gaze until she looked away. Another win for him.

"So what happens if I have a gentleman caller?" That took the wind right out of his sails and judging by the smirk playing at her lips, Yareli Robina knew it, but Becker didn’t even hesitate.

"Nothing, so long as I don't see him." He said, all the while thinking of all the many ways he could dispose of one of Yareli's lovers. The snort he heard told him his partner had read his mind. "What about last night...and this morning?"

"So we had some fun, what about it?"

"It was more than some fun Yareli and you know it,” he said in a harsh whisper and Yareli rolled her eyes.

"You don't have to take care of me, okay. I'm not one your..."

"What? What were you going to say..sluts?"

"No you're good to a lot of women, but you live alone. You take care of them then send them away."

"Look Robina we already established that you’re different...we're approaching this different,” he said, snatching the cigarette from between her fingers to take a couple drags before giving it back. “And this isn’t about that anyway. This is about you not ending up on a slab in the coroner’s office. You want to try your luck at one of the shitty ass apartments the city calls safehouses then be my guest, but nobody’s going to look out for you the way your partner will Detective.”

"If it’s only about the slab then why not just order me to do it...I mean you’re my Lieutenant right,” Yareli said with a smirk and Becker narrowed his eyes at her.

“You’re fucking with me,” he said, his nostrils flared a little and all she did was laugh. “You’re such an asshole, you know that?”

“Come on Becker, I can’t have Colins thinking I’m doing it because he said so. I’ve got a reputation to consider.”

Detective A.J. Becker was used to tense days, but after he’d spent the day with his partner who he was romantically involved with who had just had her safe space violated he was ready for a drink. Of course, that couldn’t happen since he had to supervise the crime scene, deal with his boss, and comfort Yareli while she was putting up a front. So it became about moving things forward as fast as possible.
He got the forensics team out of the place as quickly as possible once they collected all the evidence they could. The mob of uniformed officers and detectives pretending to be concerned were dispatched to the neighborhood with the description of the serial killer. Sure technically they didn’t know it was him, but what was the worst thing that would happen they’d catch a murder suspect? With all the extra people out of the way, he was able to discretely bring in a moving company who could clear out Yareli’s place without anyone noticing.

Yareli made it clear nobody else would be touching things like her unmentionables, bedroom aids, and her weapons but despite that things eventually ended up boxed up. They were then loaded into two vans and were escorted to Becker’s place after checking for tails. A pack of cigarettes, a few phone calls, and more than a few intense hours the situation was handled. With the exception of a few boxes, everything was placed into Becker’s double garage alongside is sun-kissed Infernus supercar which caught everyone’s attention.

As Becker paid the crew giving them extra to forget the job ever happened Yareli walked around the car awestruck. She’d seen some muscle cars, but this thing screamed power. Another thing someone like Becker should never own something that was a trophy to anyone on Prawn Island. This one had a ton of custom work done to it, and a quick glance at the dash revealed it had the race car transmission. This baby could move and Yareli had to admit she was drooling when Becker walked over.

“Hey, that takes care of business for now. Just one more thing but that can wait. How do you feel about some shrimp and fries?”

“You’re going to buy me takeout when you got something like this in the garage? No honey you have to tell me where this beautiful car came from, and then maybe you can take me out.”

“I was going to cook actually have the stuff in the fridge, and the car was kind of a gift. Housewarming type of a deal to fill up the garage.”

Yareli laughed and walked over to him asked again “Come on there has to be more of a story than that. That color isn’t even regular stock I mean this thing is special. Come on A.J. tell me.”

“You don’t want to know besides I hardly drive the thing,” he replied as he headed back into the house closing the garage door.”

“That is a sin baby leaving this beautiful car locked up.”

He turned around and glared at her and fired back, “It used to belong to Lance Vance and his former friend gave it to me for helping him out after fucking cleaned house. He didn’t want it around so he gave it to me after they worked on it. The car was bought with a lot of blood and cocaine, and for my part, I got stuck with it. So you happy now? You always want to know about everything so there it is okay!”

He stormed off into the kitchen annoyed that she kept pushing, but how was she supposed to know the car came with such baggage. It was a gift from a very powerful person so selling it was out of the question and getting rid of it would just be a waste. So it sat in his garage as a constant reminder that he could overlook just about anything if you paid him. Sure he thought the crime boss respected him, but what kind of respect was that. He began setting up to cook making more noise than necessary.

Yareli headed upstairs to the guest room with her boxes and found Cleopatra sitting on the bed wagging her tail happily. “Well I’m glad I haven’t upset you, but you have to be at least willing to share the bed. I don’t think Papi wants me around.”

Surprisingly the dog did hop down but she figured it was more so the dog could sniff all the interesting new bags in the room. After she unpacked the basics she went to the bathroom and got the shower going. There were plenty of towels, soap, and other things in the overfilled linen closet including a shotgun concealed just inside the frame. She let the water go and did a quick search of the room.
The wall mirror concealed a slot for a carbine rifle with jumbo magazines and laser sight; the night stand was filled with ammunition for the hand cannon under the bed which was held in place by a heavy-duty magnet. She laid down and reached for it with ease and pulled it and leveled it at the door. A.J. was always thinking she realized. It had to be hard to be scared all the time, but damn he was ready. She put back the pistol and found the final surprise was a knife with a brass knuckle handle in the makeup table. It was razor sharp and Yareli knew it wasn’t Michelle’s.

She finally stepped into the shower and practically cried out from how good it felt. She cleaned up thoroughly and opted to keep her hair up in a towel and slide on a pair of police shorts and a softball t-shirt that were stacked in the closet. A.J. was supposed to be a hell of a player, and she’d already seen the power he put behind a bat. She slipped on a pair of flip flops and headed downstairs. He’d seen her without her makeup so she wasn’t worried, but she needed a day of beauty after all this shit.

A.J. was in the kitchen drowning shrimp in garlic sauce and the fries were warming up in the oven. Yareli appeared in the doorway and he glanced over at her and went back to his cooking but did say, “Sorry to snap at you I know you’ve had a rough day and all and you don’t want to be here.”

“I’m sorry too. I mean well it’s hard to know what is cool between us and what we got to work out. We’re getting there baby. We talk a lot and stuff. I don’t know what to call this, but I am happy and like being here with you just wish the reason was different. Oh and that smells good by the way.”

She walked over to him by the stove then a there was a loud knock at the door. It made her jump and he just put his arm around her. “It’s cool can you get that. Don’t worry the guys on the gate called just before you came down. He’s expected.”

“Ah yeah sure. Who the hell is coming at this time of night though,” Yareli said her voice trailing off as she walked to the front door with Cleopatra walking behind her.

“People who are up this time of night,” A.J. replied back. “You know cops, strippers, and other ne'er-do-wells.”

Yareli laughed and unlocked the door as she glanced at the alarm panel. The thing looked like it was setup to operate a missile system. She’d have to learn how to use it, but tonight she’d feel comfortable when A.J. had it on and she was cuddled up behind a locked door. What she saw walk in the door made her jump back and ready to look for a weapon as Cleopatra started growling.

“Evening ma’am I’m here to see Mr. Becker. Hush Cleopatra, you know me come over and give me a kiss,” came out of the mouth of probably the largest black man Yareli had ever seen. He was over six feet tall and almost as wide; a linebacker with a gut, but you could still see plenty of muscle. He was wearing a black cowboy hat, blue t-shirt, and jeans with a belt with a massive buckle. This guy wasn’t typical for around here. He also had a mac-10 hanging from a shoulder holster, and on his belt, he had a .357 on one side and a survival knife on the other. This guy was scary, but he seemed polite enough that she didn’t scream.
The man dropped down to his knees and happily began petting and playing with Cleopatra who was soon getting her belly rubbed. By now A.J. had walked up and hugged Yareli from behind and smiled and said, “Yareli this is Little Texas. LT this is Detective Robina who I told you about.”

He stood up and reached out offering his massive hand for her to shake. She nodded and returned the gesture seeing her small hand engulfed by his as he gently shook it. He spoke first and said, “I’m very sorry for what happened to you Ma’am and don’t worry your place will be in good hands. Ah, do you have any pets or plants that need water?”

“Ah no no I took everything including the food and the TV will you be okay over there? You’re Little Texas?”

The man laughed thunderously and smiled. “Yes ma’am I’m the smallest of my brothers and my father well he’s a big man. That’s fine though I have plenty of books and I think Mr. Becker is arranging the food.”

A.J. nodded and smiled. “Usual deal I got that kid you’ve used before Kenya. He’ll be meeting you over there. He’ll have a few buckets of chicken, corn bread, and sides waiting for you. Oh and plenty of that coffee you like. Bathroom’s fully stocked and you said you had weapons handled.”

“Oh shit yeah. I ran into the guy with the weapons van on the way down. I got plenty of heat for that piece of shit girl butchering bastard. I’m sending that offender right to hell. Oh not to sound too materialistic, and what you’re paying me is fine, but is there a bounty on this scumbag?”

“We’re working on that might be some reward money, but you’ve always done pretty well with the standard Good Citizen Bonus. Oh and LT you know alive just means breathing when you get him to the station.”

“Oh yeah, baby I got you. I got a Taser and plenty of surprises if that piece of shit breaks in again. You think he’ll come, man?”

“Well I kept him away from the place all day, so you boys keep a low profile and setup. If that doesn’t work I’m arranging for some bait.”

“Oh, we’ll be ready and waiting.”

A.J. smiled at him and passed him a small gym bag full of cash the keys and a few other goodies he enlightened his hired thug about. “Got a portable phone in there with all the numbers preprogrammed and it can go 1200 feet from the base no problem. There is a police scanner in there and a radio. The night supervisor knows you’re there, and you’re special detail 18. He promised me three cars there in no time, so put your ego aside and call in backup when things start happening. Also, there might be a copy of Bertrand Russell’s A History of Western Philosophy in there for you.”

He shook his head happily and put a hand on A.J. shoulder. “You know me too well. It is philosopher month again. I’ll be on my way then and I’ll keep ya posted. Night ma’am don’t worry about nothing.”

With that A.J. waved goodnight then double bolted the door and set up the alarm. He turned around to a somewhat perplexed Yareli and asked as he walked back to the kitchen, “what?”

She followed after him and yelled out, “What in hell was that about? Who did you hire to freaking watch my place?”

A.J. laughed and began putting the meal together. He put shrimp and fries on two plates and to keep his dog from bothering them begin filling her dish with a prepared mix of beef, gravy, and canned food. He washed up before he finally replied to a rather pissed off Yareli. “Look, baby, we know this guy is going to come back, so I hired Little Texas to wait for him. He’s a licensed bounty hunter in Florida, Texas, and a few other places. He played pro-ball for a few seasons, he likes to read, and regularly works as a bouncer at a strip club on the highway. He enjoys putting the hurt on anyone who disrespects women. I’ve known him for years, and the only time he had any real trouble with the law was when he broke up a dog fighting ring.”

“Oh I see and since you put it that way we need to get the dear man some more books and he’ll need a hardy breakfast.”

The rest of the night was fairly routine after that with the pair cleaning up, going outside for one last smoke with the dog, and then securing the house for the night. Yareli had been given two days off, but Becker was going to head in with the promise to call her if anything broke in the case. They kissed goodnight in the hallway and went to their separate bedrooms. Cleopatra actually seemed torn and resolved to just lie down in the cool hallway on the second floor.

A.J. was ready for bed, but he jotted down a few notes in his notepad for tomorrow, checked his weapons and then took a long hot shower. Feeling more relaxed he put on a pair of shorts and headed to bed, but stopped short of getting in when he saw Yareli standing in the doorway. She had her beloved stuffed animal in one hand and the shotgun from the other room in the other and she just stared at him.

“You know you’re welcome to stay with me tonight.”

Without a word, she closed the door and walked over and put the weapon on the nightstand on her side. She slid under the covers and cuddled up with her stuffed animal, but she did pull back the covers for him. He slid in next to her after turning off the lights and she leaned over and kissed him and whispered, “Night A.J. thanks for being there for me.”


They both drifted off to sleep after that and when morning came Becker woke up before the alarm and turned it off. He grabbed his bag and headed out, he’d get ready at the station, but he set things up for Yareli so she wouldn’t be lost. He checked with the officers at the gate and headed out. There would be a patrol in the area, and they said the sketch and information was out all over the city. Every cop was on the hunt and every informant was looking to score a reward.

Yareli woke up frightened and looked around flailing her arms. First, she realized Becker wasn’t there then to make matters worse Mr. Rabbit was gone too. She took a deep breath and gave herself a second to think. Becker had gone to work like he said he would and he didn’t wake her because he knew she needed her sleep. When she glanced over at the nightstand she saw a small pitcher of ice tea with lemon sitting on a bowl of ice with a glass and napkin next to it. She sighed and poured herself a glass and looked around the room and then began to giggle.
Mr. Rabbit was sitting happily on top of the desk in the corner with an arm around another white rabbit with a bow around her neck. Seemed Becker thought he needed a friend. Next, she saw Cleopatra sleeping by the door to the bathroom with a note posted on the wall reading Feed Me. She was alone, but it wasn’t a bad start to the day. She spent the morning working out, swimming, and eating. He’d left her detailed instructions on the alarm and all the emergency numbers, and despite it all, she felt pretty good. She even took the dog for a long walk ran a few errands before for going back to the house to relax.

A few things you’d notice about A.J. Becker’s house besides being way out of a cop’s pay grade was that it had nothing that made it a home. It seemed like a furnished rental house just cleaned with no special items or pictures which could give you incite to the man. Everyone knew he had received awards and honors for his service, he was proud of his military time, and he’d done well at sports but nothing was on display. Sure there were concealed weapons, but no trace of lovers or friend could be found unless you went prying.

A safe room made sense for a cop that was wanted dead by so many people, but A.J. had a bunker and while many would have simply stopped at the illegal arsenal that would be the envy of most special operators there was much more to be had. Pictures of a troubled youth where a young boy became a killer and fought to be the kind of many he wanted to be. There were pictures of lovers and friends along with wedding pictures and all kinds’ keepsakes. There were files and computers show that the man was always a cop searching for answers, but it seemed his whole life was locked up in this room. All the love and the pain he had.

A.J.’s softer side was on display on a fridge filled with pop and the outside it was covered with drawings of children in his life. There were also a half a dozen pictures of Yareli on a bulletin board from work along with the Academy shot that was in her file. There were also a few sketches of her done from memory. The pictures of Michelle had been put away somewhere which spoke volumes considering how so many others were displayed. They were in some file drawer along with a few of her old videos. This was the side of himself he hid from the world.

When she did put the news on Vice City News (VCN) was reporting all about Mr. Cruise. His picture was shown along with shots of police at crime scenes. Thankfully her apartment wasn’t mentioned and only a shot of the station house was shown as the reporter concluded the report. Yareli smirked and thought now try and hide you bastard. She walked into the kitchen and broke out her custom submachine gun she’d gotten from a Hawk & Little representative who was in Washington. The bull dyke was a lot of fun to hang out with, and they’d spent a weekend on a farm in Virginia shooting and doing other things.

She laid they weapon out remembering how Darlington was all over her asking details and not believing they’d just had some girl time during the retreat. Of course, she didn’t let him know a single thing which drove him crazy. This SMG had extended 60 round magazines, laser sight, scope, and flashlight. It was the envy of all the SWAT guys, and it would shred most targets. When she had a shot at that psycho she was going to eviscerate him. So with Cleopatra sleeping under the table she took it apart and cleaned it. She was going to be ready next time.

“Cómo está mi niña Becker,” Virginia Juderías inquired as she walked into the men’s locker room without hesitation.

Becker looked up from the bench next to his locker and just shook his head and replied, “Ella está bien, y usted sabe que este es el vestuario de los hombres verdad?

“Tengo cuatro chicos se han casado tres veces y bebido más cerveza y jodido más entonces usted tiene miel por lo que no me importa,” she replied glancing at men who were now hurriedly walking out or heading back into the showers.

Clad in only a towel Becker stood up and gave her a hug and whispered in her ear, “I won’t let anything happen to my partner you know that. She’ll be fine. She’ll be even better when we put him in the ground.”

Virginia pulled back and took out a pack of cigarettes and tapped the bottom. “Everyone is looking for him. Soon he won’t have a rock to hide under. Those poor chicas who died at the hands of that animal I prayed for them at church.”

“Yeah, it’s sad alright. So why did you come in here?”

“Jaime Gold that chick from Vice is here to see you about a special assignment. You know the one who makes such a convincing whore.”

“Yeah, she has trashy undercover looks down to a science. Last night we came up empty. I pretty much expected that, but tonight we’re going to give him something he can’t resist.”

After the intimate meeting with his favorite sergeant lieutenant, A.J. Becker got down to business. Being a supervisor in law enforcement in a city that was at a constant state of war despite the sun and the sand was all about catching up with your overworked detectives. So the morning was spent hearing about open cases, gunfights, and the normal complaints of the rank and file. It wasn’t so much about whether the job would burn you out it was a question of when. It was a reminder that for every rock star there were still plenty of musicians still slogging it out. There was no real progress on his friend’s murder, but otherwise, the criminals were behaving predictably.

During the late afternoon he was finally able to get out of the office and when he hopped in his truck he waited for a long moment before realizing he was waiting for someone who wasn’t coming. Seemed like the whole morning ihe was waiting for Yareli to walk over and interrupt or tell him it was time for lunch maybe even affectionately let him know she was there. What was it about that loud, opinionated, hard ass Latina? Hard as nails one minute then warm and soft the next, and for someone who’d spent the majority of his career avoiding having a partner now he missed having one and it had been only half a day.

He drove through Little Havana to get some chicken and rice, and while he had a million choices there was one in particular heading today. As he drove by the market he’d handed out a beating at the first day he was with Yareli he laughed to himself. Then he was content to be a jerk until she transferred, and he hoped a display of street justice would put her off, but it didn’t and he respected that. He didn’t think she was aspiring to be a cop’s wife, and she didn’t rat, so maybe he’d found something special. One thing he didn’t want to call her was a working wife though. Maybe it’s because he wanted her around for more than a good fuck.
Special Fried Vice had recently acquired Wok & Roll in what had been called the little Chinese war in Vice City. The Asian population of the city was small which meant its criminal subculture was an even fraction of that. While they weren’t in the news as often as the Haitians and Cubans it only meant the fought for what little they had even more viciously. Traditionally the triads in Vice City were into counterfeiting and smuggling, but after power shift, thanks to Vercetti and their own civil war crews were into everything thanks to an infusion of cocaine money.
One up-and-coming Lieutenant was Jimmy Wayne a third generation Chinese American who would proudly brag about his communist fighting family and their realization of the American dream. The fact was the guy was a brutal martial artist who ruled with an iron fist. He smuggled guns, drugs, and if you ran into a Chinese girl working the streets she was part of his stable. College educated and physically tough he was at home in a boardroom or a street fight and that made him dangerous. They’d met before and the guy knew how things were, but today he had no interest in being social.

He pulled around back the restaurant warehouse the triad leader had in the heart of Little Havana’s war zone and ignored that he was spotted. He drove through the alley and didn’t even slow down when he saw a dice game being played by a bunch of thugs near the rear door. They angrily scattered and as he stepped out of his truck he saw weapons being pulled. Clearly, the little creeps didn’t know who they were dealing with today.

They all charged but he grabbed ahold of the first attacker disarming him and slamming the man into the truck and then using his knife he plunged it into the side of the next crowbar wielding thug. He did his own edge of hand strike to the man’s neck to make sure he stayed down picked up the crowbar. It was just in time as another man came swinging a bat above his head. He dropped low though and took him out at the knees and once down he gave him another whack. Several others looked on nervously holding switchblades backing towards the open door.

Becker just glared at them and yelled, “Next!” angrily at them.

The situation was defused by a loud voice speaking in Chinese. Slowly the men put their weapons away and began helping their friends. Soon Jimmy Wayne appeared in the doorway. He was in cargo pants and a sleeveless shirt showing off his impressive body builder physique. He switched to English and made himself clear how he felt when he said, “You idiots! You should have let Lt. Becker park and guard his truck! You deserve to be beaten and you let one man do this to you! You’re pathetic.”

He walked over and offered Becker his hand and said, “I apologize for my men. What can I do for you, Detective?”

A short time later Detective Becker found himself in the dark dank warehouse basement blasting away at mannequins wearing bullet proof vests. The modified AK-47 was shredding apart the targets and their armor with ease. Wayne was right next to him doing the same as the pair were trying to outdo each other while Wayne’s crew and a few female hangers-on watch. When they ran out of ammunition they stopped and took off their hearing protection as crew members collected the weapons.

“We got these from the arsenal of the People's Republic of China, but unlike other arms dealers we modified them and fixed any of the chronic problems. Add to that we only sell cop killer ammunition, no offense, we give our clients an edge in the field.”

Wayne paused and lit up a cigarette and offered Becker one who took it with a nod of thanks. Before continuing he ordered one of his underlings in Chinese to package one for the detective with full accessories and plenty of ammunition as well as a few other things. “Now as to the real reason you’re here, I wish I could help man. I lost a lot on that shipment and you lost a friend and his people.”
Two bottles of Chinese beer were passed over to the pair and Wayne poured some of the floor. “For the good men, we’ve lost to the game. This ain’t about talking to the cops. I mean all I know is lately everyone is getting hit. Just this is the first time it’s been local. Somebody has a crew with real military experience and training and they’re murdering thugs mad crazy. But you think you can help me out some?”

Becker downed his beer and walked to the steps and turned around. “Yeah, I will help you out. I won’t tell those morons at gang intelligence about your little operation here. Also how about if I find out you’re lying to me I’ll only kill you and not all your men too.”

Wayne grunted and nodded. “You’re cold blooded Becker, and don’t worry. The triads have enough enemies with you taking an interest.”

A.J. left the building and drove off in his truck glancing in the rear view to see a few angry faces, but also a box of Chinese food, a case of imported beer, and a crate containing his new rifle. Hardly a comfort for not getting the information he wanted, but he knew Wayne wasn’t about to lie. He lost a lot of cocaine that was his responsibility to transport, so he’d be more than happy to hand them over to him especially if they were dangerous. At least he had lunch take care of.
So he found a quiet spot overlooking the water and turned off the radio and leaned back and cracked open a beer and took a container of pork fried rice and began eating with chopsticks. While he liked looking at the boats there was something missing. It was the first time in a while that he hadn’t shared lunch with Yareli. They’d been working constantly and even days off there were phone calls. He glanced briefly at the portable phone unit in the truck and shook his head. She didn’t need a call from him to let her know he missed her. If she felt anything for him beyond lust she’d be missing him too.

The rest of the day was fairly typical with him stopping at crime scenes, checking in with informants and officers, and making a few pickups. Yareli’s money was put into a satchel she had slung over the back of the passenger seat. It was one of the several things she’d added to his domain that while was small but meant a lot. Among his collection of pictures, she’d added one of her as a little girl with Maria at the beach and another of her with Mama Torres and her sitting on the hood of a classic muscle car. A sawed off double barrel shotgun in a crude holster was tucked into the passenger side door. Yeah, the woman was part of his life whether he liked it or not.

While Detective Becker was taking care of business investigative journalist Lauri Mendoza was also working a new story. She’d been a reporter since she was 20 leaving college and turning an internship with for the Winston-Salem Messenger into a full-time job. It wasn’t easy for a woman to make it in journalism, but she used all of her mind and body to get what she wanted. She’d covered conflicts and corruption all over the globe and won a lot of awards and made a lot of enemies. Sure she was all American, but she’d made a career uncovering the all the CIA’s underhanded operations. She was sure during the last trip to South America she narrowly escaped a death squad.

All that was miles away though as she rode Jenson Fisher’s hard cock on her hotel room bed. She’d been trolling the bars, smoking, and talking to people. It wasn’t so much to get a lead but to get a feel for the city that had become a war zone filled with civil corruption. They’d met in some dive bar near Hyman Condos downtown where he was crying into his beer about not being able to get ahold of his friend Darlington and how he cheated on his wife and worse. She was interested in the worse and after a few more drinks and some cigarettes, she knew she had a story.

It took some pizza and the promise of sex to get him back to the Moist Palms Hotel to talk about his experience. Well, he didn’t know he was being taped, but this guy needed to confess and he had some issues. He drank and over ate and then felt unattractive so he sought out sex, but then he felt bad about cheating so he went back to eating and drinking. They’d spent the night talking and in the early morning hours, they did it on the floor. Exhausted they fell asleep and after more food and talking they were at it again as the sun was going down, and they were at it again.

He really wasn’t a bad lay actually and his boyish nature was sweet so she had no problem getting on her knees and taking his semi-hard cock in her mouth. He moaned and groaned until he was rock hard so she laid him down on the bed and after they caressed each other she lowered herself down onto his swollen member. He started slow so they’d get a rhythm down, but once they did she felt an orgasm building in no time. The sensual in and out was even better the second time and soon he shot his warm seed inside her and she reached down and lovingly caressed his face. A few minutes later they were sitting up in bed smoking making small talk.

In the throes of passion neither of them heard the door unlock and several men slipping into the room. They probably just noticed the shadows of the two that walked into the bedroom, but barely had a chance to cry out before they were cut down in a hail of muted gunfire. They were cruelly methodical in how thorough they were in dealing with the pair. They took machetes to the bodies and took every recording and scrap of paper they could find and made every effort cover their tracks while still sending a message. The secret was safe and soon they were out of the building within minutes of finishing their task.

Outside Blake Darlington sat uncomfortably in a black Washington car next to an individual that had only been introduced to him as Mr. Black a special consultant involved with banking who said he’d worked with the Bureau and other agencies before. The man didn’t talk much about what he did for the government but happily chatted about local sports and his favorite motorcycle racing. Suddenly the tension was cut when the man’s car phone rang.

After a few words were exchanged the man hung up and turned to Darlington and smiled and said, “It is done. He left us no choice, but don’t blame yourself. You did the right thing telling us about the phone messages. Also, don’t lose any sleep over a traitor son. Oh and from what I understand your superiors are very pleased. You’re looking at a promotion and a commendation if you keep up the good work.”

Nothing more was said and Darlington just stared out the window as the stranger drove him to the golf course for a game with a number of influential people. He had to think of a life after being an agent and that meant being successful and doing right by the right people. So he pushed the thoughts of his friend and his wife aside and went into the club locker room and changed. He laughed at the stupid jokes, drank, and did his best to let his hosts win. Yareli always said loyalty above all else except honor. It was some street bullshit, but it was in the back of his head all day.

By the time A.J. Becker took care of business he was pulling up to his house around 7pm. He parked and carried a few bags yelling for Yareli as he came into the house. He heard her yell back from the kitchen and headed inside. He walked into the kitchen and found Yareli in shorts, a t-shirt, and an apron dancing to Spanish music as she cut two large Cuban sandwiches in half with a smile that quickly turned into dismay as she looked in his direction. She was also sporting a new hair style which was a lovely pair of long braids.

Before he could say a work though she blurted out, “I told you I’d cook when you called in don’t you listen?”

“Yes I did honey but this was a gift along with a few other things from an informant and I didn’t get a chance to drop it off at the homeless shelter. By the way, your hair looks pretty.”

“Oh well put it in the fridge then we might want it later. Greasy Chinese food is good after drinking, and thank you, baby,” she said batting her eyelashes.
“I got it done along with my nails at this little place next to Alexander’s Fresh Market you know Alexander and his wife Rosario pretty well. Oh, they were sorry the delivery was late last week.”

As he put the food away A.J. let out a laugh and turned around from the fridge looking back at Yareli. “Yeah they’re good hard working people and it was the first time in three years I think I’ll survive.”

“Yeah, they told me about how you helped them with all the permits and saved them from that armed robber who was going to kill them. Oh yeah, I added some stuff to your regular order. Oh and Leila says hi she’s home from school visiting. She asked if I was the girlfriend.”

A.J. was just taking out two cans of beer when Yareli teased him about Leila and he just shook his head and replied, “I never touched her besides she’s a baby. She isn’t an unattractive girl though.”

“Oh save it she’s gorgeous and she’s a cheerleader who’s going to be a pharmacist. She’s a catch, but explain to me why you’re such a nice guy when so many cops can afford to be jerks to everybody. Just about anyone else would expect free groceries for life and bang their daughter for helping them out.”
“Don’t let the truth get out you’ll ruin my reputation.”

“That’s not an answer I know you can be a badass and be a good man, but why do you do it do it papi?”

“Because you should at least try and do the right thing.”

That seemed to be a good enough answer and the pair cuddled up on the couch and ate their sandwiches with beer and chips while they watched TV together. It was hardly high class but it was close and comfortable. They shared a few more beers, took the dog out, and sat out beside the pool smoking for a while. In the cool evening air Becker told his partner everything about the day she wasn’t there to witness. He shared the good, the bad, and the ugly that was part of his life. He couldn’t remember the last time he did that with someone.

Michelle was still upset and the last few days had been filled with self-medicating and meaningless or what she called her normal life. In a search for companionship, she turned a few tricks at various hotels drank with strangers until last call and let the depression get the better of her. Eventually, she began to get what Becker had been doing with her. She deserved better, and she had to do better for herself. He didn’t want to be with her and have a full life, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have one. Gradually the angry and fear gave way. She’d be sad, but she’d work through the pain not numb it anymore.

She isolated herself capitalized on the moment of clarity and began boxing everything up in the apartment that was hers. In the end, it really wasn’t much. After all, she’d bought everything with A.J. and it was all his money. He kept telling her to keep what she’d earned in the bank and she’d mostly listened. After a lot of false starts, she began flushing her rather large stash. Her roommate wouldn’t be happy, but she was in the hospital still so she’d have to deal with it whenever she got out.

She cleaned late into the evening made another important decision she was done being Mystique. She’d done porn, stripped, and turned tricks and while she didn’t know what she was going to do next it was time for her call it quits. The next man she had sex with would be someone she loved and she’d be sober. So she began throwing out most of the trashy clothes she’d worn, plenty of videos and pictures she’d done and shredded her client book. She stopped at her sex toy collection and just boxed them. She was going to be a new woman, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have fun too.

After an emotional night, she finally decided to get dressed so she put on a Love Fist concert tee, jeans and flip flops and went to the garage and took her red and white Sandking out for a spin. She waived to the federal agents smoking in the garage and headed out. She’d bought it so she could go off-roading with A.J., hell even the t-shirt she had on was from a concert she’d went to with him, but as she drove she realized it wasn’t a bad thing. They’d shared a lot of experience, but now she was going to have some new ones. Also, she was hungry and for the first time in a while, she was going to have a meal without diet pills.

She pulled into Tacopalypse and walked in and sighed looking at the long line. As she waited to place her order she noticed a bulletin board filled with fliers. There were ads for college which might be interesting, military recruitment ads which made her giggle, but the large flier from Schuman Health Care Center caught her attention. They were offering meetings for people trying to overcome substance abuse as well as counseling. The line made her move forward but after she got her tacos she went back and saw that she could still make one of the evening meetings.

She ate as she drove and soon was at the hospital. She sat in the parking lot debating about whether she’d just visit her friend or just get information and come back another time. She once again realized this wasn’t something she could put off and while she’d always managed to get by she decided the beach would look even prettier when she was sober so she walked into the hospital and made a beeline to the meeting room. It hadn’t started yet so she headed over to the coffee cart in the back and brushed by a man who nearly spilled his coffee.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s okay I didn’t get any on me. You must be new here. My name is Jimmy what’s yours? Oh ah don’t worry we only use first names here. I was new not too long ago. Life really sucked but a friend of mine told me I could do better and I knew she was right.”

“I’m Michelle and I have a friend like that too. He believes in tough love, but well he was right.”

The corruption that was part Vice City lead to criminals being back on the street quickly thanks to the overworked court system or paying off the right people. Even murders walked out of police stations if they had bail money and few made it to court and even those caught again would just have to pay more to get back onto the streets. Maria wasn’t so lucky though and after her stint in the hospital, she was back in the county jail her home away from home. Still, though her reputation made a difference and she saw that right away.

She was alone in a dorm room meant for six, and she had plenty of everything she needed. She got better food and had her own pull-up bar stand to workout with and plenty of books. She also found out from Angel she wasn’t going to have to depend on the public defender and thanks to her she’d also secretly received some letters and pictures from Claire. The situation wasn’t good, but far better than it had been just weeks before.

When it was her turn to use the shower that night she made the female officer blush as she walked out carrying her toiletries in a bag and with her towel over her shoulder. Except for her flip flops, she was naked and she just smiled and blew a kiss. In the shower, she relaxed and enjoyed the hot water on her back, but suddenly she was brought back to reality as she realized she wasn’t alone and turned to the shadow in the doorway ready to fight.

“Relax chica it’s a friend,” said a voice from the darkness that soon became recognizable as Frida de la Cruz walked into view. The woman stood close to six feet tall even barefoot and her long raven hair cascaded down her shoulders on her dark brown skin. She was a mix of Cuban, Mexican, and Native American heritage and she was as mean as she was beautiful. She was a regular at the county jail, and she considered herself a professional smuggler who believed you could steal from anyone but her. She walked to the shower next to Maria and turned on the water, but the two women quickly embraced.

Maria and her and hooked up many times over the years inside and outside of jail. They always watched each other’s backs and while so many things were dark inside they shared a special kind of love. As they held each other Maria softly whispered, “Nobody told me you were here honey. How you been?”
Frida stepped back and began washing her long hair and smiled. “Better for seeing you, honey. I was in a shootout with some guys who tried to rip me off. You know soldier types, but things got out of hand and a cop died. It wasn’t me I was running by then, but they’re holding everyone. My money ain’t talking like normal.”

“I know how you feel. I’m the only one who survives the armored car job so they want to put it all on me.”

“And they never caught the guy who shot you either. That sucks,” she said as she reached and caressed the scar that was now on Maria’s chest and softly said,” don’t worry you’re still pretty baby. So tomorrow I’ll see about getting us put in together it will be good to be with you again.”

Maria paused and looked own at her friend's hand and got a little choked up. She gently took it on her hand and squeezed it and looked into her friend’s eyes. “Frida what we had was so special honey, but I can’t I mean I’m in love with someone and I want to be true to her even if I’m locked up. I don’t want to fight you and I don’t want you to hate me.”

After a long moment, her longtime partner and friend nodded. “Okay honey we don’t need to play house this time. I’m happy for you. A little sad too, but let’s live together we can just be friends besides you’re one of the few I really trust around here. So tell me about this woman who stole your heart.”

Officer Jaime Gold was a stuntwoman by trade, but like so many others she fell into law enforcement because it was a steady job with benefits. Besides her career really wasn’t going anywhere, she was always playing hookers in the low budget action flicks, so being a cop was a good change. She still had the beach and plenty of action, but what got her known in the department was her ability to change her looks so well nobody would recognize her. She proved that last year when she busted three cops on three separate occasions for soliciting a prostitute.
Tonight though she was trying to help a fellow officer and she walked and behaved as much as she could like Yareli Robina. Fortunately she knew the woman and thought she was doing a pretty good job of it with the wig and clothes helping her to sell the look. At the market place she bought a few items and the man behind the counter wished called her Yareli and wished her well so she was sure it would fool someone at a distance.

Charles Cruz was completely taken by the performance being put on for his benefit so much he didn’t even think it was odd that she’d gone back and forth down the block before entering her building. He didn’t care tonight would be the night he’d be able to have Yareli all to himself. Once he was inside her he knew she’d want to be his one and only. Oh, he’d still continue with his work, but he’d enjoy it as a man in love. He’d kill the cowboy, but that would come later.

He waited until he saw the lights go on in her apartment before he broke out the rock climbing equipment he had stashed in his van parked around back. One of the many activities he’d picked up was mountain climbing. It was a great workout and more than once he’d fulfilled his urges by cutting a partner free and watching them fall. Tonight though clad in black he was going to climb the tower and take his princess and everything would be happily ever after.

He was motived by lust and frustration and it fueled him up the side of the building as residences listened to music and TV oblivious to him making his way to Yareli’s balcony. Once there he set up and emergency line for quick escape out of habit. He knew he wouldn’t need though. He’d be leaving in the morning after she’d made him coffee. He saw some movement in the kitchen before making his way to the balcony door and easily popping the lock. He crept into the apartment and made his way through the living room.

He could see Yareli at the kitchen sink doing something. So domestic he thought as he cried out, “Hello lover I’m here for you.”

Then Cruz heard someone from the side yell, “So are we asshole,” what happened next was so fast Cruz wasn’t sure what happened first, but he felt the blast of a shotgun hit his side knocking him down. As he scrambled to get up he saw Yareli or a woman who looked like her leveling a pistol at him. Before he could go for his machete though another shotgun blast him square in the chest. It knocked him back through the glass door and hit the concrete floor hard. The utility vest and the body armor had saved him, but he was still thriving in pain.

As he looked up he saw a hulking brute of a black man come after him with the woman in tow. What was happening? His dream had been so perfect, but he didn’t have time to contemplate the situation. He grabbed hold of the escape line and dove over the side of the building. He swung to a few levels below but knew he couldn’t wait as he heard a man’s voice curse loudly as he hammered at the climbing spike he’d left behind. So he quickly rigged another line and rappelled down the side of the building.

Gun shots ricocheted off the side of the building as he made his way down and he could hear police sirens in the background. Once in his van, he sped down the alley as bullets riddled the roof of the van. Driving so fast he hit the front of a cab as he drove out into the street. He tried to pull away, but he’d blown a tire, so he took the .45 pistol he had under the front seat and got out of his vehicle. The angry cab driver came over to confront him but seeing the gun backed off as Cruz limped over to a motorcyclist who’d stopped nearby.

Cruz was in a lot of pain so he began firing wildly, but the man on the bike ran off without a fight. He started the bike and rocketed off before the police arrived. After what seemed like an eternity he made it back to his safe house. He bandaged his wounds and took a massive quantity of pharmacy grade pain killers and collapsed on his bed. He’d never had a close call like this and he’d almost died at the hands of some thug. This was unacceptable, and once he was healed he was going to kill that bitch. She’d rejected his love and what’s more, she tried to have him killed. As he drifted off into his drug filled sleep he dreamed of all the evil things he would do to her and the city.

A.J. and Yareli were sleeping peacefully in her room when his unlisted house line began ringing. Yareli was lying in his chest and he turned to read the clock which said 3 o’clock. She stirred a little as he slid out from under her and got up waking Cleopatra who followed him into the master bedroom. They’d ended up in her room after several hours of hot sweaty sex. They’d showered together and while he rubbed her shoulders she said they should sleep in her nice dry bed and in the morning she’d do the sheets. For someone who didn’t want to live with him, she seemed like a good.

That wasn’t on his mind when he picked up the phone and Jaime Gold was on the other end. She explained the situation and Little Texas grabbed the phone a few minutes later and explained the situation. He told them they’d done a good job though he was cursing the fact that the little creep had gotten away and told them to secure the place and sit tight. He hung up and called the tour commander who had little to add other than the fact that’d just missed the creep. It wasn’t for lack of trying though.

The police had been seconds behind him and L.T. and Jamie had filled the van with so many bullets it was a wonder that Cruz made it to the end of the alley. Kenya who was walking the block for his part fired at Cruz and was sure he’d knocked out one of the lights on the motorcycle. For A.J. he knew this was something he’d have to do himself and next time Cruz wouldn’t be so lucky. As he hung up the phone he saw Yareli clad only in a t-shirt standing in the door.

“Did they get him Papi?”

“No honey they didn’t. Came damn close though and they hurt him real bad. We’ll find him.”

“I know baby will you come back to bed with me.”

“Sure baby.”

While I wait...

Haven't hear from my partner in awhile, but she is in my thoughts. Also though are all the people in Florida and Texas who are suffering. Also, today is an another sad anniversary of another tragedy. I encourage everyone to find a way to help people out. This story takes place in a fictional version of Miami just coming off major storm damage. The reality is there are a million stories of loss and tragedy. As we all escape and have fun take a moment and think about all those who can't escape reality.

Dedicated to Yareli & A.J.

https://youtu.be/MmyDosjjP5U

Missing my partner...

but not interested in continuing this one with anyone else. If you enjoy the read great, if you find inspiration fantastic, and if you'd like to write something else with me I'm more than happy to chat about it. Otherwise, I'm waiting patiently.

Merry Christmas From Vice City

Bump....hope my partner returns. Hope everyone enjoyed reading this.

Looks like my main character

There was a time in her life that Yareli Robina couldn’t imagine herself in a situation like this. Living with a man whose presence she actually cherished, despite outward appearances. If she were being honest, Yareli would admit that her increasingly cantankerous attitude had more to do with inactivity than being relegated to her partner’s impressive estate. Though she grumbled, preparing his meals and folding his laundry wasn’t that big of a deal to her. There was pleasure in his appreciation of the dinners she prepared, a sort of solace in consciously going to bed together at night. It was a normalcy that the young detective never thought she’d experience, let alone enjoy. Granted she kept that bit to herself but she was sure Becker noticed the subtle changes in her demeanor. Her willingness to spend time with him with their clothes on. The playful debates that didn’t devolve into verbal battery. Despite her annoyance at being confined, Yareli still laughed, played tug with Cleopatra, and offered her insight to their case rooster.

But after a week or so the solitude was starting to get to her. Spending time with Becker was great but Yareli didn’t realize how much she would miss her friends, however short that list might have been. She hadn’t talked to Penelope since the funeral, hadn’t heard from Briggs since that meeting on his bench. It was Becker’s idea for Yareli to have some company every once in awhile.

“Look Robina, nobody said you had to be here by yourself. I told you more than once to make yourself at home…”

“So if I wanted to invite Briggs,” she said with a smirk and Becker shot her a look that completely negated his next words.

“Invite who you want...I don’t give a shit. So long as you clean up your mess,” he said before walking off with a huff.

She had no intentions of inviting her ex-partner and former lover for a roll in the guest bedroom at El Swanko but maybe a girls’ night was in order. A little food, a lot of booze, and a good measure of giggling would surely lift her spirits, and regardless of her teasing, Yareli had no intentions of including anyone with a cock or a badge for that matter. In the time she’d spent at Becker’s place, Yareli gave up trying to convince herself that what had developed between them was just a fling. If that were the case she wouldn’t get butterflies when she heard his truck rumbling up the driveway, nor would she be pacing the floor in front of the big window on the second floor that looked out over the front yard until she saw those floodlights. She still wouldn’t call it love but it damn sure wasn’t the nothing she claimed it to be. Not anymore anyway.

But despite his approval, Yareli waited until Becker was out of the house before she started making arrangements. Her first call was to Penelope who she knew would jump at the chance for a little girl time with her sometimes lover. Caroline was next and after some arguing with her father about her taking the night off, she agreed to come with booze. The last call wouldn’t be so simple, or so Yareli thought when she dialed the front desk at The Ocean View Hotel and asked to be connected to the most recent ex-Mrs. Becker’s room. It was a shot in the dark but Yareli figured with the way Caroline Hawthorne was dressed she wouldn’t be staying anywhere on the mainland, plus it was closer to Tommy’s widow than the Marina Sands. But still she crossed her fingers at the receptionist’s pause and pumped her fist when the call was transferred.

Caroline Hawthorne was finishing up the last of Tommy Anderson’s estate when her room phone rang. She hadn’t been expecting any calls but still she answered it on the second ring with a pleasant, “Good afternoon.”

“Caroline...it’s Detective Robina...uhhh Yareli…”

“You're using the phone. I’m assuming this is a social call,” she said with a grin, leaning back in her chair to look out over the beach through the sliding glass doors that led to the balcony. “How did you know I was staying here anyway? I don’t recall mentioning…”

“I am a detective,” was Yareli’s chuckling response, but Caroline heard it as a release of tension. “Designer purse. You got out of a hired car, not a taxi. Expensive shoes. That ring…”

“Alright, alright, you’re good at your job,” Caroline said with a smirk and Yareli laughed outright on the other end. “To what do I owe the pleasure Detective?”

“You said something about getting together for drink. Wanted to make sure that wasn’t bullshit in front of your ex-husband.”

“No bullshit,” Caroline said with a chuckle as she pushed back from the desk and began her to pace between the bed and the desk. She wasn’t nervous, not about talking to Yareli anyway. Phone calls in general got her a little out of sorts. “I’m actually glad you called. I was beginning to think I scared you off…”

“Ehhh...I don’t scare that easy,” Yareli said and again Caroline laughed.

“I would imagine not given your track record with VCPD...and elsewhere...Anyhow, what did you have in mind? I’m in town for the next week or so…”

“How about tomorrow night? I hate to admit it but I’m a little estrogen starved at the moment. Nothing crazy...you’d make five. And don’t worry you won’t be the only white chick,” Yareli added with a chuckle, imagining an eye roll on the other end of the line.

“I wasn’t concerned at all,” Caroline lied, making Yareli laugh.

“Yeah, sure you weren’t...I would be,” she admitted before giving her maybe boyfriend/partner’s ex-wife the details of the evening. Drinks and food at Becker’s with transportation provided by Penelope’s new beau, all she had to do was be ready at nine.

“Is this party going to travel,” was Caroline’s only question and Yareli laughed little.

“Nope, so leave the pumps in the suitcase and bring a bathing suit…”

“I never leave without it. I spent my most formative years in Vice City, I know the drill.”

“Right, so you’re coming then?”

“Sure, why not? Get the hard questions out of the way first…”

“No, none of that, just some regular old girl’s time.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

Yareli could only hope but she kept that to herself as they said their goodbyes. Next up was a shot in the dark but something in her felt like she had to call LaShawna, her long lost group home buddy. Partially to keep tabs on her but mostly to re-establish some sort of connection to her hometown. Her growing relationship with Becker had forced Yareli to admit a very hard truth about her life. She’d been living a pretty disconnected life since her return because, in her head, she had no intentions of sticking around. Being with Becker made her want to put down roots and sure up the bonds that she’d shied away from for the last few years.

And at the moment, two of those bonds were being tested in an interrogation/attorney meeting room at the county jail where recently unretire attorney Alfonso Torres sat with his new client. For a person who still maintained her innocence, Maria Romeo was less than conversational when it came to the details of her case. Vice City’s winningest DA wasn’t surprised, people like her were used to clamming up whenever he stopped by for a visit. But today was supposed to be different. It would be different. Today Alfonso Torres began what he hoped would be a short stint in criminal defense. A favor for his daughter, Vice City’s newest hot shot detective. A favor that was proving more difficult than the file in front of him implied.

The fact was they had sat at this table before, almost two decades ago. Before Yareli came into his life, Alfonso Torres fought to give Maria Romeo her first aggravated assault charge. Five years later, it was him who lead the charge against Alberto Robina, Yareli’s own father. Both were good enough reasons for Maria not to want to talk but Alfonso knew it was the latter that caused the most animosity. It was him she blamed for the trauma that befell her friend and as far as she was concerned, his taking Yareli into his home was only to absolve himself of the guilt.

His only solution was to tell her everything there was to know about his relationship with the Robinas. That without Yareli’s father, he probably wouldn’t have achieved so much so fast. He’d probably still be a struggling prosecutor instead of a retired DA. They spent weeks in interview rooms together, Alfonso and Alberto, in his bid to avoid the death penalty. It was Alfonso who told Alberto of his wife’s death, and it was Alfonso who held him as he sobbed. That moment changed him, professionally and personally. He started to see the man beyond the rap sheet. A man who loved his wife, who wanted the best for his daughter. A man who, if given better tools, might have lead a completely different life. That didn’t excuse the murder and mayhem, but Alfonso began to see the layers of his character and an unlikely partnership grew. Alberto would give him information on anybody but the Cubans, in exchange for keeping him informed about his daughter. It was Alberto’s wish for her to placed in foster care, assuming that his gorgeous little angel would be adopted quickly. The prosecutor tried his best to caution the hardened criminal against it but ultimately his entire career hinged on the one favor, so he accepted the deal and kept his promise for the first five years or so, then he got promoted and somehow he lost track of her.

When he got the call from Det. Peter Smith about a 16-year-old abuse victim he didn’t expect the girl in the bed to be Yareli Robina. A wreck with guilt, Alfonso couldn’t help but think that this was all his fault and when he went to inform Alberto, he only felt worse. The man immediately forgave him, said that if he’d done his job as a father Alfonso wouldn’t have had the opportunity to fail her. This he explained to his daughter in a clandestine bedside visit arranged by the now district attorney. It was that meeting that convinced Yareli to testify on the behalf of herself and the countless other victims from her foster home. Her story put a spotlight on the broken system and made Alfonso Torres a hero again, but this time it did nothing for his ego. He didn’t feel redeemed as Alberto said he should, so he decided to do what he should have done in the first place. Again it was Alberto who convinced his daughter to give the Torreses a chance to give her a better life, the life she deserved. Unfortunately, this conversation had to be had over the phone.

“...You know what he said to her...No tienes que ser como yo solo porque te llaman por mi nombre, mija...that’s all it took for her to look at me and my wife and say, ‘Fuck it I’ll go.’ She’s known this and yet she still trusts me to do right by her. In nearly twenty years, I haven’t broken that trust, not once Ms. Romeo...not once. When I say that I’m here to help…”

“You don’t give a fuck about me,” Maria grumbled and Alfonso shrugged his shoulders.

“You’re right Ms. Romeo, I don’t,” was his simple response and Maria rolled her eyes. “But I’ll do anything for my daughter…”

“You’re not getting any brownie points off my back old man.”

“Well Ms. Romeo, I’ll share that with Yareli...and Claire, I’m sure they’ll both be thrilled to know that you’ve chosen stubbornness over your freedom,” Alfonso said as he closed his portofolio and began pushing himself back from the table.

“Wait! You talked to Claire…”

“Of course I talked to her...I talked to a number of people before accepting your case Ms. Romeo, all of whom said that you were a short fused, degenerate, asshole,” he said with a raised eyebrow as he got to his feet. “But they also said that you are kind, ambitious, generous, and smarter than you let on. But most importantly the common consensus was that you my dear are no killer. A reformed thief with penchant for violence but a killer you are not and I believe it. You’ve had a hard life Ms. Romeo and you were well on your way to making something out of yourself, let me help you get back on track. Don’t let them railroad you out of spite. Ella dice que sabes algo ... algo que no puedes decirle.”

Maria didn’t say anything, simply stared out the single barred window at the sun setting over Vice City. A million thoughts went through her head in the time it took her new lawyer to finish his speech and call for the guard, but only one of them matter. Neither woman would forgive her if she let him walk away.

“Chill Booker, we’re good,” Maria said to the guard who’d escorted her from her cell only 15 minutes before. “Right Mr. Torres?”

“Why is my client in shackles Officer Booker,” Alfonso asked with as much of the contemptuous air of a defense attorney that he could muster. “And don’t feed me any of that “for your safety” bullshit! My client has been nothing but a model prisoner thus far and will continue to be such so long as she is treated with the respect and dignity that she deserves. Does my client look like an animal to you Officer Booker?”

“No, sir, but…”

“Then why is she in chains?!? It’s bad enough that she is essentially being charged with her own attempted murder. You people are literally adding insult to injury…”

“But sir…”

“Remove the shackles or I will be forced to file a complaint with Warden Salazar...at our dominos game tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” was Officer Booker’s quick reply, nearly tripping over himself to release Maria from her chains. “Is there anything else you need sir?”

“My client would like a fresh pack of redwoods and a cold beverage…”

“Ecola,” Maria interjected with a grin.

“You heard the woman…”

“Yes sir.”

“You really know Salty Sal,” Maria asked as soon as Officer Booker closed the door.

“Since high school, second base and short stop for Vice City High. 1943 state champs,” he said with a note of pride as he regained his seat and popped open his briefcase. “Best man at each other’s weddings...how do you think you got the only single cell on your block?”

By then Officer Booker was back, visibly winded and sweating, with Maria’s treats and Alfonso fixed him with a glare that had the young officer shrinking back out of sight. Once the door was closed again, Alfonso finished emptying the contents of his briefcase onto the table. His portfolio, a tape recorder, the case file compiled by his daughter, and a pair of Cuban sandwiches. Maria’s eyes lit up at the sight of the latter and Alfonso smiled as he slid one across the table to her.

“From my wife,” he said with a slight smile as Maria tore into the greasy paper. “Yareli talked a lot about you when we first got her and she’d like very much to meet you sometime…”

“Yeah she said she’s pretty awesome,” she said around a mouth full of the roast porky goodness.

“Eat your sandwich Ms. Romeo…”

“Maria,” she corrected with an outstretched hand.

“Alfonso,” was his quick reply, taking her hand to shake.

“She said you ain’t too bad either.”

While Maria and Alfonso got to know each other over homemade Cuban sandwiches, Heath Vanderbilt sat at the kitchen counter compiling yet another list for his boss’s latest house guest. He’d foolishly referred to Detective Robina as Becker’s girlfriend once while she was in earshot and she gave him a more effective dressing down than any drill sergeant he’d encountered in basic training, but that was the only time she’d been anything other than nice to him. Since Becker maintained his same erratic schedule, the two of them spent a lot of time alone together and at first this made him uncomfortable. Michelle had been nice too, most of the time, then she’d go on a binge and all hell would break loose. Heath had been walking on eggshells the first couple days waiting for the other shoe to drop but it never did. Sure she smoked a ton of weed but Heath would take a pothead over a pill junkie any day.

And her presence seemed to bring out a different side of his boss. With Yareli around, Becker seemed looser, despite all the extra security roaming the perimeter of El Swanko. Heath wasn’t entirely sure of what was going on and he knew better than to ask but he was certain all the extra assault rifles and hard men in tactical gear had something to do with Det. Robina. Given their closer than professional relationship, Heath had prepared himself for a more agitated Becker but that was not the case. It had been a little over a year since Becker took him under his wing and Heath couldn’t remember a time he’d seen the man smile, let alone laugh. In fact, he hadn’t seen him much at all. As far as Heath was concerned, he was securing the overindulgent crash pad of a rogue cop who showed up just enough to remind his private crew of mercs who they answered to. Now it seemed with Yareli around, the place had become his primary residence. Calls to the guardhouse came on a near hourly basis and Heath had been invited to late lunches more than once.

The first time was awkward with Becker not hiding the fact that he didn’t enjoy fraternizing with his employees but Yareli shut that down with a few choice words. “The kid’s here 14 hours a day, the least you can do is feed him.” They spent an hour on the patio that afternoon munching on BLTs while Yareli gently probed Heath about his life before coming under Becker’s tutelage. It was all very normal, on the surface at least. He’d overheard a few tense arguments but because Yareli only yelled in Spanish, Heath only ever got Becker’s side.

As secretive as they were about their disputes, their genuine affection for each other was overt. There were goodbye kisses and grab ass a plenty. More than once he saw them snuggling on a lawn chair, sharing a beer and a cigarette after dinner. Regardless of how averse they were to admitting it, Heath knew their relationship was more personal than professional and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure why that was a problem. He didn’t ask either, Heath was a good soldier. His place was in the background, and that’s where he stayed, soaking up what he could until he was summoned to the fore as he had been today.

“And that should do it,” Yareli said of the three column list in front of him. “You shouldn’t have too much trouble…”

“You sure Becker’s not going to mind me leaving you here...alone I mean?”

“Cleopatra’s here, so are the unmarked cars and the guys in ski masks lurking in the bushes that you idiots think I don’t know about,” she said with a raised eyebrow and Heath couldn’t help look away.

“Becker said…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what Becker says but I’m telling you that I’ll be fine. Don’t let these bra straps fool you into thinking I’m anything other than a highly trained, highly volatile woman with an unchecked invincibility complex…”

“But…”

“No buts kid. I’ll deal with Becker if he has anything to say about it,” she said, pulling a knot of bills from the pocket cut offs. “Now get going. Some of that stuff’s for dinner tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am,” was his quick reply and Yareli rolled her eyes.

She’d since stopped trying to correct the boy politeness, it was a complete waste of time trying to get an army trained southern gentleman to shurk his values simply because they made her uncomfortable. Especially on the day she finally decided to get back to work. Yareli never lost sight of her investigation. Granted the endgame had changed but the means were the same. Dig up something, anything that might give her a clue as to who Detective Andrew Jackson Becker truly was. It was terrible to think but part of her wanted to thank that obsessive psychopath for giving her a reason to be in Becker’s place unsupervised.

Finding the safe room was easy. The oddly convexed wall at the end of the hall was a dead give away, unfortunately for Yareli, the door wasn’t so easy to spot. She’d already spent the better part of a day knocking on walls in search of voids with Cleopatra following closely behind the whole way. It wasn’t until she came to the short hallway between the kitchen and the dining room that she found anything. There was a half bathroom on the left across from a little alcove with a framed print of Dali’s “The Face of War” hung in the center. The painting was intense to say the least and Yareli hadn’t paid much attention to it on previous visits but now it seemed odd. Aside from it being the only real art in the place, it felt like it was put there with purpose.

“So this is where your Daddy keeps all his secrets,” Yareli asked Cleopatra who let out something that sounded like a sneeze before trotting off. “Fine be that way but you better let me know if somebody’s coming.”

She took a few steps back from the wall and swept her hair into a tight bun as her eyes scanned the walls on either side of the alcove before she moved to run her fingers along the bottom edge of the picture frame. It wasn’t flush against the wall and there was a scuff in the wallpaper beneath the bottom right corner. A small smile came to her lips as she gave the opposite corner a nudge with her fingertips to reveal a pressure switch that Yareli didn’t hesitate to push.

“Here goes nothing,” she muttered as one of the walls slid away to reveal a reinforced steel door with an inset knob. There was only one key left on the ring that Yareli hadn’t tested and she was sure it belonged to this door. She took a deep breath and pressed it into place.

Meanwhile, James Laramie was giving the closing remarks at his third NA meeting in a week. This one was at Washington Beach Church and it was his favorite. The coffee was better and the nuns took great pleasure in pumping out sweets for the recovering addicts to enjoy while they fought their demons. The folding chairs were cushioned and the meeting was held in the sunroom at the rear of the church, overlooking the beach beyond. It was a beautiful place to worship but Jimbo wasn’t all that interested in finding God. Keeping himself sober was about the only thing on his mind these days and he’d been doing a pretty good job of it this time around. He’d been offered, and accepted, a full-time position at A+B Auto as a mechanic. With a steady income that he didn’t smoke away, Jimbo had finally moved out of his wreck of a trailer and into an apartment in Little Havana. He didn’t have much. A mattress on the floor, a ratty old love seat, and a rabbit ear black and white television but it was all his. And most importantly, none of it reminded him of that evil bitch who ruined his life. Finally things were looking up for old Jimbo.

All this he relayed to the group, inspiring them all to stay clean another day before the keychain ceremony. Today, he’d earned his six month tag which allowed him the honor of bestowing the 30 dayers with their achievement. There were only two today and each received a congratulatory hug from all in attendance before the group leader and Jimbo’s sponsor lead them in prayer, drawing the meeting to a close. As usual, no one was in any rush to leave, content to linger in the security the group provided. Unfortunately Jimbo couldn’t hang around too long. His shift at the shop was starting soon and he still hadn’t had lunch so he said his goodbyes and headed for the door. He was almost to his beat-up old Rancher when he heard his name over the sound of flip-flops slapping the pavement. A smile came to his lips as he turned to see a brunette in cut-off shorts and a tank-top jogging towards him. He recognized her from the meeting and stopped, allowing her to catch up to him.

“No need to run honey,” he called out to her, making her giggle a little as she slowed down. It wasn’t until she got within arms length that Jimbo recognized the woman. “Hey, you changed your hair...Michelle right? I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing,” she asked with a smile that seemed 10 times brighter than it had been only three weeks ago. “Nevermind, don’t answer that. I don’t want your opinion clouding my judgement,” she said, still smiling and Jimbo couldn’t help but smile back. “I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your sharing today. It gave me hope.”

“Why thank you ma’am,” he said tipping an imaginary hat and again she giggled. “It’s good to see you branching out. Don’t get me wrong any meeting is a good meeting but there’s something about coming here that makes it that much better…”

“Yeah Shulman is a drag,” she said with a laugh, then quickly shook her head. “I know, I know it’s not supposed to be about having a good time…”

“It’s not but it helps,” Jimbo added with a wink. “I usually come here a few times a week… and I hope this isn’t the last time I see you here.”

“Definitely not but we could see each other outside of meetings, if you wanted. I mean...I know it’s frowned upon and I don’t mean like a date but…”

“Sobriety can be hard on friendships,” he said with a chuckle that had just a tinge of sadness to it. “Especially in a town like this. If you’re not busy, I was just heading to Pizza Face for lunch. You’re more than welcome to join me…”

“Only if I can pay for myself,” Michelle stated flatly, making Jimbo chuckle a little before he realized she was serious.

“Of course honey...hell I’ll even let you pay for mine if you wanted,” he teased before nodding at her truck. “Why don’t you meet me there?”

By the time Jimbo and Michelle sat down with their large Hawaiian pizza and pitcher of Spunk Lite, Yareli was settling into the worn but comfy leather chair behind Becker’s desk. His real desk, in his real office. She’d already done a quick sweep of the place, turned on the bank of monitors to watch the video feed from the 12 security cameras that swept the perimeter of El Swanko. Having sent Heath out to Little Havana with a very specific shopping list, the young detective knew her alone time was limited so she didn’t waste it on discovering things she already knew to be true. She didn’t need to see inside the gun locker to know that there were illegal weapons behind those steel doors. Yareli had a similar trunk of her own in his garage strategically buried beneath the rest of her belongings. Nor did she care what he had locked in his safe, all she wanted lay in an unlocked file cabinet.

Rows of marble composition books lined all three draws. At quick glance they all seemed to be dated, going back years. Decades, probably before he even enlisted. She skipped down to the bottom drawer, assuming this would be the start of his detective years. It took her skimming through three journals before she realized she probably should have started at the beginning. There were multiple mentions of packages he’d received and the events that followed led Yareli to believe that she might need to track back a few years. There was no time for that now of course, it had already been a little over an hour since she got rid of her babysitter and Yareli was certain he was attacking her list with efficiency of a soldier fresh out boot camp.

She flipped through to find dates that corresponded to the start of the DEAs investigation, figuring it might be easier to correlate what she already knew with Becker’s own accounts. Yareli jotted down anything interesting concerning Ward, Garcia, and Russell but ignored all mention of Tommy. Seeking evidence to indict a dead man was useless at this point so she pressed on, unintentionally stumbling into Becker’s accounts of her. She found herself gritting her teeth at his first mention of “the publicity promotion”, before Blake showed up after the hurricane. Three days before her story ran in “The Hurricane Heroes” segment of the Vice City Nightly News, and a whole two weeks before she accepted the assignment from Darlington.

“Got wind that I’m getting a pub promo and apparently I don’t have a choice,” he wrote and Yareli couldn’t help her snort, almost hearing his voice as she read it. “File seems legit but I don’t have time to babysit a work wife with everything else I’ve got going on. Hopefully she doesn’t get us both killed.” His take wasn’t unexpected but it changed the course of her mission. She found herself skimming for mentions of her and eventually stopped taking notes altogether when she came upon Becker’s recounting of the night of their first big bust.

“Starting to look like I pegged the probie wrong. Turns out she ain’t as much of an asshole at first glance and she’s capable. We turned a corner today I think. Even introduced me to an old girlfriend. Says a lot about her, what she thinks about me to bring me along. Ain’t bad in the shit either. Kicked down a door together and not one hesitation. Already knew she had the smarts but now I know she’s got the balls to match. This partner thing might stick after all.”

Yareli skipped ahead to the car chase after that, wondering what Becker might say of their first night together and was shocked to find he’d had similar thoughts about their connection. He started writing about her more frequently, musing about things she said or little quirks that he noticed. “The pen in her bun is like black on a mood ring. Must act accordingly.” Then there was the boat trip and him raging for 2 and a half pages, plotting various ways to find his identity and end his life. “I wish she would just tell me his name. That’s all I need but she knows that so I doubt she’ll ever mention him again after this.”

He went on to mention more intimate details of their little adventure, how waking up next to Yareli was “less awkward than it should have been.” Rough sketches of her began appearing in the margins and as the pages progress so to did the scale and details of his drawings. There was one of her curled up in a chair, his chair beside his bed and it dawned on her that he must have done it from memory. “No way he did this with a concussion,” she said, unable to contain her blush at the way he saw her. She ran her finger of the drawing, lightly tracing the edges of her profile, all the while thinking that this was a terrible idea. Andrew Jackson Becker loved her, there was no disputing it now and the butterflies in the pit of her stomach couldn’t be denied either. The feeling was mutual, and despite the conundrum that came with those feelings Yareli couldn’t help but grin.

Then there was this, “It’s getting harder to keep things from her. Eventually I’m going to have to tell her about all the balls I’ve got in the air or it’ll be Caroline all over again.” There was more in that statement than anything Becker ever said to her face. He cared deeply for her, and here she was violating his trust in the worst way. The fact that it was mostly for his benefit, Yareli still had that uneasy feeling in her stomach that you get when you eavesdrop on an intimate conversation that doesn’t concern you. She closed up the book and slipped it back in the drawer before closing that up as well. She made sure to put everything back the way she found it before shutting down the security monitors and leaving the room to find Cleopatra waiting patiently by the door.

“I know, I know, you don’t have to look at me like that,” Yareli said and ran her hand along Cleopatra’s flank as she moved towards the kitchen. “I think I found some things worth digging into, if that helps,” she said, eliciting a yelp from her furred companion as she set to filling her bowls.

By the time Heath returned, Yareli had the grill hot and ready to slow smoke the short ribs he got from Nuevo Siglo. He stuck around long enough to help put things away before he skulked off back to the guard shack with one final instruction. “Do me favor kid, next status check, tell Becker that I’m sending you guys packing at 9 so he best act accordingly.”

“I’m sure that’ll go over well,” Heath mumbled as he headed for the door.

“Be worse if you don’t,” was Yareli’s smirking reply as she jabbed a kitchen knife into the cutting board.

“Yes, ma’am.”

https://youtu.be/iwPA9kDsAJE

Yareli spent the rest of the evening doing her best “Joan Cleaver”. Laundry was washed and folded, she even filled the space Becker cleared in his drawers with some of her belongings. Up until today she’d been living out of a suitcase in the guest room, she’d yet to actually sleep in the bed there but it was something like a line in the sand. Just as arbitrary as that silly pillow barricade on the first night they spent together, but a barrier still. The lock box she kept her badge and side arm in went on the nightstand, her own pistol beneath the mattress. She did a lap around the ground floor, straightening up as she went before heading into what had become their workroom and set about turning it back into the dining room. They weren’t going to eat there but the sight of an empty black lacquer table top would help to convey the relaxed atmosphere Yareli was trying to facilitate. Her plan for the day started with buttering Becker up so he might make himself scarce when they girls came over the next night, but after gleaning his sincere feelings from his journals things went a little bit sideways.

It wasn’t like she forgot the reasons for their partnership or the subterfuge she’d been perpetrating. Everything in Vice City was complicated, why should her love life be any different. Every good guy had at least one bad guy in their circle, and vice versa. And she still hadn’t found any concrete proof that Becker was actually a bad guy. Sure, by his own account, he’d been complicit in his squads dirty dealings but so was Capt. Collins and he wasn’t mentioned in any of the files Darlington dropped in her lap. Then there were “the packages” that seemed to set him on a path of surreptitious behavior. Yareli knew she needed more time with them, to scour them from beginning to end.

But not tonight. Tonight was shaping up to be something like a date, a real date. Not like the serendipitous rendezvous at Cafe Robina. It was a little before eight when she finished making up a plate of short ribs, potato salad, collard greens, and cornbread for Heath and she walked the bribe out to the guard shack.

“Becker is not happy,” he said as soon as she opened the door and Yareli shrugged her shoulders as she slid the plate in front of him. “Say’s he’s calling the sergeant…”

“You’d already be replaced if that were true. Enjoy your meal and you let me worry about Becker. Anybody not Becker coming through that gate after you're gone will get a taste of my M4…”

“You got one of those,” Heath asked around a mouthful of cornbread, both brows lifted and Yareli chuckled a little.

“I got one of a lot of things. Eat your dinner kid. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“G’night ma’am.”

With that taken care of Yareli headed upstairs to shower and change into more presentable attire. She kept her feet bare but took the time to put on makeup and blowout her hair before making a weapons check. Her snub nose .38 went in her garter holster and once the M4 was loaded she put it back in the soft case before heading back downstairs finish preparing for Becker’s return. All the food was loaded into serving dishes, the hot stuff set onto the still warm grill while the cold stuff was set out on the patio table along with a bucket of beers and the good china she found that he probably never used. With the torches lit, most of the sprawling backyard was cloaked in a warm glow but Yareli took up a post just beyond. She sat cross legged, the M4 locked and loaded in her lap, with her back to the torchlight. The hedgeline was a few dozen paces in front of her and the driveway off to her right. Cleopatra took up sentry on her left and Yareli chuckled a little, wondering if it was a conscious decision or a dog doing dog things.

It was ten minutes before Yareli saw Heath exit the gate and get into the unmarked van parked just beyond the driveway but he didn’t pull away until the heavy gate latched with a loud click. And it was another long tense 15 minutes before she heard tires squealing as a vehicle careening around the corner. Yareli readied her rifle in the off chance that the big block engine didn’t belong to Becker. Stretched out in the grass on her belly, the gate in her sights, she held her breath until floodlights came into view. She watched as he screeched to a halt, his front grill nearly kissing the ornate steel, before punching in the security code. As Becker barreled through, Yareli kept her sight trained on the gate until it closed then tracked him as he jumped out of the driver’s seat, with his hand on his gun. It occurred to her then that he couldn’t see her, even as Cleopatra trotted over to greet him.

“Pain in the ass ain’t she,” she heard him say as he turned to head inside but a yelp from Cleopatra stop him in his tracks. “What? You on her side now, too,” he said as Cleopatra turned and trotted back towards the back of the house. “I’m surrounded by traitors…”

“Well excuse me for trying to do something nice,” Yareli shouted as she sat up, making a show of disengaging the rifle and setting it down beside her.

“Oh, is that what you call undermining my authority and putting yourself at risk,” he barked as he stormed across the grass. “What the hell Robina?! I’m trying to keep you safe and I can’t do that if I’m going nuts…”

Yareli shut him up with a kiss so deep it took his breath away and Becker didn’t hesitate. One hand went up to cup the back of her head while the other gripped her hip, pulling her body to his as she looped her arms around his waist. Up on her tiptoes, she nibbled at his bottom lip a moment before she pulled away, her lips spread in a wide grin.

“I made you dinner,” she said quietly as she released him but he didn’t let her go.

“I smell that babe but you been making my dinner. I don’t see why you had to send the guys away for that,” he said and Yareli sucked her teeth, gave him a hard shove. That’s when he noticed the dress, and the subtle shimmer on her cheeks and eyelids. It didn’t matter that she was barefoot, it was the most put together he’d ever seen his partner and he didn’t fight the smirk that came with his next realization. “It’s not just dinner is it…”

“No Becker it’s not just fuckin’ dinner! You think I dusted off my blush palette and blew out my hair for fuckin’ dinner. No sé por qué me molesto tonto mierda gringo culo...Esta es la última vez que me encuentras sentada en tu césped sin bragas,” she said, the last muttered under her breath as whipped herself around and stormed towards the house.

“Sin bragas,” Becker muttered, perplexed a moment before his brain meandered to the translation. “No panties… shit Yareli, wait,” came as he trotted off after her.

“Fuck you Becker,” she shouted without turning, missing her chance to avoid Becker's grasping hand on her wrist. Yareli tried to shake him off as he yanked her around but Becker held on tight, even as she batted at him wildly with her open palm. “No me toques…”

“Or what? If you wanted to deck me you woulda done it already so do me a favor and cut the shit, alright,” he barked, jaw clenched tight and eyes full of fire. There was a moment where Becker thought she might do it, her fist clenched, but she did something else instead. Yareli Robina shut her eyes and took a long deep breath before the tension in her shoulders relaxed, making Becker smile a little as he loosened his grip on her wrist to slip his hand into hers. “Now let’s try this again, shall we,” he asked and Yareli rolled her eyes, but she didn’t let go his hand. Even smirked a little as she looked up at him. “Hair all shiny...makeup done...and don’t even get me started on this dress,” he said giving her a little spin, making the hem flutter a little. “Sin bragas indeed. I’d ask what you did with my partner but she’s clearly not gone anywhere so what’s going on?”

“I just wanted to be alone...with you,” she admitted, without looking him in the eye and Becker chuckled a little. “It’s not funny A.J. You have no idea how hard this is for me being stuck in this house while he’s still out there...I mean, you’re going out every day doing god knows what while I’m on some kind of vacation…”

“Come on babe, you know I don’t think like that...hell nobody is thinking like that. Cap shut you down and there’s jackshit we can do about it. The whole department is gunning for this scumbag and it’s only a matter a time before he’s on slab…”

“But I should be out there Becker...I’m not some bikini girl who can’t take care of herself…”

“I know that Robina...everybody knows that but Colin’s not going to let you back on the roster until this guy is in cuff,” he said reaching out to slip a lock of hair behind her ear.

“I’d prefer him in the ground,” she grunted and Becker let out a snort as he pulled her in to kiss the top of her head.

“Well we both know how I feel about paperwork,” he said making her laugh as he encircle her in his arms.

“Especially since you’ll have to do it yourself…I know, I know Becker doesn’t do paperwork,” Yareli said with a snort as she pulled away and slipped past him to retrieve her rifle. She could feel Becker’s eyes on her as she deftly discharged the clip and released the chambered round before slipping it back into the soft case. Yareli caught the not so subtle tug at the crotch on his jeans as she slung the bag over her shoulder. “Tienes hambre Papi,” she asked with a grin and Becker let out a grunt.

“Por supuesto Machita,” he said and tossed his jacket onto the nearest lounge chair before pulling his gun off his belt and set it down on the same chair. Becker closed the distance between them in one long stride before he took hold of the gun on her shoulder. “Pero la cena puede esperar,” he added as he set the bag down and scooped her up around her thighs all at once. “Necesito esto ahora,” he said as he slipped his hands up her dress, making her giggle as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Tu español está mejorando Papi…”

“Well I’m getting a lot more practice lately,” he mumbled with his face buried between her breast as he shuffled backwards with the intentions of landing on one of the cushioned lounge chairs but Yareli’s tongue in his ears sent them tumbling to the ground. “This is good right?”

“Hmmm...déjame ver,” she said with a breathy giggle as she sat up on her knees. Yareli reach down between her thighs, deftly undid Becker’s belt and fly with one hand while the other freed his already throbbing cock. She gave it a few slow strokes before guiding his tip to her opening and smiled as she lowered herself down his shaft. “Si Papi, está bien...muy bien,” she muttered as she lean down to capture his lips.

Though they were both eager, there was nothing frantic about this moment, save Becker’s manic attempts to get his pants down his thighs without dislodging himself from Yareli. The movement of their hips was subtle, allowing him to remain buried deep inside her. The kisses were long and tender, muffling their moans. There was no hair pulling, no ass slapping, only callused hands tracing up and down supple thighs as round hips set a deliberate pace. It was a first for them, this quiet lovemaking, and both seemed wholly content as they drifted slowly towards climax.

It was Yareli who came first with one hand wrapped in his t-shirt while the other found his to lace their fingers together. Their eyes met then, just for a moment, before her head rolled back on her shoulders and her lips parted to sigh out his name.

“Dios mío Papi. Me encanta...cómo me haces sentir,” she muttered, eyes closed as chills ran down her spine. “Cum for me Papi...llename Papi...lo necesito ahora…”

“Fuck Yareli...don’t stop,” he groaned, his free hand gripping her hip, fingertips digging into her flesh as he rocked her forward. And before he knew it, Yareli was pulling him up as she rolled her hips in his lap. Strong thighs wrapped snugly around his torso, nails dug into his back as Becker bucked beneath her. Face buried in neck, his climax came with a deep guttural growl that set her to giggles.

“Es bueno para ti Papi,” she whispered, fingers playing at the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “Eso es lo que necesitabas?”

“Keep talking to me like that and we’ll never get to whatever you made that smells so good,” he muttered, leaning back to look at her. Becker pushed her hair back as he took her face in his hands, kissed her tenderly on the lips then the forehead.

“I think that’s the short ribs,” she said, not hiding the grin that came at the way he looked at her. “You need to shower first?”

“Why, do I stink?”

“No more than usual,” she said with a smirk and roughed his hair a little before easing out of his lap. “Vamos Papi déjame alimentarte.”

Though they sat side by side this time, this dinner wasn’t that much unlike the one they shared at Cafe Robina. There was very little talk of work, or anything else that might darken the mood. Being the good partner Becker tried more than once to inform her of his progress but Yareli shut him up shoving food in his mouth. It only took a few forced bites before he gave up and he was rewarded with an almost jovial Robina. Sure she still teased him and muttered unintelligible Spanish under her breath but she didn’t shy away from his casual touches and when their plates were clean she made her way into his lap. They shared an after dinner smoke with her head on his shoulder while Cleopatra nawed on discarded bones at their feet.

The moment was picturesque Yareli almost felt bad that she might ruin it with her next request. All the while he twirled a lock of her hair, she debated whether or not it would be necessary for him to be out of the house for girl’s night. Ultimately, she decided that spending the night without him was less than ideal at this point so again adjustments were made to her initial plan of him fending for himself for the night. But still she waited until they’d showered and settled down for bed to break the news to him

“So remember all that talk of making myself at home,” she asked as he snuggled up behind her and gave a tired grunt that she took as affirmation. “Well I invited the girls over tomorrow night for a little shot of estrogen...so can you like...I don’t know...not be here…”

“Rush me home to tell not to come back huh,” he said with a snort and Yareli rolled her eyes. “Distract me with warm pussy and charred meat before you kick me out of my own house.”

“I’m not kicking you out, just make yourself scarce that’s all,” she said as she spun to face him. “Plus I figure you won’t want to be here when they start badgering me about what’s going on with us...and I invited Caroline…”

“My ex-wife?! Why the hell would you do that?”

“What? I want to know what I’m getting myself into with you and who better to ask than her. Already had dinner with ex-wife number one so why shouldn’t I hang with number two. Not like you can’t do the same with Garcia...I’m sure he’s chomping at the bit to tell you what a shitty girlfriend I was.”

“We’ve already had that conversation,” Becker informed her with a snort, making Yareli sit up a moment before he pulled her back down. “I know what kinda asshole he is and trust me you dodged a bullet turning him down.”

“What’d he say?”

“Oh just that your a raging alcoholic who doesn’t cook or clean and gives terrible blow jobs. Don’t worry babe, I didn’t correct him,” he said with a smirk and Yareli sucked her teeth as she settled against his chest. “Have your girl’s night, I don’t mind. I’ll even find someplace to crash if you want.”

“I don’t want,” Yareli said quickly. With her face against his chest, she couldn’t see the way he smiled at that. “Just give me a heads up when you’re on your way.”

“Sure, I can do that.”

While Detectives Robina and Becker slumbered, another Vice City couple’s night was just beginning. In a newly furnished studio apartment on Washington Beach, Zack Dedham lounged sat on the couch in just his boxer shorts. His feet kicked up, one hand behind his head, the other fished around in a bag of roasted peanuts. His eyes shifted between the baseball game going into extra innings on the television and Penelope Montenegro strutting around the bedroom area in a pair of thigh high latex boots and hot pink string bikini. She had a gig tonight, a dinner party on Starfish Island that promised to pay their way for the next few months. Though he was still technically on Becker’s payroll, Zack had become Penelope’s full time bodyguard and live-in lover.

This was not the life he envisioned when he enlisted right out of high school. He half expected to be dead already in some far off war like his father before him and his father before him. Dying in foreign lands was something of a tradition for Dedham men and he was a little disappointed when he got assigned stateside. His mother, of course, was thrilled to know that her youngest son wouldn't be dodging bullets halfway across the world. She’d probably be less than thrilled with him shacking up with a stripper, but Zack had already prepared himself for any blowback that might come. He wanted to marry her and was fully prepared to give up everything to be with her, even the army if it came to it.

“Qué pasa, perrito? You not dressed,” she whined from the bathroom door, making him jump out of his thoughts. “You always complain when I’m not ready, now you not ready...if you weren’t so fuckin’ cute,” she said, playfully shaking her fist at him.

“What are you gonna do with that little thing,” he said laughing as he pushed himself off the couch and crossed the room to take her fist in his hand a moment before kissing her knuckles. “Look at it...it’s adorable. One of these days you’re going to let me teach you how to make a real fist.”

“Por qué, cuando te tengo,” she said with a grin and Zack furrowed his brows.

“That first part was ‘why’...”

“Si.”

“And the last part...tengo…’I have’ right?”

“Si.”

“Quién, qué, cuándo, dónde, por qué, cómo...When?”

“Si, ahora ponlo juntos...put it together.”

“Why when I have...you?”

“Si, mi perrito está aprendiendo,” she said with a squeal and jumped into his arms. “You’ll be fluent in no time. That way when I take you back to Liberty City, you’ll know when my brothers are talking shit,” she told him before planting a big wet kiss on both cheeks.

“You want me to meet your folks,” Zack asked, trying to hide his shock as he set her down to don one of the flashy tailored suits she’d bought for him.

“Claro...why wouldn’t I want them to meet the man who’s keeping their little girl safe. El gran soldado fuerte que robó mi corazón…”

“Something about a soldier and your heart I think,” he said blushing as Penelope came up behind him to help with his tie. Once she was satisfied, Zack turned to face her, his eyes downcast and sweat beading on the bridge of his nose. “Do you really feel that way...I mean...I’m just a corn fed white boy from the sticks but baby you’re a star…”

“I’ll be a star when I don’t have to show my tits for people to listen to me, and when that happens I’ll still be in love with you Zack,” she said and pulled him down to kiss his forehead, then his lips. “I love you Zachary Dedham, so put those sad eyes away. Entiendes?”

“Entiendo y también te amo,” he said and kissed her gently. It was the first time he’d said it out loud and it felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. “Are you going to do that song you were working on this morning?”

“No perrito, esos son para ti. All my morning songs are for you.”

https://youtu.be/CHekNnySAfM

The sound of dog tags jingling beside the bed woke Yareli the next morning and she was shocked to find Becker still snoring beside her. A quick glance at the alarm clock, on the floor a few feet away from it’s usual perch on the nightstand, was all the explanation she needed. He wouldn’t say, but Yareli knew he was exhausted, running himself ragged between Tommy’s case and catching Cruise. It may have appeared that the whole of VCPD was working both cases but Yareli knew that it was their house putting in the most hours, with the newly minted lieutenant leading the charge. Aside from his usual crew, there were 3 new detectives and a handful of uniforms under his command. Colin’s still wasn’t happy about Yareli’s “protective custody” and had been threatening to have the Bikini Murders reassigned if another body showed up. All of this weighed on him, on top of whatever else he had going on, Becker was on the brink of burning himself out. A few extra hours in bed wasn’t going to change anything but it was a start that she didn’t want to disturb, so she slipped quietly out of bed to let Cleopatra out and make coffee.

While part of her wanted to enjoy a lazy morning in bed with him, Yareli had more important things to do. There was ceviche to be made and sangria to be built, an order of pastries from Bakery and Cafeteria still needed to be picked up along with all the other odds and ends Heath didn’t get the day before. Heath yet to check in for the morning but Yareli didn’t wait to get started. She compiled his new list on an envelope stuffed with cash and clipped it to the fridge so it was ready for him when he arrived. After filling Cleopatra’s bowls and enjoying a cafe con leche on the patio, Yareli got to work.

The aroma of coffee and browned butter roused Becker but he didn’t rush out of bed. He could hear Yareli moving around downstairs, music from Radio Espantoso mingled with the sounds of her badgering Heath made him chuckle a little and offered him the opportunity of a few more minutes in bed. He was slightly disappointed in the kid for abandoning his post the night before and figured not offering him an out this morning would be a good enough punishment. The sound of the garage door opening was Becker’s cue to put feet to floor and get himself going. He compiled his own checklist for the day as he showered up and dressed for a day that was sure to include a chase or two. Guns were readied and body armor was packed away before he strapped on his holster and donned his badge.

He found Yareli in the kitchen in one of his old Army t-shirts, her hips and feet moving in time to an old Mambo tune as she chopped garlic. She didn’t look up until the neatly minced pile was deposited into a bowl of shrimp drenched in lemon juice, white rum, and various herbs and aromatics. Her lips curled a little at the corners as he came around the counter to kiss the back of her neck with a muttered “good morning”.

“Quieres comer,” she asked, giving the ceviche a quick stir before sliding it into the fridge.

“Just coffee this morning,” was his answer, already pouring himself a cup as he watched Yareli move around his kitchen like she owned the place. Deep down he hoped that’s how she felt but was unwilling to give voice to that desire for fear it might spook her out of this new level of comfort. “Garcia and the new guys are meeting me at the office in a little bit. One of his snitches over at 8-ball’s claims to have found an abandoned ambulance out by the Boatyard…”

“And you’re just telling me this now?!”

“Tried to tell you last night but you kept shoving cornbread in my face,” Becker offered with a shrug then drained his cup. “I was headed over there last night but you wanted to be alone so I had the unis sit on it until I could check it out myself...and that’s not me being a asshole. I’m just relaying the sequence of events,” he added with a raised eyebrow, cutting down the fire he saw building in her eyes. “Hopefully it’s not just some junkie throw away like the Burrito they found burning in Little Haiti the other night. Might drop by Phil’s too, see if any of his guys have seen anything worth mentioning…”

“Cause he’s always so forthcoming,” Yareli said, her brows knitted together as she scrubbed her hands with a lemon wedge.

“We go way back, me and Phil…”

“Debería haber sabido,” she muttered under her breath making Becker snicker as he slipped his arms around her waist

“I never had a partner as reliable as you Robina,” he said, running the tip of his nose along the nape of her neck. “I had to take the help where I could get it…”

“I’m sure help is all he ever gave you,” she said with a smirk as she washed her hands then spun in his embrace. “Don’t let Garcia talk you into anything stupid…”

“I’m the lieutenant remember,” he said, running his hands up her arms to settle behind her head.

“Yo se Papi but this ain’t no regular case...neither of them are.”

“No se preocupe por mí Machita,” was his grinning reply before planting a kiss on her forehead. “I got along well enough before I got stuck with you.”

“Fine but promise me you’ll save the cowboy shit for when I get back.”

“Don’t make me promise things you know I can’t keep babe,” he said and Yareli rolled her eyes. “I’ll be as careful as I can...given the circumstances. How’s that for a promise?”

“It’s not but I’ll take it...you’ll let me know if you find anything?”

“And I’ll give you a heads up when I’m on my way in,” he told her with one last kiss before reluctantly letting her go. “Have fun tonight Robina...that’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” she said with a lazy salute and Becker gave her a wink as he headed for the backdoor. “And thanks for last night. I know I don’t always act like it but I appreciate you looking out for me. This...I don’t know...just...you’re a good partner A.J. In and out of the car.”

Though he smiled, Yareli could tell her admission made him uneasy but lucky for both of them, Becker didn’t stick around long enough to explain. Their relationship had shifted again without them realizing it and they’d resigned themselves to it. That part was easy, accepting the affections of someone you genuinely cared for, the real test would come when they decided to get real about who they were and lay all their cards down. The day was coming, probably sooner than either thought.

https://youtu.be/_-0sUuGufmw

With Becker gone, Yareli pumped up the stereo while she finished her party preparations. Unlike the night before, she didn’t do much cleaning or fretting about things being in there place. This was GIRL’S NIGHT not a dinner party and she called all the invitees around noon to ensure they understood what was to be expected of them. Penelope wouldn’t be allowed in without her guitar. Caroline would be prepare to mix drinks when necessary. LaShawna would not bring her kids. And Becker’s ex would leave her expensive heels at her hotel room. Between the booze and pot Yareli had available, the pills LaShawna planned to acquire, and the coke Penelope would “forget” she had in her purse, there wouldn’t be much room for social decorum, so she prepared herself for any questions that might come about her relationship with Becker. She’d have to be if she wanted to keep Caroline on her side.

The songbird was the first to arrive, as Yareli expected, in flip flops and a lime green microkini that left nothing to the imagination. Zack trailed closely behind with her guitar in tow but Penelope wouldn’t let him come into the house. “No se permiten chicos perrito,” she said with her hand on his chest and he looked to Yareli, who averted her eyes. “Go hang with Heath until it’s time to pick up the rest of the girls.”

“Damn Pene you ain’t have to do him like that,” Yareli said as they watched him sulk off down the driveway.

“Please, that sad boy shit is just for show,” was Penelope’s giggling reply as she linked arms with Yareli. “That’s the same guy who hung somebody off a balcony because they tried to short me last week…”

“Good to know he takes his job seriously…”

“Speaking of a man who takes his job seriously…”

“Save if for when the rest of the girls get here cause I’m only going over it once…”

“Ehh mami no eres divertido,” Penelope pouted and Yareli rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, the hot tubs on and some foods out if you’re hungry. I still gotta make the kabobs…”

“Need me to help with anything,” Penelope asked as Yareli led her into the kitchen where she’d already started assembling the skewers.

“You being here is enough,” Yareli said with a grin and Penelope furrowed her brow. “What’s that look for?”

“Ummm...well...I guess I’m just not used to you being so...yo no se mami. This whole girlfriend thing looks good on you.” Yareli rolled her eyes at that as Penelope poured them both a shot. “I know you don’t like the g-word mami but that’s what you are. I mean look at you. In the kitchen…”

“Cocinando para mis chicas,” Yareli said with a raised eyebrow and Penelope shrugged her shoulders.

“Descalzo...and who’s shirt is that? I know you left your place in a hurry but I’m sure you have your own clothes…”

“Becker slept in and I didn’t want to wake him so I picked up what was on the floor.”

“Entonces todavía huele a él?”

“Y que?! Shut up Penelope! I’m not letting you get in my head about this,” Yareli barked but Penelope saw the smirk playing at her lips as she pushed the full shot glass across the counter.

“I’m not trying to get in your head mami...just let yourself be happy,” she said raising her glass and Yareli followed suit. “A toast?”

“Again, save it for when everybody gets here...Salud,” Yareli said and quickly clinked their glasses together. “I know, I know...I’m no fun…”

“A couple more of those, a joint or two, turn you right around…”

“Yeah well my box is there, since you want to help,” Yareli suggested with a nod at the cigar box on the table and Penelope flipped it open with a whistle. “Don’t be stingy either. I want everybody good and loose tonight.”

While the ladies geared up for a night of controlled debauchery on Vice City Beach, there was a flurry of activity of a different kind happening across the bay. Anything bought or sold on the island city past through Vice Port, illicit or otherwise, making it the busiest place in the city. Given how far removed it was from the city proper, those who lived and worked in the area were none too pleased with the invasion of VCPD. There were roadblocks set up forcing traffic into the city towards the airport and anyone fitting the description of Carlos de la Cruz, a.k.a. The Bikini Girl Killer was pulled over and searched. Despite the tension between VCPA and VCPD, the effort was well coordinated thanks in part to Liutenant A.J. Becker facilitating a meeting between Sgt. Peppah and the Capt. Daniels of the Port Authority. He didn’t know the specifics of the deal that was brokered between the two men, he didn’t much care.

All that mattered to him was a clear search radius around the suspicious ambulance with its back windows blacked out and steel door between the front cab and cargo bay. The backdoors were padlocked and all identifying marks had been removed, except the medical insignia and roof lights. It had to be the missing truck from West Haven and Becker didn’t want to wait for Capt. Collins to give the go ahead to crack it open. The unis who’d spent the night watching it reported no movement around it and he had plenty of backup with Garcia, his new partner Howard Morgan and the pair of detective transfers from the Little Haiti station that filled out Becker’s new squad. Donald Sullivan, a Special Forces Vet with explosives specialization, pulled a ladies compact out of his back pocket and began searching the underside of the vehicle while his partner, Javier Suarez looked on, a pair of heavy bolt cutters on his shoulder. Though they were new to the situation, they were just as eager as their luitenant to see this case closed.

Once given the all clear, Becker didn’t hesitate, allowing Suarez to pop the lock and throw open the doors. “Get over to 8-ball’s. I know he’s got cameras covering this entire block and I want those tapes,” he said to Garcia, who nodded at Morgan. “Same goes for Pay ‘n’ Spray. If this thing’s been here as long as your boy says then that asshole was banged up after his run-in with Tex at Robina’s place...possibly bleeding out from a bullet or two…”

“So he couldn’t have gone far,” Suarez offered, pulling on a pair of gloves before climbing into the back of the modified ambulance. “I’ve got blood jefe...and lots of it. Open suture kits...bloody shirt...bandages...you said this guy was nurse right? I’m guessing he tried patching himself up…”

“And as clean as those crime scenes were I’m guessing he planned on coming back,” Sullivan offered, half inside the cab. “Left his grab bag in plain sight…”

“We need those tapes Garcia.”

“We’ll get ‘em Lou,” came from Morgan before he and Garcia trotted off to the shady auto yard across the street.

“Sully...Suarez...keep working until CSU gets here. I’m heading over to Cassidy’s, see if any of his crew’s seen anything. Tell Colins to give me a holler when he gets here.”

https://youtu.be/Dn8-4tjPxD8

On the other side of the bay, five women in various stages of inebriation put on a rousing performance for no one but themselves. Penelope sang lead of course, accompanied by bartender Caroline on an array of glassware and empty beer bottles while the other three provided background vocals. They had not idea that the entire security detail had been watching them from their various posts for the better part an hour, that their voices carried into the neighborhood. There were occasional shouts for them to “shut the fuck up”, threats of violence, and calls to the authorities, all of which were met with varying degrees of disdain.

The current scene was a far cry from the awkward start of the evening with LaShawna making several disparaging remarks about women who worked as exotic dancers which led to a debate over the whether the women’s lib movement had hampered or empowered which devolved into an argument over white women’s disinterest in the empowerment of women of color that lawyer Caroline settled with the eloquence of a seasoned trial attorney.

“Listen ladies all of us are wrong,” she said, banging her fist on the counter to silence all the bickering. “From what I’ve heard, Penelope, you didn’t come down here to shake your ass but you didn’t want to go home so you made do with what you had, and now you’re playing the music you want and making money for yourself. And maybe we’re all a little envious of the freedom she enjoys being her own boss...the confidence it takes to get on that stage alone. And the three of them have to work twice as hard as we do to get half the respect. We have to admit that Caroline...you’re about to marry a Black man whom you want to have babies with, you’re in for a rude awakening if you think those kids will be treated the same as you were growing up in this city. And no it’s not our fault, but that doesn’t mean we can ignore either. We’re all eating a shit sandwich here ladies, they’re just different flavors. The sooner we realize it the better we’ll be.

“Now I came here to cut loose and hopefully make some new girlfriends and I’ll be damned if any of you stubborn bitches ruin it for me,” she said, her voice shaking at the last as she scanned the shocked faces before her. “Now, I’m going to go smoke a joint in that hot tub while you sort your shit out!”

“Anybody else feel like their mom just yelled at them,” the younger Caroline asked, making the other spin on her heels. “And that look…”

“I’d hate to see her in court,” came from LaShawna, making the other women laugh. Caroline flipped them the double bird and stormed out to the patio, her gauzy cover-up looking like a cape with the wind she made. There was another wave of giggles before LaShawna collected herself enough to apologize to Penelope and admit that Caroline was probably right. “I love my kids...my husband...but shit sometimes I wonder what might have happened if I didn’t get pregnant my senior year of high school. I mean, I never got the chance to be wild like yall.”

“So be wild tonight,” was Penelope’s easy suggestion.

And so she was, they all were. Once the sing-along devolved into uncontrollable giggles Penelope put her guitar away and suggested a rousing game of “Never have I ever”. There was no better way to bond with relative stranger than the forced sharing of embarrassing secrets. And eventually the questions stop, giving way to the retelling of war stories and reminiscing on how they all met. It was then the other women found out what Yareli and lawyer Caroline really had in common, but there was no uproar. It was Vice City. Bartender Caroline confessed that her ex introduced her to her current fiancee at his sister’s birthday party. “Ricky’s sister is married to my ex’s baby brother.”

“Hell, I almost married Johnny Garcia…”

“That would have been a terrible idea,” Becker’s ex-wife slurred as she struggled to light a cigarette.

“That’s what I said,” came from Penelope as she leaned over to help.

“Does Becker know?”

“It came up not too long ago.”

“How’d he take it?”

“Surprisingly well,” was Yareli’s smirking reply as she recalled the night at her place not too long ago. “He’s more annoyed about Brigg’s that anything else...my old partner. We had a thing. Nothing serious…”

“But you’re buddies,” Caroline said with a snort and Yareli narrowed her eyes at her. “Me and Jerry were buddies too...my current husband who I left Becker for…”

“Am I the only one who’s been with the same man for more than five minutes,” came from LaShawna and Yareli rolled her eyes, but bartender Caroline dropped the hammer.

“But would you still be with him if he hadn’t knocked you up,” she said and a hush fell over the group as everyone swung their eyes to the woman who’d just been complaining about motherhood.

“None of my pregnancies were an accident thank you very much,” LaShawna supplied with a snap and they all burst out laughing. “We wanted to get married and his parents didn’t want him with some foster kid so we got pregnant knowing they would “force” us down the aisle. Don’t get me wrong, 15 years later we agree that it was the stupidest thing we’ve ever done but I wouldn’t take it back,” she said dreamily and they all swooned.

“I think we should toast,” bartender Caroline said, already lining up shot glasses. “To new friends…”

“And old ones,” LaShawna added with a wink at Yareli.

“And new love,” came from Penelope.

“Or something like it,” Yareli added and was met with varying degrees of displeasure.

“Whatever, we know the truth,” came from Becker’s ex-wife as she raised her glass. “Arriba, abajo, al centro, adentro,” she said in a rush, forcing Yareli to swallow any disputes with her rum.

That turned out to be the last drink of the night but Yareli wouldn’t let anybody leave without helping to clean up, inadvertently offering herself up to more badgering from the girls. By now her resolve had been through softened by the good vibes of the night and she didn’t have it in her to deny any of what they suggested. Except Penelope’s assertion that she tell Becker how she felt, a suggestion Caroline insisted was unnecessary.

“He likes to play the dumb hick but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Part of what makes Andy a good cop is how well he reads people. You can’t hide it from us so you for damn sure ain’t hiding it from him but he won’t force it out of you. That’s not his style.”

“But what man is willing to wait forever…”

“What’s there to wait for if he already knows what’s in her heart,” Caroline said with a smirk at Yareli, then her eyes went wide as they shifted above her head.

“I’m just grabbing a beer,” Becker said, both hands up as he eased his way into the fridge. “You ladies, enjoy the rest of your night.”

“You were supposed to call first…”

“I did... twice. Don’t worry Machita I didn’t hear anything I didn’t already know,” he said as he headed towards the stairs. “Get home safe ladies.”

“See what’d I tell you,” came from Caroline over squeals from the peanut gallery.

“I’ve had enough of all you bitches,” Yareli said but she could help but laugh as they gathered up their belongings.

Goodbyes were said quickly and promises were made for future plans. It was clear to all of them that Yareli wasn’t the only one in need of female bonding. She walked them out to the driveway were Zack waited by the car like a sad puppy until Penelope jumped into his arms. Caroline hung back while the other women got into the back seat and slipped a manila envelope out of her beach bag.

“Andy might have some questionable ethics but he’s a good man. I can’t say the same for your old colleague. Look that over and give me a call, sooner rather than later,” she said, offering Yareli another hug before she too got into the car.

If you read the department press release in the wake of the death of Detective Thomas Anderson you’d read about a hero cop who had spent close to two decades on the force and died while undercover. He loved taking part in youth baseball and was a mentor to many younger officers. He’d been decorated and was a man of good character. The truth though was much more complicated.
He was a mentor but for things like showing how to hustle and hide dirty money. He loved baseball, but baseball bats were also his favorite tool for collecting for the local loan sharks. He wasn’t above betting on a kid’s game either. He did save a lady from a flaming car wreck, but he was only at that intersection because he was up all night gambling and was going to get an eye-opener at the liquor store across the street. Like the old Stones’ song said every cop is a criminal and all the sinner's saints.

For veteran detective A.J. Becker he was pretty sure philosophically speaking Tommy was a good man struggling with sin but wasn’t so busy he couldn’t have a good time. So in the early morning hours after a short prayer and with the crew of the police predator looking on as they saluted A.J. cast his friend’s ashes into the sea. Tommy’s wife Tracy said he wanted it that way and once everything was in order she was taking the boys and moving to be with her parents in Atlanta Georgia. She’d made it clear she was never coming back to the city to see a grave or anything else.

The past week or so he and his ex-wife had been helping Tracy get her affairs in order. According to Caroline Tommy did all the stuff he was supposed to as far as the pension and insurance, but she needed his help tracking down all the off the books resources Tommy had. Despite being a degenerate gambler he still put aside a decent amount of money. Becker made the rounds of hiding spots, bank safe deposit boxes, and sold off some assets that Tracy didn’t want to know about.
Frankly, he didn’t blame her he realized after he took stock of it all. A beat-up fishing boat with a secret storage area, several sports cars that included a beautiful yellow Stinger complete with bullet holes, and an apartment jammed with uniforms and equipment for utility workers and other city employees. He had contacts that were willing to buy it all and not ask any questions.

A.J. did hang on to one of his former mentor’s assets, the apartment at 101 Bayshore Avenue that had been a safe house for a decade. The building and the territory around it had changed hands repeatedly, but it was safer now and still off the radar. Only a few days back he handled that situation.

During one of the several times, he’d called the station to say he was handling errands A.J. made one trip over to check the place out. It needed a thorough cleaning, but first, he had to do another kind of cleaning. There were boxes of prescription painkillers and adrenaline shots from Ryton Aide down the road. There was a crate of AK-47’s that had been missing from the downtown stations evidence room. There were also a few boxes of lingerie for someone other than Tracy. He gathered up what personal items he could find along with a few guns and some cash. He then called Colonel Cortez’s former maid from the apartment’s unlisted number.


Since the colonel had quickly left the city she’d set up a maid service that offered a variety of options. From topless cleaning to the removal of a body and a thorough cleaning that would destroy evidence the service became very popular. He chatted with Isabella and had to make it clear he wasn’t interested in any of her more erotic services this time and a deep clean would be enough. So within the hour two attractive Hispanic women arrived and got the place spotless. After tipping them and handling any security issues and slipping the building manager a hefty bribe he returned to duty. Tracy didn’t need the details, so he burned a bunch of Polaroid’s of Tommy fucking a large breasted Colombian informant.
His routine had been to drop by Tracy’s every other evening and have a drink, play with the boys, and talk to Caroline who’d moved into the guest bedroom. She actually asked for Yareli’s contact information so he didn’t make fun of Jerry. He left the bags jammed with cash, and everyone was good with being in denial. For Becker though the whole process was cathartic. He didn’t want his legacy to be a mysterious stash of cash and a few photos hanging on a wall. When he’d get home Yareli was supportive and didn’t pester him even if he knew she was curious.

As they headed back to the docks A.J. lit a cigarette and admired the sunrise as he thought about the last few weeks and how much life had changed. With the new rank, he had people to be responsible for, a new office, and a partner who now complicated his professional and personal life. Whatever the relationship he and Yareli had it wasn’t just friends with benefits.

They’d started to have sex, but when his tough Latina partner came to live under his roof she shared a side of herself he was sure few people knew about. She was a domestic goddess and while Dixie did a good job his place was never so clean, his belly was filled with home cooked meals and last but certainly not least the sex was fucking awesome. The arrangement wasn’t ideal because of why it happened but it was something he enjoyed beyond the simple creature comforts and feminine companionship.

The thing was it was just supposed to be a temporary thing and they weren’t even calling it a relationship. When she got home it might actually be easier, but he didn’t like the idea of her leaving either. It was nice coming home to someone regardless of what all those assholes who complained about their wives said.
Granted he got to come home to a Cuban version of June Cleaver who threw machetes at the wall when she was pissed and thought a sawed-off shotgun was the perfect accessory. He didn’t know who the guy was that broke her heart was, but the asshole truly didn’t have any idea of how special of a woman he had. He’d find out though and that pathetic excuse for a man would pay dearly.

He thanked the crew of the patrol craft for their help and threw them some cash for the fuel, breakfast, and any other expenses they might have for the week and walked up to his Rancher parked nearby. Yeah, it felt empty without her sitting next to him smoking with her boots on the dash. He laughed though as he looked on the floor of the passenger seat and saw the large brown bag. She actually made him lunch.

So as he looked out at the horizon he broke out his lunch early. There was a thermos of her homemade Cuban coffee that could probably take the paint off the truck and a sandwich stacked high with love and meat. There was also a packet of cigarettes, napkins, and a switchblade knife with the flag of Cuba on it. There was also a note that just said be safe, but for them, that was good as a love note.
As he recalled the morning of the day before yesterday he laughed, because while it might not have been one of those high points for a couple but it showed you love wasn’t just about perfect moments. Yareli had had her girls’ night and it was a smashing success, but like most parties, everyone got smashed and overindulged in everything. He’d found panties and empties all over the first floor, and that night’s passionate sex was capped off with a good orgasm and Yareli running to the bathroom to throw up.

For him, though he showed some chivalry and held her hair as she vomited into the toilet. She cried apologized and threw up some more, and after some water and some mouthwash she cuddled up with him on the bathroom floor. Once he was sure she was fine though he picked her up and carried her to bed. The next morning she didn’t fare much better though so he headed out early without her but returned before the shift.

When he returned he asked her how she was doing from under the bedcovers he got the reply back of, “A.J. do you need to be so loud and please turn off the lights.”

“Dear I’m whispering to you and the lights are off I just wanted to see if you were okay before I went to work.”

“I’m fine I can drink with the best of them,” she replied with a lot of cursing softly as her head pounded. She moaned softly, “where is Mr. Rabbit I need someone to cuddle with if you’re going to work.”

He smiled and walked to the dresser and retrieved the beloved stuffed animal and his recently acquired white rabbit and placed them on the edge of the bed. A hand quickly came out from under the covers and snatched them both up.

“There you go, honey, Mr. Rabbit and his girlfriend. I’ll call you later when I’m heading home. How about I cook tonight for a change?”

“Her name is Hoppy! Also, that would be fine long as it’s not chili or fried chicken and we’re not having grits with dinner okay?”

Becker laughed as he walked out the door and said that wouldn’t be a problem only to hear her say, “A.J. thanks for taking care of me even when I don’t need it.”
“I know baby. There is fresh coffee downstairs oh and I got you a platter from the Hurricane. It’s in the microwave.”

That night she was feeling much better and to her surprise, he made Arroz con pollo with Papa a la Huancaína. She actually complimented him though she did take a shot at him saying she was sure one of his former lovers taught him. He just replied back with a smile and told her it was the other cook at the diner where his mother worked. She was in her 60’s when he was a teenager and a very sweet lady. There was some grumbling but they had a pleasant evening.

As he was wrapping up half of the sandwich the radio came to life with the request for a supervisor in Little Havana. He hesitated but he knew Collins would be in the morning captains’ meeting and even if he’d left it would take time so he called in and hit the gas. Seemed there had been a fire in the same building as El Banco Corrupto Grande. With that out over the wire there would be plenty of people looking for information.

The bank had the reputation for being friendly to law enforcement, and for those in the know, it was a place to store your cash or have it washed clean. It was rumored to have been set up by one of the henchmen of the Spanish military dictator Franco who wanted to help fascists move their money around the Americas. Some major players discretely banked there when they couldn’t bank anywhere else. Also in the past year, the bank’s board made the wise choice of putting Thomas Vercetti on the board.

When Becker pulled up the location was chaos with traffic backed up, and plenty of police and fire department activity. He maneuvered his truck through the crowd of fellow first responders until he found the command vehicle surrounded by fire department leadership. He stopped his truck flashed his Id and walked around to the rear of the vehicle and pulled on a pair of boots and a turnout coat and grabbed a heavy duty flashlight.

Among all the fire officials was the familiar face of Chase Chrusciel. Chase was the third son of Polish immigrants and after one son joined the army and the other became a priest he became a cop. His dream was to become a firefighter, but like most poor kids in Vice City, he took the first steady job that became available. Though younger he went to the academy with Becker and was a solid cop when the opportunity to transfer a few years later became available he went to the fire department and later became an arson investigator.

Becker greeted everyone politely not bothering with names just he kept saying chief until he got to Chase and shook his hand then they hugged. He laughed and said; “only freaking Polack becomes a cop so he can fight fires. What we got here and why are you bothering me?”

Chase stepped back and laughed and replied, “Well nice to know you getting married hasn’t changed you much.”

“Wait who told you that?”

“You know Nurse Helen who runs the emergency room at West Haven?”

“Yeah, I know her nice lady.”


“Well I date her daughter Autumn she’s a paramedic and she heard from her girls at the hospital that you’re married to some Cuban chick now who is crazy.”

“Ah have to love the rumor mill. God, I remember when Autumn was 13 and playing softball. Anyway going to show me what you dragged me out to before my shift starts?”

The fire department was still cleaning up the place when the two men headed up the seldom-used stairwell to the third floor of the building. The bank occupied the first two levels and had state of the art security which was triggered when the fire was pulled through the building by its powerful air conditioning system. It destroyed the third floor and damaged the floors above and below it. Chase did get right to business though knowing there were interested parties and told him the bank and remained secure and probably only needed some minor repairs.

Chase gave him the rundown of how bad the fire was, but what was interesting to him was the cause. “Someone was very thorough and they didn’t care if it looked like arson. They made giant Molotov cocktails in jerry cans and placed them around the room. I mean the files are destroyed, computers melted, and to top it off they used military remote grenades.”

“Not your typical arsonist and I take from all this there was probably a crew involved.”

“Yeah, and they were smart. Got through the back door using the service elevator all the cameras were down from here to there. The security guards in the bank said they didn’t even notice because the fire alarms were bypassed.”

“So what you're telling me we have a bunch of skilled operators break-in during the late night hours do a number on the security and don’t break into the bank? What the hell did they do in this office?”

“They murdered five adults and a kid before they torched the place.”

They next went to the front of the building where the office had its meeting room. The whole floor reeked of gas, burnt sheetrock, and water damage but there was a new scent. Once you smell a dead body you never forgot it. Today the scent of roasted flesh jumped out at him so much Becker coughed so hard he nearly threw up. The bodies themselves could only be described as twisted and grotesque.
There were six bodies on display in what was left of the room. While plenty of evidence was destroyed it looked like they’d all been bound gagged before they were all executed. Whether they got what they came for was unknown, but whatever it was there wasn’t much left for clues.

“Well, I guess we’re working this together. Have any leads hell do we at least have we been able to identify these people?”

“Not yet, cowboy, we figure it was the staff of Caribbean Human Rights Watch it’s a small magazine run by a bunch of liberal college kids. I think one of them has a rich father that’s why they have the nice offices. Oh, we did find a purse with military-civilian identification in though. What do you think? A crew came to rob the place but had the wrong address?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time, but I’d be surprised if they got the wrong place and still went all out like this. I’m betting they were looking for something. Whose identification did you find?”

“Oh right,” Chase said as he glanced down at his clipboard. “It was a one Celeste Alcover says she’s support staff we put a call into the fort.”

It only took a few seconds for A.J. Becker to recall the name and after a quick look around he found the body he thought had to be her. It was burned beyond recognition, but he knew it was her because her body was on top of the kid’s body. He stood up shaking his head and said, “Yeah do that and I know we have her on file already.”

“What was she into?”

“Survival she was working as a janitor on the post and she started turning tricks not long after she had her son. She was a real knockout I busted her when she was working in one of those massage places near the post.”

“So she was what junkie or something?”

“Hardly, she had a rough life though. She was 26 and I think this was her son he should be about 12 now. Her soldier boyfriend raped her and the military just transferred him out. She did what she had to put food on the table.”

“So what would a cleaning lady be doing in the office of a magazine that covers war crimes and corruption in the middle of the night?”

“You mind handling the notifications I have to get back to the stationhouse.”

“No problem man we’ll figure this one out,” replied Chase before going back to working the scene. A.J. Becker took a moment and leaned out one of the missing windows and enjoyed the breeze, but before he stepped back he let a few tears go. He quickly wiped them away before meeting with the medical examiner and his staff. He’d thought he’d saved Celeste Alcover, but Vice City was a beast that was always hungry for more souls.

When he made his way out he easily noticed the bright orange Sabre Turbo with a white stripe on it. The car formally belonged to Hilary King who’d worked as a wheelman for Vercetti but died while robbing the bank. Now the supercharged car belonged to Cameron “Cam” Jones a professional thief with questionable skills. He was doing a bad job of concealing his Uzi in his member’s only jacket, but still, the message was clear. The man sent someone to find out was going on.

A.J. walked over to Cam who was dunking his donut in some coffee that rested on the hood of the car. "Morning officer looks like there was a bad fire in there. Just wanted to let you know I don’t crack safes anymore or blow up bombs I’m a security expert now. You want a donut?” He said as he pushed the second box towards Becker.

Becker took a deep breath and nodded grabbing the box of donuts and lifting it up and taking one while discretely checking for the fat envelope in the box. He wanted to bounce this creep’s head off the hood until he was knocked out and search the car, but he was connected so he played nice. “Why are you here asshole?”

Cam knew better than to talk back and replied, “The man is concerned about the bank as you know it’s been very favorable to law enforcement in the past so he’d like to know the status of the building. Also, he’d like for you to drop by for dinner sometime.”

“Well you can tell him thanks and I will call his people, and rest assured the bank is secure, and we don’t believe it was even the target.”
“That’s good to know. I guess he won’t be in there counting bills today.”




Enter the Reaper
Yareli was in no place to question A.J. when it came to unsavory associates, but that didn’t change the fact that Reaper was scary. He looked like someone out of the cast of a horror movie. A gaunt middle age man with the eyes of a killer covered in scars and burns including a nasty slash down the left side of his face. It was the kind of wound that would have killed a lesser man. He wasn’t so much psychotic but passionate about his work.

He’d met A.J.’s father when they served together, but when the military was done with the scarred veteran he’d followed his friend home. He’d guard the old man’s trucks, worked as a night watchman at a scrapyard and had no trouble going out and getting his hands dirty on secret missions. Oddly enough though he had great affection for young A.J. and his stepmother and was one of the few that spoke up to the old man about their treatment. He might have been a stone-cold killer, but he cared about family.

That’s probably why Yareli requested he come in the house when he had some downtime guarding the city compound. She also wanted information, but she had to be cautious because of his loyalty. Still, she figured it was all about her approach so after talking to the other mercenaries she felt pretty prepared for her conversation.

It was late in the morning after she’d saw A.J. off to work and started her day that she had Reaper come to the kitchen for breakfast. While he seemed cagey at first, but after he ripped into a large plate of eggs, sausage, and toast he seemed more open. He was dressed in old jungle boots, green pants, and filthy old military jacket and a dirty white t-shirt. Pistol in his waistband and rifle within reach the man wreaked of readiness.

Finally, after getting two-thirds of the way through the large plate of food he picked up a napkin and wiped his face and blew his nose in it and looked across the counter at Yareli. “Ah thank you, ma’am, that’s a fine breakfast. I could eat breakfast three times a day.”

She smiled and nodded as she watched him guzzle down a cup of black coffee. She stopped herself from giggling and replied, “You’re welcome and I’ve heard. Glad you like it and you can call me Yareli it is okay really.”

“Ah yes ma’am and don’t you worry if that piece of human waste comes anywhere near the house I’ll carve him up real good for you. Yes, I will.”

“Well, thanks, honey I know you will and please tell me if you need anything.”

“I’m fine ma’am but would you tell me why you had me come up to the house?

The food you send is always good and all.”

“Well, you’re a smart one I do want to know a few things. First, what is your real name and second could you tell me about A.J. when he was growing up. I know you were there and he speaks well of you, and not just as a soldier.”

Yareli wasn’t exactly sure but the man seemed to be taken aback for a moment and even blushed. He gave her a toothy grin and took out of one of his pockets a plastic bag with an envelope inside. He then placed a bunch of well-worn pictures on the counter. They showed A.J. growing up doing various activities and Reaper was in about half them. He smiled after taking a long look at them before he looked up and said to Yareli, “my name is Travis miss Yareli, ah most people don’t call me that but I’d like you to.”

Yareli smiled and walked to the other side of the counter and refilled his coffee and looked at all the pictures and pointed to one of the first ones. It was of a young teenage A.J. standing next to a clean-cut marine that had to be Travis a lifetime ago. “Start with this one and tell me about your boy.”

***
Martin Rodriguez’s day started off pretty good. He met his fiancée Caroline at his future father-in-law’s place for breakfast. The biscuits and gravy with eggs were popular for a reason, and he sipped coffee with his lovely bride-to-be as the dirt bike crowd got ready to hit the track. He made into work with plenty of time and got a good parking spot by the gate, but when two battle-scarred members of Patrol Investigation Group came up to his truck with batons in hand he knew things weren’t going to go well.

He was walked to the boss’s trailer, not the superintendent’s trailer, but the boss of Avery Construction Avery Carrington. Martin was worried, to say the least considering Carrington’s fierce reputation when it came to dealing with problems whether they were competitors or workers. The odd thing was he wasn’t stopping the unions being fostered by Tommy Vercetti. Sure he liked the idea, but he just wanted to do his job and go home. Now that was in doubt.

He was told to sit down in a trailer that was better furnished than most people’s houses. Avery Carrington was there dressed in his typical cowboy attire and there was another man there around his size also sporting a cowboy hat but was sitting in the shadows out of his view. Afraid to say anything Martin just stood there.
With his back still to the man, Avery Carrington began to speak. “Look, son, you shouldn’t be surprised to be here. From what I understand you’ve been in every dive bar where your crowd drinks at talking up the damn union and talking down about me.” Without even turning around Avery knew the man was about to reply and he just yelled out, “shut up son!”

“Don’t deny it and what’s more let me make this clear you’re only here because you were the one to beat-up and chased off those junkies trying to steal my copper wire! Everyone tells me you’re a good foreman and a great worker who is planning to get married. So can you tell me why you want to ruin all that?”
Martin swallowed hard and just blurted out, “Because I want to have a future where I’m getting paid what I’m worth sir, and well a leader doesn’t just think about himself!”

Avery turned around and cracked a smile before turning to the individual in the shadows and nodded. Whoever it was seemed to make some gesture of approval, so Avery walked over and leaned on the desk and tossed the man a large manila envelope.

“Congratulations son you’re the new union representative for this site. I want to be done ahead of schedule and I don’t want any problems.”

Shocked Martin held up the envelope and asked, “Ah thanks sir what’s this?”
“Oh, an address book with some numbers you’ll need, keys to your new Sandking they’ll drop it off at your place. Son leaves that Walton at home you ain’t no farmer. It’s painted union colors, but otherwise, it’s something you can take off-roading. I know you like that. Oh, and there is six months’ pay in there and a bonus to buy your wife the ring she deserves. All cash that’s easier I find.”

Martin just stared at the envelope that had just changed his life then looked back at Avery and slowly asked, “Ah is this some kinda bribe because I intend to do right by the men.”

Avery began laughing and Martin was sure the man in the shadows was doing the same thing if just simply quieter. Avery walked over and slapped the man on the shoulder and said, “You were right he was a good choice.”

He walked back to the desk and sat down before continuing. “Look son people are greedy and stupid. I intend to pay you boys what you’re asking and I won’t break up your union. All I’m asking you to help me head off any problems before they get out of hand. Also, Thomas Vercetti is running for a position on the leadership council of the union and he’d appreciate your vote. So you keep the site running well and I’ll keep everyone working. Now you take a paid day off and surprise that lovely lady of yours.”

Martin Rodriguez walked out of the trailer a little confused and overwhelmed, but he knew things would be different from now on. Things were a little shady, but well he’d do the right thing no matter what. Now he was going to head back to the bar and tell Caroline. He’d try to get her to quit, but he knew she wouldn’t leave her dad.

As Martin walked out to the parking lot with a spring in his step A.J. Becker stepped up from the shadows. He looked out the window at the man and nodded and asked, “So this all above board or will he be dirty too.”

Avery clipped a cigar and lit and then began to laugh. “It is the nature of the business what can I say. How he handles the power is up to him, but I intend to do right by him. People like me and Vercetti always are involved, because we make shit happen in this country.”

“Yeah, right I guess we do anything to keep the machine rolling. Let me get one of those?”

Across town, on Prawn Island Michelle looked out the boardroom window at all the construction work being performed on the north side of the island. The island was home to InterGlobal Studios and some beautiful old villas that until recently had been taken over by a street gang called the Sharks. The gang was gone now thanks to an epic hail of bullets, so it appeared Avery Construction was taking advantage of the opportunity to redevelop the area. None of this concerned Michelle today though she was about to retire from porn.

Producer Steven Scott who was sitting at the end of the table wasn’t happy about the news, to say the least, and to help him make his case for her to stay in the business he’d brought her longtime friend Candy Barr. Known for her supersize silicone boobs, bubbly personality, and love of candy she Destiny and Mystique had done the stripper/prostitute thing until they got the opportunity to work in film. They’d done several films together including Vice City Beach Bitches Lesbian Lusts. Things were friendly but tense.

Steven brought up the financial angle and said, “Look, honey, if this is about the money we can work things out. You’re no Candy Suxxx but Mystique always gets some interest from the film going public. Besides, we’re making better films than ever now and we have financing set up for dozens of new films. More exposer means more money as an escort or swinging from a pole, and in a few years you can quite have the money to do whatever you want.”

“Look I can’t speak for Denise, but I want out. The lifestyle doesn’t exactly work with my sobriety and I have a new guy in my life now. I’m here to discuss the films I’ve already made and to thank you but turn down a contract renewal. The last few years have been a blur and I’ve pissed away a lot of the money I’ve made and I only want one guy to see me naked for a change.”

Scott turned to Candy to look for support and nodded to her as he got up and walked over to the industrial grade coffee machine installed by the Old Amsterdam Coffee Shop. Candy smiled and asked, “Michelle do you love this guy or did he just tell you to quit? Even if he’s rich honey you want to have your own money. Also, what’s going on with your hair? I forgot you had brown hair it does look cute short though.”

Michelle shook her head and sat back down and looked across the table at her friend. “I’m tired of the parties the banging around, and you know what A.J. telling me it was over was probably the best thing for me. The new guy turns wrenches and smells like grease, so I don’t think he’ll ever be rich. He’s sweet though and his last wife cheated so I don’t think filming it will make it any better. As to the hair well there are enough sexy blonds in Vice City.”

Candy giggled knowing that was a reference to her lovely nature blond hair and she looked at Michelle curiously. “Wait you haven’t even slept with this guy yet have you? He has no idea he’s dating an adult film star?”

Michelle nodded no and replied back, “Closest thing to sex has been staying up all night talking. I’ve told him some stuff and he’s cool with it, but long as it is in the past. I don’t want to shove it in his face.”

“Well, you could do girl on girl only. All the guys in my life love that. Won’t be as much money, but you’d still be in the business.”

Michelle reached out and squeezed her friend’s hand and said, “Ah that was a lot of fun but I think it needs to be just him for a while.”

Candy actually felt herself blushing a little at the idea of simple romantic uncomplicated beautiful sex. Porn at its best was only an attempt to capture that type of magic. She turned to Steven and said, “I think we’re good here. She’s done and is in a good place so I guess we should just learn to get on without her.”
Steven Scott who’d been enjoying a large coffee had been listening to the girl’s little exchange waiting for Candy to bring her friend back around. Something like maybe doing a film with her new lover or promising her being sober wouldn’t be a problem with her working. What he heard was shocking he almost spit out his coffee. He took a moment though and composed himself and said, “Well at least we can promote your last film as your last appearance with us. This is legit I’m not going to see you working for another company in a few months?”

“That much I can promise and I’m donating part of the proceeds to rehab programs.”

****
A.J. Becker might have appeared happy on the outside, but he was having a rough day, to say the least. He’d scattered the ashes of his corrupt mentor and friend, witnessed the scene of a brutal arson nobody cared about because their money was safe, and he had just taken part in a corrupt union deal. He didn’t know what he’d tell Yareli about her friend’s husband, but the powers at be already had him sized up when they asked him to look into the man. The only solace he had was even a good man in Vice City was a little dirty.

On the way back he stopped off at the stand to get coffee and fresh donuts for the crew back at the station house. Fact was he was putting in a lot of hours as the hunt for the bikini killer had only intensified. Cruz hadn’t left town and consequently he’d run into a few of the locals, and the police had been the least of his problems.

The Cuban born street enforcer César Feijoo gave the creep a pounding and the serial killer who only escaped after he stabbed the giant several times. Ramón Obregón better known as “Fancy Ray” the pimp caught Cruz messing with one of his girls. He narrowly missed cutting him down with a shotgun before the psycho disappeared into the night. The last report was from one of the Bikers named Cooper who spotted him in a Go-Go bar. Once again Cruz got away but not for lack of trying, Cooper emptied a magazine into Cruz’s ride before setting it ablaze with a flare gun.

It seemed clear to Becker that Mr. Cruz was running out of time, but like any wounded animal you never knew what extreme course of action he’d take. For now though he walked in with arms full of treats it was about taking care of routine police business. He put the whole pile on the front desk for Sergeant Virginia Juderias to sort out. She shook her head and called over one of the rookies and then gestured for him to go into her office.

Once the door closed he knew what she was going to say. “What is going on with you and Rel and please don’t bullshit me she’s special. Normally you’re banging everything with a skirt and partying like it goes out of style or at least that’s how it was since Caroline dumped your ass.”
Becker laughed but her look made him realize she was dead serious. “You know people who have been married three times shouldn’t be critical of other people relationships.”

“First one was a good father but gambled too much so I kicked him out. Number two I loved and he got murdered, and I plan to grow old with number three. So I know a lot about love and life, so what is going on with you two?”
He leaned against the door and thought about it for a long minute. “I don’t know Ginny what do you want me to say that she might be the one? I don’t even know what to call what we have. She takes care of me and I know she cares. She’s got secrets, but well who doesn’t.”

The hard boiled sergeant just nodded and walked up and gave him a supportive hug and said, “It is called love honey. You’re both broken and you need each other, but you don’t trust people. You’re both like two lone wolves who keep howling for the other one to come over. One thing is clear you can’t keep going on this way. Forget about all the gossip and the bullshit get to what’s real in your relationship.”

“I got it sarge you have anything new for me?”

“Oh yeah baby paperwork and plenty of other crap needs to be done. Also I’m putting your hunting party together. We need that animal off the streets.”

“Is there anything else?”

“Yeah get some rest honey, but after we get through the day. Oh talked to my friend in records they’re having the box brought over this afternoon. Nobody has looked at it since the case was closed by the way.”

She was right of course and the stress of the job was getting to him and the usual cure of taking a few days and getting drunk and banging whores wasn’t on the table any longer. Having sex with Yareli was awesome but there as the simple fact what wasn’t being said also bothered him and that needed to change. So he spent the day trying not to think about all the things that were driving him crazy and put things in order.

What put him over the edge was his run in with motorcycle police officer Hank Smith. The pair had history and while Becker couldn’t stand the guy the veteran officer acted like they were friends. Smith would have rather gone by his “true name” Hans Schmitt and his grandfather came over on the same boat as his did. Smith’s father was doing time for running guns, but if you asked his son he was say he was a political prisoner. While Becker tried to put a dark past behind him Smith looked on it with pride.


The family’s Nazi past remained current with Hank being a ranking member of the shadowy group known as The Brotherhood. They claimed to be a patriotic anti-communist political group, but what they really were was an organization that united bikers, klansmen, and skinheads in and out of prison. The network owned bars, firing ranges, and other cash businesses as well as being involved in a variety of criminal enterprises. They operated all over the country and had members in the police and military, and were involved with para-military groups.
He caught up with Becker in a nearly empty hallway and made it clear they needed to talk urgently. Becker looked at his watch and nodded. “Smith you have five minutes and it better be good and let me make this clear off the bat I’m not donating or interested in joining you little club.”

The blond hair blued Smith nodded and gave him a grin. “We’ve had this discussion before I know you’ll come back over to the cause one day, but I am here strictly about a real-estate transaction. Ah your stepmother has rejected several generous offers for your family land. We’ll take it all including the dogs. Apparently your father gave her everything in the divorce and she won’t budge.”

“So I think you’ve got your answer then. She loves those dogs and isn’t ready to move.”
“Look Becker your family has a lot of respect among the boys, but if this was anyone else she’d be off that land at a third of its value. Your people might have strayed, but you can get back in our good graces without having to resort to anything unsavory.”

With that A.J. Becker finally lost his cool. All day people had wanted something and now this creep was demanding something. He was caught off guard as Becker picked him up and pushed him across the wall where he slammed him hard. Smith was no push over and he tried to throw a few punches, but Becker dodged them and hit back with his fist. When he went for a weapon his hand was slapped away and was lifted off the ground by his throat.

“Look you fucking Florida Nazi bastard. If you or any of your ilk goes near my MOTHER! I will end them and burn down whatever group they’re affiliated with. So there better not be one window shot out, not one burning cross, and if you even think of hurting those animals I’ll come find you first.”
Smith struggled and spluttered out, “You can’t do that I’m a fucking cop! What kind of white man are you A.J?”

A.J. turned his head and noticed there were few people gathering at the end of the hallway so turned around and tossed Smith on his butt. “What kind? The good kind asshole. Now get out of here.”

Smith stood up and thought about striking back and thought better of it as more witnesses came into the hallway. He got up as fast as he could trying to hide that he and his pride was hurt and glared over at Becker. “This isn’t over Becker believe me.”

“Yes it is now get the hell out of here! We’re not interested in selling and even if we were it wouldn’t be to your crew.”

Both men stormed off in separate directions and eventually the crowd broke up but not without word of the fight spreading all over the stationhouse. A.J. went to the men’s room to cool off and fix himself before heading into his office. He barely noticed Ms. Sally Brassing his unit’s office manager walk by in a very short skirt and stiletto heels. Well he did notice he was a man after all. The bubbly bleach blond actually wasn’t a bad secretary the problem was she was trying to become Mrs. Cop way to hard. He was sure her and Yareli would clash once his partner was back to work.

He glanced over at the empty desk with Yareli’s boxes around it, and then yelled out to Bassing for her to get his mother on the line. She nodded as she cleaned the coffee station, but then nervously looked up and yelled back, “Ah Lieutenant you have a guest I put them in your office. They have department paperwork and one of your cards signed and everything.”

“That’s fine Sally I’m sure it’s routine,” Becker said as he walked into his office and slammed the door seeing someone siting in his chair. Why wouldn’t it be fine to let someone into a commander’s office by themselves? What could this be he wondered as he saw the chair spin around revealing the lovely Lana Lane in jean shorts and a tank top. She looked tired and didn’t have any makeup on but she was hot.

She was also thrilled to see him as he soon found out. She ran around the desk and hugged him tightly and then started kissing him. It was warm and familiar and for a moment he shut his eyes as she pushes her tongue into his mouth. The reality of the situation kicked in and he pushed her back gently and he lowered her down to one of the chairs meant for visitors.
“Hey baby don’t worry I put the blinds down first. Don’t tell me it’s true that you’re married now. You know I’m flexible honey please tell me it’s not that idiot secretary out there.”

Becker was thinking enough already as he dropped down to the other chair opposite he and shook his head no. “I’m not married but I’m in a relationship kind of well it’s complicated. Anyway what’s going on I thought we were working in the islands with no plans to retire.”

“Well plans change honey and well I was hoping to find you and tell you what I heard while I was out on Gator Keys. Some wild stuff is happening in the islands. I’m sorry about Tommy honey, but I also saw in the paper they murdered the guy who told me everything.”

“Wait slow down honey who got murdered and what did they tell you?”
Over the next thirty minutes Lana gave him the rundown of what the now dead federal agent had scene. It was a story of military hardware being purchased with drug money and a smuggling network that handled both so the agency could fight its wars all over Central and South America. Granted she didn’t have any proof, but Lana was as good a listener as she was giving head.

She concluded by saying, “That’s why I came to see you. Well I hoped you’d be single but I knew you’d protect me and get me in touch with the right people.”
Becker nodded and went to the water cooler and filled two cups and handed her one before drinking his and going over to his side of the desk. “Well I have to figure out who we can trust in this whole mess, but I can’t do any of this on the record. What I can do is put you in a safe house until we work this out.”
“What can’t I stay with you? I won’t be any trouble.”

“Ah no that would be trouble,” Becker said as he thought about Yareli screaming about a whore in her house. While she might be compassionate to Lana she’d at the very least make his life hell. It seemed he’d be using the apartment at 101 Bayshore Avenue sooner than he thought. He continued to talk to Lana as he made the arrangements including food and security. She knew enough to be dangerous, and for the people they were dealing with that was more than enough reason to kill.

Within the following hours, he’d handled the paperwork, setup Lana in her temporary quarters, and reached out to his mother. His mother tried to play it off as everything was okay, but he knew better and he promised to visit soon and she promised to be more careful. He made a few more calls to the local sheriff, the Anderson’s, and a few friends back home he soon had protection in place. He left a less than pleasant message on his father’s answering machine about the situation. Life was complicated, but he was handling it as usual. It didn’t mean it wasn’t taxing though.

Retired police officer Raúl Gaona pulled up in the front of the police station in his classic tricked out two-door coupe and got out smoking a cigar with desert eagle pistol hanging from a loose fitting shoulder holster. The retired officer left with only twenty years on the force just ahead of scandals so he did a lot of things to make ends meet. He was a private investigator like many retired cops, but also delivered food, unloaded cargo, and ran a charter fishing boat. He’d quit gambling but the problem now he was still spending big.

He greeted A.J. and Lana and opened the door for her after putting her bags in the trunk. Raul puffed on his cigar as he went through the arrangement again. “Okay man I got everything setup at the apartment. My brother is handling the boat so this has got my full attention. My nephew Jose the bodybuilder is a licensed security guard but is only working part time, so I got him handling nights. Nobody is going to get to that pretty lady. Oh and Little Texas is back in town said for you to give him a call he’s staying with that girl he knows here.”

Becker gave him a tight handshake nodded and handed him a large roll of cash. He couldn’t help himself though and asked, “Oh you’re using your nephew is that okay with his auntie Virginia?”

“You tell that devil woman that what I do with my brother’s kid is my business and I don’t have to send her checks any more since she keeps getting married!”

“She’s just inside if you want to tell her yourself?”

“No way man! She’ll get on me about money for college, eating better, and and all kinds of other crap,” he said clearly getting agitated.

“Just give her your best and tell her you’re sorry.”

“Ah yeah well it might have mostly been my fault, so ah yeah something like that man.”

With that Becker headed back inside and went to the next shift’s briefing to bring them up to speed on the latest in the Bikini Killer case. He also promised a bottle of top shelf liquor to whoever got him a lead to the killer and a case to whoever brought him the killers scalp. That got a ruckus cheer from the uniforms as the left lineup to the chagrin of their shift lieutenant. He was going to head home tonight, but he was going to keep the heat up on this guy.

Back in his office he went through the box from records which had finally arrived and found out some shocking information concerning Yareli’s passed. She’d only talked about her birth mother as very sexy drug using stripper her father had knocked up, but decided to marry. She was a waitress and took care of the house and while she had some good memories of her mom Maria raised her until she was taken away. He knew there had to be more to the story, and now he had a big piece.

Back in the day Vice City’s medical examiner would check a box on the front of each case file. There were three options, natural causes, homicide, or suicide. The fact was you had to read the file to get the full story and Yareli’s mother suicide was anything but when you looked at all the evidence. She’d recorded a message on cassette for her daughter, and while he couldn’t bring himself to listen to her voice on the tape he read the transcript and the detective’s notes.

She didn’t commit suicide but was getting high one last time before going to rehab. The message was one of love saying how she was sorry her daughter was raised in gang life and that once she got out of rehab she planned to take her daughter away from it all. She’d been working putting money away which made a lot of sense since why would a criminal kingpin’s wife need to work? Also along what she’d pilfered from her husband’s stashes she had plenty to start a new life.


The investigator’s notes filled in the rest of what had happened. On that faithful day Yareli’s mother recorded her message then drank a beer along with three tablets of what she thought was Lipurgex a common over the counter drug used to give people a boost of energy among other things. At the time a shipment had been hijacked from the port and was being sold on the black-market, but like always dealers weren’t content to sell pure anything and were mixing the already less then safe drug with a variety of substances. She died painfully while trying to go for the phone probably thinking Yareli would be home from school soon.
As he was thinking about how to tell all this to Yareli he packed up. When he was finally ready to go home Johnny Garcia walked in and closed the door behind him and said, “We need to talk man.”

Becker grunted and sat back down on his chair and shook his head. “We do? This had better be good man. I’ve had the day from hell and the only positive is I haven’t had to shoot anyone yet.”

Garcia sat down and took out a cigarette and lit up, “You don’t mind right? Anyway I heard you kicked Smith’s ass. Good deal he’s a prick but I’m here to tell you I can get you in on the ground floor of bull shark testosterone being imported into the country. The shit is sick.”

“Ah the answer is no, so good luck with that and you could have called me.”

“Well yeah but I’m here to talked to you about my ex-girlfriend Yareli man. Should have done this sooner, but man you don’t want any piece of that crazy bitch.”
Becker couldn’t believe the nerve of this guy to show up now and talk this way, but he wasn’t going to leave so he at least had to hear him out. “Well tell me why as I recall you put a ring on her finger after dating what six maybe seven months?”

“It was closer to a year and it was the biggest mistake of my life. I mean she didn’t clean house and you know she can’t cook right? Oh, and she beat the shit out of my side piece at the gym after we got engaged. I mean that was fucking embarrassing.”

“I’ll bet it was. I mean she expected you to get your act together before you married her?” Becker said trying to hide the sarcasm.

“I know right? Anyway, I only asked her because she has good genetics to make strong athletic boys and she’s good in bed.”

“You tell her that before or after she gave the ring back?”

“She threw it at me actually and I told her before. I mean I believe in being honest besides she’d get all the perks of being married to me, and I know at least one of my kids will go pro.”

Becker cleared his throat and leaned over and shook Johnny’s hand. “Well, thanks for the advice I’ll keep it in mind. It’s all professional anyway.”

It was well into second shift before Becker was finally heading home in his truck. He’d called Yareli and told her not to wait on him, but he knew she probably would or at least have a plate waiting for him in the oven. She claimed it was better than using microwave even if she was a fan of using it to make popcorn. They’d probably eat in the kitchen since he left all his work papers and maps all over the kitchen table.

If she wasn’t around he’d be using his secure space, but she was and he couldn’t explain disappearing in the house to her. Part of him wanted to show her and let her know she was trusted, but there was so much personal and incriminating crap in there. Hell, he had drawings and photographs of her that would make her think he was a fucking stalker. He wanted to try and make things work this time, but tonight he was going to blow off some steam.

As he drove down the dark roads towards his home the city was teaming with life, and as any good street cop will tell you when night falls evil and corruption only got worse. Tonight though the worst corruption was happening at the Vice Point Langer, but the $100 a plate fundraiser for congressmen Alex Shrub was just the beginning. What was going on a number of floors up concerned a “retired” general and the son of a Liberty City bookkeeper known as Mr. Black.

While he might have been staying in the presidential suite at the Langer and wearing an expensive black suit from Rafael’s Max Kurschner was pigging on burgers and fries from the Burger Off food stand. He laughed to himself thinking of the store employees who were shocked that anyone would like a black suit in the sunny Florida city. The suit was part of the role that he’s been playing since he’d enlisted in the Marines as Joey Black back in 1965. Only a few people knew the real him and his guest who was knocking at the door was one of them.
General Lee tolerated the security inspection at the door but assured the tough Japanese gentlemen that he was going in with his weapons and they would wait in the hall with his men. The begrudgingly stepped outside as he walked into the master bedroom where Mr. Black was sitting at a card table eating his fast food and washing it down Pisswasser. The general just sat down and took a can and cracked it open.

“Really Max you’re drinking this crap and eating that well garbage. You could be downstairs enjoying some good grass-fed beef.”
“Lee you know I appreciate the simple things in life and your friends would rather think of me as their banker they don’t socialize with. So got Shrub back in good graces again?”

“Oh, we got him back on the right path again. A mistress we can control got his wife back and bought those blackmail photos back. That wasn’t cheap but worth it. Now he’ll be bringing jobs to the city building Advance Maverick attack helicopters. Your new guards they’re Yakuza?”

“Yeah, they were on a losing side of a clan war and were stuck in the states. They’re very proficient at silent kills and are qualified Stinger mechanics, so they’re handy to keep around. I didn’t think the military wanted the Maverick II?”

“They don’t but we’ll need them for the next war. We’ll test it in some of our smaller conflicts and refine it and it will be ready to deal with the Russians. But we’re not here to talk about helicopters though I understand our mutual friends the Talbot’s like them a lot.”

Max smirked then nodded before wiping his mouth and replying, “Very good sir they reported those choppers as a loss during that coup in Central America along with their hotel and other properties. Fortunately, they were able to put it down as a loss.”

“I’m sure that’s what they said to the IRS, but what did you do for them?”

“Well, it was simple really. They sold everything to the new government ahead of the coup at a low price. The guerilla’s made it look like it was destroyed for reports and such and I helped launder the drug money so they could pay the Talbots and buy more military equipment from you and your associates. It was easy to convert those choppers into gunships to kill communists. The influx of secret cash let the Talbot’s fight that little real estate war in Oklahoma and take land that had oil on it.”

“Yes hired muscle, weapons, and lawyers don’t come cheap. I’m here about the mess with the Talbot’s would be son-in-law and the nastiness that went on with that military convoy in this country! Max nobody in the organization was happy about that one and it can’t happen again. Never mind this latest office bombing. I took a lot of flak and had to trade in a few favors to keep you on the payroll.”
Max took a long drink and nodded understandingly. “Well, you have my thanks on that old friend.”

“You’re going to have to do a little better than that old friend!”

“Well, what would you say to the assurance that it won’t happen again, and most of the men involved are out of the country and or dead already. We’ve handled our supply line issues, imposed tighter security restrictions, and made Darlington and asset. Also if that isn’t enough there is several million in your Swiss bank account for that house you’ve been eying over there.”

“Fine, but no more screw-ups! That bit with Darlington’s friend and the reporter was sloppy. In any other city, it might have been noticed. Also if you’re handling Darlington these days make sure he makes it to the wedding. Mary and Richard Talbot have plans for the boy. And another thing this investigation of his has to come to an end already. Have him make some arrests charge some people and move on. While some of those people don’t work directly for us further investigations could cause a lot of problems.”

“You’re talking about Becker’s I take it?”


“Not just them. His whole crew associates or takes brides from our contacts and operatives. But yes I don’t need either one of them in a position where they might be in a position to talk. The old man has done a lot of dirty work for Uncle Sam in and out of uniform. Hell, he helps run our smuggling network in this state. His son well isn’t as dedicated let’s say, but he’s never talked before so let’s not give him any reasons.”

“Right General I understand. I’ve given Darlington a few distractions, but I don’t think getting him to settle for less knowing he’ll win out, in the long run, won’t be too hard to sell.”

“Excellent I want to scale things down here because you and your people are needed elsewhere. I want a smooth secret operation without any more hang-ups. What kind of distractions are you giving him?”

“Well, I set him up on George’s Key in the Bahamas the island has been leased by the US government since World War II. It has a few bunkers, good size airfield, and a compound which includes several homes and buildings as well as a listening post. Also gave him some choppers and a small detachment of private security personnel.”

“Just wonderful intelligence capabilities, mercenaries, and aircraft in the hands of Mr. righteous. Is there anything else?”

“Well, his supervisor gave him a bunch of Field Training Associates to babysit as well. Look I wouldn’t worry though. The federal law enforcement is drawing down in Vice City unless they have active investigations. He’s one of a handful left and he’s been busy on that island for over a week. I’ll point him in the right direction and he’ll be back at the Talbot’s country estate in no time. In the meantime, a friend of from the D.E.A. is shadowing him.”
“This is hardly ideal Max, but the situation is what is for now.”

“General there is so much money being generated from cocaine, and you can’t stop it long as people want it. I’m sure that will change, but for now, you’re taking advantage of the situation to finance strategic operations. Me I’m in it for the money and to make my clients happy.”

Yareli was officially worried as she hauled another load of clean laundry out of the of the laundry room. She was clad in flip-flops; A.J.’s sweat pants and a tank top. Her hair was a mess and she didn’t have any makeup on, but he seemed to like the real her. An unlit cigarette hung out of her mouth as she turned her head to look at the phone on the wall. It had rung a dozen times, but while the calls had been interesting none of them were the one she really wanted.

Virginia had called from home as she was enjoying her rum and coke and recounted the day A.J. had to deal with. She knew he was upset and wasn’t happy either to hear he didn’t make it home. Then she had her first girlfriend to boyfriend’s mom talk when A.J.’s stepmother called to yell at her son for being overly concerned. Seemed she appreciated his love, but said not to worry. She grilled Yareli though and made it clear the couple was coming to dinner soon.
Matt LeTisser also called and told Yareli not to worry. He’d been working with the contractor at her place and promised it was more secure than ever. Seemed A.J. was handling the repair work without talking to her. While she was happy to go home she didn’t need him to do everything. The rest of the calls were associates who only cared about business. She should have been logging their calls for her case, but right then she didn’t care about her assignment all that much.
She eventually found herself drifting off to sleep in a comfortable chair in the living room with the phone and shotgun by her side. Cleopatra gnawed on her bone until she fell asleep by Yareli’s feet. As she slept A.J. did come home, but he didn’t come in. With pizza and a few bottles, he laid out on one of the chairs by the pool.

Exhausted he put his weapons on one table and the food on the other and proceeded to get drunk. He had started a fire in the fire pit but it kept going out, so he threw a bottle of Uncle Phil’s Boomshine into the pit where it exploded with a rush of flame and a loud bang. He laughed for a second hearing the flurry of activity but laid back in his chair.

While his security had a handle on things fast enough they decided to leave the boss alone. Yareli, on the other hand, was up like a woman possessed chambering the shotgun and running outside with the dog right behind her. The explosion had been brief but scary enough for the moment. Cleopatra went over to her owner and soon happily having her head scratched. Yareli sighed glanced at her watch which read 4:00 Am.

Relieved and angry at the same time she walked over determined to get some answers and began screaming out, “Where the hell where you? You said you’d be home hours ago and what are you trying to do with that stuff blow up the house? You’re drinking something that a fuel additive for crying out loud!”
She bent over to pick up one of the bottles unsure if she was going to drink it or break it when she realized he’d been crying. It was dark but it was clear tears were rolling down his cheeks. The kind of crying men did when they didn’t know how too. She knew about his day, and everyone had their limits.

She immediately dropped the bottle down letting it drain out on the patio as she climbed on to the chair with him and cuddled up close. She gently wiped his face and whispered, “Baby I’m sorry just that was scary. I missed you okay and I’m glad your home.”

“Well you don’t need to be scared any more. I found him and killed him tonight honey.”

“Wait what?” Yareli asked propping herself up on her side. “You killed Carlos Cruz.”
A.J. recounted the day from hell so rather then head home he went over to his Phil’s to blow off some steam. While there he got some ammunition and some refreshments and Michael Vercetti’s top enforcer pulled up with stretch limo filled with young Cuba gang members. A hooker whose pimp was a member of a Cuban crew spotted Cruz and called it in. So Michael hopped in with him and the Cubans followed.

They caught up with Cruz in one of the back alleys of Little Havana. Forced him to crash is beat-up Virgo which the Cubans filled with boxes of bullets. Cruz got out but he didn’t get very far, and A.J. took him down hard with five shots from his pistol blowing out Cruz’s chest despite him wearing body armor. He then finished him off with a few blasts of Michael’s combat shotgun.

Yareli listened intently of the chase down the dark alleys, but she finally had to interrupt. “Wait baby if you shot him up why did you use the shotgun?”
“Oh I told Michael to tell his boss he got him and to leave me out of it.”
“Wait why would you do that? You know Michael is a brute but he won’t lie about that and I mean the barrio boys will be drinking to you too.”

“Yeah well it isn’t about getting credit. Vercetti will show he’s strong and can handle shit in his city, and I won’t have to deal with another investigation. I was off duty, drinking, and my partner wasn’t exactly an upstanding citizen. I should have called you, but well I didn’t want to miss a chance. By the way Tommy wants to have us over for dinner. You have any dresses?”

“No…no it’s all good. You did good baby. You should be known as the one who stopped the serial killer baby. Well I know what you did and that’s what matters. And yes I wear dresses too thank you very much! Also why are you putting all that security into my place?”

He caressed her face gently and looked into her eyes. “I want you to be safe when you go home. I care about you a lot pardner. I can take you home tomorrow if you want. Kinda wanted it be a surprise. Don’t worry about the money and stuff.”
“I…I really care about you too A.J. and it’s not about the money with you and me okay ah pardner. I don’t need to rush home, but I do need to go there. Why were you crying honey?”

“I lost one today and well when that happens it doesn’t matter how many of them you kill or how much drugs you take off the street or all the money. You still lose.”
“We all lose sometimes, but you try harder than most. You care about people. Before I met you I thought you were some arrogant cowboy who only cared about looking good.”

“What do you think now,” he asked looking in her eyes.

“Oh I still think that,” she said teasing, “But you have a heart and that’s what I love about you.”

He hugged her close and pulled her to him and whispered in her ear, “Oh so you love me.”
She squirmed and laughed, “That wasn’t what I said you big jerk. I’m just really attached to you and well I’m glad I ended up with you.”
He whispered again and said, “I won’t hurt you like he did.”

The cold realization of the situation sunk in when he said and she just whispered back, “I know you wouldn’t. You’re not capable.”

After a lot of hugging and talking Yareli eventually got Becker into bed once he made a few calls and cleaned up. She did lay with him for a bit cuddling close and feeling the warmth and comfort, but she could only sleep for so long. So she got up and took care of the dog and went about her business around the house. When she did get outside she found the evidence box and when she went through it she had another fantastic shock but this time from her past.

At the Vercetti Estate Michael Ribera was doing his best to keep awake as he waited for his boss Tommy Vercetti to make his way downstairs. While the Cuban chef was busy preparing food for the army that guarded the property he kindly did take a moment help him with the cappuccino machine and take his order. Michael sat at the counter and reviewed the events of the night before.

Going with a bunch of Cuban gang members to help a rogue cop gun down a serial killer wasn’t most guys did, but then again he wasn’t most guys. He was what you’d call muscle he though as he sipped his cappuccino grunted to himself. When you were a jock with a record you didn’t have a lot of options, but he trained and made the right moves. After all he picked the underdog in the last war, and how he was on top.

After about an hour, several cups of coffee, and a Cuban cigar later Tommy Vecetti made his way into the kitchen. For a multimillionaire he seemed at home in a white tank top and jeans. He approached Michael at the counter and after shaking hands and hug he sat down with his main thug and made small talk for a few minutes. He smelled like Mercedes Cortez, rum and cigarettes, so it really wasn’t a surprise that he took so long to come downstairs.

Vecetti did get down to business after getting a cup for himself and the staff stepped away for a minute. “So you and A.J. take care of business last night?”
“Yeah boss you can tell your pimps and whoever that the girls will be safe. Well at least from whoever that creep was. Becker told me to tell you I did it, but boss he was the one who put him down. Ah some kid from patrol is writing it up as gang violence. Oh and told him about the dinner coming up.”

Vercetti put his hand on the man’s shoulder and nodded. “I appreciate the honest. Stay here today get some sleep and take a massage and a steam. One of Mercedes’s friends is a trained massage therapist. And you know you’re invited too big man. Lobster and pasta you love it.”

“That all sounds good boss is there anything else.”

“Yeah as a matter of fact have one of our people reach out to that kid. A kid on patrol working nights is putting in a lot of hours. He’ll need things like cash, a new car, and maybe even a girlfriend. You know to keep him focused and let him know he has friends.”

Michael grunted and nodded. “Consider it done boss.”

“Good man oh and one other thing. That friend of ours in the F.B.I. that gambles and drinks too much. Setup a meeting in the next day or too. I want him to dig up everything he has on these yuppie snobs called the Talbots.”

I have the best partner ever

Waiting to hear what my partner thinks...hope everyone else likes reading along

Yareli....maybe?

Hoping the message goes out that there is more fun to be had...

https://youtu.be/bX9RMdcFQAw

At a table on the patio of Front Page Cafe, Yareli Robina sat alone, her eyes on the sun setting over Ocean Dr. Between sips of her mango mojito, she couldn’t keep the grin from her lips, relishing the first free moment she’d had in weeks. With Cruise taken care of, she was released from protective custody but had yet to be reinstated. There was still a psych eval to get through but that was the least of her worries. It wouldn’t be the first time she sat on someone couch pretending to have her shit together, and given her penchant for excessive force, it probably wouldn’t be the last. With Becker wholy on her side now, she was certain she’d survive any “official” meeting as well as he would his own. And her off the books protective custody was bound to bring a chat with IAB as well. She wasn’t much concerned about that either. Vice City Voice, VBC news, and VBS news had all run stories doing everything but calling the “lynch mob” heroes for ending the career of the serial killer.

Having a meal outside of Becker’s estate was Yareli’s first step. She’d arrived early so she could soak in the relative freedom of being off the clock without a target on her back. But the late lunch was far from a social visit. Caroline would be along so they could discuss the best way for her to get from under Agent Darlington and the DEA without Becker ending up behind bars. It would probably be the first of many such meetings but Yareli planned to make the most of this initial sit down. While Becker was out combing the street for the Vice City’s Jack the Ripper, Yareli had been hard at work piecing together the information his ex-wife had supplied about Darling’s operation. As far as she could tell, it had very little to do with cracking down on corruption in the police department. If Caroline was right, a fact that Yareli had little doubt, this whole thing started when she was still an undervalued DEA desk jockey. It had nothing to do with the armored car heists orchestrated by her collegues that almost saw her childhood friend dead, or worse locked up for the rest of her life.

It was 1975 when Roxor International was purchased by Tantalum Locke Holdings, a multinational conglomerate “based” in the Bahamas. An overambitious scheme to make Vice City some sort of financial capital, most of the monolith had been vacant for years until a certain CEOs wife took an interest in warm weather disaster relief. An ex-model and TV movie starlet, Richard Talbot knew his second wife would bore of life in the nation’s capital. Given her stint in the spotlight, Mary had been heavy in the free love movement and all things counterculture until she met an older, married man with old money and ambition. They married as quickly as he was divorced and welcomed baby Ava soon after that. Mary was never one for the business of politics and was completely unaware of how much of her life would involve schmoozing lawmakers and playing nice with their judgemental wives. She tolerated it for Ava’s sake but now that she was on her way to starting a family of her own, Mary began to hint at a need for a life of her own. She began to decline his invitations to networking events, started organizing her own social calendar without considering him. Richard could feel her slipping away and threatened retirement but she wouldn’t have it. His work was his life and she wouldn’t have him give it up to please her whims, so they compromised. In 1981, the Talbots purchased a condo in the Hyman and renovations began on the abandoned upper floors of the Roxor. Two years later, a category 3 hurricane devastated Vice City Beach and Mary found her calling in the relief efforts. She began organizing fundraisers up and down the east coast. When she wasn’t jet setting, Mary was at ground zero coordinating disbursements. She’d even convinced Ava and Owen, her step-son, to join her on occasion. Before he knew it, Richard Talbot found himself mostly alone in their Bethesda mansion and thoroughly missing his wife. Sure, he’d had his dalliances throughout the years and was certain she’d had her own, he loved his wife and the quality of their marriage was top-5 on his list of priorities. He did what any man of means would do to save his marriage, he bought a mansion on Starfish Island and set up the Mary Talbot Foundation for the Rebuilding of Vice City. A very long title to disguise his true intentions of capitalizing on the hurricane’s devastation.

Through the foundation, the Talbots began purchasing any property they could get their hands on. To Richard Talbot, Vice City held a wealth of untapped potential, a Las Vegas in the tropics and he wanted to get in on the ground floor. A shrewd businessman, Richard was also indiscriminate about where he derived his earnings. Tantalum Locke Holdings had an entire division dedicated to the needs of the most dubious, and often most profitable, companies and it was this division that would relocate to Vice City. Taking up residence in the Roxor, a few floors above his wife’s new office overlooking downtown, he put Owen in charge of the relocation efforts while he convinced the board that it would be advantageous to all shareholders if they kept a more watchful eye on these under appreciated cash cows. It didn’t take much, the board cared very little about the day-to-day operations so long as their accounts stayed comfortably in the black. It was his son’s idea to cozy up to a influential local to help ingratiate them into the oft insular community, but it was Mary who unintentionally set their plan into motion with the introduction of Anatoly Medvedev.

Descended from a Russian Jewish revolutionary, politics was in his blood whether he liked it or not. His great-grandfather, once a high ranking officer in the Red Army found his allegiance nullified with the signing of the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk. Rather than risk a trip to the gulag for his opposition, the elder Medvedev chose to defect instead smuggling himself to Norway and onto a fishing boat headed for America just in time for the young nation’s entrance into the Great War. Instead of turning him over or throwing him overboard, the captain let him work for room and board until they docked in Liberty City to unload their illegal cache of prawn and cod. There was more but the ex-communist didn’t stick around long enough to investigate. By the time the war ended, he’d found a wife and a job on the docks. Twenty years later when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, he was proud of his son for volunteering. Unfortunately, he returned a broken man unable to cope with the simple life his father carved out for him. It was Anatoly’s grandfather, his namesake, who brought their line to Vice City, in search of the fast life.

And he found very quickly that there was no better place. He took any job, odd or off the books, that allowed him to use the skills he’d honed on battlefields across the Eastern front. Given the rise of the mob on the then sleepy island enclave, the elder Anatoly did well keeping his affiliations loose and his reputation strong so that this new branch of Medvedevs would never have to flee like their ancestors. By the time his own children were born, legitimate or otherwise, he’d secured a small but solid place for the Medvedevs to live comfortably. The rise of unions post WWII saw an awakening in his forgotten socialist roots and he found himself swept up in the various causes of the working man, just like his father before him. His quiet criminal enterprise found new purpose and blood with an influx of Cuban exiles who seemed like kindred spirits to his father’s struggles in Mother Russia. And when his eldest son started sneaking around with a pretty Cuban girl in the 60s Anatoly’s only advice was to be a man and beg the girl’s father to allow them to court. He even escorted his “soft” progene to the man’s cafe. The kids didn’t last but a lifelong friendship was spawned that day between the fathers. Medvedev saw an equal in Alberto Robina. Maybe even a better, since the fiery Cuban was capable of balancing the terrible things he’d seen and done with running a successful business and raising a family. All but one of his kids were calling their stepfathers “Dad” and that hadn’t much bothered him until he began mixing in with the Robinas.

They were a complicated family, as loyal as they were lawless and he fit right in. Tio Nato became a fixture at bbqs and birthday parties, spent his retirement playing checkers with Alberto at the cafe. And it was at Cafe Robina when he met his 10 year old progeny, his foul-mouthed, mop-haired, string bean of a grandson. The kid’s father didn’t seem too happy about the chance encounter but the quick snack turned into lunch then dinner later. A fishing trip with the Robina’s a few days after that saw the rekindled family part with tears in their eyes and promises to stay in touch. But they did better than that. The drive up to Savannah wasn’t so long, especially when Max and Nate started meeting him in Jacksonville. Then, for his thirteenth birthday, Nate asked for a plane ticket and a summer with his Pop-pop, which turned into every summer after that.

By then, young Nate had grown into his mouth a bit but wasn’t above allowing his grandfather to regal him with the sordid tales of a young soldiers shooting and slashing his way across a continent. He enjoyed all the stories but his favorites happened in Vice City. Pop-pop had a habit of taking his grandson to the scene of the crime and Nate soaked it in. He was 15 when he got his first job running errands for Umberto. Unfortunately his parents took his earnings and deposited them into his college fund. The next summer he left his money in Vice City, the summer after that he lived like a king. He had a little crew of his own by then, a couple of Robina offspring and their hangers on, hustling tourist on the beach with three card monte and fake valet stands. They called him by his proper name now and his Pop-pop couldn’t have been prouder of his college-bound criminal of a grandson.

But as with anyone who gets a taste for the fast money early, Anatoly didn’t last long in his east coast lecture halls. He missed the beach, the girls, so he flunked out and used his college fund to rent a shitty house in Little Havana with his boys. They did well keeping their hustle to the Beach. Tourists, bored wives to be specific, were the easiest marks for sauve hardbodied barely legal teens. They wouldn’t call themselves gigolos because they didn’t sleep with all the women they smoozed. An avid reader like his grandfather, Anatoly often impressed older women with his grasp of the world around him. His mother instilled an appreciation for the arts and southern chivalry, which he passed along to his crew so they could advance their hustle. They got jobs at the Marina Sands Hotel for better access to the wealthy and lonely, plying them with innocent flirtation and fabricated hard luck stories until purse strings loosened. None were better than Anatoly, who parlayed his way into an apartment at Link View and a gig with Mary Talbot. She wasn’t interested in sleeping with him, a bored housewife with a savior complex primed for exploitation. He gave her exactly what she wanted with tales of tiny apartments with too many mouths to feed. An absent father and addicted mother who turned him out when he was barely a teen. But he’d pulled himself up by his bootstraps. He may not have gone to school but he spent his days in the library, reading anything he could get his hands on, avoiding all the woes of his peers with the written word. It wasn’t long before the woman introduced him to her husband who had even bigger plans for the promising young man.

“Ever think of going into politics,” the man’s son asked him once and,Anatoly laughed him off at first. Chalked it up to booze and sunshine, but when the man called him into Mary’s office for a chat the ambitious young man began to consider. He allowed himself to be groomed to run for city council and he would have won too, had he not crossed paths with a certain detective.

“So you don’t know anything about this,” Caroline asked while they waited for dessert. The meal itself had been somewhat of an interrogation with Yareli peppering her with details that she hadn’t even thought of, connections she had yet to make. It was clear what her ex-husband saw in the woman and Caroline was glad he’d finally met his match. “I mean he’s basically your cousin…”

“That asshole is not my cousin,” Yareli said quickly and shift her eyes above her to the waiter approaching with their tiramisu. “And I was still pretty far out of the loop back then…”

“You think it’s enough?”

“It’s something...enough, no se,” Yareli said with a shrug, then glanced at her watch. “Either way, you should probably head back home. This is bound to get messy…”

“Get?” Caroline said with a snort and Yareli laughed. “But I hear you. I’ll leave the dirty work to you…”

“Wouldn’t want you messing up that manicure,” Yareli teased and Caroline made a show of admiring her french tip artificial nails.

“A word of advice...don’t hold onto this too long. He needs to know where you stand sooner than later,” Caroline said, giving Yareli’s hand a squeeze. “My flight’s in the morning but if you need a vouch…”

“I’m hoping it won’t come to that…”

“But if it does,” Caroline said as she pushed back from the table. “I’d call us friends now detective and nobody fuck with my friends.”

They were friends, Yareli couldn’t deny it. Of all the people in her life, Caroline Hawthorne was the only one who knew her whole truth and it didn’t take more than mutual respect to get it. Might not mean shit in the long run, but for now it was enough for Yareli to breath a little easier when she lay down next to Becker whenever he stumbled in for the night. That was a worry for later though, for now she planned to soak up some sun and passably fresh air on the patio at Front Page Cafe. Do some people watching, maybe have a few more drinks before making a surprise appearance at Penelope’s gig tonight. Thoughts of inviting Becker to accompany her swirled in her head before her talk with Caroline but now she was sure, and the certainty brought a smile to her usually scowling face. A smile so bright it was noticed in two separate directions.

Becker had been watching from the south alley of the Ocean View hotel from the time Yareli took her seat. She seemed unnecessarily evasive when she left him that morning. When he asked what about her plans for the day, she gave him a flippant “todo y nada” on her way out the door and drove off in her topless Stallion. Becker knew it was her favorite but found it suspicious that she take it instead of her Turbo with all it’s police bells and whistles. He felt immediately guilty tailing her, and worse when he saw who her lunch companion really was but his relief was short lived when his mind played out the many unflattering details the women might reveal about him to each other. But still he didn’t leave, not until Caroline was safely away in her hired car. And he was sure she spotted him then, just as a man in full tourist beach apparel sidled up to her table. Maybe not as he passed but she definitely noticed his “off-duty” Rancher pull a u-turn in the middle of the intersection and double back. Unfortunately traffic on Ocean Drive without a siren didn’t allow him to interrupt, instead he got to watch her pour the rest of her milkshake on the guy’s head and walk off with that same smile from before.

He loved her, it was there in that moment as he watched her triumphant descent from the elevated patio. She giggled a little as she flipped her keys around her index finger and headed for her car. Becker wanted nothing more than to follow along but the asshole with remnants of ice cream in his hair was trotting across the street. Up close his face was familiar but Becker couldn’t place him, and all of a sudden something else was rubbing up against his guilt. He’d promised to leave it alone but even she wouldn’t give up this opportunity. She’d probably look at it as affirmation, that alone was enough for him to cut down an alley and come out a few cars behind milkshake man headed back downtown. Yareli probably would have turned off when the asshole headed away from south bridge, definitely when he made two lefts toward Washington Mall. Assuming he’d been made, Becker resigned himself to the possibility of holes in his walls tonight.

In the left lane, four cars ahead, Blake Darlington held a white knuckle grip on his steering wheel. She’d done it again, the conniving bitch and now he was stuck with his target for a tail. Before giving him a bath with her dessert, Yareli assured him that he knew nothing of her investigation. “Why else would he leave me alone in his place for hours at a time...shit I might even move in with him for good.”

She was being an asshole, Blake knew it but still he couldn’t stop himself. “If you wanna whore yourself out for a confession that’s your business Robina,” he replied and her fist clenched around her knife before she dropped it and smiled.

“You know what, I feel sorry for you Darling, really I do. You have no idea do you...you’re more of a pawn than I am in all this and you don’t even see it,” she said smirking as she stood, took one last sip from her still frosty glass. “What do you think the in-laws’ll say when they find out that little storybook wedding is ruined,” she asked as she dumped the rest of her banana shake on his head. “Take care of my friend or I blow all of us up,” she said with a smile and strutted away.

He’d brought it on himself, all of it and he could feel his control of the situation slowly slipping away. On-top of all that he had this neanderthal pulling in behind him. Blake took his time meandering through the half empty lot until he found an out of the way spot Investigation or not, whether they were sleeping together or not didn’t matter, this conversation would not be civil. He took a deep breath and sleek back his sticky hair before stepping out of his car with cocky grin.

“You must be the new guy,” he said with his hands up as Becker took measured steps around his truck. “Look man I don’t know what she told you…”

“She didn’t have to tell me shit dirtbag I saw her face,” he barked and Blake did nothing to stifle his laugh.

“You should have seen mine...and before you say it, I know I deserved it. But man...she...well you know how she is,” he asked and Becker rolled his eyes, seemed to relent a little. Blake should have left it there, unfortunately he couldn’t leave a good thing alone. “She’s a tricky little bitch…” There was blood in his mouth and a hand on his throat before he could finish the wayward thought. Fortunately he caught the other wrist as it moved toward a holster and held on. “You really want to do that...here,” he croaked before Becker released him with a hard shove.

“Stay the fuck away from her asshole or here will be wherever I see you next!”

“You just better hope you don’t end up like Miles,” Darling shouted but Becker was already half in his truck by then, but he was sure he heard him even as he peeled out of the lot.

This was not the way either man saw their day going but each made plans to forget the encounter altogether. But of course that couldn’t be. To his credit, Becker didn’t spend the rest of his evening rolling those last words around in his head. He did run the name Yareli gave him past a few shadow contacts and came up with nothing spectacular. Another classroom cop on the come up with a ton of redacted case files. As far as Becker could tell he was nothing but a jealous ex but he was cautioned to keep his distance because there’s no telling what the feds would do if he got under their radar. He resigned himself to avoid the situation for the foreseeable future and if she didn’t bring it up neither would he.

At least that was the plan, until Becker woke up the next morning on his couch alone. There were empty beer cans scattered across the coffee table and the ashtray filled to the brim. He’d waited all night and she hadn’t even called, which had him a little worried. And angry, if he’d pulled anything like this there’d be hell to pay and Becker didn’t much care for the double standard. He also didn’t care for her to know that she’d forced him to sleep on the couch like some love sick puppy, but pretending he didn’t give a shit wouldn’t work either. They were past that, saving face, and he needed to adjust his relationship protocol if he wanted to keep her. Fortunately for Becker he’d have plenty of time to work it out before he saw her again.

*****

After the shenanigans with Becker and Darling, Yareli decided they could both fuck off and spent the night with her parents in their suite at Standing Vice Point. Roxy knew something was wrong when her hard-nosed adopted daughter showed up with wet eyes, smelling of rum, but like a good mother she didn’t wake Alfonso for something a little girl talk might fix. She order coffee from room service and allowed her grown little girl cry in her lap. Yareli didn’t mention a name but Roxy got the distinct impression that her daughter might just be in love and tangled up in something that gravely jeopardized it. Without any context, she gave her the best advice she could.

“Di la verdad, mija. El verdadero amor no da una mierda sobre tus planes. Simplemente es.”

“Pero y si es mi muerte,” Yareli muttered and Roxy laughed a little.

“Oh please mija...if I could survive marrying another man on my wedding day, you can survive this...whatever it is.”

Yareli was sober enough not to correct her nonchalance and allowed herself to sleep, only to dream of her and Becker on a road trip to nowhere. They slept in the bed of a dusty old pick up, made love under the stars. It was all so syrupy sweet, and she woke up wondering if she’d had someone else’s dream. There wasn’t much time to think about it with her father ranting and raving in the bedroom. Something about Maria and Yareli smiled a little as she headed into the bathroom. It wasn’t long before her mom burst in screaming about a federal injunction. Two hours later, she was dropping off Claire outside the county jail for her first visit in months. It would only be 30 minutes but that was plenty of time for Claire to make clear that she would be waiting and Yareli was certain Maria would spend what little time she had left being a model inmate.

“You’re dad is amazing,” Claire said with tears in her eyes as she threw her arms around Yareli. “Twelve to eighteen for the parole violation and she can get out in eight with good behavior…”

“Now, Claire,” Yareli started, making the other woman laugh through her tears.

“Sure that crazy bitch will probably do 16 but it’s not life…”

“I’m so glad you understand that,” Yareli said and wiped a tear away from her freckled cheek.

“She’s a total fuck up but I love her, Rel...more than I ever thought I could love anybody,” she said all dreamy eyed as Yareli helped her into the car. “I just don’t understand it. How can someone so smart, hardworking...so strong...how can she not see that she’s capable of so much more.”

“Nobody ever told Maria she could be anything else and she believed it, probably ‘til she met you. I saw her records Claire. Little Murda’s activities came to an abrupt halt 2 and a half years ago, right around the time she says she met you. I think it’s gonna stick this time.”

Maria Romero knew it would. Eight months. Eight fucking months, in a single cell with a job in the carpentry shop and GED classes, she could do 8 in her sleep. Alfonso promised to stick around long enough to help her get a legit job so she could make the money necessary to buy that bungalow in Little Havana. This might have been her fourth bid but this time would be different. Quiet. Easy. And when she got out, she planned to stay that way, whether Claire waited for her or not. This time would be different, because she was different. Gone was the girl who blazed through life not giving a fuck about tomorrow. She had plans now, goals, that couldn’t be accomplished behind bars. The grin she sported as she was escorted back to her cell couldn’t be erased, even as the door closed behind her. Even as she stood at her window, overlooking the yard, she smiled knowing that a new life was waiting for her on the other side of that wall.

In a shiny boardroom on the top floor of VCPD headquarters, a different meeting was coming to a close. Detective Lieutenant Becker sat pretending to listen to the rat squad’s recommended disciplinary action. Light as they may have been, the commissioner looked nothing short of proud while IAB read over their account of the events that led up to the demise of Carlos de la Cruz and the final decision was his. Becker was more concerned about his partner. He’d gotten the distinct impression that they intended to insinuate that she might have known him all along. Colins’ had been noticeably tight lipped in recent days, leaving Becker at a loss for inside information. And to make matter worse, when he asked to speak on behalf of his partner, it was Colins who dismissed him. The commissioner’s firm handshake and a pat on the back only furthered Becker’s confusion, especially when the man moved to walk him out of the sterile conference room when his own captain didn’t even get up.

Becker was surprised to see Yareli slouched in one of dingy chair lined up along the hall. Despite the rage that bubbled up in his chest at the sight of her, he smiled a little when he noticed her fiddling with the pendant he’d given her, though he was quick to reset his lips when she looked up. She seemed shocked to see him, opened her mouth but quickly closed it again when the commissioner came into view.

“Do us all a favor, lieutenant, and put that new office to good use for a bit. I want a complete case file on my desk by Monday,” he said with a steely gaze that forced Becker to swallow any rebuttal. “This whole things was sloppy and the pencil pushers are looking for any reason to knock your new unit off the budget. Gimme something to prove to the mayor you don’t need more oversight,” he said with another pat to his back and Becker gave a stiff nod before the man closed the door behind him.

“Hey I...we should…” she began as soon as the door shut, making Becker chuckle a little as she got to her feet.

“I’ll be at the station when you’re done here Detective,” he said, interrupting her stammering, and tapped his fist against her shoulder as he passed. Part him wished he’d paused a moment, to see her reaction to his casual greeting. To see the confusion shift to barely contained rage before she pushed it all down again and reapplied her game face. All of him wished he could be there in the meeting with her, to help cool the fire he knew would come of their questions but deep down he knew that would be a terrible idea. Colins might turn a blind eye to his detectives fraternizing but his good ole boy commissioner would surely take issue with their interracial love affair and IAB would definitely recommend the dissolution of their partnership. All Becker could do was hope that Yareli behaved herself in the face of all the baseless accusations the board intended to throw her way. He wasn’t a religious man, but Becker found himself praying as he weaved his way down the mainland to Little Havana station.

His newest detectives were already there, waiting for their orders for the day, and it seemed to them that they were the only ones who ever did. Since they joined the major crimes unit at Little Havana station, Detectives Javier Suarez and Donald Sullivan had yet to formally meet anybody other than their new CO. They'd heard stories of course, both came through the academy with Russell and had first hand knowledge of the volatility their new squadmate. Sure, Sully had his own demons to contend with but the job always came first and he had Javi to help keep him on the straight and narrow. They were an unlikely pair, the disheveled former marine and the rakish third-generation Vice City native, but they were roommates at the academy and bonded over tales of their overprotective Catholic mothers. From the academy through their rookie years and studying for the detective’s exam, through three divorces, four fall off the wagon and one bankruptcy, they stuck together. Their bond was deeper than the badge, they were brothers.

And Javi knew despite his brother’s relaxed posture, leaned back in his chair with his feet kicked up on his desk, Sully was boiling inside. They’d only been waiting 20 minutes, but punctuality was a key sign of respect for the ex-military man and Javi had spent much of the morning plying him with cigarettes and Irish coffee. He knew the latter probably wasn’t the best idea but there wasn’t much else to offer him by way of appeasement. And he couldn’t honestly diffuse his partner’s anger because they’d spent a large majority of their time with their new unit waiting. Waiting for orders, waiting for case files, waiting for anybody to show up for work. They’d been told by their new captain that Becker’s operation was a loose one but neither of them expected this level of unprofessionalism. Granted the entire station was in an uproar given the situation with Robina but even Javi was getting a little annoyed with the lack of communication they’d been experiencing. Twice Sully had threatened to put in a transfer but Javier talked him out of it, knowing that the higher-ups wouldn’t look kindly on them seemingly bailing on such a coveted post.

“That was Becker on the line fellas,” Sally called over from her desk and Sully let out a low growl. “Says you guys are going on a field trip today. Gear up for possible gun fights, water excursions, and search and seizures.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean,” Sully barked but Sally didn’t cringe, in fact, she sat up a little straighter in her chair, set her dark green eyes on him.

“It means dump that whiskey out of your mug and get your ass in gear detective,” she said as she stomped over to their desk and placed a requisition sheet on Javi’s desk. It was already filled out with their lieutenants signature stamped on the bottom.

“Ms. Brassing, you’re too good to us,” Javi said with a grin that made the woman blush, before he slid the list over to Sully. “Why don’t you go cool off in the dungeon? By the time you load up, Becker should be here.”

“He better be,” Sully grumbled as he shoved back from his desk and stormed off.

“Is he always so...I know you guys are tight but you seem…”

“He’s got a good heart under all that bluster. Saved my life more times than I can count. He just doesn’t do well being idle, you know? You think he’s bad wait ‘til you meet our Luitenant’s partner…”

“What about my partner,” Becker said from the doorway, a tray of donuts in one hand and coffees in the other. He sat both on Sally’s desk for her to deal with before making his way over to his new subordinate.

“Nothing, jefe...she’s...tough is all.”

“That’s not what you meant but I’ll let it slide,” Becker said with a snort, and a firm slap to the back. “Where’s your partner?”

“Taking care of that list.”

“You get the files I asked for,” he said with a glance at Sally, who shook her head. “Well get on it, you go help your partner. Come see me in my office when you're done.”

“Yes, sir,” came from both almost in unison and Becker rolled his eyes, left them to do his bidding.

He still hadn’t gotten used to that, the deference that came with his new position and part of him resented it. He would much rather earn their respect than have it bestowed upon him out of obligation. It was more honest that way, his partner’s way, treating him like shit until he proved himself otherwise. His eyes came to her desk then, in the corner of his office still covered in her boxes and found himself shaking his head. She’d probably want to move out into the bullpen with the rest of the guys, but he hoped he could convince her otherwise with the prospect of a door between her, Ward, and Garcia whenever she felt the need. A list began to form in his mind of the many excuses he could give to keep her close to him as he readied himself for his least favorite duty. The duty that had him dreading the post to begin with, the documenting of his actions to people who never saw any. The explaining of split-second decisions and common sense inferences drove him to drink. He made a note to have one of his uni’s make a run to Mr. Liquor to replenish his in-desk bar as he unpacked his seldom-used typewriter.

Once Sally returned with the files and his newest detectives returned from the depot, Becker went about delegating. It wasn’t a tool he was comfortable using but the commissioner made it clear he’d better get acquainted. While Sally organized all the Bikini Murders, Becker filled Sully and Juarez in on Tommy’s murder and made it clear that it was their case to solve. He’d be around for back-up of course, but he was confident that their fresh eyes might make the progress that he and Yareli couldn’t. He gave them a set of unis to help run down leads and sent them off, hoping he’d done a good job scrubbing away his late mentors dirty deeds.

Alone, Becker got to work organizing his thoughts on Charles Cruise, which proved more difficult than he anticipated. Never had he been so emotionally attached to a case that he had trouble being objective about his findings. His partner was much better at detaching from the trauma of the job and he was certain if she hadn’t been sidelined they would have found him first. But then it would have been Yareli who’d put a bullet in his head and Becker wasn’t ashamed to admit that he wouldn’t have been satisfied with that end. As capable as she was, Becker still felt the need to protect her and if the past few weeks were any indication, she seemed to enjoy it. Or so he thought, until last night. For all he knew, she’d gone off to screw Briggs. Maybe even that douche he’d roughed up in the mall parking lot. Either way, Becker found himself unsure of where they stood, in or out of the car. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if she’d be back since they refused to give him a clue and if that happened...Becker didn’t want to think about it. So he click-clacked the hours away until a comotion downstairs stole his attention but he didn’t get up. He didn’t have to, the boisterous banter of his spanish speaking co-workers told him all he needed to know.

But still he didn’t get up, even pretended not to see Yareli’s tentative entrance into the new office of the major crimes unit. Becker listened to the brief but pleasant exchange between her and Sally, smirked at the office manager’s shock when Yareli invited her to lunch “one of these days.” If she wasn’t interested, she wouldn’t have offered and Becker hoped that might mean he wouldn’t have to play referee anytime soon. He tracked her approach in his periphery, noted her gaze shift around the open bullpen.

“You’re in with the Lieutenant,” he heard Sally say but he kept is eyes on his desk until Yareli tapped on his open door.

There was a flash of rage as he looked up, a subtle bulge that came to his angled jaw. But then their eyes met and his lip broke from their tight line to curl on one side. “Detective,” he said by way of greeting and Yareli rolled her eyes. “I see you lost the suit.”

“I shoulda wore this,” she said of her torn acid wash jeans and crop t-shirt. Her hair was still down and fried straight, hints of her presentation face still remained in traces of mascara and eye shadow. “You woulda thought my dad was sitting in that chair the way they came at me…”

“That bad, huh,” Becker asked, waving her into the office. He nodded at the desk in the corner, under the window that faced the bullpen.

“Well,technically, I’m not supposed to be here,” she said with a shrug, reached for the open pack of smokes on his desk. “Had a couple of hours to kill before my psych eval…”

“Yeah, well I’m a little busy,” he said, though he didn’t mean to out loud. He was supposed to be angry but the longer she sat in front of him the more it began to slip away. “I don’t have a probie to write my reports anymore,” he added with a grin that made Yareli snort.

“Excuse me for being unphased by your shock tactics...and for leaving you hanging last night,” she said with a smile that melted away what little coldness he had left. “I should have told you where I was going, pero si esto va a funcionar, tienes que creer que siempre haré lo correcto por ti.”

“Cómo va el almuerzo con mi ex justo por mí,” he asked with a raised eyebrow, making her laugh a little. Even as she shook her head.

“Ayudó a poner algunas cosas en perspectiva para mí…”

“And what about your ex...he put anything in perspective for you,” he asked and Yareli grit her teeth before she smiled again. This one wasn’t so pleasant and Becker sat back in his chair.

“Well you were there, what do you think?”

“I think we both could have handled yesterday better…”

“Es bueno papi, get back to work. Come conmigo esta noche,” she said quietly, as she lean over his desk to ash her cigarette before she stood. “Say sixish? I know you don’t plan on staying here all night,” she added with a smirk and grabbed the pen from his ear to scribble down an Ocean Beach address on his notepad. “I’ll have Heath get word to you if anything changes,” she said, and shift her eyes up just in time to catch Becker’s quick glance down her shirt.

“That’s kinda early…”

“Lo haras,” she said with a wink as she stood. "You haven't let me down so far...I doubt you'll start now.”

Yareli didn't give him a chance for rebuttal, she doubted he'd have one after such a compliment. She knew the timing was inconvenient but that was part of the plan. Moving towards normal would require compromise on both sides, today was simply the first step. Sometimes he might have to rearrange his schedule to accommodate her, whether he liked it or not.

More importantly though, she'd have to start opening up to him about being in her life, really in her life might mean. It wasn’t just about her last name or the investigation she actively participated, Yareli had a walk-in closet full of skeletons and demons for Becker to contend with, and usually she’d been pretty good about keeping them to herself. It occurred to her after her first engagement crashed and burn that what the Torreses had, hell even what her parents had, might not be in the cards. And she blamed herself for that too. If she hadn’t told him about her time in the basement, he wouldn’t have gone looking for the file. If he didn’t read it, his own demons mights not have reared their heads. Boozing turned to pills and powder, and it seemed he was medicating for both of them. And when that didn’t “fix” her, Miles recommended her for an analyst job on his team. He’d gotten sloppy, crossed one too many of the wrong guys and it all fell into her lap. Darling told her to at least give the guy a heads up. “You’re going to marry him for fuck’s sake,” were his exact words. If she hadn’t taken that advice, Miles probably wouldn’t have gone ahead and spun their secret romance into a one-sided affair to their superiors. A woman scorned has no place in the DEA.

Fortunately for her, Yareli Robina was not that. Of course things were a little muddled, but she wasn’t undone. Lunch with Caroline had proved more beneficial than she anticipated. She not only gained an ally, Yareli was one short step closer to getting to the bottom of why Darling’s future in-laws had such a hard-on for Becker. It was actually two steps, but Yareli had a short cut, one Darling most certainly had overlooked. Or maybe he simply didn’t know. Whatever the reason, she was glad to be a step ahead for a change.

She carried that buoyancy into her meeting with the department shrink and Yareli was pleased to find the middle-aged woman had no interest in depriving her of her dangerous lifestyle. “I just want to make sure you’re dealing with what happened appropriately.”

“I’ve been walking around free as a bird for the last couple days. Had lunch with a friend, dinner with my parents. All without looking over my shoulder. Even went back to my old place...sure it was just to make sure the movers got everything…”

“I get it detective, back to business as usual. Given all you’ve overcome…”

“What’s that gotta do with anything?”

“Nothing is what I told IAB and what I’m telling you,” she said with a glance over her horn rimmed glasses. “What you and your partner did was reckless, but I don’t believe any of your colleagues would have done any different? Listen detective, I might report to them but I am not them. I’m here to ensure the well-being of those who sit across from me. I understand that in the line of duty some split second decisions can’t be explained or rationalized. They just are. What matters is how we deal with the consequences of those decisions…”

“I’d say I’m dealing with them just fine,” Yareli said honestly, smiled a little as the good doctor scribbled on her notepad. “Really I am...I mean if he wasn’t in the morgue…”

“I think the entire city slept a little easier last night,” she said without looking up from her pad, still scribbling away. “I’m going to level with you detective, I might have agreed with IAB’s assessment of insubordination but you kept your CO in the loop. If anyone was insubordinate it’s him but he’s not the one sitting here,” she said with a raised eyebrow and closed up her notepad. “In my opinion, you’re no more a danger to the integrity of police department than he is…”

“So do I get my badge back?”

“Yes, detective but I’m going to recommend you come by for a chat in a few weeks for a re-assessment. This is all very fresh and I doubt you’ve processed the extinct of the danger you put yourself in.”

Yareli agreed, begrudgingly, to set up two follow-up appointments but couldn’t hold her grin as she watched the department shrink sign the triplicate reinstatement papers. One went in her file, another in an interdepartmental manila envelope, the last she handed over to Yareli. “Keep this in a safe place,” she said before sticking out her hand. “Your captain and lieutenant might not always be around to back you up.”

“My captain,” Yareli said, brows furrowed and the good doctor cracked a smile for the first time. “He’s seemed pretty pissed at the hearing. Barely even looked at me.”

“It’s all an act detective. You’re a pain in his ass but he respects you. Another stunt like this, he might change his mind.”

That meant more to Yareli than she thought it would, and she found herself rolling the words around in her mind as she sped down Bayshore Ave. There were still a few stops to make before dinner with Becker but she still stopped at a payphone to tell whoever was manning the guardhouse at El Swanko that Becker should be prompt if he decided to check-in. After a quick stop at Cherry Popper and Mr. Liquor in Little Havana, Yareli was off to Ocean Beach. She kept to the coastal roads, let her foot off the throttle a little and enjoyed the ocean breeze.

“Esta bueno...por favor, que esto sea bueno,” she muttered, gripping the steering wheel as Pantera transitioned from pavement to gravel. There were six bungalows on the narrow access road, three on each side and half were still boarded up from the storm. Most of them were the vacation homes of snowbirds, and all had seen better days. Yards were overgrown, porches wet rotted. There was even a burnt out Burrito van on the lawn of one home that had been overtaken by squatters. It had been a nice neighborhood, quiet, with half the properties being beachfront while the others were afforded private docks. In the center of all of it was a little blue bungalow, freshly painted with white trim and shutters. It was the only property with a privacy fence around the backyard and a front yard that was well maintained with a winding fieldstone walkway from the mailbox to the front porch.

It was just after five when Yareli pulled up to find Penelope and LaShawna were already there, chatting on the porch with her mom. The flamed out Hermes and cherry red Manana parked in front meant both set of grandparents, and perhaps her uncle, were inside. The latter she hadn’t invited but assumed he would escort his aging parents to the festivities and check out her new digs. There wasn’t supposed to be a party but once Yareli mentioned to Penelope her plans to finally take up residence in the house her biological father bought when she was born, it kind of just happened. And when she woke up, Yareli didn’t have any intentions of inviting Becker. She assumed that her absence might have been a dealbreaker, but then she saw him in the hallway and he smiled. If you didn’t know him, you might not have noticed but it was enough for her to ditch her plans for an abrupt departure from his estate. It was silly for her to think that would have worked anyway, they still had to work together and he deserved to know that her future in Vice City included him. Yareli Robina was in it for the long haul, regardless of the silly little DEA investigation. All she could do was hope that, having a her own space to work in might expedite the conclusion of the Talbot’s petty vendetta against Becker

“Veo que todos se han hecho en casa ... en mi casa,” she said from the street, making all three women laugh. Her friends came down to meet her on the lawn while her mother went inside, probably to announce her arrival.

“Well that’s what happens when you’re late to your own party,” LaShawn said as she grabbed a bag from Yareli. “So, where is he?”

“Working still I guess…”

“So you told him,” came from Penelope, blocking her path to the house. “Please tell me you stopped being a pussy…”

“I gave him the address…”

“Gave him the address?!?” It came to her twofold but all Yareli did was shrug. They didn’t know Becker like she did, but hopefully that wouldn’t always be the case.

“He’ll be here…”

“But what he isn’t Rel?! Men don’t like to be jerked around…”

“Especially when you invite your ex,” Penelope said with a nod up the street and Yareli turned to see Mike Briggs pull up in his midnight blue Banshee. “I can’t believe you invited him.”

“I invited all my friends. He even brought his wife,” Yareli said of the stunning former Ms. Columbia as Briggs helped her out of the car. “What better way to make sure we’re all on the same page?”

“That’s his wife,” LaShawn whispered as the two gingerly crossed the gravel street. “Why the hell was he slumming it with you?”

“Clearly you’ve never had a night with her,” Penelope muttered, all the while waving at the Briggses. “The things she can do…”

“Stop it,” Yareli said, blushing a little as the Briggses finally made it to her front yard.

Yareli played the good host, introducing everyone, even though Mike and Penelope were already well acquainted. She was certain his wife was completely unaware of how often her husband and his ex-partner ended their shift in a private booth at the Pole Position. To her credit, LaShawna did well distracting Mrs. Briggs, complimenting the former model on her fashion sense and ageless figure as she ushered her towards the house. Penelope followed behind while Briggs hung back to help Yareli with the last of the bags.

“I couldn’t shake her,” he muttered and Yareli laughed as he hefted the box of alcohol. “Soon as I let it slip that it was your party…”

“It’ll be fine. We’re just friends right,” she said with a jab to his shoulder. “But still, behave yourself.”

“Got somebody special coming by,” he asked with a snort as he mounted the stairs.

Yareli didn’t answer, instead ushered him in behind Penelope. Once inside, she worked the room like any good hostess, kissing cheeks and slapping backs until she found her Bubbie smoking a cigar on the back deck. The old war hero wasn’t one for crowds but he patted the seat next to him when she stepped outside.

“I can hang on to these, you know,” he said of the set of keys on his lap, the spare set he had made almost two years ago when she first took ownership of the house and began renovations. Even in his retirement, Anatoly Medvedev was the consummate fixer. He’d declared himself foreman of the project and Yareli had no problem allowing him to run the show. His no nonsense reputation and clandestine connections offered her guarantees she wouldn’t have gotten on her own. Brand new appliances had been “acquired”, bulletproof windows and reinforced steel doors had been discreetly installed, and all the workmen were paid off the books. Sure, he gave her a hard time about her limey friend who’d installed all the electronic security but Anatoly found the man to be worthy of his granddaughter's trust eventually.

“Look Bubbie I know him and Nate had a thing…”

“Nate’s an idiot who deserved all the heat he got. I’m talking about you Machita,” he said with one bushy eyebrow raised and Yareli couldn’t help laugh at the sinister glint in his eye. “I asked around after you came by and well...the things I hear…”

“Yeah, yeah he’s a loose cannon but he’s saved my ass enough to prove he’s a good partner…”

“I’m sure he’s done more than save it the way you’ve been grinning,” he said and Yareli was genuinely appalled by his assumption, however true it may have been. “I helped raise your mother and she was the same with Macho.”

“Becker’s nothing like my dad.”

“Didn’t say he was...doesn’t matter anyway. The boat’s ready if you need it,” he said, making her laugh. “You, I never worry about. A bull, just like your grandmother.”

“Thanks Bubbie,” she said and kissed his cheek. “You need anything out here?”

“Tell Alby the bones are waiting for him.”

While Yareli delivered the challenge from one grandfather to the other, Johnny Garcia was making a rare daytime appearance at the station. It had been a couple days since he’d spoken to his new lieutenant and he was starting to think Becker was avoiding him. After weeks of laying low, Garcia’s coffers were drying and now he was stuck with a needle dick newbie who came to work in dress slacks and wingtips. If he didn’t get him mixed up with IAB, he’d probably get him killed with all his questions and notetaking. With a pregnant girlfriend and a mistress who happened to be married to someone else, Johnny had a lot on his plate and bills were piling up. Whether Becker gave the word or not, he was going back to work. But still the man deserved a heads up.

Little Havana station was smack in the middle of shift change when Garcia pushed through the bullpen, trying to avoid any undue attention. He’d heard through the grapevine that a couple of his cases were up for review but there hadn’t been any word from his captain about any of it. Becker had his own review board to deal with so probably had no idea, but as far as Garcia was concerned, it was his job to know. For all his faults, that probably led to his demise, Tommy always kept everybody in the loop. It was becoming clear that Becker didn’t feel the same way, especially now with the Yareli element. He had no idea what that crazy bitch had been telling him about their relationship but he was certain she had a part to play in Becker’s recent iciness.

When he finally made it up to his barely used desk, he was surprised to see the two new guys yucking it up in Becker’s office. Sally was packing up for the night and announced the time. The lieutenant slid out from behind his desk all the while closing up files and pressing his detectives about their next course of action. And Johnny couldn’t believe what he heard, Becker had given them Tommy’s case. After all the man had done for him, for them, leaving his legacy in the hands of guys they barely knew seemed the ultimate slap in the face. He busied himself at his own desk while the others cleared out, shuffling papers from one pile to another. The buzzcut grumbled something as he stalked out of the room but Becker gave him a clap on the back on his way out while his swarthy partner got a handshake. Garcia hadn’t had much interaction with his new squadmates but he gave them both a nod as they passed. There was talk of drinks at the Blue Line but Garcia doubted it was a open invitation. He had more important things to do, and it seemed Becker did too.

“Whatever it is, make it quick,” he said without so much as a glance in Garcia’s direction. “I’ve already been here too long.”

“Hot date,” Garcia asked with a chuckle that Becker glared at, and of course he couldn’t let it slide. “Uh-oh, what’d she do? Let the air out you tires? You know she keyed my cruiser once…”

“I don’t have time for this,” Becker said, already walking away but Garcia fell in quickly behind him. All the way to the locker room. While Becker gathered his toiletries, Garcia did a sweep of the dank room to ensure they were alone before returning to Becker already stripped down to his towel. “Spit it out Johnny I got places to be.”

“So do I...at least I would if you’d...approve a little overtime.”

“Now’s not a good time...thought Tommy made that pretty clear,” Becker said as he stood up from the bench and slammed his locker shut. “They already got us in the scope for this Bikini Murder bullshit…”

“And that’s my fault?!”

“You want to go out while IAB’s still sniffing around be my guest but don’t expect me or Colins to have your back,” Becker said through clenched jaws and took a step into Garcia’s gaurd. “Be sure to pass that along to Russell and Ward. I’m done cleaning up after you assholes.”

“That’s how it is now...get you some Cuban pussy, couple stripes on your jacket, you turn your back on us. After all these years…”

“Be safe out there detective,” Becker muttered as he pushed pass him.

There was nothing more to say. It had been a lot of years, and through all of them, Becker learned something very important about Johnny Garcia. He would always do what was best for Johnny Garcia. Becker didn’t need the influence of hot cuban pussy to know that to be true, though it had admittedly changed his perspective on things.

Across South Bridge, Yareli’s housewarming party was in full swing. Caroline and her fiancee, Benny, had arrived with a keg and a few bottle of rum. Her uncle and adopted father were in a heated debate over grilling techniques while her grandfathers played dominos on the back deck. Briggs and Benny took to each other instantly, dragging Zack away from Penelope for a little man talk around the baseball game on the TV. All the women congregated on the front porch in a raucous multigenerational chat about womanhood. There was no debate, just a sharing of secrets and advice that seemed all too easy for Yareli. Even the stickiness of Marisol Briggs’ presence had eased but that had more to do with the ever flowing pitchers of mojitos and sangria, and Penelope’s expertly rolled joints. Things were going so well that Yareli forgot she was supposed to be nervous until she heard something big kicking up rocks down the street. All of a sudden her palms were sweaty and by the time the modified Rancher came into view, she couldn’t keep from grinning.

“5:55,” Penelope said from her seat on the stair above Yareli. “Gotta love those military men.”

“Quién dijo algo sobre el amor,” came from her mother’s mother, making all the older women laugh. “No necesitas amar a un hombre solo porque es un buen fontanero.”

“Cállate abuela, Dios mío...and no pretending you don’t speak English either.”

“Yo se, the gringo habla espanol…”

“We can’t have any fun,” came from her father’s mother and Yareli shook her head. “Come on ladies, let’s give the party poopers some space.” There was general disagreement but none were willing to disrespect the word of the elder, or risk ruining Yareli’s jovial mood, so all the women filed inside. Yareli didn’t have to turn around to see her homegirls lurking in the doorway.

There was only one thing that could sabotage the evening and Yareli steeled herself against the possibility that Becker might not want to stick around. She watched him as he climbed down from his truck, his gaze sweeping up and down the block as he crossed the street. He was stone faced until he caught sight of Yareli as she made her way to meet him at the mailbox.

“This supposed to be payback,” he asked with a smirk and Yareli furrowed her brows. “Dinner with my ex-wife?”

“No...well I guess...when you think about it,” she said nervously, hands tucked in her back pockets as she looked up at him. His still damp hair was a mess on his head and there were a couple flecks of blood along his jaw. She could still smell his aftershave as he took a step closer but Yareli stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Honestly I hadn’t even thought about it but I figured if I told you it was a housewarming party then you wouldn’t have come.”

“So who’s the host,” Becker said with a glance over her shoulder, finally noticing the position of her cars. The wind chimes that had been on her balcony, hung from the rafters on the front porch of this new house. By the time their eyes met again, Becker’s once smirking lips were in a tight line and Yareli moved the hand that had been on his chest to cup his face. “Who’s house is this Robina?”

"Don’t make this harder than it already is. We can’t keep doing this," she said and immediately regretted it, especially when he pushed her hand away.

"So that's it then?! Back to pretending like we don't matter to each other..."

"I didn't mean it like that,” she said and slipped her hand into his, only to draw herself into him. “I like this A.J....really like this and I don't want to ruin it rushing into a situation that neither of us are ready for. I don't know about you but I'd much rather shack up because I want to, not because Capt made me,” she added with a grin that seemed to loosen his jaw a little. Yareli slipped her arms around his waist, put her chin on his chest as she looked up at him. “I don’t want this to stop...just slow down a little.”

"I get it Robina but it still sounds like bullshit," he said after a long breath, then planted a kiss on her forehead.

"Well I already had your keys made so how's that for bullshit...and I'll take that key you were talking about. If we’re doing this, I want to do it right,” she said as he took her face in his hands. His smile returned a moment before he kissed her gently and someone in the house let out a whistle. “So you’re not gonna bolt?”

“And miss the chance to hear all your embarrassing secrets,” he said, slipped his arms around her waist and planted a kiss on her neck. “Not a chance...you’re uncle’s here?”

“Both sets of grandparents, my parents, couple of friends…”

“All the important folks huh? I feel special,” he teased and Yareli knew he expected some snide comeback but all she did was grin as her mother’s words echoed in her mind.

Di la verdad, mija.

“Well...I mean, I love you. If that makes you feel special…”

“You what?!”

“You heard me asshole,” Yareli said with a shove but Becker grabbed her hand before she could pull away. “Make a big deal about it, you’ll never hear it again.”

“Shit, once was enough,” he said and she took a lazy swing as him but Becker wrapped her up in his arms and spun her towards the house. “So any childhood love interests in there I need to worry about?”

Yareli didn’t have time to mention her ex-partner’s presence before his wife came out to the porch, asking about salad tongs, but Yareli recognized the ploy. A hush came over the entire house as Becker and Yareli came inside, fingers still laced together. All but her grandfathers were crammed into the living room, staring at them with googly eyes.

“What the hell’s going on,” Becker whispered and Yareli rolled her eyes.

“I don’t really bring people home...Deja de ser raro! Como si no lo conocieras ya,” she said shaking her head, the last to her family as she dragged Becker through the open living space out the sliding glass doors to the back porch where her grandfathers still played. “Bubbie, Albie...this is AJ. AJ…”

“No distractions mija, I’ve got him on the ropes,” her paternal grandfather said while the other waved a dismissive hand in their direction, before he glanced over his shoulder. His lips pulled in a sinister grin as he locked eyes with Becker.

“You know who I am don’t you, kid?”

“Yes, sir, I do but…”

“Then let’s spare each other the bullshit. If you didn’t matter you wouldn’t be here so don’t waste your time trying to prove anything to us,” he said already turning his attention back to his game.

With the most important introductions made, Yareli went about showing Becker around her place. Unlike the first time he came to her apartment, she didn’t do much hiding. She showed him her office, the entrance to her own subterranean safe room in the breezeway and the bank of surveillance monitors in her bedroom. All security features were reviewed as they made their way back outside so she could give him a proper tour of her backyard, and the private dock beyond.

“You could save yourself a couple bucks and park here if you wanted,” she said as they made their way down the creaky wooden path.

“You’d let me do that?”

“For a price,” she said grinning and Becker rolled his eyes. “Oye Papi nada es gratis en Vice City.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” he said, slipping his arm around her shoulders. Yareli leaned into him and he planted a kiss on her forehead. “It’s got good bones Robina...I’ll give you that. How’d you find it?”

“I didn’t, it’s my dad’s...was my dad’s. He turned it over to my parents when they adopted me and the Torreses took care of it until I was ready. I was supposed to move in last year but the hurricane, then the promotion...the apartment seemed like a safer option.”

“There’s no such thing in Vice City, you should know that,” Becker said with a snort and Yareli shrugged, dug into her back pocket for the spare keys. He grinned as she pressed them into his hand. “Any usage restriction?”

“If I had to give you any, you wouldn’t have them at all. Remind me to give you the code when everybody’s gone...and before you say it, I know you can’t stay…”

“I can use these tonight?”

“Si papi, vamos, déjame alimentarte ahora,” she said with a grin and squeezed him tight around his middle. “Esto fue más fácil de lo que pensaba.”

Becker had no counter for that. He hadn’t eaten since lunch and he was surprisingly content with the prospect of her moving out. If she hadn’t been so open with him, he might not have been so receptive to her repeated instruction for him to relax. To her credit she did well keeping his plate full and his beers cold while everybody chatted around him, and before too long, Becker was letting go of the last of his reservations about what the night might bring. By the time the sun was setting, he found himself at ease enough to find the old Russian on the back porch.

He was alone now, and Becker thought that was best. Regardless of what the man said earlier, a conversation needed to be had with the old gangster with loose ties to every faction in the city. While Yareli was busy arguing with her grandmothers, Becker slipped outside for a smoke with Anatoly Medvedev, the grandfather of a man he chased out of the city a half decade before.

“Stubborn little shit ain’t you,” the man said around an unlit cigar as Becker sat down opposite him.

“So I’ve been told,” was Becker’s shrugging reply. He took a moment to light up a Redwood and offered the man a light. “No hard feelings then?”

“Ehhh, you did Nate a favor,” Anatoly admitted with a chuckle, then took a long pull from his cigar. “I’ve always envied them...the Robinas. Drug smugglers, doctors, school teacher’s, and petty thieves. They come in all types and nobody judges the other for what path they choose. They’re loyal people who welcomed a broken man when he didn’t have much else to live for, loved him when he couldn’t love himself and let him be when he needed. They saved my life,“ he said and shift his almost black eyes to Becker. “And I’ll be forever in their debt for all they’ve done for me…”

“I think I know where this is going,” Becker mumbled into his bottle, making Anatoly chuckle. “This is when you tell me to look up The Bear.”

The old man smiled at that, slapped his hand on his thigh and let out a long breath. “Been years since anybody called me that but don’t let the missus hear it. I made her a promise 40 years ago...that wasn’t where I was going anyway. I was talking about where Machita comes from. No matter where she grew up, what she went through, all that is in there for somebody who deserves it. You think you deserve it AJ,” Anatoly asked, his eyes hard on Becker who was all of a sudden nervous. He opened his mouth twice before any words came out and the ones that came, he wasn’t all that pleased with.

“I hope so…”

“It’s gonna take more than hope to stop a bullet to the head if you don’t kid,” Anatoly said with a chuckle and slapped Becker’s thigh before he stood. “She’s her father’s child, wouldn’t even break a sweat.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Becker said honestly, bringing a hearty laugh from the retired gangster before he made his way inside.

The party didn’t last too long after that. It was well past the elders’ bedtimes, but Yareli wouldn’t let anyone else leave without helping to clean up. Doggy bags were assembled and dishes washed with old bossa nova tunes playing in the background. Becker didn’t do much but hold up the wall, waiting for the right moment to break away. No matter how much he wanted to stay, some things couldn’t wait especially now that he knew for sure where they stood. There were more loose ends than he cared to think about and he couldn’t take care of any of them if he didn’t tear himself away.

While Becker wrestled with his departure, Johnny Garcia idled in a squalo off Prawn Island. He knew he should have brought back up but with Russell and Ward MIA and Becker doing his ex-fiancee, he didn’t have a choice. It was an easy job anyway. Pick up a package from the Sharks and deliver it to a private dock on Starfish Island. What might be in the package, he didn’t know, didn’t care. All that matter to him was the 5k he would get for barely an hour’s work. Why the little degenerates couldn’t do it themselves he wasn’t sure, and didn’t much care, so long as they paid well.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eyes and reached for his gun as a pair of denim clad wannabes shuffle down an abandoned dock, carrying a crate between them. Subtly he disengaged his holster clip as the two loaded the wooden crate into the back of the squallo. He hated that he had to deal with these nobodies but, as far as he knew, they were the only crew without a direct line to Becker. And after he blew up one of their clubhouses on the mainland, Garcia was certain that wouldn’t change anytime soon. Working with them was his safest bet, and quickest way to get the cash he needed to settle his outstanding debts.

Becker had been warning him for months to slow down but Johnny Garcia liked to live his life a certain way. Having grown up without a pot to piss in, he felt he deserved the finer things in life. Beautiful women, quality drugs, nice clothes. He wanted it all, had it all, and wasn’t about to stop because his new boss was in love. He was in love himself, with two women on opposite ends of the Vice City economy. A sweet little cuban girl who cleaned rooms at the Marina Sands was pregnant with his first child and pushing to get married before the baby came. Johnny would have rathered she get rid of it but she was a good Catholic and already terrified that she might burn in hell for all the dirty things they’d done together. She saw the baby as a sign from God that they were meant to be and Johnny didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was his Monday-Thursday girl. His weekends belonged to a Liberty City export. The wife of a Forelli family underboss, she was everything his cleaner girl refused to be. A lion in the sack with an insatiable appetite for all of life’s pleasures. If he would have married either of them it would have been her but she was adamant that what they had was just for fun. He couldn’t provide for her the way she needed on a cop’s salary, it didn’t matter that the Forellis were on their way out now that Tommy Vercetti had taken hold of the city. He loved her, the coked out speed freak, but she wouldn’t have him so he settled for their weekly fuck fest until her husband shipped them back up North.

He should have been with her tonight, instead of quietly circling Starfish Island, waiting for a signal light. And it wasn’t a full circle either, he was told to steer clear of the Vercetti estate. That instruction alone should have given him pause but Johnny needed the money. Eventually, he saw it, a mirror flash from the docks on the east side of the island and Johnny maneuvered his craft in that direction. About a hundred yards away, he thought he saw what looked like muzzle flash but with no sound, he didn’t think much of it until fire erupted in his chest. He fell back just in time for what would have been a headshot to blast through his windscreen. Johnny scrambled on the floor, knowing he was a sitting duck, in search of his own rifle when he heard another boat approaching. His best option was to play dead while three men in dark suits climbed aboard.

“Asshole thinks he can fuck my wife and get away with it,” he heard one of them say and realized very quickly that this might be the end of him. There were three of them, heavily armed with another boat following closely behind. They’d turned south, heading into open water, Johnny knew that if there was a move to make, he had to do it now. He was sure they thought he was dead and were in route to dump his body, if he moved quickly he might be able to jump out. He waited until they passed the lighthouse to make his move, but they weren’t as clueless as he thought. As soon as he sat up, a rope was placed around his neck and he was tossed over the side There was a moment, as his lungs filled with water, that he thought he might be able to slip away. Then they hit throttle and the rope snapped tight around his neck, and his body went limp, but he wasn’t dead. Johnny Garcia was completely aware when the boat stopped, could smell the gasoline they poured on the deck before they dragged him back aboard and tied him to the driver’s seat. He heard a match strike, could feel the heat of flames at his back but there was nothing he could do to stop the inevitable. His neck broken, he couldn’t even speak let alone plot another escape attempt. All he could do was watch as the second boat sped back towards the city lights and his squalo was slowly engulfed in flames. Lucky for Johnny he took his last breath before the flames consumed him, all the while thinking that he should have listened to Becker.

*******

Between the psych evals and review board panels, it was a little over a week before Yareli was reinstated to active duty. Not before a private meeting with the Capt where he assured her that there would be no more passes when it came to her and Becker. “Listen Robina, I only got one rule. Make my life difficult I make your life difficult, and you two have been giving me heartburn the last two months with this bullshit…”

“You’re really gonna complain to me about your heartburn Colins…”

“Can it Detective,” Colins billowed but Yareli didn’t even flinch. “Look I get why you did what you did, but that doesn’t make it right. You got a lot to learn about how things work around here. Becker has clout that doesn’t extend to you…”

“You think I don’t know that…”

“Dammit Robina would you shut up a minute. I’m trying to impart a little wisdom here,” he snapped and Yareli only smirked as Colin took a long drag off his cigar. It was two more plumes before he spoke again, in a tone more suited for conversation. “I admit it kid, you got balls. Lasted a helluva lot longer than I expected and I’m starting to see that as less of a bad thing. Don’t ruin it,” he added with a raised eyebrow.

“Did you just pay me a compliment that didn’t involve my tits...Capt. Colins are you getting soft on me…”

“Get out of my office Robina,” he said with a snort and Yareli offered her lazy salute as she eased out of her chair. “Next time some asshole gets you in his crosshairs, do us all a favor and spread it around. Nobody fucks with my house.”

“Yes, sir,” Yareli said sincerely and Capt. Colins offered her a wink as he picked up his ringing phone. And for the first time there was nothing salacious about it For the briefest of moments, Yareli Robina felt like she belonged.

Her new squadmates turned out to be decent guys on the straight and narrow, and sharing an office with Becker wasn’t as awkward as she thought it would be. There relationship at work hadn’t changed much, even though it was common knowledge that they were more than partners. They weren’t exactly hiding it either. They’d been riding in together for a while but now they were leaving together and spending their evenings christening every surface in her new place. He’d even bought her a dog, a cute “little” bullmastiff puppy that he charged Cleopatra with training in the ways of guardianship. They’d settled into something that was beginning to feel like normal. While there was still curiosity of things unsaid, each had quietly resigned themselves to patience. There was still a good bit of taunting, like Yareli coming up from her cellar office to find Becker rooting around her fridge in his underwear.

“I figured you’d show up eventually,” he said with his hands up at her drawn pistol. He didn’t ask any questions beyond what was for dinner. And she never questioned where he slipped off to in the middle of the night, so long as he let her know he was alive every now and then. Even Becker’s suspicion of Briggs seemed to be abating now that the two had shared space. The veteran officer had been promoted to patrol sergeant and shipped to Little Havana station. He didn’t report to Becker directly but they’d crossed paths at crime scenes and every interaction was less tense than the last. Becker realized on his own that what his current partner shared with her former partner was in the past and was the product of convenience and boredom but their friendship, that was something altogether different. They’d riden together for almost four years before her promotion. Sharing meals and taking turns saving each other’s lives, it would have been weird if they weren’t friends. So when Becker came into the office one evening to find Briggs perched on the edge of Yareli’s desk shooting the shit, he joined the conversation instead of stewing at his own desk. And when it was time to call it a night, the three had a drink together at the Blue Line and regalled each other with war stories from various stages in their careers.

“You know, he ain’t half bad,” Becker admitted on their way back to Yareli’s place and she laughed, slipped her hand into his.

“Funny he said the same thing about you not too long ago.”

The first real test of this new relationship came when the bloated remains of Detective Johnny Garcia were discovered a few miles off the coast of Vice City Beach. The culprits didn’t stick around long enough to ensure the boat sank, so when a group of tourists out on a sport fishing excursion came upon a capsized boat in open water, the captain initiated a rescue mission. An SOS was sent out to the coast guard while the crew of the pleasure boat donned scuba gear. It was the first mate who found Johnny’s body, still duct taped to the seat. His badge melted to his chest.

It had already been a long day but they’d finally blocked out a little time to breath, and eat. Despite the fact that she’d been feeling like shit for the last couple weeks, Yareli still put down a double bacon cheeseburger, an order of fries and half of Becker’s plus a triple thick batido de mamey. The sun was setting by the time Becker lit their post meal smokes and they enjoyed them in silence sitting on the trunk of her car, watching the boats bob in the marina. Her eyes kept coming to Becker’s boat docked in the second to last slip on Pier 2 and she was sure he noticed her looking when she felt his thumb graze across her knuckles.

“No puedo esperar para llevarte a casa,” she muttered as she clasped his hand, making Becker snort.

“You told me to fuck off at least five times today,” he said without looking at her and laced their fingers together. “Called me vaquero estúpida...”

“Cause you were getting on my nerves,” she said with a grin and Becker gave her a wink over his shoulder.

“Ahhh you love it.”

“So what if I do,” she said as she sat up to wrap her arms around his middle. Becker slipped his arm around her back, kissed her forehead then leaned away to look at her with furrowed brows. “What?”

“You alright,” he asked with his palm on forehead. “Feels like you got a fever coming on.”

“Está caliente, Papi. Qué esperas?”

“You seem a little worn out last couple days…”

“You wasn’t saying that last night,” she said with a grin and Becker rolled his eyes.

“Well it’s hard to say anything with somebody sitting on…”

“Dispatch to 318 and 743,” came over the radio and Yareli let out a grumble. “Dispatch to 318 and 743.”

“Last one I swear,” Becker whisper before grabbing the handheld to respond. “Go for 318, over.”

“Report to marine impound, over.”

“On our way, over and out.”

Yareli’s annoyance quickly turned to dread when they arrived to find a familiar boat being pulled up the slip. “That’s Johnny’s boat,” she said, not meaning to out loud and Becker shift his gaze to see tears in her eyes.

“You don’t know that Robina…”

“He got it while we were dating.”

She was out of the car before he could respond, trotting over to where their captain stood on the dock. The coroner’s van was already there, stretcher unloaded with a body bag unfurled and ready to receive. But the bile didn’t begin to rise until she caught sight of the white sheet draped over what she knew to be a body, Johnny’s body. She knew it was him, no matter what Becker said. Yareli Robina was no stranger to dead bodies. She’d found her mother, stiff with rigor mortis, when she was just 8-years-old. Witnessed the immediate aftermath of a family friend’s murder on her way home from school a few years later. Not to mention the countless deaths she’d investigated in her time in law enforcement. None of it prepared her for what lay under that sheet, or her reaction. One minute she was wiping away tears, the next she was vomiting over the edge of the dock. Shaking, her legs gave way. Had Capt. Colins not grabbed her belt, she might have tumbled over the side.

“Get her back to the car,” she heard him say as strong hands took hold of her hips but she swatted them away, stood up on her own.

“I’m fine…”

“You’re not,” Becker said, giving her a gentle push toward his truck. “Go cool off, detective, I’ll fill you in.” That had become his subtle way of giving Yareli orders and no matter how it annoyed her, she had no choice to respect it. She couldn’t have people thinking he was giving her special treatment because they were screwing, nor would she allow anybody to talk shit to him simply because she did. “There’s water in the cooler if you need it.”

“I said I’m fine,” she grumbled as she stormed all the while tears streamed down her face.

And they didn’t stop, even as she hid in the the back of the truck to chug down about a half gallon of water. Didn’t stop when Becker came back with Colins to discuss their next course of action. He’d inform the family and pass on any leads they might have but the case was theirs to solve. “And you better solve it. This wasn’t some gangland bullshit,” he said and both detectives swallowed any retort, choosing instead to follow the coroner’s van back to ME’s office. By then, Yareli’s tears had morphed to full on sobs and Becker had to pull over twice so she could retch. The first time, he offered a consoling hand to her back but said nothing as something like suspicion bubbled up in chest. The next he barely looked in her direction. And when they finally made it to the coroner’s office, Becker insisted she stay in the truck.

“Wouldn’t want you to be sick again,” he muttered, slamming the door behind him. If Yareli had a response, Becker didn’t hear it. Didn’t care to either, Yareli had already proven herself to be a fantastic liar. All he could think about while the coroner outlined his preliminary findings was how stupid he had been to not recognize the signs. Garcia’s insistence that he be careful with her, their barely contained animosity while they were in the same space. You didn’t shit on someone you didn’t want anymore. Perhaps their break-up hadn’t been as final as either of them said, maybe she downplayed how much Garcia meant to her. Either way, he would have to get to the bottom of it and Becker was at a loss as to where to begin.

While Becker’s wheels turned inside, Yareli’s were doing the same, only Garcia wasn’t at all a topic. He had plenty of enemies and nefarious side businesses that finding him dead was something of an inevitability as far as she was concerned. Finding the thug(s) dumb enough to off a cop and not destroy all the evidence would be easy enough once they got going. The only thing that really concerned her was her reaction. The uncontrollable sobbing, the vomiting...something was happening inside her and Yareli doubted it had anything to do with what she’d eaten that day. Or the day before. This was something else, a possibility that she hadn’t much considered until now.

By the time Becker returned to the driver’s seat, Yareli had settled down enough to ask of the coroner’s findings and he gave them tersely. All follow-up questions were answered nonverbally and eventually she stopped asking so they settled into uncomfortable silence. Yareli was too annoyed to ask why, instead stewed in the passenger seat as she tracked Becker’s route to her place.

“Send Cleopatra out,” he said as he threw the truck in park, but Yareli didn’t budge, instead kicked her feet up on the dashboard. “Come on Robina, I’ve got to toss his place and don’t need you compromising evidence.”

“I told you I’m fine…”

“Are you?! Just a few days ago you were talking about how much of a dickhead he is, now you're choking back tears…”

“What the hell are you talking about Becker?!”

“If there’s anything you need to tell me, Robina, now’s the time…”

“Qué coño?! Crees que lo quiero muerto? I almost married that dickhead not too long ago. I’m allowed to be sad that he’s dead! I’m allowed to be pissed off…”

“You think I’m not pissed off! He was my friend Yareli and somebody tied him to his boat and set him on fire,” he roared, and she didn’t even flinch. Becker expected her to jump across the seat but all she did was stare at him with fury in her eyes.

“Sounds like you’re the one who needs to be alone,” she said quietly as she pushed open the door. No violence, no muttered insults in her first language. Yareli didn’t even slam the door, nor did she look back as she trotted off towards the house.

She was greeted by a yippy wrinkled face ball of fur jumping at her until his adopted big sister let out a sharp bark. He quickly sat at her feet, tail beating against the hardwood, patiently waiting to be acknowledged. Becker had insisted she treat her new puppy like an employee, minimizing her affections for training purposes, but Yareli was having none of that. She scooped him up as she usually did, muttering sweet nothings as she scratched behind his ears. “It’s just me and you tonight Macho,” she cooed, hefting the meaty puppy in one arm while she loved on Cleopatra standing sentry at the still open door. “Your daddy’s being an asshole so you should probably get outta here,” she said and Cleopatra let out an uncharacteristic whimper as Yareli pushed open the door. “Ehhh, we had rough day, don’t hold it against him,” she said as the german shepherd lumbered out to meet her owner.

Becker heard that last part, and it did nothing but make him feel worse than he already did about dumping on her. She had just as much right to mourn Johnny as he had, maybe even more, and his reaction was admittedly childish. They promised things would be different and so far Yareli had been holding up her end of the bargain. Six months ago, he would have been nursing a fat lip along with his bruised ego. Part of him thought that might have been better than the nagging feeling that he’d fucked everything up for nothing at all.

Alone in the house for the first time, Yareli was beside herself. There was a box in the back of the closet, still sealed with packing tape, labeled private. In it was the contents of the the medicine cabinet from her old place. She’d packed it herself, but hadn’t opened it because her mom had restocked her new place with a fresh supply of feminine products, over the counter pain meds, and band aids. But there was something missing, something she always kept on hand that her mother probably didn’t think to purchase, and Yareli tore into the box in search of her “oopsie kit”. A kitchen timer, rubber gloves, sterile sheets, and 3 boxes all packed into shoe box. The last time she needed it was almost a year ago when she forgot to renew her prescription before she and Briggs were assigned to transport a suspect to Georgia for trial. They’d always used condoms but after a drunken night in the hotel bar miles away from any drug store, pulling out seemed sufficient enough. She missed two periods without even realizing it but after two negative pregnancy tests, and the emergence of her cycle, Yareli chalked her heightened emotions up to stress. She hadn’t experienced any of the symptoms that she’d been enduring over recent days. The perpetual nausea, tender breasts, and relentless fatigue all pointed to something else, and as she peed in the clear plastic tray, she came to the realisation that she couldn’t recall her last period. Or the last time she took her birth control.

A half hour later Yareli lay on a table, her feet in stirrups while a nervous looking red head rooted around her vagina with a doppler stick. LaShawna was nice enough to stick around while her friend from imagining performed the impromptu ultrasound. They’d already heard the heartbeat and the two convinced Yareli to go through the next steps of finding out how far along she might be.

“There it is,” the girl said cheerily of the fluttering white orb against a black backdrop and Yareli resisted the urge to kick her smiling freckled face, but that had more to do with LaShawna’s grip on on her hand. “I’m not a doctor but I’d say you’re about six to eight weeks along…”

“How long ago…”

“ Early last month,” Yareli whispered with tears in her eyes and LaShawna planted a kiss on her forehead. “What the fuck am I gonna do?”

“Whatever you need to,” she said with a nod at the imaging technician, who quietly slipped out of the room, as she wrapped Yareli in her arms. “And whatever you decide, I got your back...no matter what.”

Yareli laughed at that and shrugged her off before wiping her face. She took a deep breath and slipped out of the stirrups to sit on the edge of the table with her head in her hands. There was a time in her life that “getting rid of it” was an option, when the opinion of her partner didn’t much matter. There was a time in her life when she would have cringed at the sight of her own unborn child but now she found her lips spreading as she scooped up the printed image of that fluttering white orb.

“We’re gonna need all the help we can get,” she whispered, as much to herself and her baby as to her childhood friend. “Thank you…”

“Girl please...but I got some parking tickets,” LaShawna said as she sat down beside her, slipped her arm around her shoulders. “Your a badass woman and gonna be a badass mom.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

Reboot

Hi,

If there are any ladies who have enjoyed reading this wonderful story I wrote with my great partner please drop me a line. I'm looking to do something similar as far as a 1980's trope filled adventure. Perhaps Miami Vice style again if it appeals or set in the Grand Theft Auto universe. I'm open to discussion. Of course I'm not trying to recapture lighting in a bottle, but I want to write something fun with someone else who shares similar interests. My partner moved on from Lit and I don't know what happened, but I wish her nothing but happiness.

Strong and creative women please apply.