GTA-Belly of the Beast(closed for JawnKarTurr)

The year is 1987. The place, Links View Apartments in heart of Vice City. In the wake of Hurricane Guillermo that pelted the city with 12 inches of rain and gale force winds, Yareli Robina was stuck in her eighth floor apartment with her arm in a sling. The apartment in the swanky building overlooking the golf course was a little beyond her means but the street kid turned cop had always found a way to meet her needs. Pulling a kid out of a collapsed shack in Little Haiti saw her shoulder dislocated and she in turn broke her forearm trying to put it back in place. Sure the 5'6" Cuban was a little banged up, but she resented the eight weeks of administrative leave. It wasn't her shooting arm that was broken and as far as she was concerned the cast was just another weapon. Her sergeant told her to enjoy the time off or take desk duty.

Yareli had enough of that when she was with the DEA. VCPD was a definite step down as far as her career was concerned but it offered a chance to see some action, which was the reason the hot headed Latina chose law enforcement in the first place. That and her upbringing. Her father, currently serving life for drug trafficking/murder, was the youngest brother of Umberto Robina, the leader of the Cubano Cartel that ran Little Havana. Her mother was a coke head stripper who overdosed shortly after the raid that saw her common-law husband taken into custody. Ten-year-old Yareli became a ward of the state after that and bounced from one foster home to another before she was finally adopted at 16 by an older couple who took her away from the city. They turned her life around, and pushed her to achieve her full potential despite her tumultuous childhood.

She flourished under their guidance. Graduated from college in the top half of her class with a degree in criminal justice and was recruited to join the DEA shortly thereafter. But after four years of pushing paper, Yareli gave up trying to get anywhere in the boys club federal agency. To them she'd never be more than a pretty face, regardless of her marksmen level shooting and advanced interrogation skills. She was never allowed to prove either, the most Yareli accomplished as an agent was the uncovering of a few dirty agents. Sure it earned her commendations but she didn't gain any respect. She was just a whistle-blower, a rat who turned on comrades to better her own standing. And she didn't even get that. So she left, figuring she could make a difference back home.

Unfortunately she had to start on the bottom. Her DEA service record only got her out of the academy. Yareli walked the beat just like any other rook, but this she didn't mind. Sure the uniform could be better but there wasn't much she could do about that until she made detective, which would take some time. Up until the hurricane, Yareli felt like she was well on her way to making a name for herself. She had a few good collars under her belt and had proven that she wasn't afraid of getting a little rough with perps. And then there was the rescue that saw her face on the front page of the newspaper. Her sergeant met her at the hospital with talk of promotions but Yareli didn't get her hopes up. She'd believe it when they pinned those stripes on her at the ceremony. Until then, she was just another beat cop trying to survive the mean Vice City streets.

And she wasn't even doing that. At the moment she blasted The Wave as she downed a bottle of rum, dancing around her apartment in panties and a men's undershirt. Her long wavy black hair in a messy bun as Prince sang through her speakers. She'd ripped off the sling and tossed it aside so she could play air guitar as she sang along. The couch was her stage and she moved her body sensuously, rolling her hips as if she was Darling Nikki teaching him how to grind. Her neighbor banged on the wall but Yareli didn't care, the mix of rum and Vicodin had numbed her to anything but a good time. With 5 weeks left to go on her leave that was all she could do.

Enter Blake Darlington

Before and after the hurricane that rocked Vice City the weather had been miserable, and only now were the bridges open and the city began functioning somewhat like normal. The mayor and council had been quick to talk up the police and fire departments as a band of heroes, but now were tackling the massive expense incurred thanks to all the overtime. They had their hand out to the federal government for that and the latest rebuilding effort. With all the federal agencies arriving in town it was the perfect time to launchOperation Flashpoint.

When there was chaos there was opportunity Blake Darlington thought as he headed down the dimly lit hallway as water dripped off his DEA poncho and ball cap. Behind him was Agent Cole large man of American Samoa decent. He was dressed the same but held an M4 assault rifle which looked like child's toy in his massive hands.

He got to the door of form agent Yareli Robina door and paused and gestured for him to take the rifle butt and bag it on the wall for a distraction. He took out a pair of keys and nodded, but whispered out directions one last time to his partner.

"Look she's a friend but she can be psychotic," to which Cole just grunted. Not like he would say much of anything anyway.

"Just wait for the signal and if you have to light the place up. When we did the walk through while she was in the hospital we found a host of weapons, plenty of alcohol, and well plenty of trashy lingerie. Anyway it's been few years. Don't know how it will go. Wish me luck trooper."

With that he unlocked the door and walked into the fairly dark apartment and made his way to where the music was playing. He watched Yareli for a long minute before he walked over to the stereo to turn off the music. Still rocking out to Prince, and distracted and buzzed. That was his old comrade in arms. Her reaction wasn't out of line once she realized it wasn't the power.

She wield around and was over the coffee table in an instant and jumped right in front of him and paused just inches from his throat. Where she pulled that switchblade from was anyone's guess by he was curious. He'd assumed a defensive posture and got out of the way, but slowly she processed who he was even if he was completely out of place.

"Darling?!" she asked in her most condensing tone. "What and hell are you doing here? How the hell did you get in?"

"Put down the knife and pour me a cup of coffee I'll be more then happy to tell you Mrs. Vice City."

She snarled at him and left the knife in place. "I asked first and this is my house."

"Fine I had a key made and I needed to check you out for an operation. Are you interested in getting your old job back or at the very least getting a chunk of cash?"

Ten minutes later he was sipping a cup of Old Amsterdam Coffee as he sat in one of her chairs as she sat across from him. With her cup in one hand and a Redwood Cigarette in the other legs spread open with her feet on the coffee table where the knife was impaled. Judging by the coffee table it wasn't the first time, and Redwood Cigarette wasn't a light. She was high speed and low drag, and while he liked looking at her even when she was being crude he reminded himself that she had a Hawk & Little .45 pistol under her seat cushion.

It was time to get back to business, so he said "I'm sure you want to hear all about Washington DC, but you can read the agency newsletter. I'm sure you want to know why I'm here."

"Maybe it's the millions in drugs that come through the city, " she said before taking a long drag and making a smoke ring.

"Closer to a billion these days, and we know the CIA might be involved, but we're here with the FBI to look into the police department. There is corruption everywhere, but the Little Havana Police Station showed up on the radar and keeps showing up. Got a lot of people talking, but nothing that will hold up."

"You know gang members and drug smugglers tend to lie a lot Darling."

The nickname stung in his ears, but he kept his cool. "Yeah whatever we figure what out of the two hundred cops there something like thirty to fifty of them are involved with smuggling guns, drugs, and whatever else they can. The rest of you are just involved in some local stuff like car theft, prostitution, and of course extortion of local merchants."

"Look I don't know what you've head, but "

"Yareli don't lie to me okay. I can tell and I might care, but let's just review. You have have a tricked out classic Stallion in your garage right now, and the Sabre Turbo at the police station's special lot. By the way I love the paint job I hope the motor pool does a good job with it. I'm sure those city workers are doing it on there time. Shall I go on?"

He paused for a minute to see how pissed off she was, but he proceed anyway. "Now in your walk in closet you have a ton of expensive heels, underwear, and designer jeans. Your weapons locker has a host of weapons not issued by the department, and several AK-47's which are vintage Cuban military. I'm not even going to ask about those or the swords you have under your bed."

The Russian made assault rifles were a simple answer really for those who knew the family. Alberto Robina didn't like either regime and Cuba, but by the time Castro was on the scene he'd had enough. For him it wasn't enough to simply transport the family on their fishing boat to the United States. he wanted to come with a gift. So he and half a dozen male family members walked up on a patrol boat used for spying. While the women pretended to strip down to their skivvies for some night swimming they cut the throats of everyone on the crew.

Then with both boats they headed towards Florida and when they came close Alberto "phone ahead" to the Coast Guard as Yareli would hear for years at the family table. The government was very interested particularly in the Russian adviser her grandfather let live. The rest was history. For citizenship with no questions asked and some money to start off with for work already performed the family began their American dream. That was the last time most would be useful to the government.

Yareli took another long drag and then tossed the but in the ashtray as she breathed out. "It's a long story, but the guys we got them from didn't need them any more. So you've went through my stuff without a warrant jerk so none of this matters."

"Please what you have in plain site is enough. Boxes from Mr. Liquor filled with some of your favorites I'm sure, Marlin Fish Factories won't be missing those lobsters. Oh you better be cooking those soon. I know there isn't room in your freezer with all those gallons of The Cherry Popper Ice Cream. Also you do have all those premade meals from the The Well Stacked Pizza Co."

"Look all of that would have went to waste it's not like they could sell it."

"I know Yareli it doesn't make it look then. Never mind The Cherry Popper Ice Cream Company is involved with cocaine distribution."

"Fine Darling what do you want then? If you were going to bust me you would have, and a job offer wouldn't have been part of the deal."

"Do you know Sergeant Andrew Jackson Becker out of your station house."

Yareli nodded as she fired up another cigarette and replied, "yeah everyone knows the local legend. Bought me an ice cream cake on my birthday. He does that for all the women. What about him?"

Blake shook his head and laughed and actually relaxed before he retorted, "your a piece of work really. He's a brute. Nobody has killed as many suspects as that guy, and he's made more felony arrests then anyone else. He's also gotten your department's longest unpaid suspension."

"Sounds like a good cop to me. You know what that is right?"

"Yes and he's as corrupt as he comes. Guns, drugs, gambling, and murder for hire. If he's not directly involved he's taking pay off's from people who are doing. The Haitians have a massive bounty on his head for killing one of their witch doctors. He's taken part in illegal street races in cars and motorcycles, run drugs and girls for out of town rock bands, and the latest incident with the Sharks. You hear about that?"

She shook her head no and replied, "first week or so I had some good pain meds."

"Well seems the Sharks that new upcoming street gang got their numbers up, and someone gave them an infusion of cash and weapons. They had some large cocaine buys about to happen when, and get this under the cover of the storm they got hit and were wiped out."

"So what that happens all the time."

"Not like this. We haven't finished counting all the bodies including one informant that doesn't have a head any longer. Someone flew above their compound in a Maverick gunship. Yeah the same kind the department uses, but they had M60 machine guns mounted on it. They cut these punks down, it didn't matter how well armed they were, and then two of the crew jump out of the chopper and go through the place shooting. They blew up all the vans parked there except for the one loaded down with buy money. We're talking military skill and procession. No descriptions except for guys dressed like commandos wearing black hockey masks."

"So you think it was him and some friends?"

"Oh yeah we do, but we have nothing to make a case with. So that's where you come in sweetness."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Get close to him. Very close to him. Because of your recent heroism, and the fact the city is lacking any Latina detectives your getting promoted and partnered with him. Learn all you can and gather evidence and try not to get killed. Your just his type."

"This sounds very tempting. An opportunity to betray a fellow cop and possibly get killed. No thanks."

"Well there is a hundred thousand dollars in it for your time and trouble, reinstatement with the DEA, and if you don't want that a new identity. You should think about it."


She leaned back and put her head on the pillow of the couch and closed her eyes and then said, "let's say I'm interested. What do you know about Becker?"

"Well a lot, but not enough of what we need."

Blake laid it all out for her literally and physically. There was a fat file on the detective, but most of it was rumor and speculation. Beat a pimp to death with a baseball bat, through a gang member through a window, used a sniper rifle on the golf course. None nothing that would hold up in court though and as Blake said he did have a type. The photos of the last five women in his life which included three girlfriends and two wives showed he liked tan dark haired women. Funny thing is all of them refused to say a bad word about him beyond he left the seat up.


The personnel history was one that told of a boy with a tough upbringing. His grandfather came over from Germany after the war with a questionable background and harsh beliefs. He met his wife in the small local German community. His son married a local girl named Lynn and lived in the swampy everglades north of the city. They weren't married long when he joined the Marines and did three tours in Vietnam. Lynn's family were poor white trash who sold pot, moonshine, and poached wild game. Little A.J. learned a host of skills, but he saw his mom murdered by drug smugglers.

His father returned and transferred to the National guard where he worked as an instructor and became a trucker. He also brought home a new wife, a smart and beautiful Filipino woman named Caacbay. She was tasked with raising the twelve year old boy. Surprisingly she and the boy got on very well. He learned several languages and her form of knife fighting. Though her and his father are separated were now separated by all accounts he still considered her his mother.

A.J. senior had a reputation for brawling, speeding, and being a lousy dad. During National Guard training missions he'd often take his son and expect the teenager to act like a soldier. He often made him hunt for family meals, and he demanded good grades and athletic performance. At age eighteen he showed up at the Army recruitment office and with very little talking joined for four years.

During his time in the service he excelled according to his records. Did well in karate competitions, shooting, scuba diving, and learned how to pilot a helicopter. If someone read between the lines he was bound for special forces, but plead hardship to return home to take care of his stepmother who'd been badly injured in a car accident. During that time he applied to the police department and once hired did well at the academy.

It was only six months into his first year on the job when he became famous for a motel shootout with five well armed drug dealers. It was a deal that went south and he and his partner walked into things. While details weren't always clear ended up killing all five suspects and pulling his badly wounded partner to safety. It was alleged that a large portion of the buy money went missing, but most just dismissed the allegation and said that's why the pair in the motel bathroom were getting chainsawed.

After that he became a regular in the local news and began climbing the ranks. Eventually he was assigned to Little Haiti and crime dropped twenty five percent in the first three months of his arrival. Also alleged corruption went through the roof. The problem was nobody was talking, and by then the rock star cop had protection from headquarters.

He had a large condo complete with private garage in the Hyman building which would be pushing it for any cop even without the satellite TV and full bar. He claimed have gotten a character loan from one of the more questionable banks in Little Havana. Then there was El Swanko a house in Vice Point complete with a swimming pool and garage, and weapons storeroom. The Infernus is a luxury sports car parked in the garage wasn't his though. Despite being there from time to time the house was officially owned by Avery Carrington's Shady Acres company. Their lawyer said he was a friend of Mr. Carrington's and part time security guard.


The man worked as a lone wolf making his own hours patrolling in his customized four-door Rancher SUV. He never seemed to bother to come in for roll call or briefings, and when he did call for backup you knew things were bad. He was a hero to most uniforms in the station though. He bought a lot of rounds for the house, always willing to pickup lunch, and he took out a roll of cash for everything from little league uniforms to class trips. One way or another he knew how to take care of people.

He had her dead to rights, but Yareli wasn't the type to go down easily. Nor was she the type to let on that she knew more than his intel told. Yareli looked over the file in silence as she chain smoked Redwoods and pounded down coffee, effectively sobering herself up so she could put some actual thought into what Darling proposed.

It wouldn't be as simple as he said. The chances of Detective Becker, or Becks as he was affectionately known around the department, taking on a new partner was slim and none, but that was the least of her problem as far as Yareli was concerned. Her last name rang bells in little Havana and as far as her degenerate family she was lost to the system. She knew Becks didn't adhere to any jurisdiction and her showing up after almost 20 years, and in uniform no less, was bound to cause a stir. Brass tried to assign her to Little Havana when she first signed up but she quickly talked her way out of that implying that they would in fact be signing her death certificate. It wasn't exactly true, in fact she hadn't seen any of her family since the Torres family moved her to Georgia, but that didn't mean she would be welcomed with open arms.

Yareli stamped out of her cigarette and reached into the couch cushions for her arm scratcher. It was just a wire hanger she'd bent in half and wrapped in duct tape so she could get at the incessant itch that brewed beneath her cast. Her finger tips graze the semiautomatic .45 she had stashed and the corners of her full lips curled up a little as she shift her eyes at Darling. She was certain he knew it was there, just like he knew of everything else in her place, but if she wanted to shoot him he would have been dead already. Regardless of the man armed to the teeth he had no doubt stationed outside her door. Still she pulled it out and set it on the table, the business end facing him but the safety still engaged.

"So what I'm hearing is an elaborate scheme to get into my pantie drawer," she said with a groan as she worked the scratcher inside her cast. The motion was a aggressive to say the least and Yareli threw her whole body into it causing things to jiggle and shift beneath her tank top. "Why don't you tell your man outside to go home Darling...I'm kinda offended that you thought you needed back up to see an old friend," she said with a wink as she got off the couch and dipped into her bedroom. She left the door open as she pulled on a pair of cutoff shorts, a term that could be applied loosely since the under side of her bubble ass was complete on display even when she stood up straight.

She swallowed a couple over-the-counter pain killers dry as she came back into the living room, listened as Darling chatted with his buddy at the door. Yareli only heard a few words, something about her "not being as bad" as he thought before he shut the door and jumped a little when he saw her leaning against the wall.

"Look Blake let's get one thing straight, I'm an opportunist not dirty," she said as she grabbed hold of his rain slicker and pulled him into her tight kitchen. There was barely enough space for them to stand side by side once she opened the freezer and pulled out the three half gallon tubs of ice cream he implied might be contraband. Yareli flipped the top off all three to reveal half eaten cartons of banana split, cookies and cream and mint chocolate chip. "Those guns you found were confiscated from a few crackheads my partner and I ran down after they hit a pharmacy in Little Haiti. Those were what we found in the trunk, not what they used in the robbery so what not get some use out of them," she said with a shrug as she ran her finger along the rim of the cookie and cream and deposited it into her mouth.

Yareli wasn't trying to be seductive, but she had a way about her. She and Darling had spent enough off duty hours together that she knew just how to get to him, even if she wasn't trying. "As for my cars I won those fair and square from some redneck who misjudged me at the pool table. He thought my first win was a fluke and doubled down...I didn't exactly hustle him. I let him keep my Blista," she added with a shrug as she slipped past him to head back into the living room.

Darlington followed closely behind, finally sheding his rain gear before he sat down on the couch beside her as she scanned through his intel once more. There was a lot, she had to admit, but it was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to Becks. She knew for certain the crime rate dropped only because criminals were turning up dead. As far as the department went he was a God among men and nobody would look kindly on the hot headed niece of a Cuban drug lord bringing shining light on his misdeeds.

That's what drove her out of the DEA in the first place, digging where she shouldn't have and not ignoring the gold she found. Being a do good got her nowhere but on the outs with every other agent, except Darlington. Whether they were sleeping together or not, Yareli knew that he believed what she had done was admirable. Which was why he went through all this trouble now. He knew her, and knew her well. She had more balls than most of the men on his roster and as much as she tried to contain it, her hot Latin temper served her well even without a badge to back it up. She was bright, knowledgeable, and had grown up living a double life so doing it now wouldn't make any difference. Yareli was untapped potential for law enforcement and he always agreed with her when she complained that lack of cock was the only thing keeping her back.

"This isn't going to be as simple as you think Blake," she said, using his first name so he understood she was taking him seriously. Yareli only called him Darling to get under his skin, but she was smart enough to realize there was a time and a place for the ribbing she enjoyed when they were alone. "I appreciate you thinking of me...really I do, but if I get made, the Haitians are the least of my worries. Becks is an expert at making his problems disappear."

"That isn't fear I hear is it? The Rel Robina I went through Quantico with ain't afraid of shit but God and snakes...you see snakes in this jacket cause it sure ain't the bible."

Yareli picked up her pistol at that, flipped off the safety before she set it back down on the table between them. "Ain't shit changed Darling," she said and shift her eyes at him in time to see his jaw clench at his hated nickname on her lips. She gave a wink and ran her hands through her long wavy black hair before she leaned back with both hands behind her head. The motion flexed the guns she had tattooed on her biceps, twin .38 snub noses. The first guns she ever learned to shoot. "But turning 30 a few months ago sort of put things in perspective that's all. Why risk for my life for some shit that ain't gonna change nothing in the long run? You saw how doing the right thing did me before, now I'm just doing my thing and as you can see it's doing me pretty good..."

"I get that but that's not how you're built Yareli and you know that," he said, his voice raising a little as he turned to face her. "You got into law enforcement to do the right thing. Don't let those short sighted dipshits in D.C. change who you are...because that's not you either. You said you wanted a chance...well here it fucking is and now you want to turn it down. I'm going to bat for you on this but this isn't about me. This assignment was made for you Yareli. If I thought this would get you hurt I wouldn't have brought it you. You can do this Rel...I know you can," he said, the last with his hand on her thigh and she shift her eyes down at those fingers, then back up at him.

"So I was right then?"

"About what?"

"This being an elaborate scheme to get back in my pants," she said with a snort and gave him a playful shove. "You know if this DEA thing don't work out, you might want to go into motivational speaking cause that was a hell of a pep talk Blake."

"So does that mean you're in?"

"Yeah I'm in...but we got one problem," she said as she lifted her cased arm. "Still got four weeks on this thing. I'm not getting any promotions with my arm in a sling, no matter what strings you pulled."

Detective Sgt. A.J. Becker played with a Butterfly Knife as he looked down at the busy Little Havana street from the abandon offices above the Little Havana Bakery and Cafeteria. It was three weeks since the hurricane ravished the city and he wasn't sure the last time he'd slept, and even when he was ordered home to get some rest he still needed to take care of business.

For people like himself who actually made sure the city ran there was no rest for the wicked. The average person had no idea what it took to make sure their morning coffee was hot, keep the lights on, and make sure they didn't get murdered during their morning commute. The last 24 hours had been hectic and as he waited for his first meeting to arrive he reviewed it in his head. It seemed once they got the bridges up and running again chaos let lose.

He first took care of personnel business which started with him checking out his Hyman Condo. While the building was relatively intact it wasn't surprising that he helicopter pad was in need of repairs and the satellite TV wasn't working yet. He'd left Destiny and Mystique two local escorts and minor pornstars to watch the place. Perhaps not the best decision, but he'd helped them out with a pimp so they were nothing if not loyal. His weapons stash was secure along with everything else in the room he converted into a vault. The girls wanted him to spend the night, but unfortunately he had other things to do.

He stopped by the Skumole Shacks to find a bunch of bikers squatting there who were waiting for the weather to improve before they started to repair The Greasy Chopper. He left a message and took his Ranger over to Vice Point where even at night crews were working to repair the hotels, mall, and beach for tourists. Among the high end apartments and houses was his place El Swanko Casa.

Technically it wasn't but he knew better and he checked in with the two young soldiers from Fort Baxter he put on the payroll to watch the place. They'd been taking shifts guarding the place with Ruger Assault Rifles, and living off everything on the menu from Well Stacked Pizza Co. The house and pool didn't look to bad and his red Infernus still sat safely in the garage. After giving him some money, and promising help when they applied to the force he headed out.

The rest of the night he spent driving around putting out fires. Sometimes literally. Hooker Inn Express is a hotel near Escobar International Airport. Saw a huge fight between some of the working girls and some newly arrived Colombian "tourists." He made sure the right people went to jail, and none of them were the girls. He secured a rocket launcher and some other goodies including some machetes in the back of his truck and headed out.

Then he had to rocket back over to the The Pole Position Club. Seemed some out of town construction workers got into a brawl with the security staff and it spilled out into the street. One of the workers had flame thrower in his truck and tried to burn the building while both sides opened up with handguns. It was a mess and with leadership all over the place he had to take command. His PSG-1 .308 Sniper Laser Sighted Sniper Rifle ended the fire bug when he hit the fuel tank on the thing.

After that nobody felt like fighting much more, but once again there was paperwork and arrests. This time though he was able to snag not one, but two utility pickup trucks which he quickly sold to a new construction company that was now doing the repair work on the building he was in. Sure most of the works only had experience from the shops in the state prison and almost all were Los Cabrones members, but as far as the parole board was considered they were all employed.

Half a dozen other incidents later he was her smoking Redwood cigarettes waiting for Maria from downstairs to bring up his breakfast. He was in an old green Hawaiian shirt, blue stonewashed jeans and cowboy boots. With his beatup leather jacket hanging on the desk chair you could see the .357
Equalizer hanging from his shoulder harness. Only a fool would think he had two weapons.

Before he could fire up another cigarette though the lovely busty waitress Maria walked into the corner office. Her jeans were tight, and her t-shirt barely contained her breasts. She smiled and put down the tray which had his eggs Benedict on it made with corn muffins along with another full patter a few sides and two cups of coffee. He gave a Maria a curious look.

"Your guest said he wanted to eat with you honey. You look so tired why don't you come over and sleep at my place. The kids are at school," she said with a smile that hid the fact that she was married or intended to let him get some rest.

"Thanks honey I don't think I'd get much sleep and I have a reputation to maintain. Show him in I think I know who it is. "

She looked a little disappointed but smiled and nodded. "Sure honey."

She walked out and he heard a few words exchanged in the hall as Captain "The Duke" Colin walked into the office like he owned the place. At well over 6 feet tall and 300 pounds the ex-Vice City Mambas fooball player sat down. The man played in a time when brutality was cheered on like it was in the Roman arena, and the man had parred his popularity into a position with the police department. He was a goon, but wasn't stupid and A.J. knew he actually earned his degree before going prow.

He broke out a flask and began pouring it into a cup of coffee and leaned back before saying, "kid you know I know you had a rough night and I ain't asking any questions about why you were called to different stations or anything. But when I have to do a press conference with no report let alone the officer involved it makes things a little hard."

"Sorry about that boss but I was on the move the city is falling apart."

"Bullshit," the captain replied as he dug into his breakfast and he gestured for him to sit down. "You help me I help you plain and simple. The city is on the radar right now. The Mambas just won Superbowl, they're building up the city aside from the rebuilding, but people are asking about the drugs coming in and the money going out. Never mind we're still dealing with the wake of Mr. Vercetti's war."

He sat down and dug into his food hungrily and listened before he replied, "what does any of that have to do with me?"

"We don't need to get detailed about this, but while we can handle stuff locally we're being watched a lot from the outside. You know how many federal agencies are in the city right now?"

"Yeah and they'll be gone once we got the city running fine."

"Some of them sure, but we have to keep things under control and keep things discrete. So no more messes, and you're taking on a partner."

"No I've tried that two many times and it's never worked out."

"Save it kid she'll be here right after she comes off injured leave. She's qualified, a hero, and the right skin tone. City hall wants it and you can't leave her at the station house to do your paper work like the other kid. Or leave them out to dry to get shot."

"That punk was from internal affairs and I could have left him out there to die."

"Yeah well you can't get out of this time, so do what you want on your own time, but on the cities time be a straight arrow. Feel her out you might like her. Maybe another future ex-Mrs. Becker."

A.J. laughed and shook his head. "That was to expensive last time, so I doubt it. I'll play your game for a little while, but don't be surprised if she quits or whatever."

"Long as she chooses to leave on her own and there is no fall out I'm happy."

The two men continued to eat together and discussed a number of matters that would concern any police station in the city. The fact was there was a hardcore group in the ranks that were criminals with uniforms, and there were plenty of others to look the other way. A.J. was own for being generous with everyone, but that was paying tax in a way. If nobody could think of anything bad to say about you it was worth it.

The next visitor was much more pleasant to look at even if she represented a ton of trouble. Mercedes Cortez walked in clad in a purple tank top, skirt and tights with a denim jacket covering very little. She took off her sunglasses and smiled and tossed a fight envelope on the empty desk next to him as she slid into a chair. Streaks of purple in her long dark hair made him think she was going with a theme.

"Hey A.J. a little mail for you. Thanks from Mr. Vercetti for making sure those creeps didn't burn down the club. I was very scared myself, and the rest was from working security for the ah football game. I didn't care I prefer soccer. Also wanted to tell you I'm going to the islands for a few weeks to make a new film. I told Candy to call you if she needs help."

"Sure that's no problem and thank the boss for his appreciation, " he said as he skillfully slipped the envelope into his leather briefcase. "Yeah I head have a great time and send pictures. I heard Candy is getting new implants and taking a break."

"Yes Candace is such a beautiful woman I wouldn't change a thing. It is so much fun working with her. Keep her in mind Papi?"

"No problem honey I'm flattered that you made the trip."

She walked over and breathed in his ear and whisper, "my pleasure. Come by for a dance sometime."

He watched her walk out strutting in her high heels as she headed out the door oozing sex appeal. She worked as a stripper, did porn, and partied with rock stars. Hard to believe her father was a Cultural Attache, but then again he knew the colonel. The man understood politics and war very well, but had a soft spot for his daughter. He'd done some work for the man, and he found that he was selectively naive interesting to say the least.

After he grabbed a brief nap he awoke to the sounds of a struggle in the hallway and found several scruffy bikers dragging in a tan skinned man in a white suit and Panama hat. He took his hand off the shotgun under the desk and shook hands with the first biker to push through the door with the others holding the man down and even putting a Python to his head.

A.J. just ignored the situation and shook hands with Cougar. The Vice City Bikers didn't have the most creative name in motorcycle club history, but it made a statement. They were the only motorcycle club in the city and they were willing to kill to keep it that way. Filled with Vietnam Veterans and other assorted tough guys the club had survived the war, and his help with the Sharks only increased his status.

It seemed once again he would have to work things out. "So Cougar what have you brought me? " He looked down and just shook his head. "Cuban Pete. Let me guess you didn't get these guys their money in a timely fashion."

Before the man could reply Cougar grabbed his weapon from his waist band and pistol whipped the man before looking over at A.J. and said, "this little fancy pants owes us money for working on a few of his buildings and massage parlors. Brothers bought the materials and did the work, and he doesn't have the balance. Never mind we find out he owes the man some money as well. Would be talking to him right now if this little punk hadn't said you might be able to work things out. You know me I don't like to drag friends into business, but I thought he might be useful."

A.J. wanted to laugh. He could easily tell the bikers to take him out and bury him some where, but still part of him believed in law in order even if it was street justice. So he needed to find out what was going on first so he ask, "could we please let him out and stop hitting him."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the man straight himself up and take off h is out of respect before he said, "I'm sorry about this Detective but these animals don't want to be reasonable."

The four bikers growled like wolves, but he just cleared his throat and continued, "I want to pay everyone back and I will but this storm wiped out my nest egg. I get the massage places and the food carts running again I'll have the money in no time."

"Pete you are a small time player here, and your in no position to tell anyone when you can pay them. Now would both parties like me to broker something here."

Both Cougar and Pete nodded in the affirmative, so he continued on. "Pete what exactly do you have going for you right now business wise?"

"Well you know El Nuevo Siglo Supermarket and I have 6 food cart routes now and 4 massage places."

"Okay Cougar would you say handing over control of two of those massage places the ones close to your territory would compensate your members."

"Well yeah I'd have to run it by Mitch and the others, but yeah would cover costs and compensate for the trouble. And I might forget I saw him when somebody else asks about him."

Despite his situation Pete still blurted out, "A.J. be reasonable! That's a lot of money we're talking there. There are hot tubs, custom rooms, and the girls are gorgeous. I'll have their money in a few weeks plus interest."

He sighed and turned around and put his hands on the desk and looked over at the men. "Look you wanted me to work this out I am. Otherwise I can leave you to deal with them. They want their money now and you can take care of it. I suggest you do what I said. Los Cabrones isn't going to go to war for you, and the Haitians are getting their numbers up, and you don't have the muscle. So consolidate."

"All right all right I'll be at your bar in an hour with all the papers now can I please talk to Detective Becker alone. "

A.J. gave the the wave and they all pushed their way through the office door bumping Pete every step of the way and muttering threats as they went. Pete feeling some sense of relief sunk down into the office chair and took out a cigar only to look down in dismay as he saw it was crushed.

"Not your day is it Pete."

"Well you didn't need to give them so much! Two massage parlors you didn't even ask for details."

"I didn't need too. I already heard they grabbed you at your mistress's place in Ocean Beach. A little hard to tell them you don't have money when they see you putting her up in such luxury. By the way Helena you know your wife called me about 50 times wanting me to look for you. She's about ready to kill you so have flowers and come up with a really good excuse."

"Right right I will and for Liliana as well. Anyway can you help me out with Mr. Vercetti as well?"

"I'm going to say this again, because nobody seems to be listening. I don't work for the man and the few times I talk to him I try not to waste my favors begging him not to kill you over some football bets."

"Well it was soccer and I'm not asking not to pay, but an extension. Even with that loss I'll have the money. I have information to trade. Something the police would be interested in. Something big."

"How big?"

"Very big my friend. What if I told you someone is shipping out guns, ah mercenaries, and heavy equipment out of the city port. And and they're using drug money to do it. They even have bankers on their payroll."

"I'd say that's nothing new and good luck to you."

"It's who is doing it and they're some of the people you and I know shouldn't be doing it."

Blake was right about the pilfered lobsters, so Yareli made an executive decision and demanded he stay the night and help her finish them off. It wasn't the first time they shared a meal, nor was it the first time she cooked for him but there was something different about it this time. Being back in Vice City had reconnected her with the roots she tried to escape in D.C. When they dined together, Yareli usual stuck to American food but back at home the Cuban bubbled out of her and she treated Blake to taste of her culture. There was ceviche, frijoles negros, fufu de platano, and grilled lobster. It was well after midnight by the time she finished cooking, and Blake never left the kitchen. She felt his eyes on her always as they filled each other in on the happens in their lives, both being vague on the details. That was their way. Well her way anyway, never letting anybody too close and he never pushed.

"My goodness Yareli...this is amazing," he groaned as he dug into his plate.

"Don't act so surprised Darling," she said with a grin and he rolled his eyes. "What? It's not like this is the first time you ate my food."

"But it's the first time you cooked like this...I mean really..what's this called again...I could get used to this," he said with a moan as he dug into the plantains and beans. Yareli didn't miss the not so subtle hint he dropped but she didn't address it either, letting it hang in the air as she sipped her Havana cooler.

The rest of the meal was finished mostly in silence and Blake was nice enough to clear up the dishes, a trait Yareli always found endearing. Sitting on the counter behind him, Yareli admired the sight of him being so domesticated in his tactical pants, his service pistols hanging from his shoulder holster and belt. When he was halfway done she dug out the cookie and cream, remembering it was one of his favorites, and fed him a few spoons as they discussed the logistics of the case.

"So you really think the lone wolf is going to just let me into his little enterprise," she asked him, swinging her bare feet as she cradled the half gallon of ice cream in her broken arm. Being ambidextrous, Yareli hadn't had much trouble adjusting to the cast that ran almost to her elbow.

"Well you do have a way of getting people to talk," he said, looking back at her over his shoulder. His bright green eyes lingered a moment of her long shapely legs before they finally made their way up to her face.

"Darling..."

"I didn't mean sleep with him Rel...I'm just saying you can be pretty friendly when you want to be. And you listen between the lies. I've seen you in the interrogation room..."

"Yeah with agents..."

"And they're the hardest to crack. Look I know what you're trying to do Yareli and it's not gonna work. I'm not having it. You're doing this for me. You're doing this for you..." She cut him off with a spoonful of ice cream, the last spoonful, a coy smile on her face.

"I'm not trying to back out...just managing your expectation. That's all," she said and ran her thumb across his bottom lip to wipe a stray cookie. "This isn't D.C. Blake. Vice City is a whole different world."

"That's why I came to you," he said, taking the empty ice cream carton and chucking it in the trash can behind him before slipped in between her outstretched legs, running his hands up her thighs. "Getting a peek at your panties is just an added bonus," added as he slipped his fingers into the legs of her shorts.

"Ahh so the truth comes out..."

"What can I say Rel...you see right through me."

"Well I did feel a little something, even with my blade..."

Blakes tongue in her mouth finished all talk and in no time Yareli was off the counter with arms and legs wrapped around his strong torso. Their years apart fell away as he carried her through the apartment to her bedroom without extracting his lips from hers. It was like all the years they spent apart simply fell away, their bodies still in sync. Yareli admitted in that moment that she had missed him and Blake pretended to be shocked as he fell down on the bed with her still in his arms. Even as he tore her clothes off, he was still mindful of her injuries, taking care not to jostle her shoulder too much as he worked her short over her head. As soon as she was naked, Blake rained down kisses all over her soft honey skin, bringing her to breathy giggles.

"Did you bring your cuffs," she asked with a smirk as he flipped her onto her stomach with a firm hand on her ankle. He gave her ass a hard slap before he grabbed her hips to roughly yank her up. His pants and briefs were around his knees by then, and he had no intentions of pushing them any further as he ran his hands over her ass.

"Why so you can slip out of them," he groaned as he nipped at her ass and thighs. Yareli reared back, arching her back and pressing her hips to his face. A silent offer she knew Agent Darlington couldn't refuse and he obliged her with his tongue, expertly finding her clit and working it into his mouth. "I almost forgot how good you taste."

"Sure you did...that's why...ayyyye si que la boca papi...ohhh me lo perdi...me lo perdi..."

"And I missed that," he said with a chuckle, his voice muffled between her thighs as he shoved his middle finger into her warm opening. "Still so tight...I don't know how you do it baby...you feel so good..."

"Me tomes el pelo," Yareli moaned, looking back at him over her shoulder her full lips pulled down in a frown making Blake laughed a little as he lined up his hard 8 inches.

"No baby I don't want to tease you...you know I like to take my time," he said, running his length along her slit coating himself with her love juices. "I get lost in you Yareli you know that," he admitted as he slowly pushed his way inside her.

There was a collective gasp as he bottomed out and lean over to put his chest on her back. Blake gathered up the length of her silky hair and wrapped it around his fist, pulling her up as he stood to deliver powerful thrust. His free hand roamed her body, desperately as she rolled her body sinuously against his strokes, countering his aggression with a sensuality that drove him wild. In a matter of thrusts, Yareli had the quick witted federal agent reduced to guttural moans and near savage nibbles at her neck and shoulders.

She didn't expect him to last much longer so took her climax into her own hands. With her left hand around the back of his neck and her left foot wrapped around the back of his thighs, Yareli threw her weight to the right, bringing him down onto his back in a heap. It would have been better if he stayed inside her though the maneuver but it was no matter, she was on him in an instant, riding him in reverse. She lean forward, one hand on his ankle to steady herself, and planted her feet in the mattress so that she could bounce hard and fast in his lap. All Blake could do was hang on as Yareli rode them to simultaneous climax.

"Now that that's out of the way," she said breathlessly as she collapsed beside him and Blake quickly wrapped an arm around her, bringing her to lay on his chest. "Maybe we can talk about some things I'm going to need for this to work."

Her list was a simple one. Yareli knew Darlington's track record, how the DEA worked. If they wanted this operation wrapped up tight, they'd green light just about anything. She started with a place to stay, somewhere that would allow her to move in and out without a physical tail to keep track of her. A place with heavy security that if things got out of hand between her and Becks that he might think twice before leaving her in a hale of bullets. Blake suggested a hotel, maybe the Ocean View but Yareli rolled her eyes at that.

"Are you nuts Darling," she said as she lit up a Redwood and took a few deep drags before she spoke again. "You think he doesn't have anybody in there. Plus where am I gonna keep my wheels. Fuck that..."

"Let me guess? You already have a place in mind."

"Well if you're asking I mean why not set me up some place nice...say the Hyman," she said through a cloud of smoke and Blake shook his head. "That place is already wired up the ass and Becks will be hard pressed to blow that to shit if things go south."

She had a point and Blake's seemingly contemplative stare told her he was thinking about it. While he did, Yareli moved onto the business of her wardrobe. Sure she had nice clothes but they were hoodrat nice. She wanted threads befitting her new status as detective and Blake agreed immediately, though he was sure what she had in mind didn't include any sort of pants suit. Yareli wasn't that type of girl.

"And no wires. If I'm gonna do this you have to trust that I'm not going to get sucked into his world. Things get hot I don't want him looking at me twice.

"Fine no wires but no secrets either. You hear anything, you tell me, no questions asked. And I mean everything."

"Don't worry Darling I won't be giving up my cookies," she said with a snort as she stamped out her cigarette. "So we have a deal then," she asked holding up her fist and Darlington bumped it with his.

"Deal."

They spent the next few weeks tackling her list of demands with covert shopping trips to North Point mall. There was also the arrangement at the Hyman. A briefcase full of cash to the manager allowed Yareli to take up occupancy on the 8 floor with Blake in the unit above. He claimed it was for surveillance purposes but Yareli knew he wanted to keep a close eye on her and she didn't mind. The place came furnished but Yareli did her best to add a little Latin flare without blowing Blakes budget. Then there was the business of her cars. She decided the Sabre would make a better statement and she had the guys at the lot finish it with simple matte black paint, chrome wheels and dark tint. Sure it looked like a thug's ride but if she was going to be riding with Becks she had to look like she belonged.

By the time she was scheduled to get get cast off, Yareli was more than ready to get back to work. They gave her the option of another week but she declined and headed straight to the station to turn in her paperwork. And pick up her new badge. She was dressed for the beat in skin tight stone washed jeans and a plain white t-shirt that clung to her DDs and barely covered her taut abs, her twin .45 Krugers in her shoulder holster and a revolver on her hip, a simple silver chain hung around her neck where she would wear her badge when the time came. Her heavy shit kicking boots were loose on her feet but that wouldn't be an issue if she needed to run. She was ready, never hit the brake from the hospital to the station, a grin on her face as she pulled into the Detective lot right in front on the building.

There were a few high fives and fist bumps as she made her way to the captain's office but Yareli was too excited to chat. She wanted that badge, even if she had to jump through a few hoops for Darling to get it.

"You have something for me Cap," she said with a grin as she tapped the door before she stepped into his office.

If you were anything like A.J. Becker you'd probably already be dead, but his world was one of long nights, seedy bars, and of cops and criminals. A lot of the time you couldn't tell the difference between the two more times then not. Like a few nights ago he joined a combined effort of Vice and patrol to catch an high stakes illegal racing ring. Vice was included because some of the drivers were drug runners, but mostly because they has access to VCPD Cheetahs. One of which had been confiscated and rebuilt after it's previous owner Lance Vance had washed up on the beach.

They moved in quickly right after the start of the race and it nearly caused a riot. They arrested everyone involved on a host of minor charges, but they also found drugs and weapons, so next morning there was a press conference showing how even in the wake of the hurricane. The department was on the job. Well half the cars were taken by Vice which planned to use them for stings, and member's personnel use. The uniforms pocketed plenty of cash and he was above none of it.

He walked away with a briefcase of cocaine, cash, and a pair of brand new tec-9 submachine guns. The cash financed the fun and food for the next few days, and the cocaine bought more information. As for the weapons well he kept those, and now he say cleaning them in his weapons room in the Hyman condo that was his second home. Technically it was owned by Mystique or Michelle as few people called her, but he came and went as he pleased. It was a safe for him, and one of the few places in the city he could relax.

Mystique might have been a drug addict with implants, but she loved him passionately and was loyal to a fault. When a pimp wanted his address or even a cell phone number she took a beating for him without a thought. She survived and when she and her partner Destiny came into money he made sure it didn't all go into their seven day drug and party binge. He got her the condo and setup an allowance with the bank. He got her into rehab, and while porn wasn't the best career it was a step up from prostitution.

Some might wonder why, but for him it was about saving the sweet young girl who came down her on spring break. A cheerleader with a boyfriend who got lost in the bars and the good times. Pills and cocaine to keep the party going, drinking to keep the bad memories away. Couldn't go home after all the one night stands and wild times, so she ended up on a corner in Little Havana. Her father was a sheriff in some small town some place, so despite her job she was always a friend to the police. For most she was a badge bunny, but to him she was a friend and a steady source of information. Many a night they'd talk over cheeseburgers in Diner Liquor.

For him this was a safe house where he could hide weapons and evidence. There was always a smiling face happy to make him grits and eggs, do his laundry or tell investigators he was home with her all night. He'd taken over one of the bedrooms and the wall in closet was practically as large. An internal room with no windows he fortified it and turned it into his arsenal. His office held his private files, and a computer that hooked up into the department's database.

The rest of the place was for Destiny and Mystique to have their fun. Though right now Destiny or Denise was in rehab at the Schuman Health Care Center. It seemed over dosing while watching the hurricane from the roof wasn't the best idea, and when Mystique called frantic she became another fire he had to put out. Now with the satellite TV back on along with the power there were even new people moving into the building.

Spitz is a "Z-List" movie director who was on the ninth floor cleared out when things changed on Prawn island and was now supposed to be working for one of the big cable networks. The other condo was used by the cultural attaché of some central American nation who seemed to cleared out one night. Some federal agents had been in the building checking the building out as part of the recovery, and it seemed they used some federal authority to take over one of the condos temporarily. At a neighborhood bar one of the agents was more then happy to spill his guts after a few drinks and some fun with Mona.

There really wasn't much to it as far as the morally loose federal employee revealed. The condo on the ninth floor housed large computer system, plenty of paper files, and a few pilots attached with the agency slept there. They'd be out in six weeks or sooner soon as space at Fort Baxter became available. The agent said he'd regret not being in the neighborhood any long though. It explained why they were running around the building, but it still meant he needed to be extra careful.

That morning though he wasn't thinking about that though. He had to head into work to break in a new partner. A woman no less, but her bio file he'd gotten from a friend in records showed some promise. With previous experience she'd skipped the academy, and she'd done well on patrol which made him wonder. Why did anyone come back to this city never mind to take a step down. Most feds acted like their shit didn't stink, and the FBI crew in Vice City were no exception. Even when they started fights they couldn't finish or took over cases at the tale end they still acted like they were the best.


Yareli Robina seemed a little different though. Good at weapons and tactics, martial arts, and knew how to drive. No family listed in her file, but there was a phone number for an answering service out of Washington DC for in case of Emergency. She had a solid arrest record, and had no problem putting bag guys down as he found. She'd been investigated a few times, but that was normal. One incident noted how she couldn't explain how a wife beater got stabbed multiple times with his own switchblade. Well good for her. He'd see how things were with her, but she was far from becoming his partner.

He finished cleaning the two weapons and stored them away and then he looked at the clock. He needed to head out so he secured the door of the arsenal with the only key, and through his shorts and t-shirt in the hamper and hit the shower. As the warm water pounded down on him as he bent over clutching the rails he knew he wasn't alone as he saw a lovely silhouette enter the room and drop robe.

He smiled and without looking up said, "hey Missy how are you today?"

He could hear her smile as she opened the shower door and got in with him. "Hey baby I like that nickname. It's a mix of old and new. MMMM...brought you towels and breakfast will take five minutes."

Her manicured fingers reached out and he could feel her long nails glade down his wet flash as her naked body rubbed up against him as he stood upright. She then took a wash cloth and begin washing him lovingly. He turned around and looked on the pagan goddess in all her wet naked glory. He gave her an evil grin and said, "you didn't have to do that. I know this is early for you honey."

She looked down and gave him a sly grin, but without missing a beat said, "I was visiting at the hospital last night so I came home and went to bed. I sleep better sober and I wanted to see you honey."

She reached out and her fingers with her long red nails wrapped around his after as she gripped him and began yanking on his member. The embraced as the water poured over them and they began to kiss. It was a moment of hot panting breaths before she spoke again, and whimpered out, "I missed you so much and was so worried."

He moaned out and he caressed her large breasts and then caressed her sides before his hands stopped at her hips and he smiled. She gave him the look and moved back against the shower wall, and he quickly picked up her left leg and moved in close and pushed his cock inside her. She might have been around the block a few times but she always made him feel like he mattered. For him he always saw the sweet girl looking at the ocean for the first time looking for love and adventure.

Her harms wrapped around his neck and he began pounding away. She moaned and smiled. Doing her best to keep balance and enjoy every minute of it. Was it love making, not exactly, but it was something intimate share by two people had deep feelings. There was no faking it or holding back or pretending. It was real and raw and all it's glory. She orgasmed so easily with him, so she enjoyed the wonderful ride until he came hard in her and she moaned out loud enough for the neighbors to hear. It shouldn't have but she still blushed and covered her mouth.

He slide out of her wet hole and they washed each other before toweling off. He dressed as she made toast and eggs for him, He soon came out in his typical look. Sneakers, faded jeans, a t-shirt that looked like it came off the floor and a beat up leather jacket with sidearm. She just smiled and shook her head and served breakfast and poured him some coffee.

They made small talk for a bit, and then he headed out. She knew not to ask him when he'd be back and he didn't bother to lie to her. She was just grateful when he did show up, and she knew not to ask where he'd been. It wasn't ideal by any means, but she wasn't going to go home like he'd suggested many times. She'd stay sober because he said that was part of the deal, but she was lonely. She turned on the giant TV and looked out the window and saw the Federal helicopter head out.


Captain Wayne "The Duke" Colin had started off his day in a good frame of mind. He'd woken up early, did his usual hang over cure, hit the weights and the sauna, dressed came into the office and gotten his usual briefing. His gift thanks to A.J. for his wife had gotten him a upbeat phone call with promises of more fun later after a steak dinner. Now though he had to deal with Ms. Yareli Robina his newest detective.

He'd never gotten to mold her or select her, and headquarters just thrust this new hero on to him and his squad. To top it off A.J. was late as usual. He'd noticed Robina some time back when she walked into Nene's Barber Shop to get her hair done on her lunch break. The place was being robbed by four Cholos armed with baseball bats, Micro SMGs, and pistols. She took on the three in the shop in what could only be described as brutal close combat using her baton and pistol. When the fourth took off in his Cholo Sabre she chased after him in the cruiser and ran him off the road and brought him down with the shotgun.

She had three minor wounds, and became a local hero. At the time she just got a community award and a commendation, but now along with her promotion letter he had an angry not from the commissioner about ignoring such talent. So he went through the motions telling her pay increase, her new parking spot, and responsibilities as he waited for A.J. to show up. He had little to say other then don't get killed, don't make a mess, and if he was younger he'd bone her.

Finally he could hear A.J. entering with the usual cheers from the masses, and that even included some prisoners in the holding sell. The kid was a hustler and knew how to survive, and he did it by taking care of people. Mention you needed no break he'd send you to a guy who'd practically do the work for free. Invite him to your kid's birthday part he'd show up with an expensive RC car. If your daughter was being stalked the guy would end up with two broken legs.

Finally A.J. walked into the office and after flirting with the secretary he walked in gave the captain a half ass playful solute and held out his hand to Robina and said, "hey you must be my new partner. Hope you smoke I do, and I don't care if you don't. We work the hours I say, and don't worry about overtime. I've got a full day planned so call your husband or whoever and tell them you're working late. I had breakfast, but you can buy me lunch. I take it orientation is over. Meet my in front at my vehicle in ten minutes rookie. I got to talk to the captain. It's the Rancher if you didn't know. I have turnout gear, Swat stuff, and scuba gear plus weapons and I've used all of it so I hope you're prepared."

Yareli Robina slouched a little as she listened to Capt. Colin's give her the rundown on her new position. Nothing about his spiel surprised her, even the not so subtle come on was something she came to expect back in Vice City. Even the mayor gave her a double take at the photo op after the rescue so her commanding officer telling her he'd do her wasn't a shock. And she took as she usually did, with a grin. There was no reason to get offended, she knew what she looked like and knew the men of Vice City were less than civilized. Uniforms only made them worse as far as she was concerned. They could look, cat call even, but she'd go to the chair before she let someone violate her again.

People might have thought it was her family history that pushed her towards law enforcement and they might have been right but her career choice had nothing to do with the trauma of her childhood. Being a Robina wasn't always bad when she was growing up. Despite being a psychopath, her father took pretty good care of her and her neighborhood, while a relative war zone, was full of her family. Her mother might have been a retired hooker and a cokehead but she kept a clean house and Yareli never went to bed hungry. Sure it wasn't ideal. There were many a night when she went to bed in tears, listening to her parents brawl in the next room. Going on pick ups with her father and hiding his stash in her back pack was a weekly thing. She learned to shoot on her eighth birthday after a couple Haitians come blasting through her neighborhood with Tec-9s and Mac 10s. It was her idea, Berto Robina didn't want his daughter being a thug but she wanted to know how to defend herself and he couldn't argue with that. Nor could he tell her no and by the time child services came to take her away, little Yareli Robina was a beast in cutoff shorts and jelly sandals.

But still she was mostly a good kid, despite seeing her father dragged away in handcuffs and her mother od. It was being bounced around from foster home to foster home that turned the once sweet little girl into the hard ass she was now. If she had her way, Yareli would have stayed in a group home. Again, it wasn't ideal but at least in the people in the group homes respected her last name and didn't cause her any trouble. It wasn't until her first foster home at 12 when things got rough and she started "acting out". She ran away a few times before they put her with a family that locked kids in their rooms at night and had bars on all the windows. Her case worker told her it was to keep them safe in Little Haiti but Yareli learned pretty fast that was a lie.

The roach infested house she could take. Even sharing a room the size of a prison cell with 3 other girls wasn't so bad. Yareli had already gained a bit of a reputation by then and all the kids gave her wide berth. It was the "parents" that gave her problems. The wife treated all the girls like shit and it didn't take Yareli long to figure out why, she just hoped she wouldn't have to learn first hand. But of course she wasn't that lucky. It was her sixteenth birthday when Mr. Duvall came into the girls' room and sent the rest of them away. He said she was a woman now and the she needed to learn how her place. It all happened in slow motion and eventually she blacked out. She came to with his belt clenched in both fist, cinched around his neck. Unfortunately Yareli didn't kill him, his stupid wife came in and pulled her off him. Her case worker came a week later, after the school informed her that Yareli hadn't attended, thinking she's run away again. Instead she found Yareli with an eye swollen shut, a busted lip, and covered in bruises. She could barely stand, or breath for that matter. A trip to the hospital showed the extent of the damage. Four broken ribs, a broken ankle, and fractured wrists but that was only what they could see on the x-rays. Three weeks in the hospital her case worker brought a man to visit her.

His name was Alfonso Torres, the state prosecutor, and he wanted her to testify against the Duvalls. He told Yareli that if she did the other girls would follow suit and that was the only way the Duvalls would pay for what they'd done to her and countless others. He told her that she was the first one to fight. The other girls had told their stories but none were willing to get on the stand. "You're a fighter Yareli and this is only the beginning." It took a few more visits before she decided to testify and not because she was afraid, or ashamed. Robinas were only supposed to go to court in chains and Torres understood that as well. He didn't pressure her, instead simply spent time with her. Introduced Yarelli to his wife, Rochelle, a school teacher. They didn't have any kids of their own and doted on her while she was recovering. Even before she came to visit, Rochelle sent Alfonso with all sorts of goodies for Yareli didn't have to survive on hospital food. They bought her new clothes when she was able to dress and when they trial was over the invited her into their home. And when the attention from the trial got to be too much, they uprooted their lives to keep her sane. They saved her and she felt indebted to them but all they ever wanted was for her to succeed.

Yareli going into law enforcement was her lazy way of following in her foster father's footsteps. Law school was out of the question for a girl who'd already developed a heavy pot habit before she graduated high school. And Alfonso assured her that the fighter in her would be wasted in the courtroom anyway. He suggested the military and Yareli laughed at that idea but Rochelle insisted she take a few criminal justices classes to see where it went. She didn't expect to like it, but she took to it like she did all her schooling and excelled. Graduated at the top of her class. Now, almost 10 years after she walked across that stage, Yareli Robina was finally getting to enjoy the fruits of her labor. She just hoped it didn't get her killed.

She shifted in her seat at the uproar coming from the bullpen. Becks was in the building. It was a rare enough occurrence that she didn't roll her eyes at the sounds of boisterous greetings. He was a rock star in Vice City and here she was charged to take him down. Yareli reached to take her badge off the captain's desk and hooked it onto her chain as she listened to A.J. Becker schmoozing with the secretary. When finally came into the office and stuck out his hand, Yareli was prepared to be polite but his tone changed all that.

"Yeah, okay," she said with a snort as she stood up from her chair. Without shaking his hand. "I don't pay for my own lunch so what make you think I'm going in my pockets to feed you. I'm sure you read my file...official and unofficial...so you know exactly who I am. Act accordingly we won't have no problems," she said calmly, her hand rested on her pistol. It wasn't exactly a threat, she just wanted them both to understand that she didn't take shit. "Captain," she said with a nod and gave the overweight man behind the desk a lazy salute with two finger brushing against her forehead before she scooped up her battered canvas jacket and dipped out of the office.

She did go straight outside, but not to wait by Becker's truck. Yareli lit up a smoke and trotted over to the pay phone across the street. The number she dialed was committed to memory. An answering service that Blake set up so she could let him know of her goings on.

"Hey babe...I'm gonna be late...don't wait up," she said and hung up the phone before she went back to her own car and grabbed her gear bag from the trunk. A little smirk came to her face as she made her way over to the truck. Yareli dumped her bag in the bed, before she hopped up on the hood to wait.

Going for a ride

The vehicle in front the station was a modified FBI Rancher with flat front-mounted bullars as well as standard Vice Police paint job, a siren and trunk lid mounted blue and red strobe lights, and on-board police computer. Despite its size this 4x4 had a V8 and was one of the most powerful SUV’s out there and could probably outrun a police cruiser. The FBI proved they could be shot, hit, smashed, and even set on fire before they died. They’d been sent to the departments around the country for field tests, and it seemed Becker had managed to grab one of the few that were still in the field. It was a war wagon in every sense, and it was filled with equipment.

The vehicle wasn’t just sitting there though. Two of the station security guards were busy washing it and checking it out. Yareli doubted Becker had done a vehicle check since he was in uniform, but the guards doing their extra bit wasn’t surprising considering what he’d done a few months back. A rookie cop who hadn’t been on the street yet and was three months out of the academy was sent out to get coffee, and one of the guards rode shotgun to help carry back all the orders. Seems the rookie though wanted to do something for a change and made a car stop of a reckless driver who was speeding.

The pair had no idea they were pulling over “the Butcher” Costa Rican hitman who drove his tricked out sentinel like a mad man, and had an arsenal of weapons hidden on board. Nobody was sure what happened, most likely the guy would have thrown some money at the officers and drove away, but not that day. Maybe he felt disrespected, but he killed both men with a shotgun and went on the run. The police turned the city upside-down, but it was A.J. who found him and shot him in a boat yard waiting to meet a ship. Him and two henchmen, and it was ruled a clean shoot, and everyone was too busy to worry about where his stash of cash and weapons went.

That seemed to be a pattern with the man though. He was always in trouble, but was also a hero cop that nobody wanted to put down. He didn’t lie to her though; everything he said that was in the back of the vehicle was there along with a lot of fast food wrappers his helpers happily cleared away. The made sure she had extra ammunition, new rain gear, and a portable radio and nobody asked her to sign for anything. Once inside the Rancher Yareli could see all the custom work done to the thing since it was issued, but there were also a few photos on display.

One old picture showed Mystique when she was still Michelle in a bikini top and cut off shorts hanging out at the beach. Even her most hardened porn fans wouldn’t recognize the woman. Another large photo had a group of men wearing camouflage, faces painted, and armed to the teeth with a helicopter in the background. Could have been army, but looked so unconventional and have the group looked like they were from Central America. One looked like he could be A.J. though. The third could actually be considered heartwarming; it showed a young teenage boy in a canoe with a long haired Philippine woman behind him smiling hands on his shoulders. The rest of the truck just had more weapons, cigarette packets and even a few empty beer bottles.

Eventually A.J. got in on the driver’s side with a pair of coffees and a pack of cigarettes in a cardboard container in one hand and a large accordion file under his other arm. He placed the coffees on the consult and sat down and looked out the windshield before waving to a few passing admirers. Without turning to her he said, “look we got off on the wrong foot. Sorry about that we’re all cops here, and you’ve proven yourself. Nice bit with the barber shop by the way, and rescuing the kid. Look I haven’t worked with anyone for a while, so grab a coffee and we’ll talk. I’ll drive you have look at the files. ”



He handed her a lighter with an interesting symbol on it and told her to keep it because he had a box of them. He began driving down the man drag along the water as Yareli sipped her coffee and went through the files. He had a lot of good background stuff, but there were all kinds of information about unsolved cases. Most of them never would be since they were criminals killing each other. When Tommy Vercetti took control there were murders all over the city, and while you’d think having an established order in power would curb crime you’d be very wrong.

Sure there was some stability, but with one powerful kingpin every other small time outfit was fighting for the scraps. Drugs, guns and prostitution were the begin ones, but things were getting brutal during even the most minor criminal transactions. Two crews got in a gun fight over who would get to rob a gas station. Pimps were fighting over every corner, and gun dealers were running out of merchandise. Add a hurricane to the mix the city looked like it was going downhill, and those in power didn’t care how, but they wanted the trend changed.

At a stop light A.J. lit up his cigarette and took a long drag before sipping his coffee. He glanced over at his new partner and realized just how pretty she really was. She had a good body, a pretty face, and he loved the hair. He knew who most of the department’s undercovers were, and if she was recruited by the department as a spy she wasn’t typical. Could be they just putting a straight arrow with him hoping he’d do something stupid in front of his new partner. Well he’d done some checking on her, and while he didn’t have the whole picture it seemed she was the real deal.

Tough, fiery temper, who didn’t back down on the street or in a club. One off duty arrest was actually of a serial date rapist. Preyed one of girlfriends and she nearly beat the man to death with a bottle of vodka. The kicker was she had a pistol on a garter belt under her dress. She did it the hard way to punish the man who also had heel marks on his face. From what he understood she got a few cards and letters from women around the city including the commissioner’s niece.

He couldn’t trust her yet by any means, but he could learn to like her and see where it went. Despite all he’d been through A.J. still liked making friends. Most people thought they had lots, but when it came down to it very few people had real friends. He decided to break the ice with a joke and said, “If you want to feel free to put your bare feet on the dash like most girls do. You can relax with me.”

She shot him a dirty look which reminded him he was in no place to make jokes, so he just shook his head and said, “I’m kidding really, but this will be a long and boring shift if we don’t talk. Also let me buy you lunch okay?”

She nodded and sipped her coffee and continued to flip through the files. One piece of paper did catch her attention though Yareli did he best to hide it. “Little Murda” or to her friends Maria Romeo was a hardcore gang girl since her twelfth birthday and a childhood friend who had three murders to her credit before becoming a legal adult. She was a product of the system complete with an aggressive attitude, a pension for using knives, and known to be bisexual. Of course Yareli’s mother thought she was the perfect babysitter. Now she was handcuffed to a bed at Schuman Health Care Center after an armored car job went bad.

A.J. noticed her linger over that file entry a little bit and he wasn’t sure but he thought he saw what might be some tears that were quickly wiped away. He decided not to call her on it, but simply said, “That’s your file copy. I mean the whole thing is yours’s I have copies of my own so if you need to take notes or anything feel free okay?”

The next file she pulled out he would bring up though after she scanned it for a bit. While Screw This had moved into Little Havana the vast majority of locals got their tools at Juan Lopez’s Little Havana Hardware. The hardworking immigrant supplied just about everything you needed for construction or home repair. The place wasn’t always on the up and up though. People could always sell off power tools or other items no questions asked, and machetes were always kept in stock. Someone though tried to do business after hours though.

As she flipped through the notes A.J. spoke up and said, “Seems the old man was doing the books late and hear guys trying to cut through the back security door. He surprised them with his old shotgun, but they blasted him. The got away with tools and cash as well. Thing is most of the gang members in the neighborhood respected the old guy. Gang members bought and sold there all the time, and nobody got into fights there. We might have some renegades or new players on our hands. “

The next fat file in the organizer had a binder clip on it and the posted note just read the Bikini Girl murders. With the influx of workers and even some tourists who were looking for cheap rooms and adventure prostitution had jumped up in the city. Just previously Vice had gotten a funding and resource boost, and few girls could be found working the streets. Well they’d gotten smart though, and a bunch of store front massage parlors opened up, and those who walked the streets changed their tactics.

In Vice City a woman could pretty much walk anywhere in a bikini and few establishments enforced dress codes. So instead of high heels and fishnets the girls walked around in bikinis and flip flops offering their wares. Steady streams of clients met girls on the beach and were soon following them back to the Ocean View Hotel. It was happening in other parts of the city, but that’s where the murders started. So far the body count was established at six though many experienced officers thought it was high with all the out of town talent now in the area.

There was a vague description in the file, but whoever he was he had no problem raping and killing the girls. The last murder the creep was washing up when some poor maid walked in to clean the room. She got the same as the professional, and left a husband and three kids without their wife and mother. He was on a break, but nobody thought this creep had left town.

“Look we got off on the wrong foot. Sorry about that we’re all cops here, and you’ve proven yourself. Nice bit with the barber shop by the way, and rescuing the kid. Look I haven’t worked with anyone for a while, so grab a coffee and we’ll talk. I’ll drive you have look at the files.”

Yareli snorted at that but didn't say a word, instead made a show of taking one of his Redwoods and lighting it up before she took a sip of the shitty department coffee. She had no intentions of making friends with him. This was a job and she was used to working with people she couldn't stand, and vice versa. Being disliked, hated even was something she was used to and she wasn't surprised by the disdain Becker showed her in the captain's office. She expected it even, her little speech was just for show. A pissing contest and judging by his apology, Yareli counted herself the winner of this round.

Still, they had to work together and she didn't plan on giving him the silent treatment the whole ride but that would have to wait until she had something pertinent to say. She paid very little attention to his driving as she flipped through the files, alternating between sipping her coffee and puffing on her pilfered Redwood.

“If you want to feel free to put your bare feet on the dash like most girls do. You can relax with me.”

She gritted her teeth at that, nostrils flared as she took in a slow deep breath as she shift her eyes at him. If looks could kill, Becker's tricked out pick up would have been on a one way trip into the Atlantic. Yareli swept her hair back in a low loose bun with the simple black scrunchie she kept on her wrist at all times, then pushed the mirrored aviator shades onto her face before she put her boots up on his dashboard. They were far from clean, clumps of dirt and good knows what else fell out of the treads and coated the dashboard as she gave it a good stomp as if she was shifting into a better position.

“I’m kidding really, but this will be a long and boring shift if we don’t talk. Also let me buy you lunch okay?” Despite his level tone, Yareli could tell he was stewing inside. She'd understood well how men felt about their cars, she felt the same about her own. If he had pulled the same stunt in her Sabre, Yareli would have shot off his toes without taking her eyes off the road. But still she didn't mover her feet.

"Well that's a quick turn around," she said with a snort as she flicked her butt out of the open window and put her eyes back on the folder in her lap. "Don't take this wrong but I'm not big on chitchat so why don't you let me get into these case files so we can have something to talk about. If you kept a case log I could have done this already but you like to do things you're on way so..." Yareli trailed off with a shrug and Becker shook his head but he didn't say anything else.

Not even when her breath caught at the mugshot of a certain Cuban girl currently being detained at Schuman. Yareli doubted Becker knew who this girl, well woman, was to her and if she were being honest she thought Maria was dead. The girl she knew lived a hard life even before little Yareli was taken out of the neighborhood. They managed to stay in touch until she landed in that hellhole of a foster home but once the trail began and Maria never resurfaced, Yareli thought the worst. Now a little over a decade later, she imagined her once surrogate big sister wouldn't look too kindly on the life she made for herself out of the neighborhood.

“That’s your file copy. I mean the whole thing is yours’s I have copies of my own so if you need to take notes or anything feel free okay?”

After sniffing away a few tears, Yareli mutter a thank you and moved onto the next file. Now wasn't the time to dig into Maria's case file. No, at home, with a couple beers and alone, she would figure out what had become of the girl even the neighborhood boys were weary of, the girl she used to look up to.

She made a few notes on the next case, the murder of another man she knew growing up. Juan Lopez was a fixture in Little Havana, but of course nothing in the file suggested he was more than a small business owner. That hardware store was an integral part of the community. If you needed it, he had it, even if you didn't have the money upfront. He worked on the honor system and was well respected by regular folks and the hardened gangsters for treating everyone like family. Guys coming home from prison looking to live straight always went to him for a leg up. If he didn't have a job in the store, he knew someone who could the help so anybody looking to do him wrong would have had to come from the outside. Yareli had more than a few guesses as to who that might be but still she kept it to herself for now.

The last file though required her to comment after a quick glance at the body count and the shitty excuse for a profile of the perp. "Did anybody even look at these crime scene photos," she asked, pushing the sunglasses up on her forehead and sitting forward. "I mean just looking at these first three, even I see a pattern and all these girls weren't pros. The way the bodies are positioned...they weren't just dumped. These girls were placed and it's all too familiar," she said, and turned the on board computer around so she could work some of her magic.

The Vice City Criminal Database was shit compared to what she was used to with the DEA but a circuit was a circuit and Yareli had learned a thing or two in her time as a desk jockey. With a few strokes of the keyboard she rerouted Becker's computer to a backdoor in the Fed database. Being friendly with the nerds in forensics gave her access to a wealth of knowledge that they were more than willing to share with a smiling face.

Once she was inside she found the file easily and turned the screen so Becker could see it as well. "Our six brings the total up to 14 and that's only the confirmed cases. There's at least 12 more still pending and that's only because the victims are all over the eastern seaboard. This isn't just some nutty john who gets his rocks off slitting delicate throats..."

"You mean to tell me we might have a serial killer on our hands...great that's just what Vice City needs," he grunted as he veered off the road and parked at one of the overlooks along the docks. "So what did we miss?"

"Well let's start with the fact that these ain't all pros," she said as she pulled apart the file and spread the pictures along the dashboard. "Look at the feet on all the vics. We know our girls don't do the sky high pumps anymore. More often than not they're barefoot and no amount of pumicing is going to get rid of the wear and tear from walking along hot ass sand and concrete all day. Vic 1, 4, and 5 all have perfect pedicures...not pros. Don't even get me started on the fact they were all found fully clothed, bras and panties included with no fluid...not even their own..."

"What about the maid?"

"Collateral damage," Yareli said with a shrug that might have seemed insensitive but she was on a roll and wouldn't allow herself to get emotional. "He just killed her...yeah it was a mess but it was nothing like what happened to the others. That was spontaneous, the rest of these were planned...just like the rest of them. Myrtle Beach. Ocean City. Atlantic City. Virginia Beach. All the victims are the same. Fake hair. Fake tits. Fake nails. Not a natural beauty in the bunch. The fed profile says it's an older guy, late forties to early fifties but I think he's younger. Either way it's a guy who doesn't like being fooled by upgrades. And what better place for a guy to exercise his vendetta against silicon than Vice City."

She was good he thought, and he was sure she wasn't some affirmative action case of the Feds that didn't work out. She picked up on the stuff going on in the pictures including the pedicures. He'd had to go to a salon and talk to a few of the girls. The mani's and pedi's were high end and not done by the girls working any one of the small hole in the wall places on the beach. While a lot of working girls cleaned up their looks to be beach girls most still had bad tattoos, piercings, and few working the street could afford boob jobs. Part of him wondered about what this one looked like without her boots or anything else. He was sure she cleaned up nice, and she had a bit of a reputation but he had to feel her out first.

The thing Yareli didn't realize was he'd done some leg work on this one already. Vice wasn't picking up on any pattern beyond a new hater in the neighborhood. This wasn't some simple jealous guy with a machete, and while there were plenty of those these clearly weren’t your run of the mill homicide cases. To be fair Vice was a little overwhelmed with all the new construction workers, feds, and relief workers creating a new larger customer base. While the hurricane brought the best out in many it also brought out the worst. Yeah it was cliché, but also had the habit of being true.

One term that got popular was weekend warriors. Divorced women, single moms, and even college students and profession women were hustling. They'd come in on the weekends or their days off and plied their trade for a few days and then go back to their lives. A pager, a few bathing suits and a motel room by the beach was all that you needed. Never mind there were plenty of tourists enjoying the beaches which were intact and low hotel rates. These people wondered Vice City like a resort which it clearly was not. People on vacation had a wonderful nativity that made them think crime and violence didn’t happen in the places they visited.

Add into the mix many of the relief workers were on the younger side, so there were parties every night almost after helping people out, and the government crowd was no better. One Vice Cop told him he busted a motel party. It seems three working girls and three guys were having a very good time. It was all pretty typical until he sorted out who everyone was. Three Army Corp of Engineers just out of college were enjoying rum and cokes during the all-night party with three housewives from up the highway. All were embarrassed and begging for the whole thing to be dropped, and were almost grateful for just getting fines. Even those actively looking for a murderer had plenty more people to sort through then usual.

They pulled into the large parking lot at the Hooker Inn Express hotel which sat across from Viceport’s main terminal and right outside Escobar International Airport. The Vice City Port Authority was all over the port checking crates and trucks and badly damaged Jetmax speed boat was on display. It was a casualty of the war between the smugglers and the government that went on every night. Somebody thought it was better to show it off then put it in the Civil Asset Forfeiture Impound. The Patrol Investigation Group had one of their Securicars patrolling the perimeter of the airport. Even with all that security nearby there was plenty of criminal activity.

Women hanging out in bikinis on lounge chairs went running for their rooms as cars quickly drove away. Drug dealers and other ne'er-do-wells also found it was a good time to relocate. After a few minutes of disrupting business A.J. put the vehicle in park lit up another cigarette and leaned back and smiled shades still on and said, “it’s always good to fuck up someone else’s business day. I learned that during my days in uniform you just park in the right spot and you can make crime drop.”

He smoked his whole cigarette before saying anything as partner went through the paperwork. When he finally did say something he began by saying, “I’ve put some time in to these bikini girl murders and think you might be right. It’s a younger guy, but not in his twenties. He’s been around done some things might even be in the system, but I doubt we’ll get that lucky. Crime is only a hobby with him. These murders are his life’s work. He’s patient and he likes to watch them first. He’s got a safe space to work or a vehicle with plenty of space. The working girls well they’ll willingly go with a guy they don’t know. It’s part of the game, but this guy gets pretty girls to come with him or at least is able to approach them.”

He sat up and fixed his seat and without much care produced a flask with the same symbol that was on the lighter and poured whiskey into his coffee and swirled it around not caring what she thought. Only think he said as he sipped it and looked out the window was, “we’ll do coffee at the good place tomorrow. Maybe some Cuban coffee. Anyway I like coming by here I have history with this place. What do you think trooper? How did you fill your days in uniform?”

Before she started talking he was already day dreaming about the operation that got him suspended for such a long time. Many business travelers came to the Hooker Inn Express hotel to rest between flights, do business, and have some stress relief. There were plenty of shady deals going on and at any given time of day you could randomly kick in a door and find something to charge a person with. He almost lost his life here, and began his hatred for the feds.

A small time Cartel player came here to purchase weapons which would have been a game changer on the streets. Wasn’t a huge deal, but when you were on the bottom rungs of the organization you fought hard to keep everything you had. Knives and bats weren’t cutting it against pistols and tech-9’s , so the aspiring cartel captain made a deal with Shrewberry Firearms representative who had a cocaine habit. The cocaine for weapons dealings probably started off small, but as the needs of both men grew so did the deals, and soon they were on the radar.

At the time Shrewberry was updating its inventory system to computers, and during the process tons of equipment went missing and ended all over the place. Some employees just took home weapons they liked while others stole as much as they could before having to submit figures. A case of Shrewsbury MG light machine guns and plenty of ammunition was more than enough to shift the balance of power on the street. Grenade launchers were requested, but the rep brought rocket launchers instead to make up for not getting the requested item.

A.J.’s informant didn’t know any of that though since they deal had developed, and when he arrived with a small tactical unit they had no idea what they were walking into. Another surprise was the cartel member had just gotten support from back home in the form of two advisors. A former Vietnamese “freedom fighter,” and a former Iranian army officer were waiting in the adjoining room with they kicked in the door. Everyone stared at each other for a long few seconds and then started firing.
Two S.W.A.T. officers died almost immediately in a hail of gun fire which also knocked him to the floor as it shredded his body armor.

He’d managed to take out the seller and the other officers took out the cartel man, but the two mercenaries kept fighting. Though he was bleeding and his chest was on fire he crawled over and picked up one of the machine guns and killed the pair. When the smoke cleared the situation was a mess, the hotel was shot up, nobody was alive to talk about connections, and of course there were the deaths.

To make matters worse the feds swooped in and took all the credit for the bust since the rocket launchers were recovered near the airport with several dead foreign nationals they could claim it was terrorism. Tony Delano the team’s leader got to do the press conference with the feds, but little else came of it, and as A.J. lay in the hospital the two officers were laid to rest. The powers that be weren’t happy about the situation and soon as he was health for duty they suspended him.

He was sure they expected him to quit, and his union wasn’t interested in taking on a fight they couldn’t win. So he called the Colonel, cleared out his apartment, and travelled down to Central America. There he spent the better part of the eight months fighting communists in underground wars with other American and foreign mercenaries. The Central Intelligence Agency was running it all, and had no issue with him sending cigarettes and arms back to his home town. He finished the time out with some rest and relaxation in Mexico and came back tan, fit, and ready to hit the streets.

Blake Darlington liked to have an order to everything in his life, and that’s probably why he’d excelled in the Navy along with everything else. The fact that Yareli Robina was back in his life both on the job and in his personnel life only meant he had to make a few modifications. He moved into the building to keep tabs on her, but it worked well for his cover as a reserve pilot for federal disaster relief. While he’d done a few flights he modified the schedule to allow him plenty of free time work on the investigation.

Today he woke up early and workout and did some martial arts training before checking in with Washington. He went over everything on the computers, and then showered and checked his weapons before eating a healthy breakfast. He checked his service and listened to how Yareli was already slipping into the roll. He had confidence in her and knew she’d nail the son of a bitch. Personally though he hoped she’d take the money and the new life and move on. Sure they were having fun again, but having her back with the DEA would make things very complicated.

After reviewing the mission objectives one last time he sat by the windows admiring the wonderful view and dialed the secure line. After a few minutes he got through to the Talbot’s estate in Virginia not far out of the capital, but in a world of old money and power. After talking to a staffer his call was directed to the line out by the tennis courts and he was soon speaking to the lovely Ava Talbot.

She was panting and excited when she picked up the phone and he could feel her smile and envision her lovely long blond locks in a messy French braid. She spoke up first and said, “Hello Blake dear how are you doing? Everything is going well setting up the Vice City office? I hope you’re helping a lot of people. Father has donated a fortune to relief efforts. It looks good on taxes, but he does want to help. I miss you dear.”

Blake smiled as he listened and replied back,” more then you know my Ava. If the operations allow I’ll be back for a briefing in a few weeks and we can spend the weekend together.”

“That would be lovely we will have the city apartment all to ourselves. Oh did you catch up with that old friend of yours from the DEA?”
“Sounds great kitten and yes I did. He’s fine and willing to help so that makes things much easier.”

“My training officer liked to walk around,” she said absently as she lit her own smoke and continued looking through the bikini murder files. “I hated that asshole, Rick Kelly, thought he was the lord’s gift to law enforcement. I’m pretty sure his goal was to get me to quit the first few months, thinking I was another pretty face in a uniform. Or some kinda plant for my uncle.”

All that changed with her first bust. It was her first third watch, arguably the most terrifying shift for a Vice City Rook and Officer Kelly kept feeding her campfire tales of busts gone wrong. Officers getting caught out there and Yareli listened, but mostly because she didn’t have a choice. When he suggested they go on foot, “to get a feel for the city” Yareli was he expected some sort of protest. She caught the look of surprise when she tossed her hat onto the dashboard and pushed open the car door. He didn’t have much to say as the strolled through the streets and when they happened upon a few crackheads trying to take liberties with a local working girl Training Officer Kelly actually hesitated.

They were outnumbered, and he mumbled something about getting back to the car as Yareli drew her weapon. She announced their presence before he could call it in and the girl ran out of her flip flops trying to get away. With Yareli advancing of thugs, Kelly didn’t have a choice but back her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shaking and the guy lurking in the dark alley across the street. She had to make a split second decision, take care of the four guys in front of them or the one advancing on her partner. Sure she could have warned him, but her training officer needed to be taught a lesson so she continued advancing, yelling for them to get their hands up. Yareli knew they wouldn’t, but she had to at least warn them before she fired shots she already knew she would take. There five in all, one in warning before she took out a leg from each thug who thought to make a run for it. By then the guy in the alley was in the street, heading straight for Kelly who seemed to be frozen in his spot. When he raised his gun, she fired hers. Two shots to his chest and he went down hard at her training officer’s feet.

He didn’t say it but Yareli knew he was grateful and things changed between them. She started driving and proved herself again in a chase with a stolen car through Little Haiti and into downtown. Her skills behind the wheel weren’t in her file and Kelly couldn’t pretend not to be impressed by her wheel game. Still though, there were no post shift beers but she had earned his respect and he didn’t hesitate to speak her praises when she was transferred out of his tutelage.

“I had it pretty good with Briggs though,” she said with a slight grin, that Becker might have missed. Officer Mike Briggs, an ex minor leaguer, was six feet three inches of rock hard dark chocolate goodness that Yareli couldn’t help but be drawn to with his sweet smile and easy laugh. Despite being married, he was known to be a bit of a playboy around the station but Yareli was quick to dispute that she had fallen victim to his light eyes and big hands. Sure many assumed but Yareli had already developed a no nonsense reputation so no one questioned it. Nor had they ever been caught during any of their on-duty escapades. “We understood each other,” she said, mind drifting to the time he bent her over the back of their cruiser in an alley behind the Paint n’ Spray. “It was his idea for me to go into that house. The roof had already come down and him with his big body didn’t want to risk the whole thing coming down before he got to the girl. I wanted to wait for the fire department but there was so much going on that there was no telling when they might get there, so I went in,” she said with a shrug. “But you were asking how I spent my days...mostly like this. Parked, shooting the shit until something came over the radio or caught our eye. Gotta pace yourself in Vice City or you’ll get burned out.”

He almost snorted out his coffee when she mentioned Briggs. At least she knew how to have a good time. Briggs was a fun guy, who slept his way around the department, and while he wasn't a jerk about it, he never slept with married women for example; he waded through the badge bunnies and the female staffers. He made each one feel special, but none of them were unique. Still he gave her the same respect he would give a guy who banged a slut. Might not have been special, but hey it was a lot of fun and he wasn’t beyond it. How many nights did he bang some cop groupie just because she was interested in a good time. Yareli didn’t strike him as the lovey-dovey type though.

Her file official and unofficial had plenty, but he was sure it was leaving plenty out. Like why she left the feds and why come back here? Vice city was a warzone on par with Liberty City, Los Santos, and San Fierro. He’d even heard London wasn’t that nice when it came down to it. So who wanted to come back to this city? Someone without options, and why didn’t she become a detective before? Surely that barber shop shootout should have been enough to get a promotion. People got them for far less in the department. The one thing was clear he didn’t know enough about this tough little girl.


https://youtu.be/HXzVzxdwYxo

He finished his Irish coffee and threw the truck into gear and head back into the inner city. The badlands as he liked to call Little Havana. He didn’t ask for her input and just turned up V-Rock enough to still hear the police radio. While a lot of people worked hard in the neighborhood to get their piece of the American dream it seemed like there were far too many willing to take short cuts. Growing up his people where no better and his step mom admitted she was no better when it came down to it. She met his father swing from a pole in one of the dance clubs around base. Sure he had sympathy for those trying to make it, but you couldn’t tolerate everything or you’d have chaos. Vice City was the Wild West with an ocean view.

To keep things he did start a conversation that would prompt some response. “You know we might have to stick you in a bikini and draw this creep out. I don’t think you’re a one piece type. I mean we kind of have an idea of his pattern. Your database search as helpful which means my source with the FBI isn’t being as helpful as he should be. I’ll have to cut him off for a while. Your people are Cuban right? I know you did all the department required stuff, but you have any hobbies? I mean like hunting, fishing, diving, even girl stuff? We don’t talk we’re going to have a lot of long boring days partner.”

They drove a little longer and were soon in front of El Nuevo Siglo Supermarket across the street from Mr. Liquar where no surprise guys were already making their purchases for the day. More than a few were blatantly drinking from bottles not bothering to even use a paper bag. Even with all the work available some people were content to be bums and some had no trouble being worse A.J. thought as he glanced back towards the market and saw a domestic violence situation.

Really situation was an understatement and without turning on the roof or even signally A.J. made a fast U-turn into the parking lot of the supermarket and pulled up several spaces from the incident. A construction worker was cursing loudly in Spanish and slamming a sledge hammer against the side of an already beat-up looking Regina, but the horrifying part was dark haired brown skinned woman screaming on the ground. She tried to get up and was already bleeding, but without a thought the man stopped pounding and swung and hit her hard to the ground again as the little girls in the back seat of the car screamed and cried.
A.J.‘s theme… https://youtu.be/NKd6xjZHWQE

By now A.J. was out of the vehicle and while his hand went to his .357 Equalizer, and while he was justified in shooting morally and legally he went and opened to the back of the vehicle and pulled out a wood baseball bat and slammed the door shut and yelled to Yareli, “you can back me up drink your coffee whatever I got this, “ he said as he stormed over to the car.

While like most plain clothes officers A.J. wore his badge on a chain, but made no other attempt to identify himself as a police officer other than yelling out stop. Enraged the man turned around and lifted the sledge hammer above his head ready to crush his skull, but A.J. skillfully blocked it and swung to the side slamming into the man’s ribs. The man reacted, but in pain he still made the effort to attack, but this was met with a harsh blow to his knee bringing him down. Without waiting for him to surrender or do anything else A.J. swung hard and took the man’s hard hat off. The helmet went flying and the man went down hard. As some blood slipped one had to wonder if him having the hardhat on factored in at all to his strike.

A.J. kicked the sledge hammer away and pulled off the tool belt and tossed them both aside from the man and walked over and helped the woman up who whimpered out something like a thank you. With sirens being heard in the distance he helped her lean against the car and brushed her hair as side and saw the bleeding. He should his head then looked in her eyes.

“Antonina you need stitches and we talked about this honey you were supposed to leave when he was at work. Last time he broke your arm, and said he was sorry. He didn’t give a damn that your babies were in the car or you were in the way.”

“Jay I’m sorry I just came to get my last check and paper work for my transfer. I can take the girls to the new job and school and I’ll be assistant manager. I’m so sorry you had to come again,” and with that she balled out crying and put her head on his shoulder. He caressed her back and held her for a long minute.”

“Tony don’t be sorry alright honey, but you need to go to the hospital. I want you out of town today honey.”

“No Jay I don’t have the money. I’ll be fine the kids need food. Besides I go to the hospital they ask questions and they could take the kids.
“Fine let’s fix all that alright,” with that he took out a business card and then took out a large roll of cash and flaked out at least $500 and handed both over to the woman who’s emotions looked like they were going to explode.

“Now you go to West Haven Community Healthcare Center. You show them the card for my friend Helen she’s the head nurse at the ER, and she is there today. She’ll take care of you and the girls and get you on the way. Get good on the road and I don’t want to see you again. Call me from the new place okay.”

She cried a little more and wiped her tears and nodded and whispered a thank you before clearing her throat and asking, “but what about him we’re still married he might find us and want to see the girls and and..”
“And nothing I filled the paperwork for you and he’ll be in jail for a few days, so get going, and don’t come back Tony.”

“I owe you so much though. Me and the girls and we want to repay you.”

“Be safe and find a man who would rather kill himself then hurt you. That’s how you’ll thank me.”

The pair exchanged words and with the now arriving uniforms collecting what was left of the violent husband the little girls came out and hugged A.J. before their mother gave him another hug. Soon they were on the road and A.J. was walking up to the clearly dazed construction worker. He lifted up the bat again but wiped it on the man’s t-shirt.

Without caring about circumstances he said to the man,” you touch her again I kill you. I don’t care who your cousins are. She’s gone and she will stay gone. You were a father and husband. You blew it. Now you’ll have a few days to think about all this. The charges will be thrown out because there is no witness. For my part I won’t charge you for the brutal assault of a police officer. You might want to seek work in construction in another city though.”

He thanked the two uniforms who were more than happy to go with his version of the situation and he walked back to the truck and tossed the bat back inside and got in to the vehicle. He looked over at his partner and said, “So let’s drive and see if there are any other issues that need to be resolved. No need to involve the courts in every little thing.”

Yareli didn't miss Becker's reaction to her mention of Briggs but she didn't mention anything further. Just sat back in her seat as he pulled out of the lot. Didn't even ask where they were going. It didn't much matter to her anyway. She had her gold badge and that's all that mattered to her. Sure she was pulling double duty but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy herself for the time being.

She put one foot back up on the dash while she continued flipping through the bikini case, all the while bopping her head to the radio. That was almost as good as not wearing a uniform anymore. Cruisers didn't come with civilian radio. Her and Briggs got by with a little boombox jammed under the computer but she had to admit, this was better.

When Becker suggested she don a bikini, Yareli nearly choked on her coffee laughing. "Yeah...fucking...right," she said between coughs, all the while laughing. "Even when I clean up I look like trouble. You see these," she said flexing her biceps, flashing the guns she had tattooed on the, and smiled. "They ain't just for show. Besides I don't fit the profile. All my goodies are real," she added with a wink, that he probably didn't see behind her shades.

"And the feds ain't known for playing fair. That database is DEA but you never saw it," she said lighting another smoke before she meandered to his last point.

"Hobbies," she said with a snort as she blew smoke rings then turned to him with a grin. "I like big guns and fast cars. Not a big fa of killing things that ain't trying to kill me but hey to each their own," she said with a shrug. "I think my affinity for risky behavior is what kept me behind the desk in Washington. Got caught once or twice by the locals drag racing. I can get away with that kind of stuff around here...that girly enough for you," she said with rolled eyes, but she wasn't exactly offended and Yareli got the feeling Becker understood by the way he smirked.

The more they talked the more she realized that Becker wasn't just some hotshot meat head with a badge. Granted what they shared was just surface stuff but Yareli was a good judge of character and knew that despite how open he seemed, he wasn't telling her all of any story.

But of course it didn't last. Before she knew it, they were in her old neighborhood and Yareli had to bite her tongue to keep from cursing him out. He'd asked if she was Cuban, like he didn't know she shared the same last name as the man who ran all of Little Havana. That little detail was in her file and now he was taking her back. She knew it would come to this, but she thought he'd for sure wait until the next day. He was testing her, had to be, and Yareli wasn't about let him beat her with a trip down memory lane. Especially they rolled up on a dv situation in progress.

“you can back me up drink your coffee whatever I got this!"

"You think I'm really going to sit in the care," Yareli shouted back as she jumped up, but unlike Becker she much preferred the weight of her .45 in any situation. She let him take point. While he delivered his punishing blows, she went to check on the children, giving them soothing words in her first language. They looked at her a little strange as she spoke. They probably weren't used to hearing their language the way they spoke it from someone with a badge.

"Es tu papa," she asked them and they both gave a frowning nod, clinging to each other in the backseat. Yareli pushed her glasses up on her head so they could look her in the eye. "No se le va a hacer daño a usted oa su mamá nunca más," she said with a stern look and they both smiled as Becker helped their mother up off the ground. Yareli stayed out of that conversation as well, leaving the children and trotting over to the man being led to the cruiser in chains.

"He wait up," she shouted to the unis as she approach, her gun still out. She stepped close to the woman beater, whispered in his ear, "Be glad he got out first. I don't care who your family is..."

His chuckle cut her off and Yareli stepped away from him as he spat blood. "I know you ...tu padre...tu madre...tu tio..."

"So you know how we handle wife beaters then," she said, pressing her gun into his crotch. "That's 'posed to scare me or something? Este es mi barrio. Este logro no cambia nada puto. If I see you again, nobody will see you again. You got me?" With that she cocked her gun and waited while the unis held him up, pleased smirks on both their faces. Eventually the man nodded and Yareli gave him a a rough shove into the back of the cruiser.

"Good to see you back Robina," one of the officers said and Yareli gave him a wink as she holstered her weapon.

"Like the new badge too...looks good on you," said the other and Yareli rolled her eyes as she trotted off towards Becker truck as he dolled out cash to the not so broken woman. Yareli offered her and the kids a smile before she hopped back into the passenger seat and lit up another smoke.

“So let’s drive and see if there are any other issues that need to be resolved. No need to involve the courts in every little thing.”

"Don't worry Becks I hate paperwork just as much as the next guy," she said with a shrug, hoping he didn't notice the way her hands shook. If he didn't, he didn't say anything, just threw the truck in gear and peeled out off the parking lot.

There were a few jeers as the rolled away but neither of them thought much of it. That was the way of the world in a place as corrupt as Vice City and it would only get worse for her now that she was chained to the dirtiest cop on the beat. At least that's what Blake's intel said but she still hadn't made up her mind. Dirty cops didn't peel off money to battered women, or bring presents to kids birthday parties. Sure there were two sides to every story and the whole situation could have been part of the show but still Yareli would have to see for herself. Granted that's what ultimately got her into trouble with the DEA in the first place but that's what made her good at her job. She didn't give a fuck what anybody else thought. There always shades of gray as far as she was concerned.

"I don't know about you but I could use a bite to eat," she said glancing over at him in the driver's seat. "Plus I kinda want to pick your brain about these murders. I know there's stuff you know that ain't in that report...hell you might even know stuff you don't even realize is important. So why we grab a couple burgers and you take me to that off the books office you got so we can spread this thing out. How 'bout it partner?"

"I don't know about you but I could use a bite to eat," she said glancing over at him in the driver's seat. "Plus I kinda want to pick your brain about these murders. I know there's stuff you know that ain't in that report...hell you might even know stuff you don't even realize is important. So why we grab a couple burgers and you take me to that off the books office you got so we can spread this thing out. How 'bout it partner?"

He nodded yes to her and pulled out of the parking lot. Seemed his recent contact Pete wasn’t around the grocery store otherwise he would have come over, but he might still contact him about the mess he cleaned up. He didn’t let on at all that he was surprised that Yareli knew where he’d setup basecamp as of late. A few uniforms had been by in addition to the captain, so it wasn’t a secret and it was only a matter of time before he had to clear out so he wasn’t worried. He didn’t keep anything important there, and he would be seeing anyone while Yareli was there.

They pulled up into the parking lot of the Little Havana Bakery and Cafeteria which was doing a thriving business with all the construction workers passing through the area. As the pair entered most of the locals had the sense to move aside and let them go to the head of the line. One person who didn’t move was a concerned woman who was seven months pregnant with a two year old little girl tugging on her dress. She didn’t even look up as she frantically looked through her purse for money. She had the milk, bread, and a few other staples. She looked scared and embarrassed and the owner on the other side of the counter looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

From behind her she heard, “Voy a pagar por ello TH es el tiempo,” as A.J. put down a fifty dollar bill in front of her. She turned around and looked in shock and then just hugged him and whimpered.

“Gracias Carlos montón de trabajo, pero que les debe la renta y y pañales y visitas al médico. Gracias,” he continued to hug her and just nodded.

A.J. just looked at the owner and said, “Make sure she gets every cent worth, and send up two double cheeseburger platters upstairs with two chocolate shakes and a six-pack of soda to the office. How is the work going?”

The older Hispanic gentlemen who had the look of someone who worked hard his whole life just listened and nodded before replying. “The work is going well and the realtor says they might have the office rented in a matter of weeks. I know you like the space, but the building owner…”

“Needs to make money I understand. I’ll figure something out, but unless he has new tenants coming in by lunch I want my food.”

With that he walked towards the back of the shop where there was a shared stairwell for the side of the building. He briefly glanced back at his partner and said, “Grab anything you want. There is a conference room upstairs we can spread out the file there.”

With that they headed upstairs into the now abandon office suite. The cubicles that divided up the room were largely down and on the floor along with random office supplies and personnel items. Some of the more value items were shipped out before the storms, and there of course was some looting. A.J. had selected the corner office with the view of the street, and on the opposite corner there was the conference room. The long table remained intact along with a few leather chairs, so they spread out the file on the Bikini Murders across the table. Along with the gruesome photos there was plenty of evidence including maps of each of the areas where the crimes happened.

Not long after that though Maria came upstairs with a tray filled with food. She smiled politely at Yareli and then walked up and kissed A.J. on the cheek and looked over at her and said, “Oh you have a new girlfriend now?”

“Hardly she’s my new partner. Maria this is Detective Yareli Robina, and Yareli this Maria Vasquez,” Maria reached out and shook her hand nervously.”

Maria blurted out, “my mother played cards with your mother. A.J. I’ll let you work honey. You need anything just yell into the kitchen. You’ll love the chocolate shakes,” she said as she glanced at the table and walked quickly out of the room.

Becker shook his head and turned back to Yareli and said, “Well let’s get back to work and eat as we go partner.”

He walked over and took his burger off the plastic plater piled high with French fries and onion rings. The burger itself was pretty impressive with two patties, lettuce, tomato, and mayonnaise on a fresh roll that was still warm. It was a good a hell of a lunch, and he had picked up a cold can of eCola. Everything was perfect and they wouldn’t dare do anything less. It was good to be king, and he liked being loved and feared. How Ms. Robina fit into this situation he wasn’t sure he thought as he moved to the leather chair at the end of the table and sat down. He knew more about her then she knew he knew, but he didn’t have all the pieces. He could be friendly, but he couldn’t trust her yet. Not by a long shot.

Yareli wouldn't have noticed the woman had she not mentioned her mother. There were only a few women in the neighborhood that her mother would call a friend. She was too young to remember names but Yareli never forgot faces and this Maria bore a striking resemblance to one of them. Thankfully she was gone before things could get awkward and she quickly scooped up one of shakes, flipped off the lid and dipped a fry in. She made a contented noise and continued the process while she looked over the crime scene photos.

"I'm thinking this guy might be setting up shop here...might even be a local," she said without looking up from the photos. Yareli pulled them all away from their files and lined them up on one end of the table with the map of their locations above them and the autopsy reports below. The police reports were just words on a page by people not nearly as observant as she was, so she didn't put much stock into anything they found. She'd have to talk Blake into getting her the rest of the files but the picture she was getting so far was pretty clear. "These drop points seem pretty strategic. All out in the open but out of the way. Nowhere near the beach or Downtown. He wants them to be found but he don't wanna cause too much stir...I mean think about it. One dead blonde anywhere near the money the whole department will be on it but sprinkle a few around in the dregs then nobody looks twice. He's smart and he knows how things work around here...bad combo," she said shaking her head, finally taking a seat.

Yareli looked up at him, then around the room as if finally seeing it for the first time and let out a snort. "This is much better than the precinct. Nice view. Food close by. No Captain breathing down your neck. I gotta get me one of these," she said and took a healthy bite out of her burger. Yareli let out a little moan, savoring that first bite. It had been years since she had the pleasure of heaven between two buttered buns and the perfectly built burger reminded her of home more so than the smell of arroz con frijoles in the air. Her father brought her these burgers whenever he and her mother had a fight, which was often and it occurred to her that Maria knew how she loved those shakes when she was a kid. As heartwarming as the gesture might have been, Yareli still didn't feel the need to mention it to Becker. Her life was hers and given her assignment, she thought it might be best to keep him at arms length.

But still she found herself watching him as he scanned the photos and sipped his coke. His burger was already gone, save the dollop of ketchup and mayo hanging from the corner of his surprisingly full lips. Yareli started not to tell him but thought better of it. They were supposed to be partners, how would he trust her with his secrets if she let him walk around with food on his face. "You got a little something," she said, leaning over the table and swiping the stain with her thumb then wiped it on a napkin. He jumped at her touch and muttered a thanks before he pulled off another coke and slid it across the table to her.

"How many others were there?" He asked without looking at her.

"Fourteen, plus the ones still pending..."

"So what makes you think he didn't get blown in with the hurricane? Seems like perfect opportunity to me."

"Time and body count," she offered with a shrug as she popped open the can. She took a long sip before nodding at Becker who looked at her with furrowed brows a moment before he produced his flask. Yareli smiled as he slid it across the table and gave herself a hefty pour before lighting herself a Redwood. "Vice City is the only place with more than one body so far and the first one was before the hurricane hit. Maybe he's just taking advantage of the confusion," she said tossing him her back. "Sharing is caring," she added with a wink, eliciting a chuckle from Becker.

"Wish I could see the rest of those files."

"I might be able to pull some strings," she said and he almost choked on his smoke. "You have your friends I have mine, only difference is mine tell me everything. Yours...ehhh...not so much."

Becker rolled his eyes at that and said, "So what else do you see?"

For the next hour or so Yareli walked A.J. through all her theories and pointed out everything the initial investigators missed. He filled her in on all his observation, the stuff he hadn't written down and she had to admit, Becker was a better cop than she thought. Behind all the bullets and brawn was a brain, and he was just as good at hiding it. Together they pieced together a profile of their own.

"Male, late twenties early thirties. Possible mommy issues but definitely issues with women in general. He's a loner and a planner. Probably lives a quiet life outside of all this. Might have a little medical training, given these clean cuts and traces of surgical wash on all the vics. Probably has a van or truck for transport..."

"And we haven't had an actual crime scene since the maid with vic 3," Becker interjected and Yareli scribbled that down with the rest of her notes.

"Which means he's found a better place than a motel. Someplace quiet and easy to clean up. Someplace he can come and go without being noticed..."

"What about a storage unit..."

"Or a container in the shipyard," she said, catching eyes with him, unable to hold her grin. "So am I passing your test detective?"

What did she expect the burgers were good and it had been hours since breakfast which normally been a protein shake if not for Michelle. He hoped she’d spend another day sober. She seemed to like better that way, but it didn’t take much upset her enough to climb in a bottle. Besides who ate a shake one French fry at a time anyway? Well it was it was kind of cute, probably something she did since she was a kid, and it seemed like she appreciated good food. He’d eaten some of the best Vice City had to offer, but it was still the mom and pop places that got to him.

The other thing that was getting to him was that he could eat lunch while looking at the photos of butcher women. Most things didn’t make him queasy, but a beautiful girl reduced to a mangled corpse was something nobody liked seeing. This guy was a savage with skills, and nobody has seen his like before, and to make matters worse he was taking advantage of a city in chaos. Plenty of places to hide, police resources stretched to the maximum, and now a new flock of tourists taking advantage of the situation. This wouldn’t be easy, and according to his new partner they didn’t even have all the facts of the case. Never mind there was that small matter of arms trafficking possibly could be rivaling the drug trade if his informant was too believed.

He listened to Detective Robina nodding from time to time as he found a chair and sat down putting his feet up on the conference table. She was right this was better than the station which was cramped, old, and full of links. He was no angel, and while he made deals with criminals he never so himself as one. Some guys liked to brag and others were more than happy to share what they knew for a price. He didn’t want to let the press in on the fact that they were dealing with a full-fledged serial killer. They had nothing that could lead them to a suspect, and this boy wasn’t going to stop until he found a reason or someone put him in a body bag. The latter was always preferred.


He glanced up at his boot and saw that the switchblade was still safely lodged and smirked when she asked if she was passing the test. He shook his head and smiled and said playfully, “every day on the streets is a test probationary detective and the streets are pass fail.”

She took the jab and replied back in her sweet little girl voice, “Well what do the streets tell the big bad detective sir?”

He laughed and sat back up and cleared his throat before saying, “ran down everything about these girls I could. They weren’t here long for the most part. You notice the two local girls in the file? Even they weren’t full time residences. One family is in London and the other in Liberty City. They’re demanding action, but we’ve been getting nowhere. The rest are college girls, models, and the strippers from Pole Position.”

He hopped up and walked around the table passing Robina closely before he stopped at the window on the street side and put his hands on the window sill and stared at the bustling street below. After a long pause he then said, “Me and other detectives have talked to all their friends. Boyfriends, girlfriends, and even people staying at the same hotels and nobody noticed anything. We ran down anyone they had a run in with from disputes over parking spots to turning down drinks at a bar. Our boy is watching, planning, and striking. I think the scariest think about him Yareli is that he’s a patient guy. He waits until he has all his bases covered, and then makes his move. These girls are with people or locked behind closed doors most of the time, but he finds the one time they do something unsafe.”

He walked over and took his flax and poured the contents along with the eCola into the cup and swirled it around before speaking up again. “The hotel made and the two girls on the beach I think our boy stepped out of his comfort zone. Maybe he was following one and well if you look at a friend they could be twins. They didn’t like guys, and also according to their friends they were slumming it. The creep left behind cash, traveler’s checks, and plane tickets. The made she’s so used to the working girls being up all hours she goes to the room without a sign on the door and just bumps into this creep. She was a kill out of necessity. We have like zero forensics for the Ocean View Hotel, but with so many people in and out of that dump we ain’t gonna narrow down the suspect pool much.”

He turned around and lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall looking at Yareli before continuing with, “ran down all the local bad guys. No gambling debts, some had drugs but no large amounts, and our known maniacs are locked up in the state mental hospital long before this all started. No threatening letters or phone calls either.”

Yareli had stood there patiently listening and it was clear to her he took this one personnel. Worst thing you could do, but if you knew how to handle it you could use it as fuel. Growing up she saw so much death and violence, but yeah it got to everyone sometimes. There wasn’t much she could say that was encourage, but she tried when she said, “well you’ve put a lot of work in here so we know this guy has to be a predator. I mean you’ve like ruled out everything else. Oh nice blade by the way what do you use that for opening your mail?”

He laughed as she teased him and replied, “One of many souvenirs from my time in uniform. Some homeless creep was harassing the girls at the mall. Me big bad rookie cop goes after him without my partner.”

“Very unwise thing to do,” she replied.

He nodded in agreement and continued by saying, “So this guy is a laid off dock worker who is strong as a bear. We’re going at in the alley way. I can’t get to my gun because he’s banging me off the wall and I hitting him with the baton and it’s not doing a damn thing. He throws me into the dumpster and when he comes charging after me I get out of the way letting him slam into the thing. I go to lift him up to throw him to the ground and I feel the blade which he was going for and grab it first. When we hit the ground it came open and jammed into him fatally.”

“Yeah I’m sure it was an accident like you said”

There was a gleam in his eye when he said, “that’s what the report read and that’s all that matters. He’d been reaching under little girls skirts and pulling off their panties. I didn’t lose any sleep. I keep it as a reminder to always have backup, and always do whatever you have to to win a fight.”

https://youtu.be/Er1j1Jjc0vM

A short distance off the main highway about an hour from the town of New Vienna, a tribute to the town’s working class German roots Caacbay Becker was wiping the sweat from her brow as she looked out into almost empty dinner. She sighed and stretched out thinking there was at least a good hour until the lunch crowd came into the place. With her long raven hair up in a bandanna, blue tank top clinging to her body and tight jeans and sandals she looked at herself in the body mirror on the bathroom door and smiled. She might be a little rough but she still looked good, and her traditional tribal tattoos still looked sharp.

She walked out of the kitchen into the diner’s dining room and lifted up her pack of cigarettes and gestured to the waitresses she would be out front. Her three friends nodded as they watched the TV mounted on the wall. She sat down on the concrete landing and lighted up and took a long drag. It was a long way from being a student in the Philippines to serving grits and eggs in a truck stop town in Florida. Well it’s not like she didn’t know how it all happened though. It all started when she met Gunnery Sergeant Andrew Becker back home.

Knowing what kind of bastard he became it was hard for her to remember the sweet, good looking, young man she met who talked about the wife he’d lost. He was a good lay and she wanted out of her village, so they got married. He told her he would be getting out of the Marines soon and that he had a farm, and that his son was well taken care of and wouldn’t be a bother. Well he lied about just about everything.

The family home was in a trailer on an old farm near a trailer park populated by his late wife’s family. Little A.J. was barely taken care of by his family, and was practical feral when she met him. He was dirty, in rags, and going on illegal hunts to feed himself and the six Rottweilers they kept. To top it off while her husband was getting out of the Marines he was joining the Army, and while it was just part time he would volunteer for every assignment and when not at the base as a soldier he worked as a long haul trucker. Suddenly she was a nineteen year old with a twelve year old son in a foreign country.

She could laugh about it now, but the first year was severe even if she did know English. People weren’t all that friendly at first, and A.J. made clear he didn’t need a new mother. He didn’t want her gook food, she couldn’t tell him what to do, and school was a waste of time. Gradually she did win him over though by doing something he wasn’t used to at all. She was kind and loving and little by little he started eating with her, talking to her, and started going to school. The boy still cried at night over his mother’s death, and she did the best to comfort him. It didn’t help that when Andrew was home his parenting style was scaring a boy into manhood overnight.

One day A.J. came home crying and without his basketball after going to play with friends. An older Hispanic boy wanted the ball and chased him and threatened him with a machete if he didn’t give him the ball. A.J. threw it and ran until he got home, and the sensible thing to do would have been to call the police, but not her husband. He dragged his son into his truck and drove until they found the boy and then he sent his kid with an axe handle and told him to make the other kid pay and get his ball back. He’d make sure his son knew violence was the solution to many of life’s little problems. When all was said and done A.J. got his ball back and the machete hung above his bed for years as a trophy.

Andrew never hit her and sex was consensual, but he thought of nothing of abandoning the family at the drop of the hat. If he wanted to buy a new gun or truck it didn’t matter if she had grocery money or not. She had to be resourceful to provide for the family, so she tutored in languages, dog sat, worked at the diner, and wasn’t beneath shaking her ass in a bikini at Dixie Chicks on the highway. She learned how to repair trucks, and took her own gator tags with her son literarily riding shotgun on hunts. She shared a bond with A.J. and in time he showed he loved her as a mother.

In the beginning it was just little things like doing what she asked and helping out at home. Then it was standing up for her to his father something that almost guaranteed punishment. What made her mom was a simple gesture that meant the world. Every year for mother’s day A.J. would setup a little shrine dedicated to his mother Lynn. The year he was fifteen though she was shocked to come home from a late shift to see by candle light that he’d written in, “love you too mama Caacbay.” She almost cried and for the first time in a long time she was glad she stayed. Moments like that were rare though, and they mostly just depended on each other to survive.

Andrew would take his teenage son on military exercises, bare knuckle boxing matches, and even on ‘off the books’ missions. Her husband had turned a sweet boy into an utter savage, but she made sure he at least had a moral compass. She was called into school often for fights, but he was never the bully and he often protected the other kids. He hunted but no animal suffered, and when his father wanted to use their dogs in fights to earn money he refused. She didn’t blame him for signing up for the Army a month after his eighteen birthday and days after his graduation. She told him she loved him and that he didn’t have to come back again. Shortly thereafter she and her husband parted ways.

He did come home though when some drunk banged into her truck coming home one night and took care of all her medical bills and stayed home until she could take care of herself. She was so proud of him, but the time away had done little drive away the demons she knew he had. He’d been married and that didn’t last very long, and in the military her son was perfectly happy to tell his superiors when they wrong. Righteous and tough made for man who wasn’t easily stopped, but who paid a heavy cost for everything.

She did visit when he graduated the academy, and she hoped he was one a good path, but soon she saw him change. Not like his father, but still a bad path. He drank, he smoked, he had bad relationships and he could be brutally violent. She regularly received packages from him with money and other items. She only took what she needed, and choose to believe him when he said it was overtime and side work. Still though she worried like a mother, and they were bond by secrets and pain. As she looked down the highway and put out another cigarette she saw the source of much of the pain coming down the road.

When he was done parking his truck and walking over she stood up to meet him and leaned against the railing. Her friends were close by and there was a baseball bat behind the counter, and she checked the small automatic pistol in her waist band. Another gift of her son’s she didn’t want to know about, but put to good use. She put her hand over her eyes and looked at Andrew as he walked over with purpose. He was still a rugged good looking man filling out the boots jeans, and American flag t-shirt like a boss. While she’d never tell A.J. and hated even admitting it to herself she’d hooked up with him more than a few times over the years, but she’d had enough.

“Hey there good looking can we talk over some coffee and pie maybe?”

“No out here is fine do you have the paperwork?”

He smirked and took out an envelope and she took it and began reading as he said, “well you don’t like wasting any time now do you?”

She kept reading and then looked up and said, “I gave you more than a decade and I put up with a lot of shit, and regardless of what you think I raised your son! Also this is complete bullshit Andrew. I want the property you can keep your pension and your trucks, and I’m not letting you anywhere near those dogs.”

“Fine whatever I’ll call the lawyer and get him to write up something more to your liking. Besides I’m only doing this because I’m planning to get married soon.”

“Yes I heard blond hair, blue eyes, and younger than our son.”

“Oh our son really now?”

“Don’t even start and if you want to marry one of your bimbos that’s fine with me, but don’t ask me to be happy and leave A.J. out of all this alright?”

Andrew paused for a minute and looked into her eyes and nodded before asking, “He talking to you at least?”

For a brief second she felt sympathy for her soon to be ex-husband, but she had nobody to blame but himself. Still though she said, “I talked to him after the hurricane he’s doing just fine. He’s doing his duty and doesn’t have much time for friends. Kinda is with that girl Michelle or at least he’s sleeping with her. He doesn’t tell me a lot of what he does, and I don’t ask.”

Andrew sighed and nodded before taking the papers and sticking them in his back pocket. Then he soberly and said something she never thought she would hear from him when he said, “chip off the old block huh. Fight, bang around, and treat people badly. I guess I didn’t set much of an example for him though did I? I tried to make him tough like my old man. Loved that old kraut, but he was a bastard. Ah tell him I, well tell him I said hi will ya? Oh and do you need any money?”

He didn’t wait for a reply and just started to walk back to his truck when she called out to him and said, “Andrew I’m good thanks he sends money, but I’m doing fine. Oh and I’ll tell him you love him.”

He paused before getting in to his truck he simply said, “Thanks Maliit na bulaklak.”

Charles Cruise had had a busy morning, but when he looked at the easy erase board he’d gotten through much of his list. Working as a volunteer EMT for just over two weeks had paid off well, and only minimally interfered with his work. He’d received an interview at West Haven Community Healthcare Centre, and was hired right away for second shift. They’d been impressed by his credentials, and were so desperate for experienced nurses they didn’t even ask him about his time off. He’d spent a lot of time and money training. He worked out intensely every day, trained in martial arts, shooting, and automotive repair including a number of other practical kills. His time with the alarm company taught him a lot and working for the private investigator also taught him a great deal. This would all help him make his work more efficient.

Once in Vice City he spent several weeks doing reconnaissance, and in no time he had a handle on the criminal underworld and the resources it provided. While his work took precedence and he wasn’t a thief he soon observed an opportunity to handle his financial issue. He overheard a local gang planning to hit an armored car company. They were well prepared and actually had a good hall, but they didn’t count on him ambushing them when they attempted to switch vehicles. He got away with a small fortune and they were all dead, but one female gang member. He wasn’t worried though thanks to his high-powered rifle none of them had any idea who he was and he had plenty of cash.

This allowed him to rent two apartments in a building not blocks from the hospital, and he also rented work space from the local auto body chain. He discretely made a private access between the two apartments and paid his landlord six months in advance. For that he over looked the odd hours he kept and the fact that he was bring in or getting regular deliveries all the time. His first move was to steal an ambulance from a large accident scene and bring it to his workshop. He began refitting it and repainting it, and soon had a mobile work location. It looked like any independent ambulance company vehicle, but he’d customized it for what he needed. He added armored glass; sound proofed the vehicle, and discretely mounted all its tools. With a variety of radios and other electronic devices he could keep tabs on the police, and if they did get suspicious he could fire up the sirens and hit the turbo charger. Even before the storms came he was one the prowl, and Vice City had an amble amount of women who needed his special attention.

Meanwhile in another part of the city.

Russell Marshall yawned and looked at Mean Street Taxis on the other side of the street and saw the yard was virtually empty except for a few cabs being worked on. He picked up his coffee and sipped it slowly before turning his attention back to the detail they’d been assigned. Security guards working for Patrol Investigation Group were passing large sacks of money hand to hand under the watchful eye of FBI agent Jay Eckart. It seems the small mom and pop Sunshine Belt Bank were taking part in money laundering, and were being so indiscreet the FBI made the bust in less than a week. There were six arrests, and now a huge supply of cold hard cash waiting to be shipped out.


With the hurricane screwing everything up the FBI was shorthanded, so they hired the armed security company to pick up the money and drive it just down the road to the airport where the truck would go on a transport after it offloaded its emergency supplies. Nice and easy and he could care less. He didn’t care about helping another agency or justice the detail only meant overtime and that he and his partner both go shotguns. He lived to go hunting and working as a cop was only a means to pay for his fun.

While working the hurricane he and his partner ran into a local gun dealer while clearing out a building. It was a good shoot, but he took all the rifles and ammo he wanted. He and his partner split the money they found, and soon he’d be heading off to Africa for a big game hunt. He’d hunt all day and fuck black pussy all night. So to make sure he’d get the time off he wanted he was maxing out on over time, so they might ask that he take some days off without pay. He might fight for some vacation time, but no matter what he was going.

His partner Natalie Ward shifted in her seat and yawned. She didn’t want to be there that day either, and hadn’t gotten to bed until two in the morning. Her mirrored sunglasses hid her blood shot eyes and she was on her third cup of coffee. She was here though because she had expensive tastes, she liked having her hair and nails done every week, and she just needed to go to the nice gym instead of the department’s facilities. She moved to the city with her small town boyfriend and soon she was bored with being a homemaker, so she took the test to meet men and put some action her life.

She liked guns and fast cars, and cops liked fucking house wife types so she’d been having a good time for the last five years. Her uniform looked best on the floor, and she loved taking dirty pictures. She and Russ fucked regularly, but he wasn’t that special just it was convenient. After they finished with the detail they’d go to one of the motels near the airport, shut off the radio, have a few beers and fuck. She was a little sore from last night, but she came prepared with her bag of tricks which included her diaphragm, and under her body armor she put on some trashy red undies. Last night was a mix of pleasure and profit, and her only regret was not calling out sick.

Still though she had some loyalty to her partner and her blossoming career in amateur porn was only a sideline. She’d gotten the reference from none other than Stephan Scott while working security on Prawn Island. While he didn’t think she was ready for the big time, and she wasn’t ready to change careers he sent her to an up and coming director who shot films in his large beach front condo. It was easy money and after all who wouldn’t want to be paid for sex, and wasn’t like she hadn’t cheated on her husband before.

Her first shoot was easy, a foot fetish video where they paid for her pedicure and waxing and she got to keep all the extra pantyhose was fun and easy. She strutted her stuff in high heel sandals and hose wearing a wig and showing off her feet to an attractive admirer. He sucked her toes; she rubbed her feet all over his body, and she gave him a footjob. They were both so into it after the shoot they went to the bedroom and did some blow and he ripped out the crotch of her pantyhose and fucked her good. Two weeks later she and another woman like her got to have sex before a guy joined them for a threesome. She had plenty of orgasms and some new friends to party with.

Last night she made her third film where she was tag teamed by two hard bodied Cuban boys, and she loved every minute of it. It started off with her alone in a bedroom using a vibrator, and then the guys invited themselves over. A lot of good sucking and fucking took place, and her first double penetration was memorable to say the least. After they all cleaned up they went out drinking. She didn’t even bother going home. She just found a comfortable place to sleep in the station house and showered in the locker room and was there for the start of the shifted. Nobody would know anything, but she’d still do something for her husband.

Finally the money was loaded and they were on their way to the airport with the truck between them and the FBI agent’s vehicle. Sure the transport of millions in drug money should have been a cause for concern, but they handled it like any other day. Besides they made it to the airport in no time, and after patiently waiting for the transport the money was on its way to Washington under the guard of Air Force personnel. A morning of overtime made it all even better.

Before they left the airport though agent Jay Eckart pulled up next to them and reached out with a file and handed it to Russell. He nodded and said, “Good job let’s hope they all go this smooth. That’s the schedule for the rest of the week, but don’t let anyone else know about this detail. There are a lot of very unhappy people that want their money back and they have the muscle to try it, so stay on guard alright.”

“That’s what the report read and that’s all that matters. He’d been reaching under little girls skirts and pulling off their panties. I didn’t lose any sleep. I keep it as a reminder to always have backup, and always do whatever you have to to win a fight.”

Yareli couldn't say she'd have handled the situation any differently. Given what she went through in foster care, she had very little sympathy for men who took things from women. She had a similar report of her own and was certain that Detective Becker knew all about it, so she didn't take any slight from his warning. It was something she already knew and lived by, but that didn't mean she wouldn't comment.

"For someone who appreciates back up your record of partnerships is pretty shitty Becks," she said with a smirk and he shrugged.

"It ain't easy keeping up with me," he said without turning around. Yareli knew that was as honest as he would be for now and she wouldn't press. Being his partner was as dangerous as being on the other side of his gun. Dead or close to it was the fate of most of the men who rode shotgun with him but Yareli was certain her fate wouldn't be the same. And it had more to do with faith in herself than Darlington and the DEA coming to her aid when the chips were down.

While Becker daydreamed, Yareli cleared their lunch mess and put the Bikini Murder files back together. With his back turned, he didn't see her glance at her old friend's file a moment before she pulled out the hardware store murder. She leaned back in her chair, her boots propped up on the table edge with the file in her lap.

"So I think I might know somebody who can give us a lead on this," she said with a yawn. Her t-shirt rode up high on her torso, exposing the handle of the .45 long barrel she had tattooed on her right hip. A.J. turned around just in time to get a glimpse of the motion and Yareli smirked at the way his eyes lingered a moment before he cleared his throat.

"You yawning already. Not a good sign probie," he said, sliding into the chair beside her.

"Station coffee is terrible Becks you know that," she said with a shrug. "I'll grab a cup of the good stuff on our way out..."

"You Cubans do know how to make a good cup of coffee."

"Among other things," she said with a raised eyebrow as she sat forward and slid the file in front of him. "Anyway, there's a tweaker lives out in the trailer park on the edge of Little Haiti might know a thing or two about this. From what you got here this was sloppy. Took the money in the register but left the safe. Everybody knows Lopez didn't trust the banks. Kept all his money in that safe...and a nice little armory too. This wasn't some gangland hit, but that doesn't mean it won't get treated like one. If we don't find out who did this and quick, there's gonna be a war zone again. The gangster killing each other off makes our job easier but we both know it won't be long before civilians get caught in the middle."

"Well let's get you your coffee so we can get a move on," he said teasingly and Yareli rolled her eyes. He didn't wait for her to finish gathering up her set of files before he headed down stairs and by the time she joined him, Becker had two cups of coffee waiting.

"It's good to see you mama," Maria shouted from the kitchen with a smile so warm Yareli couldn't keep her own lips from spreading. "Don't be a stranger."

Riding with Becker meant she didn't have a choice anymore. Her neighborhood was unavoidable now that she had a partner who set up shop right in the center. But coming home so far hadn't been a bad thing. Sure she got a few weary looks but for the most part, Yareli had been greeted with smiles. Little Havana was a tight knit community and no matter how she hid, she was still a part of it.

They didn't talk much in the truck aside from Yareli giving A.J. directions to the ransacked trailer park. Just minutes away from the bright lights and flash of Downtown, it might as well have been another world. The place was chock full of crack heads and speed freaks, with a sprinkling of regular folk just down on there luck. It was a hard place to live even before the hurricane but now it was a mess the city didn't feel the need to help clean up. The once tidy rows were all askew with a good amount of trailers on there sides with contents strewn about as if they had been looted. For the first time all day, Yareli noticed Detective Becker seemed a little uneasy as he maneuvered his souped up truck through the detritus.

"This guy can be a little antsy so why don't you wait out front...babysit this beautiful piece of American craftsmanship," she said with a wink as she threw open her door.

"Your funeral..."

"Please," Yareli said with sucked teeth as she drew her pistol and jumped out of the truck. She did a lap around the perimeter before she went up to the door and gave it a few good kicks then stepped back. "I hear you in there Jimbo..."

"I gave you the last payment already Rel. You said yourself we're square," came from inside the lopsided trailer and Yareli kicked the door again.

"I'm not here for that," she said with a glance at A.J. looking like this was the last place he wanted to be. "Why don't you come outside so we can talk?"

"Put that .45 away and I'll think about it."

"Come on Jimbo you know that ain't how this works. And you don't want me coming in there uninvited...that ain't work out too well for you the last time."

"Who's in the truck?"

"My new partner..."

"What happened to Briggs?"

"Still in uniform, now come out."

"Who's to say he ain't out that hiding that sneaky Black son of a..."

Yareli had lost her patience and kicked the rickety excuse for a door off it's hinges, knocking the wiry man on his ass. Once inside she quickly rerouted her breathing to mouth only to keep the sickening cacophony of rotting food, human waste, and general filth out of her nostril. Jimbo took one look at Yareli as she leveled her gun at his chest and broke into sobs.

"You know I don't have time for your bullshit! Get your ass up and outside. It smells like pure shit in here Jim I should shot you right now and put you out of your misery," she said and he scrambled to his feet with his hands up, knowing full well that was no idle threat. He'd seen enough of Yareli at the races to know that she was not one to be tested and he made his way outside gingerly. She waved her gun at the steps and he sat down without a word, gave her a toothless smile when she offered him a smoke. But still she didn't put her gun away, even as she nodded for Becker to join them.

"Detective A.J. Becker meet James Laramie...don't touch him," she said as Jimbo raise his hand for Becker to shake. "There's no telling what he's got."

"Come on Rel don't be like that. I been clean and sober for two whole months..."

"Bullshit..."

"Honest. I gotta get out of this trailer and Mama says I can't come home til I get six months..."

"Well I'm glad to hear that but I'm not here for a wellness check Jimbo," Yareli said with a raised eyebrow and the man laughed hard then coughed up something thick and yellow. "Hardware store in Little Havana got robbed not too long ago. Hear anything about it?"

"Just that your kin is blaming the Haitians and they ain't owning up to it," he said and Yareli cocked her gun. "Alright, alright. I don't know who did it but I could ask around..."

"You let me do the asking," Yareli said holstering her gun to pull the notepad out of her back pocket and the pin that had been holding her bun in place. "Spill it Jimbo."

It only took him a few minutes to rattle off a list of names. Yareli knew a few and where to find them, and like a good stooly, Jimbo filled in the rest. Once he was done, Yareli pulled the knot of cash from her bra and peeled off a few small bills. Enough to feed him for a day or so, but not enough to feed his habit. If he wasn't trying, he wouldn't have been so grateful and Yareli left him feeling better about his situation than when she arrived. They were halfway out of what was left of the trailer park when she began explaining to Becker how she came to know Jimbo with him even asking.

"He wasn't always like that," she said staring out the window as they headed to Washington Beach to run down the leads the tweaker gave. "When I first came back, the last thing I wanted to do was join up and I damn sure didn't want to join the family business. I'm a woman with a very specific set of skills that I wasn't about to waste on the pole or on my back so I figured I'd put 'em to good use on the street." Becker raised his eyebrow at that and Yareli laughed a little, shaking her head. "Not anything your thinking. I told you I liked fast cars right? And I'm sure you saw my pride and joy in the detect lot. I raced...alone for a little while before Jimbo asked me to join his team. I figured what the hell. You get more races in a crew..."

"More races means more money..."

"And mama likes nice things so why not get to the line a few more times a night. Things were going pretty great for a while until the Bikers tried to put the squeeze on poor Jimbo. He ain't a street guy, you know, just a grease head from the mainland so of course he started paying them off. Out of his own cut, but you know those assholes. Give a inch, they want it all and they told him to get us to throw races. That's where Jimbo drew the line, told 'em to screw and to hell with the consequences. So they trashed his Phoenix and when that didn't work they gave him the tire iron. And to make matters worse, his girl ran off with some wannabe porn producer while he was laid up in the hospital. He was already hitting the powder before but after all that...losing everything...guess he couldn't come back from that. Team fell apart and I put in my papers."

"Seems like a safer bet," Becker said as they pulled into the lot behind Pole Position.

"I wouldn't say all that. Paychecks' are more consistent," she said with a shrug as she jumped out of the car.

They made sure their badges were in full view to avoid the bouncers pat down and Yareli wasn't surprised to see the place pretty pack in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday. Vice City was a constant party, even without the year round tourism, and she didn't judge a woman for using what she had to get what she wanted. Being a stripper was a powerful thing if you did it right and she knew one such woman.

Penelope Montenegro hadn't always been a stripper. She moved to Vice City from Liberty City for sun, sand, and the opportunity to record at V-Rock studios. With a powerful voice and amazing hands on her guitar, she figured getting a demo would be easy. But despite her porn star dimensions and flirty demeanor Penelope wasn't the least bit interested in sleeping her way to the top. She found herself quickly out of the V-Rock boy's club, but she didn't give up her dream, even if it didn't pay the bills. She played any and everywhere and eventually it paid off, but not in the way she planned. A guy she was seeing served as the drummer for the house band at The Pole Position and when their rhythm guy disappeared, she begged him to give her a chance. Unfortunately his band mates didn't take kindly to the hot little Colombian stealing the spotlight. The gig lasted as long as that relationship and again Penelope found herself with nothing.

But being spending so much time at the club, Penelope made friends with some of the girls who convinced her that she shouldn't let her God-given assets go to waste. She had a body women paid top dollar to achieve, why not use it to make money. Penelope promised herself she wouldn't be like the other girls, turning tricks and doing porn on the side. Sure that limited her earnings but slowly but surely she garnered a healthy stable of regulars with her pleasant conversation and penchant for serenading them with sultry Colombian love songs. Her main stage dances almost always included a guitar. Either acoustic or electric, there was nothing hotter than a girl rocking out in thigh high boots and nothing else.

When Becker and Robina made it into the club, Penelope was no place to be seen so they sidled up to the bar. Of course they both ordered a drink from the scantily clad bartender who seemed to be on a first name basis with A.J. She didn't even ask him what he wanted, just put three fingers of whiskey on the bar as soon as he sat down. Yareli ordered a Cuba libre and asked after Penelope. Having just finished her main stage show, she was in back changing into her floor outfit. They were on halfway through their drinks before she finally appeared. Clad in a black leather skirt that barely covered her ass and a cropped mesh long sleeved t-shirt with a red string bikini top underneath. Her nearly waist length jet black hair cascaded down her back in thick waves and she smiled brightly as she strutted on impossibly high lace up sandals.

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes," she said after a squeal and threw her arms around Yareli, easing her way between her outstrecthed legs to settle on her thigh. "Look at you all dressed down," Penelope said with a giggle as she ran her fingers over Yareli's new badge. "How long has it been," she said after another squeeze.

"Only a few months," Yareli said, unable to hold her blush as Penelope ran her manicured nail along the back of her neck.

"Too long..."

"Well there was that little storm and I had my arm in a sling for a while. Then this promotion, I been a little busy," Yareli said with a shrug, her fingertips grazing along her side.

"Yeah I saw you all over the news...mi linda héroeita," she said with another squeal and planted a soft kiss at the corner of Yareli's lips. "So who's this?"

"New partner..."

"So this little visit isn't because you miss me," Penelope asked with a pout that made Yareli snort.

"I always miss you Pene, you know that."

"Aye mami chula dime lo que sea," she said with rolled eyes before she stood, taking Yareli's hand. "Come on, we'll go someplace quiet so we can talk."

Penelope lead them to one of the semi-private booths in the back. A semi-circular couch situated around a platform with a pool jutting out of the middle. Yareli flopped down in the center and tossed down three hundred dollar bills. Regardless of their badges, Penelope couldn't waste time talking and she was more than happy to oblige her. She would have danced for free, like she had before, but those were special shows when they were alone.

"So what do you wanna know," she asked as she hooked a shapely leg around the pole and spun.

"Ummm...uhhh..."

"Little Havana Hardware robbery," Becker chimed in with a smirk as Penelope slid down the pole into a squat and spread her knees. She shot him a wink as she rolled her hips back up again. "Hear anything about it?"

"Somebody smoked old Senor Lopez but were too stupid to get into the safe," Penelope said as she slipped out of the skirt to reveal a bright red g-string and Yareli let out a little moan. "La blanca in the white bikini...her baby brother and his friends come in here every once in a while causing all kind of bullshit. They think they're tough guys. Came in a few weeks ago talking loud blabbing about how they were gonna start some kind of war. Ain't been in since but she's been sporting a new gold cross that looks a little old school if you know what I mean," she said as she shrugged out of her mesh shirt.

Yareli shift her eyes at Becker a moment and was surprised when he laughed, shaking his head. "Finish your little reunion. I'll go talk to big sister."

"I owe you one Becks," Yareli said with a grin and watched as Penelope slowly untied her top.

A.J. sat in the private booth with his partner and her special friend and couldn’t help admire how lovely Penelope Montenegro looked and she was damn sexy. He’d never gotten a lapdance from her, but he’d seen her around the club and the night where the workers got into it at the club she was there with the rest of the girls trying to avoid the bloodshed. He’d also seen her play that guitar and she could rock out to Led Zeppelin, and she’d jammed with Percy from Love Fist, that and she’d done coke of his cock but one could never be sure with rock stars. Supposedly her stage name Heidi Axe was a combination of the name the boys in the band called her and her favorite instrument. Then again the mugs in this place believed she was Eurotrash.

He paused for a minute enjoying the sight of Heidi stripped down to nothing, but her sandals thrust and grind around Yareli before climbing on her and caressing her face. Guys never went to see male strippers but women came in groups to see girls dance and processed having no interest. Well that was one of the mysteries of life, but judging by the smile on Yareli’s face she wasn’t faking any of the joy. So he down his drink and politely handed to one of the girls walking by in a club t-shirt and skirt, and La blanca in the white bikini in six inch heels talking to a man way too old to be sporting a varsity jacket.

The two talked back and forth and as he navigated across the room he saw them go into the men’s bathroom. While there were girls who did tricks most of them were smart enough to meet the client after work, and since this girl was a regular at the club it was safe to say the guy she was with had another kind of business in mind. Hat on backwards in a club that had a rule against hats and totting a jam sport backpack over one shoulder was enough to make him suspicious. The weapon in the waist band was just icing on the cake and he wasn’t the only one to notice either. Several bouncers noticed also, but A.J. waved them off politely and walked into the bathroom locking the door behind him.

The lovely platinum blond Latina was standing by the sink talking to a black man in his late twenties who was holding up a large medication bottle. Before the man could react to the door being locked A.J. was across the floor and hip checked him into the sink painfully, and then gave him a shot to the jaw and if that didn’t get his attention he ripped the backpack off his shoulder and manhandled him into the wall over the sink. He smashed his head into the mirror drawing blood and breaking glass, and then pulled him back and tossed him into the toilet stall. He heard a thunk on the toilet and took the opportunity to pull open the bag and give it a look.

La blanca didn’t scream, but she looked like she was about to scream, so A.J. put his finger to her lips and whispered to her in Spanish to be quiet. She quickly completed as he looked through the bag that was filled with prescription bottles and several boxes of syringes. Better living through pharmaceuticals he thought, and thanks the Zaibatsu Corporation the generic yet potent stuff was all over the place. For a few extra bills a pharmacist in Vice City would understand that you lost your prescription. What caught his attention besides the two cartons of Redwoods on top was the tricked out Mac-10 with a laser sight, silencer, and extended magazine.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed his mangled suspect pulling the M9 from his waist band and making an effort to stand up to take on A.J. He responded turning around in one motion and pulling back the slide on the weapon and leveling it at the suspect who realized angrily he had him right between the eyes. The man’s response was defiant but you could tell he was scared.

“Fuck you man fuck you! NO! You ain’t ripping me off today! That’s fucking police brutality man!”

“Fine I’ll shoot you then right now and nobody will even hear it out side, and I’m sure this young lady will remember it the right way,” he said not even acknowledging the dancer to his right.

“Fuck you pig you know who I’m with?”

“Ask me if I care I have enough on you right now to lock you up and throw away the key, but enlighten me.”

“I’m with the Champ! We went through high school together and I help train the man. He’s going to be pissed when he finds out what you done to me.”

A.J. kept the weapon trained on the man, but began to laugh. He knew who the man was talking about alright. James “T-Bone” Tucker was the starting Tailback on the Vice City Mambas. Just two years out of college the guy was a beast, and not content to play just one sport. In Vice City alone he took part in speedboat races, fishing, golf, and most impressively boxing. He said they were all hobbies, but he racked up the trophies. He grew up dirt poor and seemed to be making up for lost time. He had sex with models, bought and raced expensive cars, and lived on Starfish Island. His entourage probably doubled the population of the small exclusive community, and it seemed he was dealing with one of the Champ’s friends who was all too happy to help out.

“Yeah yeah well I know the man and he’s not going to be too pleased when I tell him you didn’t give me any respect and didn’t even put up much of a fight. Let me guess you told him you were meeting the guy in the afternoon, but you got the stuff came here blew some cash because you told him it would cost more than it actually does. Never mind you got extra and you’re doing a little side dealing here which he probably won’t be happy about. Never mind when I bust you I’m taking that nice looking Admiral in the parking lot, and I have the boys go through it before it goes to the yard.”

“Damn man why you causing me all this trouble. Shit can we work something out ?”

“I don’t see why I have all the cards, but I’m fucking busy so,” with that he pulled the two cartons of cigarettes out of the bag and without ever taking his eyes off the man threw the bag back at him hard. He lowered his weapon as he saw the man sling the bag on his shoulder. He slowly moved out of the stall when A.J. interrupted him and said,

“Oh yeah I want the bank roll too.”

“Shit man you’re just being cruel now this is all I got for the week.”

“Now tell the Champ you got ripped off by somebody tougher then you. He’ll believe that.”

The man snarled but went into his pants pocket and tossed A.J. his rather large roll of cash and limped out the door. A concerned bouncer began to laugh and just nodded and closed the door as he took a position outside the door. A.J. then turned to the woman he came to see and placed the weapon and the smokes on the counter and picked up the bottle of pills and handed them to her then flaked out enough money to pay her for roughly a half hour of her time. He handed the pills and the money to her and nodded.

“Look I normally don’t do this type of thing and thanks for the cash though. Ah why?”

“Simple I want your brother and his whole damn crew. They broke the rules and couldn’t play nice, and they’re going to have to pay.”

She responded in a fury cursing and calling him names in Spanish. Once she cooled down he smirked and replied back, “call me whatever you like I don’t care. I can bust you right now for drugs and prostitution and you’ll be in county for a month before your lawyer sorts it all out. Or you can take the money and the pills you found, and you can tell me what I want to know.”

“I’d tell you but I don’t know where they are they drive around all night and then just crash where ever.”

“Okay does where ever have an address? You don’t give me something good you’re going to the dyke lodge.”

“Alright alight you know the Wok & Roll in Little Havana?”

“Yes great dumplings good specials.”

“Well he always brings me food from there. I like their steamed broccoli. Anyway he said the owner of the place owns the apartments behind the restaurant, and he gets one for free along with all the food they can eat for providing security. I know he’s there he got satellite TV hooked up so he could watch soccer and boxing and everything. It only goes to the restaurant and that apartment.”

“Alright that is a little more useful. Now how do I know you’re not going to page him the second I walk out this door?”

She sighed and looked down at the floor and said, “You’re the police you’ll try and take him at least? I mean he shouldn’t have killed the old man he was nice to us when my father brought us as kids when he had work.”
“I’ll do my best. Why don’t you take tonight off, but if they’re not there I’ll be back and don’t worry I’ll find something.”

She stormed out walking fast in her heels which was something to watch as she headed to the backstage area. After watching A.J. took off his jacket and gathered up the submachine gun and cigarettes and walked out into the club. Yareli saw him from a distance and he beckoned to her to come with him. She nodded and caressed Penelope’s face and gave her a soft kiss and whispered into her ear. She nodded and did the same before she got up and began pulling on her skimpy outfit. Yareli came over blushing brightly as they walked out the side door into the parking lot. They got into the truck and as she sat down he threw one of the cartons in her lap.

“Ah thanks what are these for?”

“Concerned citizen turned them in along with a gun,” said passing the weapon to her as he started up the truck and headed back towards the bridge. He glanced over as she checked it out and looked it over.

“See anything special about the weapon?”

“Yeah it’s brand spanking new. I’ve only seen examples from the factory like this, and it has all the trimmings.”

“I have a hunch. Be careful there is a round in the chamber, but check the magazine out. What kind of ammunition is in there?”

Yareli detached the magazine and looked at the round on top and said, “they’re red tips doesn’t Morrice Ammunition make these?”

“That’s right detective and while they sell a lot of ammunition for civilian and police weapons that type is only sold to the military. They mangle body armor and make big holes in flesh, and that’s just the pistol rounds. I’ll have to check with another contact of mine on this, but for now we have a lead to follow up. I’ve seen what this ammunition can do to people in the field,” he said trailing off.

Yareli wasn’t listening by then though. She’d secured the weapon and was staring out the window. She’d seen plenty of people shot, and plenty of them died. The wars raged on the streets were as fierce as any foreign country. At one point she’d actually thought about being a mercenary. She knew how to treat bullet wounds, take care of weapons, and small unit tactics came naturally. At the federal academy they knew she reeked of experience, but they weren’t sure from where. She knew her new partner wasn’t telling her everything, and why should he trust takes time to develop. Still she was a long for the ride.

Sensing her distance he opened up a little to her about the afternoon and began by saying, “Pole Position can be a lot of fun we’ll have to go there sometime after work. Food isn’t actually that bad. Anyway you know the trailer park it brings back a lot of bad memories. When the locals drove the last of the rednecks out it was a freaking mess. There was rioting for three days a hell of a lot of violence.”

Still looking out the window she replied in a compassionate tone, “Yeah I heard about that sounded pretty nasty. You were in uniform back then?”

“Yeah and well it was more like how my old man described Vietnam then police work. Of course after that I learned to enjoy it like he did. Anyway it’s not a nice place.”

She wanted to reach over and touch his hand, but figured that wasn’t the right thing to do at this stage in the game so she settled for saying, “ghettos are never a nice place to be. So you going to tell me where we’re going partner?”

“Yeah we’re going to get dinner. Like Chinese?”

She just shook her head and they headed over the bridge back to Little Havana. A little later they pulled up in front of Wok & Roll and A.J. got out and told her to stay in the vehicle and listen to the radio. He got out and walked out into the street first before heading into the store and about twenty minutes later he walked out bags in hand. He got in and passed the food to her, and drove down the road finally stopping at an old run down gas station and garage. An older man came up to the truck and exchanged a few words with A.J. then directed him to park in the empty bay, and to ask if they needed anything.

Once they parked in the garage and the owner had given them cold bottles of pop Yareli finally blurted out, “What the hell are we doing here and how did you know I like garlic chicken?”

A.J. just smiled and took his container out and leaned back in the seat and explained what the stripper had told him about her brother, and his place to which she replied, “So what are we doing here? We get back up and go in and take them down. Why aren’t we staking the place out we’re like four blocks away.”

“Because when we were there I followed the wires from the satellite dish and saw the wires go through an apartment window. Also while I was waiting for the food I flipped through the satellite TV channel schedule. Big time soccer game Cuba versus Spain is on tonight. You might want to call your bookie. Anyway they also mentioned putting together a big order for the boys upstairs.”

“That could be anyone, and you speak Chinese?”

“No but they speak Spanish to their help badly, and that building is supposed be empty while they’re doing renovations. Anyway when security work was mentioned I remembered a few days back some homeless guys ended up in the ER after some punks beat them with bats in the early morning hours.”

Yareli put it together and nodded and replied, “That would have been a few hours after the break in. They get the score, run out of the place, and they’re so tuned up they just run into the homeless guys and they put the fear of god into them. They refused to tell patrol anything.”

“Exactly these savages are off to a bad start, and we need to stop them before they go any further. So the game comes on in about an hour. You figure maybe some forty minutes in we’re looking at half time and they're pretty drunk. We get them before they go out for more beer and get into trouble. These places are studios with just a bathroom and an open kitchen.”

“I still haven’t heard why we won’t need backup.”

“Oh I got something for that don’t you worry. Enjoy your meal and stay sharp.”

An hour or so later after eating, bathroom breaks, and going over the paper work A.J. said it was time to get ready. So they went to the back of the truck and he handed her duffel bag with her name on it and smiled and said, “Called in a few favors and I think it should all be right. You can change in the ladies room the boots should be perfect for this look.”

She looked at him questioningly but shook her head and walked towards the sanitarily questionable bathroom she’d used earlier. She glanced back and noticed he’d already had pulled his shirt off and she was a little bit impressed. Not too much hair and for a guy who liked donuts he was jacket, but not like some body builder. More like a farmer or construction worker, and he had plenty of scares. Before walking into the bathroom though she noticed he had the same skull tattoo that was on the lighter tattooed on his upper right arm in a gleaming white. This guy had history and she knew the filed didn’t even have half of it.

Once she opened the bag she got some of her answers. It was an S.W.A.T. tactical outfit, but unlike the city’s this was army camouflage not blue. It also had more body armor sown into it and included a top, pants, a black t-shirt and gloves. There was even some of the tactical undies some of her friends bragged about buying at the police convention. The panties and sports bra fit snuggly on her, but in the broken mirror she had to admit she looked good. She put on all the clothes and the tactical vest which hat pockets for ammunition and anything else they might need. The final piece of the outfit was the helmet and when she took it out she started laughing.

It was a jet black hockey mask, the kind you’d see the killer wear in some horror movie while chasing some poor kids who just wanted to have sex. She put it on and felt the extra padding and she could see out of it just fine. Once you pulled the hood on the top over your head you were scary and hard to identify. She took off the helmet and put on the gloves and walked out to find her partner dressed the same way and checking his M4 carbine. It was another item which was more military then police. He also had jumbo magazines tapped together along with several more in the vest along with smoke grenades.

He looked over at her and smiled and said, “You look good. Better than those girls in the gun magazines.”

“I know I look better. I’m hot in anything and besides those blond bimbos can’t shoot half as well as I can. Where did you get this stuff? It feels good but none of its standard.”

“True that and to answer your question it’s prototype gear that the department is planning to buy, so consider this a field test.”

“I take it you have a weapon for me as well?”

“Yeah you saw it earlier and I know you’re deadly with one of these,” He said as he reached inside the truck and took out a combat shotgun and tossed it to her. A moment later he tossed out a large box of shells she didn’t recognize at first, but then remember vividly.

"The combat shotgun is an extremely powerful shotgun. It could stop an elephant. And has. Used in Vice City on other things. With devastating results, but when you add in those shells well it just nasty. You do recognize them don’t you?"

She nodded as she loaded the weapon and then began sticking them into her vest. She then replied back, “They’re called ‘Purple Death’ since the coloring of the casing. The FBI uses them to take out doors. Had instructor once brag he shot through an engine block and killed a suspect with these. Once again not department issue, but happy to have them.”

“Okay then trooper we go in ten minutes. Make your checks and be ready. The plan is simple. We attain entry through the fire exit, and go up to the third floor and breach the door there. Once inside we order the suspects to surrender. If they don’t comply we fire, but we try to take them alive. Stay on my six and stay frosty. Let’s do it to them before they do it to us,” he said as they did a high five without even thinking. They looked at each other for a moment before getting in the truck.

They drove up the main drag and they could clearly see the flashing light of a big screen TV beyond the kitchen. Someone was at the window smoking, but they were passed the building quickly. They pulled around back and with a crowbar wedged open the fire door and not surprisingly s no alarm went off. As they made their way up the stairs Yareli noticed that he had the carbine slung over his back, and was carrying the weapon from earlier. She found out why a few moments later when they got to the door way and looked out into the hallway.

The sound on the TV was so loud Yareli had no trouble following the Spanish play by play, and they both saw why none of the neighbors from nearby buildings would be coming over to complain. A very large Latino male in jeans and a t-shirt paced back and forth in front of the apartment door. He had a pistol badly concealed in his waist band, a fire axe within reach and the brute actually had a survival knife hanging from his neck on a chain. Just another off the boat psycho looking for a fight and A.J. wasn’t going to give him a chance.

He whispered to Yareli that he had this one and as the creep picked up a beer and lifted it to his lips he saw the detective in all his tactical glory leveling the Mac-10 right at him. He stared in disbelief for a second before reaching for his weapon, but it was already too late. You could hear the pings of the silencer as A.J. emptied half the magazine into the brute. As his chest exploded in a fog of red mist and he dropped to the floor Yareli was sure she heard him say drop your weapon police, but she was probably the only one to hear it.

He dropped the weapon and flipped the rifle over his shoulder and moved seamlessly towards the doorway. Yareli’s training kicked in and she backed him up, and when he gestured for her to go around him and blow out the hinges she just nodded and swung out wide. She blasted the top lock and then racked the weapon and fired at the bottom hinge. As she reloaded again A.J. kicked the door hard at the lock and it tumbled down hitting the floor with a thud. Those inside were still getting to their feet, but three men getting off two sofas were grabbing for the guns and knives on the coffee table covered with food containers and empty beer cans.
This time he screamed police at the top of his lungs and as the first two lifted guns and turned in his direction he blasted them with full auto and sprayed a wall of lead.

His partner was right behind him and she took aim blasting the third man who made the mistake of taking a nail gun to a real fight. He splattered back all over the couch screaming in pain. Before they could react though the man who’d been smoking in the kitchen pulled both triggers of the double barrel shotgun that had been stolen from the hardware store. The wall behind them just explored, and as A.J. ducked down he noticed something.

Piled up against the kitchen counter were all the tools stolen from the shop sitting in spackle buckets along with a large tank for a propane torch. Without really thinking he aimed at the tank and the apartments rattled as it exploded into a ball of flame as the man frantically tried to reload. He was soon screaming as he was engulfed in flames, but he didn’t feel it for too long as his partner blasted him seconds later. The flames soon were going up the plaster walls of the apartment and A.J. pulled off his helmet and looked at Yareli.

“Now we call back up and tell them to get the fire department over hear stat. Damn don’t think we have time to save the TV.”

A.J. casually slung his weapon and attached the helmet to his belt and began walking out of the apartment like he’d just said hi to a few friends and was heading home across the hall. Never mind they’d just bin in a gun fight and the places was on fire. He paused as he stood next to his partner and crooked his neck. Something wasn’t right, but wasn’t sure what it was so he continued to listen for something he wasn’t sure was even there.

He looked at his partner and asked, “Do you hear something?”

From behind the mask he heard her say, “Not really it’s something though. Thanks to your fucking stunt though my ears are still ringing.”

They both went silent for a long moment as the apartment filled with fire and spoke. Then there it was again faint, but clearly something. It became faster and more desperate and began to register. It was metal on metal banging along with muffled cries and both sets of eyes zeroed in on the bathroom they could barely see, and without saying a word they rushed to the other side of the apartment. They kicked in the door with Yareli covering her partner and saw a terrifying sight in the cramped dirty little bathroom.

An Asian girl in a t-shirt naked from the waist down was hanging from the shower rod in a pair of handcuffs with a piece of duct tape over her mouth and tears in her eyes as smoke filled the space. Her wrists were bloody from hanging there and she had cigarette burns on her arms. A.J. cursed the men they’d just killed and wanted to kill them again but it was about the living now and once again without words they went into action.

Yareli hopped up on the edge of the tub and began uncuffing the girl as he lifted her up so there wasn’t as much tension as she got her hands free. She pulled the tape off the girl’s mouth and not surprisingly she screamed out and continued to cry. A.J. lifted the frightened young woman on his shoulder and headed back into the smoke filled apartment. With one hand feeling for the wall and yelling at his partner to remain close to him he moved towards the door. For her part Yareli grabbed the girl’s jeans and bag that was on the floor below her and reached out and grabbed his belt.

Soon they were all panting in the hallway, and they could hear the police and fire sirens. They made their way down the stairs and went to the vehicle nearby and opened up the back. The patrol officers were already on scene, and soon plenty of firefighters were there stretching hoses and heading up the stairway they’d just come down. They both briefly told the fire captain what had happened and they lay out of the place and that they needed EMT’s immediately. The patrol sergeant also came by with the EMT’s in toe and demanded they get checked out, but instead understandingly let the victim go first.

While they waited for more medics to arrive the sergeant informed them that the captain was on the way. Here we go again A.J. thought and stripped down to the t-shirt and threw all the gear and his weapon in the back of the truck. He stepped up and leaned in and soon found his cooler that was filled with ice and pulled two glass bottles of Spunk handed one to his partner. He sat back down on the bumper and took out his church key and popped both tops. He took a long drink almost finishing the bottle in one gulp.

He let out a sigh and said, “Well that could have gone a little better. Still all in all we got the bad guys and saved the girl. Not bad or a first day partner.”

It wasn't until she stripped down to her tank top that Yareli realized she was bleeding. Just a gash on her upper arm that the medic informed she might need to have stitched up, but she shrugged it off and lean on the bumper beside her new partner. She couldn't rightly call him anything else. They'd stared down the barrel of many a gun together. Saved a life and came away all in one piece. She took his offered Spunk and presented him with her open pack of smoke.

“Well that could have gone a little better. Still all in all we got the bad guys and saved the girl. Not bad or a first day partner," he said, taking out the last two. "You sure you wanna share your last?"

"Not like I don't have a whole carton in my bag," she said with a wink. Becker gave her a little smirk as he lit them both and passed her one.

"Sure you don't wanna get that check out," he said with a nod at her gash, and the blood the trailed down her arm.

"Please I've had worse. Besides I don't want to give anybody a chance to put me on a desk again. That shits for the birds man."

By then the Captain was sauntering over to them looking none too pleased and Yareli sat back to let Becker do all the talking. The patrol sergeant didn't much care for details so Yareli didn't see a problem giving her two cents. Captain Colin on the other hand was a stickler and skeptical of the young Cubana so she remain tight lipped while Becker gave vague details of how they managed to turn a quick bust into a four alarm blaze. She listened intently to his skewed version of events but couldn't find any fault in his logic. Those guys weren't going to come in quietly anyway so why even bother and the rescue of rape victim always looked good on the front page of Vice Voice. All this he told the captain but it was the last part that finally allowed the burly man to relent, but still he slid his gaze over to Yareli. Whether he was sizing her up or checking her out, she wasn't sure. Not that it matter, she still met his eyes wit the same hard look she had when she left his office.

"Make sure she gets that taken care of," he said to Becker.

"She can hear you just fine," Yareli said, flickering her cigarette butt away.

"That better not had been aimed at me detective..."

"I'm offended you think I couldn't hit such a wide target Captain," she said with a smirk. He grit his teeth, nostrils flared out ever so slightly, and Yareli threw up her hands. "Marksmen means I don't miss...that's all I'm saying."

"Sure it is," he said with a raised eyebrow, shaking his head before he shift his eyes back over to Becker. "I expect a full report on my desk by the end of the week Becker."

As soon as the Captain was out of sight, Becker nodded for Yareli to get in the truck and they headed back to the station. He asked her a few more times if she wanted to swing by West Haven to get stitched up but of course she declined. The gash had stopped bleeding by now but she was sure it was from a piece glass jammed inside. She probably would need a couple stitches but she had to get home before Blake started looking for her. It was almost midnight by the time they got back to the station and Becker pulled his truck up alongside Yareli's ride. She took his help with her bags with a smile. Just because she didn't need his help didn't mean she wouldn't take it and he seemed surprised by her lack of protest.

"Pretty nice wheels you got here ma'am. If I hadn't seen you in action today I'd ask if you could handle all this muscle," he said with a smirk as he gently closed her truck.

"Mean ain't he," she said with a grin as she ran her hand along the roof. "Supercharged 6 liter V8...556 horsepower...0-60 in 3.9 seconds. I call him Pantera. The boys in the yard hooked me up with all the standard patrol shit. Comm unit...on-board CPU hidden away in the modified glove box. It's a thing of beauty. Maybe we take him out tomorrow and I show you just how well I handle a little muscle," she said with a wink and popped open the door. Yareli immediately started the car and gave the engine a little rev before she said, "Mmm listen to that purr. I missed you too baby. Anyway, coffee on me tomorrow. None of that station shit."

"Sounds good probie...and about that report..."

"Yeah, yeah I know the routine. Gimme a couple days," she said with rolled eyes and again Becker was shocked that Yareli took the slight in stride.

"Well that was easy," he said with a snort and Yareli shrug.

"Yeah well I'm the probie right? Police work I'll do. Errands'll get you shot," she said straight faced before she peeled out of the parking lot.

https://youtu.be/RvV3nn_de2k

Some people did drugs to clear their minds, and there was a time in Yareli's younger life when she too plied her mind with intoxicants to alleviate the pressures and pain of the outside world. Sure she still liked the sauce, and a good toke every now and again, but nothing soothed her soul better than being behind the wheel of a fast car. Her first experience with speed happened before her 17th birthday when her "adoptive mother" put her behind the wheel of her powder blue drop top Manana. Raised in a family of mechanics, Rochelle Torres had been a muscle junkie since she could walk and passed that love of cars onto the girl she and her husband took in. Though she was always respectful, Rochelle understood Yareli's reluctance to truly open up to her, thinking the prim and proper grade school teacher couldn't possibly understand a poor Cuban girl with a murderous father and a junkie mother. But Alfonso had done well digging into the girls past and found that Yareli's father had been picked up been picked up more than once for racing his Hermes all over the city. He found her an in and Rochelle capitalized on it, introducing Yareli to her greaser brothers and to the world of underground street racing. Alfonso wasn't too happy about the latter but his girls, as he called them, were bonding and that was what mattered most.

To Yareli, fast cars offered her a place in the Torres family and the used Phoenix they gave her for her 18th birthday cemented it. It was a project car that Rochelle spent the summer teaching Yareli how to maintain, and more importantly drive. Really drive. She understood the girl well enough to know that Yareli wanted to be self-sufficient and while Alfonso and Rochelle paid her tuition, she would want to support herself and racing was better than anything else the young hot head could get into. If for nothing else Yareli appreciated Rochelle for that summer. She was more of a mother to her than the woman who birthed her, teaching her that no matter what she learned in her early life, her life was her choice and she could live it the way she wanted.

"You don't need a man to survive mija, never forget that," Rochelle told her more than once. It was the complete opposite of what her mother showed her and Yareli had no problem adjusting to Rochelle's school of thought.

As she pulled into her spot in the garage, she made a mental note to call home sometime this week. She still hadn't told them about the promotion, or Darlington coming back into her life. Even though things between them had never been serious, he was the only man she ever mentioned to them. Yareli was certain Alfonso had used all of his connections to find out everything there was to know about Blake but he kept his paternal advice to himself. Rochelle on the other hand had no problem telling Yareli that it was time for her to settle down and that was years ago. Yareli decided she'd leave Agent Darling out of her conversation to avoid the "we want grandbabies" talk. The promotion would be exciting enough news and she would leave it at that.

"Honey, I'm home," she announced as she came through the door, knowing full well that Blake would be waiting for her. When she first moved in, she asked that he not make anymore uninvited trips into her space. He promised but of course it didn't last. It wasn't long before they were playing house and Yareli had to admit it felt pretty good laying next to the same warm body every night. That didn't mean that they shared anything more than they used to, she just appreciated it more.

"Busy night tonight huh Detective," he said with a grin, already pouring her a drink. "16 hours, a few dead gangbangers, human trafficking rescue, and a closed homicide all in one shift."

"Just another day in Vice City," she said with a smirk as she dropped her bags on the dining room table. It doubled as their office and Yareli immediately began unloading the trappings of her first day.

"So is he as much an asshole as he seems on paper?"

"Not exactly but it's still early yet. I'll tell you all about it while you stitch me up," she said as she eased out of her jacket. Blake grabbed her arm gently to get a better look at the damage making her wince and he chuckled a little.

"Sit down babe, I'll take care of you," he said with a wink before he left to grab the first aid kit. It was actually a field medic's bag and he dropped it down on the table before he set up a lamp so he could better assess the damage. "That shirt's ruined," he said absently as he pulled on a pair of gloves and Yareli rolled her eyes.

"If you want me to take it off Darling just ask," she said with a raised eyebrow and he looked at her expectantly until she did just that. What she was wearing underneath wasn't at all what anybody would consider sexy but still his eyes linger on her breasts smashed beneath the sports bra before he finally sat down across from her.

While he dug out a few pieces of glass and gave her a tidy row of 6 stitches, Detective Robina gave Agent Darlington a full debrief of her day. From the exchange in the captain's office to the shoot out, and everything in between. With the exception of the lap dance, Yareli didn't leave anything out. Once she was all patched up, she showed him the Bikini Murder files and Darlington said he'd do what he could to get her the full federal file.

"You think you can take a look at this one too," she asked, as she slid the armor car file to him and he immediately flipped it open. "Don't think I'm getting soft or anything but I know that girl and this just isn't her style. I mean, she's no angel but a heist is way out of her league..."

"What do you mean you know her Yareli? You haven't been here in years..."

"I just know okay," she shouted, shocking herself. She lit up a smoke and took a few long drags before she repeated herself in a more reasonable tone. "Look I just know okay. Stealing cars? Definitely. Taking a bat to the head of a deadbeat dad or somebody's asshole boyfriend? Sure, but an armored car heist. That's just not her Blake. Please for me?"

"What do I get out of it," he asked with a smirk.

"Me not putting my foot in your ass," she said, like she was flirting and he rolled his eyes, shut the file. "Come on Blake, I'm helping you out. You got the gun, the carton of cigarettes that I want to keep..."

"All bullshit, but it's like you said, it's still early right? Bring me something good and I'll see what I can do about this girl you say you know."

Vice City was a like a woman hiding her cocaine habit, she looked fine, but she was a mess below the surface. The Vice Point where Detective Becker resided looked like a high end neighborhood of a cosmopolitan city on the ocean. North Point Mall, WK Chariot’s flagship hotel for the city the Vice Point Langer, and Malibu Club were all there. Along with the beautiful beaches and the award winning Shady Palms Hospital it sounded like an idea place to have a good time and enjoy the city. The truth was something very different though.

To start with there were a lot of hard working people in the shadows slaving away to make the place gleam like it did. As teenagers hung out and women spent money at the mall gangs fought it out for the point from dusk until dawn. Escorts worked the Langer and those pretty Spanish girls waving to you from the beach were bikini girls selling everything you needed for a good time. Crews robbed apartments and took cares, and ask any EMT how many overdoses they dragged out of the bathrooms in the Malibu Club. For a cop it was all about keeping the animals in line and everything under wraps.

The was all going through Berker’s mind as he felt the night air race through the open windows as he drove home to Vice Point. El Swanko Casa was across the city from the Little Havana station, but despite that he never felt the need to transfer to Vice Point Station. After all he was living in house that no cops should be able to afford, so why raise up another flag with a convenient commute to the station that was also S.W.A.T. headquarters. He got the house through a deal with Texas magnate Avery Carrington who intended the place to be a model for the high end gated community. He changed design ideas, but was still acquiring property around the new office building he was constructing.

The old cowboy wasn’t beyond using things like arson, riots, bribery, and even murder to close a deal. Avery’s construction company was developing all over the city and with Tommy Vercetti as personnel friend there was no stopping him. Vercetti established labor unions in the city, and while things were better for the working man everything was costing more. The construction boom saw an increase in strong arm tactics from the union to control the market. In addition to the influx of people from all over South America there was a whole contingent of leg breaking thugs from up north. In his estimation they were a collection of trigger pulling, pasta eating, assholes that Vercetti called family.

All this was on Berker’s mind as he made his drove quickly through the streets making note of the fast cars, fast women, and drug deals happening. His mind didn’t get to slow down or relax even when he was having a good time. You had to figure every cop had to overlook some crimes, because there was never enough time to bust everyone. So in a city like his that was being overrun why even try. Do the best you could to manage the mess, and make a little money along the way. From the beginning even the “honest” cops he knew took money, and if you didn’t hurt the innocent people you weren’t doing anything wrong. If you were a cop in Vice City you lived fast and died young, so why not have a good time along the way.

Tonight though his idea of a good time was to take a hot shower and just collapsing in his large bed and sleep until fifteen minutes before his shift started. As he pulled into the driveway though he knew that wasn’t going to be the case, he had uninvited company. First it was easy to spot the stretch limousine used by the car service associated with the Hyman Condos which meant Michelle was visiting unannounced. The police outfitted four door sedan made him think for a moment, but he soon realized it was Detective Bruce “Tubs” Sullivan’s car. He groaned as he unloaded the car and walked around back to the kitchen. The night wouldn’t be long enough to deal with all this.

His mood did shift when his purebred Rottweiler Cleopatra came running round the side of the house barking, but once she caught his scent began making happy noises and playfully nuzzled against him. He kneeled down and petted the dog and played with her for a moment before collecting his gear and walking into the kitchen from the glass doors facing the pool. Standing around the center island was Zack and Heath his future police recruits in their typical jeans and army t-shirts. Michelle was leaning against the refrigerator holding her diet cola like she was posing for an ad, and Bruce was at the table filled with food containers and a cooler.
It was hardly a happy greeting, but it showed the level of readiness you needed to have these days. Both of his hick boys had Kruger assault rifles ready to go, and Bruce’s signature machine pistol was in hand. Even Michelle had a kitchen knife in reach to the trained eye.

A.J. just shook his head and tossed his bags on the floor and said, “A man comes home to his castle and only his dog is happy to see him. By the way who invited all you people anyway.”

There were some laughs and as expected the guns went away and Michelle was the first to run over and hug him. The boys took turns shaking his hand and exchanging small talk. Still though he was de facto leader and he wanted answers and needed to give orders.

He turned to the boys first and said, “Aren’t you guys supposed to be back on post? We played pretty fast and loose with disaster relief duty. I want an answer, but you’re not leaving tonight anyway. Heath you’re on weapons and equipment detail. I want everything a hundred percent for tomorrow, and Zack your on guard detail. Take the dog in, set the alarm and give the place a good check before you stand watch. So why are you still here?”

Zack was the first to open his mouth and blurted out, “Sergeant major Peppah put us on special detail here. We were watching the utility workers today though. We figure he’s done it because wants us to stay the reserves when we’re done and become cops.”

A.J. listened and glanced over at Heath who just nodded and went to take the weapons and headed up the backstairs. Zack went to collect his weapon and added, “He’s gone to be at your Uncle Phil’s place tomorrow and wants to talk to you. Don’t know about what though.”

He sighed knowing no good deed was done for free he nodded to Zack who was soon feeding Cleopatra and checking the house. He hugged Michelle and kissed her on the cheek and whispered in her ear, “Go upstairs baby I could really use a shower and a massage. I’m happy to see you but why are you here?”

Michelle gave him a serious look and retorted, “Because I saw the damn news and I’m glad to see you’re in one piece. I called the damn station house and nobody could tell me anything and Duke wasn’t picking up his line or anything. I was worried so I came over here. Please can I stay?”

“Of course you can honey meet you upstairs in a few. Send the car home too okay. Don’t need the guy to stay here all night you can call in the morning.”

“Cool I’ll make everyone breakfast. Bye Bruce,” she said and after giving a little wave she headed out to the front of the house with Zack following closely.

Then he turned to Bruce Sullivan who by now had sat back down at the end of the table and began eating. His machine pistol by no means was department issue; customized with a host of attachments it put many punks in an early grave. His rotund friend was complex to say the least. He was retired from the department, but held a civilian position with the union that still let him work at the department and at the same time had a private investigator’s license. He was easily over three hundred pounds, but was also a power lifter who never lost a street fight. He considered himself an honest man because he stayed bought, and coming up he was one A.J. teachers on how to be a real cop.

For the wealthy and powerful of Vice Point he was the go to guy for everything unsavory. If you needed dirty pictures of your cheating wife and the guy’s legs broken he was your man. Need the drug charges on your prep school brat to disappear he was the guy to call. Wake up with a dead hooker in your room well he just looked at it as a hundred and twenty pound problem that could be handled. He ate a lot of pies, but Bruce also has his finder in a lot of them. Since knocking over a high stakes poker game years back and let him keep everything A.J. had a hard time saying no to the man.

Tonight though he wasn’t in the mood for any schemes or creative problem solving he always found himself involved with. Even with reservations he sat down at the table and looked over the containers of food looked into the eyes of his corrupt and greedy comrade. He was blunt and to the point when he asked, “Bruce what the hell are you doing here and what do you want? Aren’t you under indictment or something?”

Bruce put down his garlic bread filled with meatballs and wiped his mouth with a napkin and then drank from the bottle of cheap wine before saying, “Good to see you to kid. What is with the damn attitude? Nice job though we all saw the news. Three alarm blaze after gun battle with drug dealing murders who blew themselves up. Very nice job kid. How is the new girl working out? You banging her yet? Must be nice to have a secretary who carries gun. Anyway I called over here and talked to the kids, so I brought dinner from Barzini’s Ristorante Italiano. Had them pack up all your favorites too, and you know what they didn’t charge me a damn thing when they heard it was you man. They love cops in this town so eat.”

There was so much wrong with the last statement A.J. didn’t even know where to start, but as he looked for the container of cavatelli with broccoli he noticed the metallic attaché case sitting on one of the nearby chairs. “What do we have there Bruce,” he asked curiously but not looking up as he dug into his food.”

“Oh that kid well that is a gift from the good people at the Vice Point Improvement Association. They want you to have something to carry your paper work in and they’re sorry it’s full but they hope you can find use for the contents.”

“You can cut the bull Bruce nobody is listening and I have the place checked for bugs every week. The security is state of the art and the dog would rip apart anyone so no need for code.”

“I knew I trained you well. Anyway our friends are very pleased with how you dealt with the Shark problem. They’re not destroyed, but according to all sources you decimate their numbers. What’s more you did how they liked it. It was done military style and very professional. They were so happy they included a twenty percent bonus. I’m sure you’ll handle the pay outs to the others involved. By the way you don’t have to tell me, but where did you find people like that?”

“No I don’t and I won’t tell you, but put it this way it’s awful what the government does to our veterans isn’t it.”

“Damn shame kid. So they appreciate your efforts and might have more work for you down the road. They also mentioned the Bikini murders. No pressure but soon pretty girls won’t want to come here to use the beach or shop and that’s big business. Can I tell these guys you’re at least making some kind of progress?”

A.J. stopped eating long enough to get up and go to the fridge and get a cold ginger ale. He opened it and drank as he walked back to the table and sat down and said, “We’re working on it and while there are plenty of detectives doing their thing there aren’t many leads to go on. I mean this guy came out of nowhere and is hiding. He’s got skills, financing, and worst of all he takes his time. Look tell them any information would help greatly. I’m trying to see if the feds have a file on him.”

“Alright that’s not much but they’re happy with you so if they know you’re trying that’s at least something. Just let me know what I can do to help you out.”

An hour later after eating and drinking together and A.J. listening to war stories Bruce was stumbling out to his car. Despite being offered a room he hit the road. After making sure the house was secure one last time he headed upstairs and found Michelle in only a thong laying on the bed. He tucked her in and then took a shower. He really could have used a massage, but she was always up for morning sex, so he gave her a peck on the cheek and cuddled up with her and fell asleep. Despite having the lovely porn star passed out in his bed his last thoughts before he drifted asleep were of his new partner.


It was beautiful in every way possible. She and her lover Claire looked into each other’s eyes as they moaned and thrust their hips tribing. She screamed like she only did with her as she orgasmed on the silk sheets of their bed with the view of the ocean they kissed and caressed and with a sudden jolt Maria Romeo was awake. She pulled her arm hard and felt the cold metal cuff on her wrist tighten she did so hard that practically yanked the bed rail off. If that didn’t remind her where she was all the machines alarming at once and as her eyes opened she looked about the room and began to cough and sat up and looked around.

Yeah she was still a prisoner and in the hospital. Most people never wanted to wake up in jail or in the hospital and as of a week ago she was enjoying the double nightmare. Shot in the chest the bullet went through her body armor and into her lung. She spit up blood and went down thinking she’d wake up in hell, but instead it was in Schuman Health Care Center surrounded by cops asking questions. She coughed again and sat up and by now the night nurse was in the room checking her out and offered her a cup of ice water. She thanked the older woman and sipped on it and pulled at the cuff again.

She looked over at the female officer in the all too familiar tan Vice City uniform and asked, “Get some damn chains already please. You chain me to the bed and put it around my ankle so I can walk to the bathroom. Come on we’re not in country where am I going to go?”

The academy fresh young officer shook her head no and just walked over and placed the bed pan closer. “No way I know what you’re capable of and I’m not taking any chances so just follow the rules.”
“It’s not a rule and you know it. We could go outside for a smoke too,” she said pulling off the oxygen tubing over her face. “Besides baby you give me a little freedom I’ll eat your pussy so good you’ll cry from the orgasm.”

The young woman clearly looked uncomfortable by what was proposed and hesitated but replied back, “I’m married and I’m not a dyke so forget about it.”

“I’m not either honey, so think about it. We help each other we’re all girls from the hood aren’t we?”

Before the young woman could consider anything she had a late night interruption in the form of Lieutenant Henry Matthews of major cases. The girl looked relieved and after talking to the man briefly she walked out quickly. The Lieutenant walked into the room pulled the sheet across the door and walked up to the bed pushing the tray table away. A local boy of mixed heritage he did his best to hide his roots which was a running joke among those in the criminal underclass wow remembered the superstar from high school. A name change and an out of state school helped him transform. He’d been a hot shot with the department and now was working closely with the federal task force in town. While this would have been an impressive career to anyone the young lady chained to the bed with three homicides under her belt was hardly moved by his presents.

She smirked and looked over at him and said, “You might as well be fucking me. Doesn’t your wife care that you’re out all night talking to girls. Oh right you don’t like brown girls anymore.”

If it bothered Matthews he didn’t let on and simply asked, “How are you feeling today? You’re lucky to be alive, but that’s what happens when you try to pull big scores.”

“Listen Lieutenant we’ve been through this a bunch of times with and without my lawyer. I told you everything I remember, and I hope you kill the bastard who shot me.”

“Yeah about that why were you the lucky one? I mean he killed all of your friends.”

Shook her head and let lose a dry laugh before she started coughing and needed water. When she recovered she said, “He killed the other three quickly. I realized what was happening and fired back. Must have startled him and he missed. I almost bleed out before patrol found me, so drop the lucky shit will you. Tell me you got anything on him.”

Matthews shock his head no and walked around the room and began by saying, “No he was very professional. Staked you guys or the armored car out really well, and setup that firing position. Got you guys, and didn’t waste time with the stairs. Rebelled down from his window, and took the car you hard. He let you all load it up first, and he took off. Found it but it was destroyed and not and of course no trace of the loot.”

“MMMM this will hurt but how much did he get?”

“Around two million in cash, jewelry and treasury bonds.”

“Christ I’m going to be sick. Damn so close.”

“Yeah sure we would have caught you Romeo you know that right? So help us find this guy or the full weight of this falls on the one person we do have. The DA is damn tired of you going in and out of county.”

“I got nothing for you, and I’ve been straight for three years.”

“Yeah about that why the hell were you there? I mean seemed like you got it together, and you never did anything this heavy before.”

“You wouldn’t understand so just drop it. Now let me sleep.”
“Fine the nurses’ station has my pager and office number. Good night now.”

As he walked out Maria considered throwing the bed pan at him, but it was empty and wouldn’t really help things. Even the good feeling would fade quickly she thought as she laid back down and sighed. She almost started crying as she thought of the reason she wouldn’t understand. Claire was the reason she decided to go for one big score, not that she would have been good with it if she knew, but for her that was the only way she knew how to earn fast. Claire was the love of her life, and she knew that when she first met her at one of the underground parties for girls who liked girls. Prim and proper Claire in heels and pantyhose sipping on a cocktail in the loud urban club looked a little out of place, but mostly lonely.

She figured what the hell and they began talking and talking, and when the sun came up they walked on the beach together. Within the week they made love for the first time. The ghetto tomboy and the waspy librarian who grew up on the east coast found love together. She so loved her company she even told her about her whole bloody past. She said she didn’t care as long as all that stopped. She was so forgiving and loving she didn’t want to hurt her so she tried her best. She worked as carpenter and then worked second and sometimes third as a mechanic. She was done with drugs and fighting, and even began covering over some of her more violent tattoos with more beautiful art.

It took a while, but eventually Claire wanted a real commitment and for her that meant buying a house together. It was a symbol of her love and devotion and she wanted her put up her half to show she wanted it as bad as her. She wasn’t unreasonable but even working two jobs she didn’t have enough. At one of her side jobs though she helped repair a gym and whenever the owner needed something extra down he’d throw her a few bucks. That faithful day she was emptying the towel bins when she overheard a conversation of a few acquaintances.

She had her suspected that her body builder buddies were financing their lifestyle through crime. They ripped off bar and clubs and used muscle and guns to do it, and now they had a tip on a big pay out. All they needed was a fourth and a fast car. She spoke up and told them she could do both, and while they were taken about they eventually agreed. They were soon planning the job and she was outfitting a rundown looking car with enough power to outrun any cruiser. For a few hours work there would be plenty of money for all to enjoy. For her it meant a fresh start and a new life with a woman she loved. Of course things couldn’t work out that well.

Now she was hurt, in trouble with the law again, and Claire was probably losing her mind with worry. She wasn’t allowed communication with the outside world for now, and she wasn’t sure she would call if she could. She couldn’t as her to pay her bail, and she knew she’d walk if she found out what she’d done. So for now she had to deal with the emotional and physical pain alone. That made the tears come, and she was reminded of the other heart break in her life when she lost little Yareli Robina.

She was more like a sister then a babysitter to the little girl, and she was the one to read stories and help with homework. When there was drive by at the house she was the one to throw herself on top of the tough little girl as the males fired back. It wasn’t all ice cream and rainbows, but she did her best. She helped the little girl learn to shoot beer bottles off the wall, how to fight with a knife, and how to cook. She was there holding that little girl when they found her mother with a needle in her arm. Yareli cried so hard and tried to wake her up, but she was gone before they got there so she just scooped up the little girl and waited for the police. With the old man in jail and the rest of the family a mess they turned her over to child services. She fought like hell that day, but just ended up in jail.

She bailed out and rushed to the hearing, and the judge did hear her out and looked at all the pictures of the two. She told the judge she’d take good care of her and make sure she went to school, but even she knew the judge wouldn’t say yes by the time they went over her background. All the violence and arrests couldn’t be explained away, and the judge wouldn’t be turning over the girl to a young adult who didn’t have her own life together. She begged and pleaded, but they took her away and she threw a fit. That night in jail she had a friend tattoo a little angel on her back with Yareli’s name underneath. Plenty of lovers and fellow inmates asked who she was, and the response was always the same. She’s the daughter they took away.

She’d heard from a few people that her girl was back and town and with the police no less. She thought it was a joke, but she saw her on the news some weeks back and smiled with pride. Maria wasn’t sure why Yareli became a cop, but she was very proud of her. She wished she knew how to reach out, but if they did there would be talk. She probably barely remembered her old babysitter who told her boys were for babies, but girls were for love. She smiled with thoughts of taking her to the beach and working on a car with her playing nearby. It was decided she wouldn’t ruin her knew life. She got out and she deserved better than an old ghost showing up.

Blake Darlington woke up in the late night hours and slipped out of bed as Yareli groaned softly. What could he say she was a good fuck and while there was no way he’d bring the ghetto savage to meet his family she had a special place in his heart. Thanks to his special forces training he could move about the apartment without waking her which wasn’t easy, but he collected his clothes and bagged the weapon he used to kill a suspect. While it was serious it was hardly worth mentioning at this point considering all that went on at Little Havana station and the city in general. Reeking of sex and alcohol and whatever was that body spray Yareli used he discretely made his way to the other apartment in Hyman condos.

He entered and nodded to the agent just inside the entry way watching the door and monitoring the security cameras. After turning the weapon into the officer in charge of the secure storage area he headed to the bathroom and showered and changed into DEA workout sweats. He walked into what would have been the dining room that was flowed into the living room and bar area. Now it was the command center for this disaster relief office, but in fact despite it looking like a dozen different agencies it was really just FBI and DEA agents working undercover. The storm let them come in larger numbers and the corrupt cops had no idea.

For his part Blake had been flying one of the rescue choppers for part of the day, and examining leads as they came in though they had plenty of information to begin the investigation with. He grabbed a cup of Old Amsterdam coffee and sat down in his cubical after he exchanged pleasantries with his fellow coworkers who were also there late. None of them were fucking a gorgeous undercover, so the least he could do was be pleasant and work as a team player. He pulled up the files Yareli wanted on the Bikini Killings and after removing any federal reference numbers or agency logos he printed out the file to the main copier. He also printed out a fairly long list of suspected crimes A.J. was believed to be involved with, so Yareli knew what to look for. It was more streamlined then the files he’d given her, so he added that along with the other reports to a large envelope and walked it down to her car.

He’d had a key made so he placed the package on the front seat along with a little love note explaining everything. He also said that he’d be going back to Washington for a week, but would be back and he left her a contact number. His fiancé’s family was having a series of important dinners and he needed to be there to make a good impression and get some more connections. He also planned to convince the lovely Ava Talbot to be a little less careful with her birth control. He knew their marriage was a given, but he always liked to hedge his bets. Yareli he had to be a little more careful with. He could have her showing up at the family estate with a little mutt in her arms demanding child support. He wasn’t worried though. As usual he had it all handled.

Yareli woke up just before sunrise to an empty bed, and an empty apartment. She shook her head as she dragged herself out of bed. He would have been right pissed if she abandoned him in the middle of the night, but then again Blake had always been a little more attached to her than she had been him. Part of her wanted to call him to find out what made him leave but her more rational mind kicked that part into submission. Now wasn't the time to be sentimental, especially with everything going on with Becker.

It had only been a day but she couldn't help but think he might not have been as bad as Darling's reports said. Yareli knew first hand the way the DEA worked. They set their sights on someone and filled in the blanks afterwards, whether or not someone was actually guilty was an after thought. She'd been involved with enough cases that didn't make it to trial to know that most case files were padded to confuse the defense. Noticing such inconsistencies was what ended her career as an agent, indirectly of course, but still the disenchantment was enough for Yareli to put in her papers.

Now here she was, doing it all over again. She knew Blake was using her, her ambition and their relationship, to get ahead. Knew that if she said no then he would have found someone else and probably gotten himself killed in the process. That's the real reason she took the job. What they had may not have been anything like love but still she felt for him and finding out his body had been recovered off Vice Port would have been a sad day. But she still held reservations about his motives. Sure they were friends but what did she really know about him other than he liked her cooking and her pussy in his lap. And he could say the same of her but Yareli was ultimately less secretive about her situation. She wasn't the type to sneak around and she had always been upfront about her lack of interest in commitment. Sure she didn't go around boasting about her family name but she never changed it either and when people asked of her relation to the Vice City crime family, she answered truthfully. Yareli didn't have anything to hide but she was almost certain Agent Darlington's intentions of bringing down Detective Becker weren't as noble as he led her to believe.

After a quick shower she dressed in jeans and a tank top, stepped into her boots before she pulled on her guns and donned her badge. She slung her duffel bag over her shoulder and headed down to the garage to meet Pantera. Yareli saw the envelope, and the note attached, before she popped the truck to toss her bag inside. Once behind the wheel, she tore it open and flipped through the first few pages that seemed to be all about Becker. Yareli didn't need any of that and hit the series of buttons on the dash that lifted the rear seat to reveal a hideaway compartment. There were two large gun boxes and strong box with a keypad lock, Yareli spun in her seat to put in the combination and put Becker's file inside. She'd look at it later, if at all, what she was more concerned with was the Bikini Murder files. She slipped them into the accordion case file on the passenger seat before she brought her beast to life and peeled out of the garage.

Her first stop was to the station to leave a message for Becker with the desk sergeant that she had a few personal matters to attend to before she checked in for duty. He made a snide comment about making salon appointments on her off days but a simple "fuck off desk jockey" was all she had time to give. There was still a stop at the Little Havana Bakery for breakfast and, just as she suspected, the place was packed.

Early on a weekday morning, the line at the takeout counter was filled with a cross section of Little Havana's working class. There were construction workers starting their days and working girls ending their nights. A few VCPD uniforms were sprinkled in as well as suited bank workers and hotel employees. Being born in Little Havana didn't mean you had to stay but there was no better place to eat. With Becker forcing her to break the proverbial ice, coming home to get fed wasn't at all as difficult as she thought it would be. Especially when Maria Vasquez caught sight of her and waved her to the front of the line.

"Mira you don't have to wait in line," she said with a smile and again Yareli couldn't help but smile back as she pushed her sunglasses up to rest on her forehead. "Aside from being a friend of A.J.'s, tu es la familia hermana. Que tu quieres?"

"Let me get four cafe con leches, two bacon and egg platters, and one of those fruit bowls."

"A.J. usually gets sausage too," she said with a grin and Yareli shook her head.

"It's not for him," she said and Maria shrugged her shoulders before she turned and called out the order, announcing that it was for "Machita". Yareli rolled her eyes at the sound of that nickname and Maria gave her a wink. Little Macho, after her father, because she looked just like him and he took her everywhere. It had been years since anybody called her that, probably since that first group home. "No dice nada con él sobre eso...por favor," she said and Maria laughed.

"Please...no tenga que dime Machita. Somos amigos, pero él no es la familia," she said with a wink before she moved onto the next customer.

While she waited for her order, Yareli grabbed a couple bags of chicharrónes and a few bottles of guava nectar. She found an empty seat at the counter and tried to relax, which was difficult with so many eyes on her. Luckily, she didn't have long to wait. Maria set her bags down in front of her and Yareli reached into her cleavage for her money clip. The woman waved her off but of course Yareli insisted on paying for her order.

"Remember that. I might need a favor someday," she said with a wink and grabbed up the bag. She blew her a kiss on the way out, pushed her glasses back down as she head back to her car. Fumbling with her keys, she didn't see the man leaning on the hood until his boots were in her vision.

"Su padre estaría orgulloso de este sobrina...that badge though," he said, the last with a shake of his head and a few clicks of his tongue. This was the meeting Yareli had been avoiding. Her uncle, the infamous Umberto Robina but to her, he was just Tio Berto. "Don't just stand there Machita! Dame un abrazo. Pensamos que habías muerto."

She didn't expect that, the affection or the tears in his eyes. Caught off guard, she allowed the big bodied man to pull her into a rough embrace so tight it nearly took her breath away. When she felt his lips on her cheek, her own emotions bubbled up to the surface. With her arms trapped between his body and her own, she could hide the tears that streamed down her face.

"You've been here all this time and you didn't come back to the neighborhood sobrina. ¡Por qué! Don't tell me you're ashamed..."

"No Tio...it's just...I'm not..."

"You're not a gangster...claro su padre no quería eso para usted ...Yo sé. But a pig Machita...a pig. He's probably spinning in his grave right now," he said with a chuckle and Yareli felt one of her own coming when he finally released her from his grip. "We tried to get you back you know?"

"I know Tio but after everything that happened..."

"You had to go I know and we took care..."

"No Tio don't tell me that...don't tell me anything...but thank you," she said with a grin and he reached to grab her face, kissed her forehead. "And Tio the Lopez hit wasn't the Haitians. Me and my partner took care of that last night."

"So I heard," he said with a grin of his own. "Does that mean..."

"No I was doing my job. I'm only telling you because I don't want a war to break out so call off the homies and stay out of Little Haiti," she said with a raised eyebrow and he laughed outright. "Tio please...don't make this hard for me."

"I kid, I kid," he said and threw his brawny arm around her shoulder. "I'll put the dogs back on the leash but you know the Haitians aren't so diplomatic."

"Trust me I know."

"Yeah I heard you were there too...well I'll let you get to it. It's good to see you Machita and I meant what I said. My baby brother would be proud of his little girl."

Yareli smiled at that and after another hug, Umberto Robina went on his way and she went hers.

A few minutes later, Detective Robina sat in front of the Schuman Health Care Center. She took a few deep breaths, steeling herself before she got out of the car and walked purposeful steps to the front door. A flash of her badge at the desk stopped all questions and she made her way easily up to the top floor. Once off the elevator, Yarelis didn't have to guess which room Maria Romeo was in. There was a officer stationed out front and he looked up at her surprised when she nodded for him to take a walk.

"I'm not supposed to let anybody in," he said sizing her up and Yareli sucked her teeth.

"I look like anybody to you uni. I said take a walk so take a walk. She chained to the bed ain't she," Yareli said glancing in the window. "What the hell is she gonna do?"

"What's in the bags?"

"Food asshole. Suspects don't talk on empty stomachs. That's why you still babysitting. Now...take...a...walk," she said through clenched jaw to keep her voice down before she pushed open the door.

"You gotta leave your guns Detective."

"Fuck you asshole. You want 'em take 'em. I dare you," she said and slammed the door behind her, waking a sleeping Maria Romeo. She started to speak but Yareli held up her hand as she watched the dejected uniform slink off down the hall.

They just stared at each other for a moment, both seeing the girl they used to know through the women before them. Despite her close cropped hair and tattooed tear drops beneath both eyes, Maria still looked the same. She looked pretty damn good for someone who'd just survived a round from a .308 Sniper rifle. The IV port in her arm wasn't connected to anything. The oxygen line and the chest tube suctioning off fluids were her only tethers, aside from the cuff attaching her to the bed rail of course. Yareli made short work of that, deftly unlocking them with one hand while the other set down the bags of food and coffee on the tray table at Maria's bedside.

"Mira me conoces," Yareli asked flatly, pulling off her sunglasses. She hung them on the chain that held her badge around her neck. She did her best to keep her face expressionless but she couldn't hide the fear in her eyes. The worry that Maria might not recognize her, or worse, that she didn't mean as much to her as Yareli thought. And when Maria looked at her with furrowed brows, Yareli repeated her question in English. "Do you know who I am Ms. Romeo?"

"Qué clase de pregunta es esa mija...how could I forget that face? Ms. Romeo? What the fuck is that shit, huh? I wiped your ass bitch and you come in here with that pig bullshit...the fuck is wrong with you? Do I know you..."

"Aight, aight...Cállate ya TT. Mira, I was just checking..."

"I got shot in the chest you little shit I'm not blind," Maria said with a grin and Yareli laughed away the last of her tension as she eased herself down onto the bed. "Dame un poco de amor puta. Ain't seen you in damn near twenty years and you just gonna sit there...looking scared and shit," she said with a snort that turned quickly into a cough and Yareli reached for the cup of water but Maria swatted it away to grab her instead. She held her tight and Yareli didn't hesitate to return the embrace, though she was careful not to jostle her too much. "It's been too long mija," Maria whispered and kissed both her cheeks.

"Too long...I wish the circumstances could have been better," Yareli said as she pulled away and Maria shrugged her shoulders, shift her eyes to the bags on the table. Yareli chuckled at that and set about unwrapping and arranging everything on Maria's tray.

"Well then I guess we won't talk about the fact that you've been back a few years now and ain't come check for me," she said with a raised eye brow but Yareli felt the jest as it was meant and left it as she scooped half the eggs and all of the bacon meant for her onto Maria's platter. "I seen you all over the news mija...heard them talking about you and your new partner last night when they switched. Viva la cubanas," she said with her coffee held high and Yareli tapped it with her own.

They fell silent after that, well mostly. Maria prodded Yareli with questions about her life since she was taken away and Yareli gave the most detailed account she'd ever given anyone. Ever. Not even the Torreses knew some of the things she willingly divulge to Maria. There was no fear of judgement when speaking to someone who lived the same life as you, who held the same general sensibilities. One may have been a hoodlum, the other a college educated detective but both were cut from the same cloth and any apprehension Yareli felt in her car was gone by the time their plates were empty.

And when Yareli pulled out her pad, Maria already knew what time it was. A switch flipped and Yareli's entire demeanor changed. Her accent fell away and her posture straightened. In full interrogation mode and Maria wasn't even mad. Deep down she hoped but Maria knew the visit wasn't a social one. She appreciated the food and camaraderie, however brief, and she found solace in knowing that the one person who could get her out of this mess sat on the bed beside her. At first, questions were mostly the same but the way Yareli asked them made her want to answer. Truthfully. Maria gave her everything without pause, knowing that her words wouldn't be twisted around to suit some cop on the come-up. She knew she was still looking at at least a nickel for her participation in the robbery but she could do that in her sleep. There was no coming back from a murder rap.

Then Yareli changed gears, focusing on the robbery itself when all the other cops had been focused on the murders. And of course they would be. Careers were made solving murders. Maria couldn't have shot herself but that wasn't enough to clear her in Vice City, Yareli had seen innocent people get hard time with less evidence than was already there to pin on her.

The truth was the heist Maria survived hadn't been the only one. All with similar MOs. Three guys hijack the truck, tie up the employees, and make off with the money. This was the only time anybody died and Yareli knew it had nothing to do with Maria, but she grilled her anyway. Pressing every detail about her dead co-conspirators. Where she met them? How well she knew them? How the money would be divided and when? If they were working for themselves or someone else? And that's when things got interesting. Yareli knew the gym Maria worked at when she "happened" to overhear a few meatheads talking about a heist. More importantly, she knew the owner, Benny "Big Body" Rubia. He wasn't Cuban but he was from the neighborhood and played a few seasons with the Mambas before a few two many coke binges go t him the boot. But he was still a hometown hero, and his celebrity status afforded him VIP at every establishment downtown. He was a few years older than Yareli, so he probably wouldn't remember her but he for sure knew Maria which is probably why he hooked her up when she decided to go legit. It also meant that little conversation she overheard wasn't an accident.

But all this she kept to herself. Not because she didn't trust her, Yareli didn't want to get her hopes up before she got to the bottom of what really happened that day. She gave her the "I'm looking into this speech" as flatly as she could muster and it did the trick.

"They got you good huh mija," Maria said with a derisive laugh and held out her arm so Yareli could cuff her back to the bed. "Got what you needed and out the door huh," she added with a shake of her head and Yareli rolled her eyes as she secured the cuffs loosely around her wrist.

"You should be able to get in and out without too much fuss. Just be careful okay," she said quietly as she stood. "I'm serious TT. You act up they gonna transfer you to the pen and you won't survive. Please be good," she said and leaned to kiss her on both cheeks. "Promise me TT."

"Only if you promise to talk to my Claire. She's probably going crazy out there and these assholes won't let me talk to her."

"I promise...face to face...I'll tell her what I can," Yareli said, already figuring a way to sneak the woman if if she was willing. "I'm gonna find who did this to you TT. Te juro," she said, holding out her pinky and Maria laced her own around it. With their little fingers locked together, both women kissed their thumbs before releasing them with a flick of their wrists. It was an old ritual, a significant one, and they parted ways knowing that the other would do as promised or die trying. And that's all either woman wanted.

But Yareli's high spirits were short lived when she rounded the corner outside the elevator bay in the lobby and walked right into Detective A.J. Becker. He was talking to a nurse, flirting really, leaning against the wall. Yareli had her head down, wheels in her mind spinning as she replayed the conversation with Maria. Both so preoccupied, they might not have seen each other if not for the collision.

"Shit, my bad I didn't see you," Yareli said to the brick wall wrapped in flannel that was her partners chest. She stumbled backwards, but he caught her around the waist, easily setting her back on her feet. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"You promised me a ride and I came to collect," he said with a grin and nodded at the nurse before spinning Yareli towards the door.

"Don't touch me," she said sternly and shoved him away but Becker stayed in step with her, following her out the door.

"I save your ass and that's the thanks I get," I said, still grinning and Yareli wanted nothing more than to knock his amazingly straight teeth out of his mouth. Instead she shoved her clenched fists into her pockets and kept walking. "Aren't you going to ask how I found you?"

"There's a department tracker in the comm unit in my car dipshit. You aren't that clever..."

"Still Not clever enough apparently," he said with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. "I didn't even think of that. I had a uni driving me around the city all morning til we spotted your ride in the meat wagon lane. The rook wanted to give you a ticket but I recognized your plates. I didn't even think of the comm unit...Look would you stop for a minute," he said, grabbing her arm to further his point. The hold straddled the line between forceful and pliant and Yareli grit her teeth to keep from saying the first thing that came to mind. And crying out as her stitches tore open. Becker saw the fury in her eyes and released her. "I read your file Robina and I know you and her got history but you're still my probie and I can't have you questioning murder suspects alone..."

"You think just because you read my file you know me Becker," she asked, her voice a harsh whisper and he took a cautious step back. "I read your file too and it ain't say nothing about your redneck daddy abandoning you to be raised by some mail order bride. Don't say shit about how bad he probably whooped your ass when he was around. Don't say anything about your relation to the inbred trailer trash hill billy Beckers that run shine, meth, and anything else all around the Gulf. I know you too Andrew Jackson Becker and it ain't got shit to do with ink on a page. Now if you'll excuse me I need to go get my stitches fixed. Probably gonna need a few more fucking with your hamhocks," she said hissed, turning on her heels and storming back into the hospital.

She took off her jacket on the way. With blood dripping down her arm and her badge in full view, Yareli was put immediately into a private examine room. A nurse came in shortly there after and offered her something for pain but Yareli said there wasn't any. It was the way she said it, words forced through clenched jaws, and the murderous look in her eye that sent the nurse stumbling backwards out of the room. After a 10 counts, a breathing exercise her adoptive mother taught her, Yareli relaxed enough to realize she owed a couple people an apology. She started with the nurse who brushed it off with a smile as she set up a suture kit on the bedside table. Becker's wouldn't be so easy and she found out sooner than she thought.

"You know," he said from the doorway, his eyes on the unlit cigarette he rolled between his thumb and index finger. "If you were a man, I would have slugged you for that..."

"Should've and I would have kicked your ass like I was one," she said with half a smile and he snorted. "But still I shouldn't have said what I said about your mom...and I'm sorry for that."

Becker looked up at that, opened his mouth then closed it, his eyes locked with hers. His first thought would remain a mystery because his next words were not that. He shift his eyes at the nurse and back at Yareli before, he said, "I take it she gave you more than what's in the report?"

"Of course," she said and Becker grabbed her jacket to fish her pad out of the breast pocket. Yareli winced through a giggle as he flipped through a few pages and shook her head.

"Is this even English," he said with furrowed brows and Yareli laughed outright.

"I got my own short hand and no I won't teach it to you...it's complicated," she said with a grin as the nurse tied off the last stitch. She did a much better job that Darling, bandaged it up nice and tight. Even gave Yareli a roll of fresh gauze and a few surgical bandages to keep it dry before she sent her on her way.

They left the hospital in silence but it wasn't a tense one and Yareli thought, despite the insults, they might have made some headway. Sure she'd given him a peak at her cards but so had he, getting close to him might not be as difficult as she thought.

"Where to first partner," he said as they came to her car and he yanked on the door handle, but she hadn't unlocked it yet.

"Rules first. Don't touch my radio. No food of any kind. Ash out the window, not in the ashtray. You spill something, I cut you," she said straight faced and Becker rolled his eyes. "And if you pull that feet on the dashboard bullshit, I'll shoot off your left nut."

"That it?"

"That's it."

"So can we go now," he asked and Yareli narrowed her eyes at him. "I'll treat this piece of shit like my own piece of shit now can I get in."

"Yeah you better," she said and popped the locks. "And speaking of files, I got a present for you. Look that over while I drive us over to Big Body's gym," she said with a grin as she slipped the federal bikini murder file into his lap. It was twice as thick as their's and Becker let out a whistle as he flipped through the first few pages.

"Your's is definitely better than mine."

"That remains to be seen," she said with a smirk that Becker didn't see and brought her beast to life. "You might want to put on the harness by the way. My foots kinda heavy."

Vice City was enjoying a particularly hot spring that year, and even with the air conditioner going full blast A.J. could feel the heat on the glass of the doors leading out to the balcony of the master bedroom. He stat up in bed and realized first that Michelle wasn’t around, but he could hear music playing downstairs. Whenever she tried to be sober she found a variety of ways to fill the hours. She was back into aerobics that much was clear, but she showed her love for him. There was a large chilled glass of orange juice siting on the night which he drank down with a smile before heading to the shower. He wasn’t sure when his partner would be expecting him, but he had things to do, and that would happen even if she was driving.

https://youtu.be/e3W6yf6c-FA

A half hour later he was on the road heading across the city to the station house. Michelle said she’d stick around to use the pool and the boys promised to make sure she was safe before going back to the base. He teased them about that the fact that Michelle wore a thong bikini in the pool had nothing to do with their concern. He was in his favorite pair of cowboy boots, jeans, and a flannel shirt over a tank top. Even though he knew it would keep coming off throughout the day. He also carried the obvious sidearm along with the badge, but also a half a dozen other weapons. He stopped at a food cart on the way in, and arrived at the station house not long after roll call. Once in the parking lot he held court with the uniforms as he pulled a few bags out of his vehicle.

Everyone had a favor to ask or wanted some kind of advice, and there was a several envelopes for past favors and given out of respect. Already they were fatter with the intention of paying of his new partner as well. It would be a helpful test for Yareli though, because he wouldn’t trust anyone who didn’t take money. Even an honest person had needs things, and if you felt you were above all of it or just crazy neither option were tolerable. Vice City’s internal affairs operated more like a large corporation’s personnel department which was more worried about making a mistake then removing those who weren’t breaking the rules. He’d put her to the test soon enough, and if she was a plant he’d send her packing. What he knew of her background had gaps, and what he didn’t know could hurt him.

This morning Duke was at a press conference and doing his best to explain what happened at the night before, but apparently the media’s interest was only increasing. It started off as a gun fight with some murder suspects, but once inspectors began going through the building they uncovered much more. The work was being done without a permit, those thugs certainly couldn’t be legal security, and the girl rescued talked about her friends. Half a dozen women working in the restaurant for no pay, so they could pay off their debt, and another dozen working the nearby street corner and living in the dump while it was being worked on. Knockoff merchandise was found, and the health inspector was having a field day in the restaurant itself. Now everyone was trying to get some of the credit, but for A.J. it was just another closed case.

He went inside and got his messages which include another one from his “uncle” Phil, and his partner. He smirked and thought about where she could be, but that was a matter for later. He’d go over to Cassidy’s place and take the meeting with Sergeant Peppah. He was probably still there hanging out. If the lead dog of the NCO’s on post wanted to talk he had a pretty good reason. He’d head over to Cassidy’s scrapyard after he finished a few errands around the station. He lugged all the gear in from the night before and went to the armory. The rookie behind the desk told him he needed to go to Swat headquarters and before he worked on the gear or the weapons he needed the correct forms. He was about to drag the kid through the cage when Hondo showed up and snacked the kid on the back of the head.

“You know who this is kiddo? If Sgt. Becker asks for you to do something you just do it. Sorry about that, so you had a hell of a night I’m told. How’s the gear?”

“Just fine Honda,” A.J. said to the two war veteran cop as the rookie hauled everything into the workshop. He then continued by asking, “There is something else though you ever see one of these,” he said as he placed one of the red shell casings down on the counter.

The older man picked it up and nodded and replied, “Sure the military uses these. They’re thinking about going over to 9mm so these are making the rounds. Special Forces people front line units…etc. Where did you get this one?”

“There is any way a civilian can order these?

“Hello no! They’re restricted access even in the military right now, and their selling point is they shred body armor. Hard to justify their use in the civilian market.”

“Thanks I will have to run these down.”

“You’d better those are cop killer rounds if I ever saw them.”

After the sobering news that confirmed what A.J. thought he took care of business around the station including filing paper work and checking his locker. There were a few other envelopes left there as well. Most of it was just for referrals for extra work or giving someone a tip that let them make a bust and look good. People were grateful was all, and it was hardly illegal. With everything in good order he headed out and went to Phil’s scrapyard which had been doing a booming business since the hurricanes.

So when he drove up there was a line of trucks, so he drove around to the front gate and was angrily confronted by some young long haired biker with a shotgun. He stepped out of his truck, and politely punched the young man in the throat and kicked him while he was down. An older biker with a long white beard walking around with a clipboard saw what happed and began laughing hard.

“Sorry about that Mr. Becker he’s new. I’ll take care of the truck for you. Mr. Cassidy is in the back by the firing range. Can I get you a coffee or anything?”

A.J. shook his head and just stepped over the young biker and walked into the busy yard. It was mostly Latino men offloading everything from steel beams to damaged air conditioning units anything else that had value. Once he got past that section of the yard he saw the sign for Phil’s Surplus mounted on top of a warehouse. There white mercenaries and rednecks were looking at and haggling over weapons while Cuban dissidents were in a large circle going over hand to hand combat. Off to one side there was a small firing range with a built up sand bunker and targets mounted on posts. The olive drab patriot parked nearby let him know the sergeant was still around so he walked over and was soon noticed by the group shooting.

Phil was the first to stop shooting and walk over to him. A fat redneck with a mullet and a prosthetic arm was hard to miss, and a few minutes later Sergeant Peppah joined them. The three men exchanged their regular greetings and walked into one of three nearby trailers that served as Phil’s office next to the warehouse building. The doors were shut cold beers were passed around while everyone found a place to sit. With Peppah on the couch, A.J. on a desk chair near the wall, and Phil behind a desk taking a breakfast sandwich out of a wrapper they made small talk. It didn’t last long though and Peppah was the one to break the silence.

“Glad the boys are working out for ya. Remember though they’re still on Uncle Sam’s payroll. Also I want them in the reserves before they join your department.”

A.J. drank some beer and nodded before replying, “Yes I remember our agreement. That isn’t why you called me over here though is it?”

“No it ain’t an army convoy got ambushed.”

“So what happened? And why does an attack overseas warrant you calling me over here while I’ve got work to do?”

Peppah’s face started getting red and Phil realized it so he put up his hands and tried to come the situation down before saying, “That’s the problem son. It didn’t happen overseas it happened up the highway a ways, and what’s more it was done professionally. Oh and another thing…”

Phil stood up and walked over to the weapon’s locker behind him next to a few animal heads and took out an M-16 automatic rifle. It wasn’t standard issue though and had a super seized sixty round magazine, both laser and optical scope, and under the barrel a grenade launcher. The thing looked like a rifle out of a world war three armory. Phil put it on the desk and looked over at A.J. before saying, “They took a shitload of these things. All spanking new from the factory. There are five per crate, and one hundred crates per truck, and there were two trucks you do the math.”

“Fuck this ain’t good,” was all A.J. could muster to say. He stood up and walked to the desk and picked up the weapon handled it. He pointed at a target at the other end of the trailer before lowering the weapon and asking, “How the hell did they take out a convoy and why isn’t this on the news. I’d think the FBI might be looking into all this.”

Sergeant Peppah grunted and then replied, “They’re keeping it quiet. The Sensitive Operations Group has taken over the investigation, and as you recall they pretty much do the hell they want. As far as the base is concerned the whole thing never happened, and there are no records. A few people know bits and pieces, but the whole thing has gone dark. They’re saying the fourteen guys who died we’re in some kind of traffic accident.”

“Any ammunition or anything else being transported by that convoy?”

“No man just those new rifles. We were putting a new airborne recon unit together. Communists take over some island we can drop them in and they send back intel. New weapons, satellite communication etc., but now the project is cancelled out of the blue.”

“So guys what do you want me to do? I’m the local cop remember?”

Phil walked over and took back the rifle and walked back to his desk as he said, “You got contacts with the street and in Sensitive Operations figure you might hear something. We have no idea who’s got their hands on this hardware.”

He turned around and held the rifle against his hip. “You know what the hell one of these would do to a cruiser boy?”

“I get it and trust me if someone starts selling these I’ll be on top of it as fast as possible. As to calling anyone else we’ll see. Those friends don’t like people asking questions,” He then turned to the sarge and asked, “I take it you knew this bunch of guys.”

Peppah nodded and looked down not wanting to show emotion but replied, “Two old friends, a bar buddy, a kid who has only been married three weeks, and I knew the rest were good people. They got hit by rpg’s and sniper rifles for crying out loud. They want to say they died in some damn traffic accident. This was a commando style raid, and they had trucks waiting to hall everything away. They picked a discrete route, and the only reason it got reported was because someone saw the damn truck fires.”

A.J. walked over and patted the man on his shoulder and turned back to Phil and asked, “Don’t suppose you’ll let me hang on to that thing. Anything else?”
Phil shook his head no. The rifle was rare and he was going to keep it for himself. He did smile when he said, “You ain’t getting that rifle but I got some extra pop-proof tires that might fit your truck and some fire proof paint the military lost track of if you wanted a touch up. Also nephew there is the matter of brokering that black Maverick rental and you did bring it in with holes after all.”

A.J. just smirked and shook his head and tossed Phil a stack of cash in brown paper wrapper he had tucked into his waistband. “You can have the truck until tomorrow morning, and I hope I get the family rate next time.”

“That was the family rate boy, but there are always extras. Call who you need to and then we’ll sit and talk for a bit.”

While Yareli was getting her hardy morning breakfast next door at the Little Havana Streetwear & Tattoo Parlor two other cops were also doing business even though the place wouldn’t be open for hours. They weren’t being nearly as nice though and they felt no reason to be to anyone who worked there. The shop was a known gang hang out and any Cuban banger could get everything they needed to complete their outfit including gang tattoos. So when Natalie Ward and her partner Russell Marshall busted a van filled with tattoo artists they only saw opportunity. The three punks were being real obvious on the street when they caught them. They had a tattoo booth setup in the back of the van and asking hookers to service them in exchange for tattoos. While everyone else was rushing to the fire fight they observed and made their move.

They caught them with three girls, booze, and operating tattoo equipment illegally. They could have confiscated everything, and made a bunch of arrests and spent the whole night doing paperwork. Instead though they took all the money the girls had and Natalie even took a pair of the girl’s hooker boots. Russell took the pistol and butterfly knife they found in the van, but they made a deal with the men. Now they were at the shop bright and early collecting. Natalie lay topless on the table in the backroom as the artist worked on impressive unicorn tattoo on her right shoulder. Russell was nearby having Long Range Death and a target sight tattooed in red on his right bicep. Since they were on the special detail again today they were given more flexibility and a plain police cruiser.

Sitting nearby watching in a Saber Turbo was Rico an experienced street fighter, demolitions expert, and race boat driver. In the last big war on the streets he’d helped the Robinas and Vercetti take on the Haitians. After they destroyed the Haitian’s drug factory he barely survived, and while he knew he’d get help from his compatriots he met some new people when he went underground. They liked a man like him and with his natural abilities and skills he fit in well, and was soon a trained operative. They were military types, but they were happy to let him handle things as he saw fit. His latest assignment had him tracking these to, and with them distracted he got his first opportunity to get into their vehicle and place a tracker.

He’d make his next move very soon, and that would advance the whole operation. In the last three days this pair had put themselves in some very compromising positions. They were vulnerable and after checking their schedule he knew exactly when to strike. He checked his MP-5 and attached the suppressor, and then slide in the long magazine. He had these two out gunned and they were still unaware. Now he just had to wait for the right situation to fall into place during his time table. He hated cops and the people he worked for didn’t even mind.

The Vice City Police department did a lot of odd things, and one of them was rookie in-service training. Despite being trained at the city academy and going through orientation the first three months of a rookie’s first year on the job was spent around the station house learning how things operated. It wasn’t so much learning as being tasked with every dirty job in the station before they had to be assigned to the field for training. Officer Jones was just a month in and most of his police work involved getting coffee, running errands, and answering phones. Today though he got to drive Sergeant Becker from the scrap yards to the hospital sure it wasn’t exciting, but it beat the hell out of what he was doing.

While the kid drove A.J. leaned back and smoked a cigarette and thought about everything that was going on. He needed to follow up about this ammunition, and there was the matter of the stolen weapons he wasn’t even supposed to know about. Never mind the serial killer and the new partner who could be a potential threat. This is why he drank, and it wasn’t going to get any better. He had to sort something this out, and that would take some careful planning. Worst of all it would take time for everything to reveal itself.

They were almost at the hospital when he told the kid to pull over and get him a few papers, some coffee, and a few donuts. He gave the kid a fifty dollar bill and told him to keep the change. With a yes sir the kid took off inside the small store and he walked over to the payphones. He called his informant’s business number and got his machine. He could try some of the other numbers, but the guy said he’d call back when he had something so for now he’d give him time to call back. If he didn’t it would be a face to face meeting and the guy wouldn’t be happy. Once the kid came out they headed out and he read about what had happened last night.
Seemed the department was saying it was a gun fight with Swat and while detectives took part it was a well-organized raid. The officers rescued the girl and it was the suspects who blew themselves up rather than be taken alive. There was a shot that had him and Yareli sitting on the truck’s bumper drinking, but the fire was the focus of the shot. While the powers at be were happy with his work they didn’t want him in the spotlight all the time, and he was fine with that. He could lay low for a while and earn without having to look over his shoulder all the time. Well that remained to be scene.

At the hospital they spotted the car quickly enough and after telling the rookie to put away his ticket book he told him to take the long way back to the stationhouse. He headed inside and was able to track down Yareli who hadn’t made any friends with the officer assigned to guard the prisoner. While he waited for her he flirted and killed some time, and when they finally linked up they almost knocked each other over. After that it was just volatile, and things didn’t cool down to they were in the car heading to the gym. What she said to him didn’t only hurt, and not that she didn’t get things right, but she shouldn’t have been right at all. Vice City’s human resources department that worked with internal fairs did a lousy job. She was talking about a file they never had.

Early one A.J. learned when it came to government work boring was beautiful. You needed a solid background and a clean driving record, and once you were in the academy if you didn’t cause problems and could run and shoot you could be a cop. To avoid any issues he gave them a fake background. It was easy to construct thanks to his father being assigned to Fort Baxter. While the post was still expanding the original post never had base housing, so the military build a road to the next county and setup a large military housing complex. Despite not being in the city all base dresses including post office boxes got a city address. From there it was easy.

He fabricated school records with help from a friend, his military record was solid, and with no adult criminal offenses he flew under the radar. Nobody ever even called his real home county after all why would someone push an investigation. He did well on the test and he wasn’t the first to fudge his address, and because he didn’t claim anything extreme or give them reason to think he lied he got on the force. Now he had to wonder what Yareli knew, and how did she know it. Did she look into him further then what the department did or did someone give her his file. He was left with only questions and the lady next to him remained a mystery.
As they rocketed back to Little Havana A.J. went over the file and tried to process it all in his head while he kept wondering who his partner was in the situation. She was streetwise and she had left town for a long while, and when she came back she wasn’t a fed any more. Thing was what agency running an undercover operation would waste all that time putting someone through the academy. If she was in house taking her on that little unauthorized raid would have been enough, hell some of those little creeps would bust him over the bathroom fight and the cigarettes. If she was anything she was something new and he had to make sure she didn’t ruin his life. Thing was more days he kept her around the more she’d learn, and even disposing of a body wouldn’t erase things.

He was a fan of the direct approach, but checking in with a friend would be worthwhile. Brad Clarkson was your typical FBI agent when he came down to Vice City. He was straightlaced, by the book, and boring though that all changed after a few months. The FBI regularly got called-in on high profile dangerous assignments, and during one shootout with some bank robbers A.J. had saved the wounded agent and made a friend for life. The downside of it agent Clarkson became a grade-A mess. After nearly losing his life he was living like there was no tomorrow. Booze, babes, and beach parties to the point people were amazed he made it to work. He’d been assigned to the banking task force which included robberies and money laundering. A.J. had taken care of his last bar bill and made sure he hadn’t gotten arrested for throwing a beer keg in a fight, so he’d get some information.

He went back to the file which was professionally done didn’t have much more than the department had, but the profile of the killer was interesting. The analysis said White or Hispanic which didn’t narrow down the suspect base much, but kept saying the individual who worked alone had a number of skills. Doors were unlocked not broken, stolen cars found with no marks, and almost no evidence was left at the dump sights. The profiler figured the guy hunted and took back the victim to a location they felt safe at to do what they did. The profiler wasn’t sure whether it was something specific about these women or them as a group.

With the gym coming into view A.J. tossed the bound report into the back of the car and looked over at Yareli and said, “It’s useful but for all that freaking education they could make better guesses then I’ve made. Still I’ll run their profile through my computer later and see if it cuts down on the list of psychos. Thank your friend for it though.”

Yareli glanced over and said, “Will do it wasn’t any problem really. So does this mean you’re inviting me over your place for some pizza and computer time?”

A.J. smirked and looked out the window and replied, “Not yet partner. Oh I have something for you. Money for breakfast.”

“But I didn’t even get you,” before she could finish through he threw large envelope filled with cash in her lap. When they stopped at a stop sign a block away from the gym she opened it and fingered the cash and looked up at him and said, “This could cover six months of breakfast.”

“Consider it payment in advance then, besides being my partner has some perks and you’ve been very useful so far. If you don’t’ want it I can hang on to it for you.”

“Listen Bla…Becker we’re partners in this and that means I’m more then useful I’m part of the team,” she replied hoping he didn’t notice the screw up.

“So that means you’re keeping it and all that goes with it right partner?”

“That’s right partner,” she said firmly as they pulled into the parking lot next to the gym.

They looked around and saw that they had one of the last free spots in the lot, and it was filled with pickup trucks, and the street was filled with tractor trailers. A security guard came running over to them, but when recognized A.J. he made a not on his clip board and told them he’d make sure that someone guarded the car. He glanced up at the billboard before turning to his partner and saying, “They’ve been doing tournaments for all the out of town workers. I hear there is a little betting going on. I guess it’s truckers versus plumbers today. Must be nice to get a two hour lunch break. Well I don’t think we’ll find much evidence, but maybe we can find someone to talk too.”

“Yeah hope this isn’t a waste trip. Always thought boxing was just a sideline to this place. You know mostly guys lifting and stuff.”

“You’ve been away a long time Yareli. In this neighborhood everybody plays soccer, but that won’t get you out of the hood. So when Pablo “Ace” Batistuta one the light heavy weight belt everyone started training and trying to get a shot. Nobody has been that lucky, but the gang kids are getting tougher so it’s a positive,” he said with a laugh as he kept walking.

“I remember Batistuta he ran track in high school.”

“Yeah and how many track stars do you know who own mansions let alone houses.”

With the envelope in her lap, Yareli Robina went on autopilot. It was a lot, she could tell before she even opened it, probably three months salary. Shame she wouldn't be able to keep it, but she took it without blinking, saying all the right things without the slightest hesitation in voice. The group homes gave her nerves of steel so by the time she was in the academy, Yareli had not problem with the counter interrogation training. And this was no different. Becker would believe what she wanted him to believe and that meant showing him that she was just as dirty as he was.

After they found a spot, Yareli slipped the key out from beneath her badge to open the locked center console and smiled as she slipped the envelope inside. There were already four neatly rolled bundles of currency equaling about 6 grand, give or take a few hundred courtesy of Agent Blake Darlington. Well not exactly, she traded in a few of his purchases for cash in the off chance that Operation Flashpoint went tits up. There was also about an ounce of San Andreas' finest kush and papers to roll it in, a pint of spiced rum, and three packs of Redwoods. She grabbed on of the latter and said, "I prefer knots by the way," she said with a wink, making sure Becker caught a glimpse of her stash. It was a risky move but she had a feeling it would work out in her favor in the long run.

"Duly noted probie..."

"Do you have to call me that," she said shaking her head as they got out of her car and headed to the heavily guarded door.

"For the next 88 days I do...not in front of company though. I promise," he said with a wink and Yareli felt the strangest thing happen. She blushed, and it wasn't even like he was flirting, just being genuine. She hadn't had a lot of that in her life and she quickly reminded herself of the reason they were together in the first place. Yareli paused to light up a smoke and Becker wiggled fingers. She rolled her eyes and gave him the one she just lit and he took it with a shrug. "Why don't you take point on this? I mean it is your lead we're chasing down and I'd love to see if any of that fancy DEA training works down here in the dirt and grim of Vice City."

Yareli didn't take his bait, simply smiled as she stepped up to the door. The behemoth of a man looked over her shoulder at Becker before he stepped aside to allow them entry. The aroma that hit her as soon as she crossed the threshold was nauseating to say the least. An acrid mix of stale sweat, piss, with just a hint of blood had Yareli breathing through her mouth. Even the cigarette didn't help and she made her way quickly through the rows of machines in route to the office in the back. The place was crowded with grunting meatheads and half dressed women with towels and sports drinks. She noticed more than a few not so subtle hand to hand exchanges but that's not what she was there for so she kept moving.

That is until she came to the stairs and caught sight of the ring on the lower level where two men were locked in a bare knuckle brawl. Neither of them were in anything like boxing shape but that didn't make the punches any less punishing. They weren't even wearing proper trunks. The potbellied mullet head was clad in white trash workout gear, cut off jeans and work boots while the slightly more lean heavily tattooed Latino wore dark blue work pants and sneakers.

"I think you're right?"

"What about?"

"Plumbers versus truckers," she said with a nod at the ring were the work pants had slipped well below waistline. Becker made a face and flicked his cigarette onto the floor before he headed up the stairs. Yareli followed closely behind, chuckling the whole way.

The second level was like a whole other world. Pop art lined the wall on one side of the hallway leading to the reception area while the other glass wall overlooked the gym floor below. The reception area was done up in typical Vice City opulence with loud palm tree printed wall paper in pink and black on the dominant wall behind the desk where a bottle blond Latina with black roots popped gum and filed her nails. The opposite wall was painted the same bright pink at the palm trees. The other two walls were windows, one facing the gym the other overlooking beautiful Ocean Beach. All the flowers and potted plants did nothing to cover the heavy aroma of marijuana smoke, but Yareli wasn't there for that either. She had a mild habit of her own anyway, so who was she to judge. She went straight for the desk, her heavy boots sinking an inch into the expensive black shag carpeting, but the girl behind the desk didn't even look up.

"Big Body don't have no appoints today," she said and Yareli shrugged her shoulders.

"Great 'cause I wasn't looking to make one," was her quick response as she moved swiftly to the door. That got the secretary up and out of her seat, rushing as best she could in her skintight dress and stiletto pumps. She was a step away from Yareli, one hand outstretched to grab her arm before the new detective spun around gun drawn. "Don't fuckin' walk up on me bitch are you crazy?"

"Dios Mios...I didn't see your badge. I'm sorry," the girl said with both hands up as she slowly backed away. "At least let me tell him you're here...he's not...there's somebody..."

"Don't worry 'bout it honey," Becker said with a syrupy sweet smile to counter Yareli's scowl. "We don't mind interrupting."

Yareli was already throwing open the door, her gun still out, unsure of what she might find. Benny "Big Body" Rubia behind his desk, his head thrown back and mouth open. The source of that pot smell smoldered between his fingers. There was a body suit thrown over the arm of the big leather sofa and Yareli guessed it belonged to the feet hanging out the side of his desk.

"Es un mal momento," Yareli said with a smirk and Benny jumped up from his chair. Pants around his knees, Yareli couldn't help her glance. But still she wasn't impressed.

"The fuck you..."

"Shhhh Calma Benny," Yareli said, raising her gun. The woman, who had been on her knees, seemed unfazed by the interruption. Simply stood up as she wiped her stray lipstick and grabbed her clothes, leaving the office in just her heels. Yareli gave her a whistle as she went which got her smile before she turned her attention back to Benny. "Now why don't you put your dick away and have a seat...Go head try me," she said with a grin at Benny twitching hand. "I promise it won't be a head shot either."

"I know you," he said with a sneer as he righted his pants and sat heavily behind his desk.

"And I know you," Yareli said as she pushed her gun back in the holster and took a seat. "So we can skip the introductions then?"

"Is he decent," Becker shouted from the reception area and Yareli snorted.

"All clear partner," she said before he came, but he didn't take the other chair. Instead he took up a position by the door, which he closed and locked behind him. "You know him too don't you?" It was a rhetorical question. Yareli saw the twitch in Benny's eye when Becker rounded the corner. This was going to be fun and she settled in with her feet kicked up on the edge of his desk. "So let's make this quick shall we?"

"You mean I got a choice," he said with his eyes on Becker and Yareli didn't mind. She was accustomed to being underestimated but it took her years to realize it worked to her advantage.

"Of course you do mijo," she said sweetly and Benny shift his eyes to her dirty boots on his desk. Yareli did nothing but crossed them and smile. "Answer my questions or I crack open that safe you got behind that shitty fake Warhol..."

"It ain't fake..."

"He never painted Che," Yareli said shaking her head. "Some asshole copied his style and sold it. Warhol found out and said fuck it, if it sells I want a piece. Don't get me wrong, it's looks damn good up there but still es mierda mijo."

"Fuck you..."

"You wish," she said with a grin and sunk down into the cushy leather armchair.

"Who'd you blow to get that gold badge anyway," Benny said and flicked his eyes at Becker who raised a curious eyebrow.

"Nobody yet, I'm saving that for when I put in for sergeant," she said with a conspicuous lick of her lips and Becker snorted behind her, bringing a smile to her lips. "If you're done baiting me why don't we get down to the business of that safe, shall we?" It may have sounded like a question but both men heard the command the way it was meant and Yareli didn't wait for Benny to answer before she pulled the three 8"x10" morgue shots of Maria's accomplices from her inside pocket. She stood to lean across his desk, setting them down before him before she rest her palms on the edge. "These three were members right?"

Benny didn't say a word, only cleared his throat. A poor attempt to cover his initial reaction. Yareli heard his caught breath, saw the tremble that came to his hands as his dark eyes scanned the photos.

"You don't have to answer that sweetie we already know," she said with a smirk as she stood and made her way around his desk. "Why else would we be here? I mean I don't really do the gym scene and my partner, as well built as he is, ain't no meathead. We not looking for memberships mijo," she said as she casually lifted the forged print off his way and smiled. "Well what do we have here Becks?"

"Looks like a safe to me Robina," her partner said with a smirk, but still made no moves from the door. He did put his hand on the pistol at his hip, just in case Benny tried anything. "I'll bet the combos written down somewhere..."

"Combo schmombo...Mama doesn't need that," she said spun the dial. "Couple rounds from my .45 would blow these hinges easy..."

"True but why waste the ammo. Between the pot and the juice I bet this guy's short term memory is fucked. If it ain't his birthday I bet it's written down somewhere on that desk."

Taking Becker's cue, Yareli slowly spun in Benny's birthday, calling out each number as she went. She knew Benny wouldn't use the date for his safe combo, given the blowout parties he threw every year at his mansion on Starfish Island. He wasn't that stupid, but still she pretended to be shocked when the safe didn't open.

"Oh well looks like I'm gonna have to tear this place apart then," she said with a fake frown as she reached for the phone and yanked it out of the wall. Yareli flipped it over, running her hand along the base in search of a false bottom. Finding nothing, she tossed it against the wall, deliberately shattering a framed poster sized photo of Benny and Love Fist.

"Aww come on," Benny said finally piping up but he knew better than to leave his seat. "I don't know nothing about that heist." Yareli smiled at that and caught eyes with Becker who raised an eyebrow, silently giving his approval.

"Now Benny, who said anything about a heist? I know I didn't, what about you Becks?"

"Nope definitely wasn't me," was Becker's response, complete with an exaggerated shrug and Yareli picked up the expensive crystal lamp from the desk.

"Yeah I didn't think so either. Something you need to share Benny," Yareli said before she put her fist through the lamp shade and tore it off the frame. The base hit the floor shortly there after and Yareli shift her eye to Benny.

"Ouch," Becker said, cringing at the sound of shattered glass. "Now that's unfortunate..."

"I can be kinda clumsy," Yareli said, moving to the nude bust of a voluptuous woman. The breasts pert, hips round, she grabbed it around the waist and gave the ass a quick caress. "Sexy right...shame she's gonna be in pieces."

"Fuck Robina I know 'em alright...fucking puta sucia," Benny shouted but still Yareli heaved it across the room at Becker who made no move to catch it.

"Oops," he said with a shrug and Benny dropped his head to the desk.

"That was 15 grand you just tossed on the ground..."

"Waste of money if you ask me," Yareli said as she came back around the desk, deliberately grinding glass into the plush carpet as she went. She resumed her relaxed position, feet kicked up on his desk and lit up another cigarette. "So Benny, you were saying?"

https://youtu.be/9QO4aegj-jA

A few blocks away, Penelope Montenegro sat on a stool under a single spotlight. In a pair of thigh high leather boots and fishnet body stocking, she strummed the intro to her favorite song. She might not have been Cuban by heritage but moving to Vice City the young guitarist found she related more to their sound. There was something about the rhythm that drew her, even more than the rock she listened to back in Liberty City. Alone on the center stage, she closed her eyes as she belted out the words, occasionally adding in her own lyrics as was the songs tradition. Unable to see the men leering at her, and throwing money, allowed Penelope to pretend that their cheers were for the music.

As the band joined in, the lights came up on the two smaller stages that flanked her where two women dressed like revolutionaries gyrated around a pole. Part of her felt dirty for the part she played in the bastardization of a struggle that wasn't hers, or the two bottle blondes on the stage, but they all had to eat. The exiles went wild for her rendition. Even in the middle of the afternoon, there was a carpet of green beneath her stilettos. Luckily she didn't have too long to think about it.

https://youtu.be/XBxlAATrd-E

Before she knew it the drummer was kicking out a solo and one of the other dancers was strutting out with her ax as the lights went down. Two other dancers made their way up on the side stages and rocked out for the tourists. Penelope screamed into the mic, humping her guitar seductively. To her, it was as close to a concert as she would get and Penelope took full advantage. It didn't matter to her that she was basically naked and perpetuating the exploitation of her fellow women, she was on the stage. Her mane of jet black hair glistening under the bright lights while the crowd chanted her name.

For three more songs, she basked in the glory of the show and blew kisses to her admirers as she strutted off the stage. Sure it wasn't what she left Liberty City for, and the situation wasn't ideal but she was playing music and that's all that matter to her. She grinned as she came back to her little section of the dressing room, past the girls doing lines of blow off their vanities and disputes over johns. Penelope didn't get into all that, well maybe a little blow every now and then but her habit hadn't led her to selling her ass so she considered herself lucky.

"My brother's dead because of you bitch," she heard just before a hand yanked a chuck of her hair. Penelope threw her hand up just in time before that hand shoved her head down with the intentions of slamming her head against the vanity. "You and your dyke cop girlfriend..."

"She's not my girlfriend," Penelope yelled as she threw herself backward, flipping her chair over, pinning Blanca beneath it. She grabbed the girl's wrist and dug her nails in until she let go her hair then twisted it until she heard bones snap. Blanca let out a howl that was sure to bring security but Penelope wasn't done. She may have been the sweet one. The one who offered her couch to girls who's boyfriend's beat up on, who shared her tips, but she wasn't about to let some junkie whore get the best of her. The backroom was like a prison, if you let one get over on you, the rest would follow and she couldn't have that. So she slipped around and put a knee in her chest. "All I did was dance you dumb bitch," she screeched, one hand around Blanca's throat, the other in her hair. Unfortunately it was a wig and Penelope yanked it off instead of ripping it out of her scalp. But that didn't stop her either. She avoided Bianca's pitiful excuse for defense as she slammed her fist down into her face, swelling her delicate features almost immediately.

Her knuckles were cut up and covered in blood by the time the bouncers came and pulled her off, but still Penelope kicked and screamed as a couple of Blanca's friends came and pulled her away. But not before Penelope could spit in her face.

"Crees que este es más de puta...Eres puta muerta...Muerta!" Blanca squealed as she was dragged away. One eye was already swollen shut and her nose was bleeding but still she shouted threats all the way outside.

And once she was gone, Penelope was immediately calm. The bouncer set her down and righted her chair before she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Tell Tommy I said sorry..."

"Please," the behemoth said, with something like a smile on his face. "You bring in more money than that skank."

"But still. You know I don't like causing trouble."

"Sure sweetie, I'll let him know."

By then Detectives Becker and Robina were making their way out of Benny Rubia's office. Aside from the information on the heist, they each left with a couple stacks of cash from Benny's safe. It was Becker's idea to open it, despite his cooperation, but Yareli had to introduce Benny to the butt of her .45 before he complied. They left most of it, enough for him to pay off the anonymous broker who fronted the finances for the heists with the stipulation that he let them know when and where the payoff would take place. They hadn't gotten any closer to the murderer but hopefully meeting the real organizer would get them somewhere.

"Well that wasn't a complete waste of time," Becker mumbled as they came to the landing overlooking the ring. There was a new match going on, two Black guys who looked more suited for the fight game than the last. "Looks like they got some ringers to make it interesting," Becker said with a smirk at Yareli's reluctance to move along. "Gonna get in on the action?"

"Nah, I only bet on myself."

"There's some lady pipe fitters down there who'd love to take a swing at a Detective...even a probie," Becker said with a wink and Yareli rolled her eyes.

"Please, and risk these cheekbones and perfect teeth," she said before turning away and nudging her partner with her elbow.

"You don't seem like the type to shy away from a scrape," he said with a chuckle and Yareli shrugged.

"I didn't say that but I don't look for 'em either."

From a recumbent bike at the fair end of the gym floor, Carlos de la Cruz watched the two officers yucking it up on their way to the door. His once jet black waves had been straightened and dyed auburn to go with the name change that had finally gone through. Charles Cruise was nothing like the Cuban boy who grew up just over the bridge in Little Havana. His accent was gone, even on the rare occasions that he spoke his native tongue. For years he had tried to lose the last shreds of his ethnicity, to forget who the streets that made him. But here he was, back in Vice City, but all he wanted to do was blend in with the rest of the Anglos who flocked to the city after the hurricane to take advantage of the rebuilding.

Real estate was cheap and Vice City was known to turn a blind eye to paperwork when cash was provided, so he purchased a bungaloo in Washington Beach under his assumed name and a storage unit in Vice Point under than name of a fictitious construction company. With his name change, getting a job was easy. There were plenty of hospitals looking to hire fresh bodies after the exhaustion of the hurricane. With his forged credentials, he was a shoe in for any nursing position but of course he chose the most prestigious. Ocean View Hospital was a dream job with it's flexible schedules and ritzy clientele but it was just a way to keep his skills sharp for his true calling.

Working at the hospital also gave him access to the tools he needed to complete his life's work, cleansing the mankind of the whores who paid top dollar to perpetrate a lie. Aside from the usual medical care, Ocean View Hospital employed the best plastic surgeons in the city and good ole Charley had access to all the files. Sugar babies, working girls, and desperate housewives, all lined up to get under the knife at Ocean View. Little did they know that sweet male nurse who took care of them after their procedures stalked them after their release. The well-intentioned, oft neglected, wives and girlfriends he let go. They weren't the problem, nor were the women looking to better themselves for their own self-esteem. It was the parasites who wanted, the ones who used their assets to bilk unsuspecting men out of their hard earned money, who sought to humiliate powerful men into submission.

Charley knew the detectives weren't there for him but still he watched and a bit of shame bubbled up in the pit of his stomach at the sight of Yareli Robina. Why couldn't he be as proud as she was, despite her checkered past. His own family were hard working honest people but he jumped at the chance to shed their likeness. She, on the other hand had no problem being associated with a family of immigrant murderers and drug dealers. He wondered how she could smile so brightly with such a heritage and found the answer without asking her a word. It was her badge, she was doing her part, just like he was doing his. Only difference was the means.

While Yareli and her partner were dealing with the lower levels of law enforcement Blake Darlington was back in his element in Washington D.C. and loving every minute of it. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his fellow agents, but living in the field was endless cycle of crapped motels, stakeouts, and bad takeout food. Vice City hasn’t been as bad and his cover actually had him behind the controls of a rescue Maverick helicopter, and the hide end apartment didn’t hurt either. Yareli was no Ava Talbot, but then again the young socialite couldn’t fuck like the ghetto girl either. She visited him in his shared apartment and while she begged off of sex because of her monthly visitor, but she was more than happy to suck his cock after dinner.

Now relaxed and rested Blake was back at FBI headquarters making a presentation to the FBI supervisors and their DEA counter parts. Aside from some grumbling from William Gold Yareli’s old boss the presentation was going pretty well. He’d not been happy that Blake had selected her, but was only because of all the trouble the young Latina agent had caused while with the agency. Even he had to admit you didn’t meet many women who willingly went out to the parking lot for a fight with an agent who had at least fifty pounds on her to settle a dispute. He still remembered steering away a bloody and bruiser Yareli who was carrying her heels from going back to the banquet hall.

Now though he went down the list of suspects who worked out of the Little Havana Station specifically. He had pictures and bio’s, but needed to keep things interesting and focused on him. So with laser pointer in hand he went through more of the corrupt cops in the district. He didn’t have all the facts, but he had plenty to go on, and eventually that would turn into court cases and informants.

He began by pointing to an image of a Detective who appeared to be running an investigation and after clearing his throat he began by saying, “This is Thomas Anderson a fifteen year veteran of the force, decorated for bravery several times, and has a cocaine habit and Jamaican mistress. Lately he’s been financing his activities by ripping off card games and businesses owned by drug dealers. Lately though he’s been having some losses after his last few trips to Las Ventura, and pulled two hits for Tommy Vercetti to cover his debts. We’re putting a packet together for him, but if he has anything interesting to say he might make a good witness. He will do time though.”

“Next we have a very attractive,” Blake glanced up at the picture of the police woman in a blue bikini with her gun belt on and smirk before continuing, “but very corrupt Natalie Ward. She hasn’t been on the force all that long but she’s involved with drugs, gambling, as well as amateur pornography and prostitution. She’s scum and while these would be neglected local matters the people she’s involved with as far as films also take part in money laundering and smuggling. During the recent hurricane her and her partner, we’ll get to him next, took part in looting and at least three homicides including an arms dealer who was informing to our friends in the ATF. They want to have a talk with them as well.”

“Her partner Russell Marshall is another problem child that found a home in the Vice City Police department. By age eighteen he had trophies for marksmanship, and killed everything on four legs. We also suspect he likes to kill things on two legs a lot, and there were a number of highway killings by someone with a high powered rifle which ended about a week before officer Marshall went to the academy despite being turned away from the army and marines. He’s tried out for the Swat team a number of times, but denied despite perfect scores. In a city where the police kill a lot of suspects he still manages to stand out. It’s believed he’s been involved with number arms deals, worked as a mercenary and hitman, and there is all the other local corruption. Also he has a sexual relationship with his partner, so you can add adultery to the very long list.”

“Now before we break for lunch I’ll introduce you to Johnny Garcia,” Blake said before glancing up to make sure that the picture of the overly muscular Garcia was displayed. “Right it should be no surprises by looking at his physique that officer Garcia was an impressive college football player who only didn’t make the pro’s because of an injury his senior year. He’s won the department’s boxing and karate championships for three years running, and is heavily involved with drug trafficking especially steroids. It’s believed he has connections with a number of NFL teams and colleges. He’s also cleaned up messes for several athletes in the area. He has a house with a pool and a gym that far exceeds his pay. He’s a poor example to young athletes.”

While others were getting up to leave and the lights came on William Gold loudly asked, “And how is your undercover helping with all these. Far as I understand she’s only riding with one detective who has survived several investigations and several attempts on his life for that matter.”

The old guy was going to be a problem, but it was better to deal with him and get it over with. It was good to do it with witnesses he thought and replied back, “Well agent Robina grew up in this culture and she’s been among these officers for a while and been in the department longer. For example she’s gone out drinking with Ward and other female officers in the past; she’s been to the range with Russell and probably hunting as well. When she got back to the city she had a sexual relationship with Garcia and used his private gym freely. Anderson has had her over to barbecue and that always ends in card games for money. While we’re working on proving it we know they all give money to Becker who takes a cut and passes it on to his captain.”

He walked over to Gold and got in his personnel space and smiled before he said, “She’s in the right place and it will all come down. We’re dealing with wide spread corrupt here. A lot of drugs, money, and weapons pass through that precinct and we’re going to get them all if we do it right.”
Gold just nodded and walked off with his aids which made Blake smile. He walked over and thanked his technician and told him what to have ready for the afternoon presentation. Operations commander Logan Cooper waited for him to finish and for the room to clear before he approached the operative and patted him on the shoulder and said, “Good job Blake and don’t worry about Gold he’s out of favor right now all he can do is complain about other people’s work you’re doing a good job though. Have lunch with me? I got food in from the Whiskey Wharf. I do have one issue to bring up though.”

“Sure I’ll be glad to inform you about any part of the investigation. Also I’d love some good sea food.”

Cooper smiled and nodded than said, “Look I don’t know what you’ve been telling Yareli and you can manage the investigation any way you like, but I’ve been getting a lot of push back on the possibility of her return. We wanted her out before, and turning in cops won’t change that. Now the money and relocation is something we’re all more comfortable with at this time. We don’t want any scandals or problems once she’s done her part.”

“That won’t be a problem. I’ll sell her on that option and when this is all over she can start a new life a new career.”

Tommy Vercetti considered himself a business man, but he didn’t dilute himself either. While normal people could go to lawyers and the police he had to handle his problems with brute force and cunning. Still though some business aspects remained so he regularly toured all the businesses under his flag which was now called the Vercetti group. How some poor kid from Liberty City with a record had amassed a fortune was something better explained by his legal team though. So from the alleys to the boardroom he took care of business and today was no different. He’d enjoyed ice cream at his factory; saw a number of fast boats at the boatyard, and test drove a new race car at sunshine autos. Now finally he was at Pole Position and was reviewing the books with a nervous manager. While he was a reliable man it was good to make him sweat once in a while.

https://youtu.be/miwFiefa918

Along with facts and figures the crime lord got to hear about the gunfight, the bar fights, and the behavior of the clients. The girls were a whole other matter and it was like dealing with a bitch work crew who either loved or hated each other and the competition for dollars didn’t help. Girls went all out on stage to get tips, but the lapdances were where the real money was made and there was always pressure to do a little extra. The twins Bella and Stella had the best deal since they bartended and danced, he’d even had them out to his boat and his house. You hadn’t lived until you saw that sexy pair make you a rum and coke. Michael his enforcer along with the head bouncer informed him of the latest incident between La Blanc and Penelope, and could only shake his head and laugh.
He turned around the plush office chair and looked at the two men and smiled before saying, “Dino tell Penelope it is okay but take a few days to cool off, but tell La Blanc she’s not working here for at least two weeks. I got enough shit going on without having staff members fighting it out especially when they’re not oiled up and in a pit. Also Michael reach out to the Champ he’s always welcome but I’m tired of this crap from his minions. I decide who moves product here, and who is allowed to bring a piece.”

Both men answered together with a, “Yes Boss.”

As the pair were about to walk into the hallway Tommy gestures for Michael to come back in and the experienced soldier walked over and leaned in to listen like he’d done so many times before. Tommy spoke softly but authoritatively when he said, “Reach out to Becker. Tell him I want to see him at the house. No ask him to come over the house. Things are going on in my city, and I want to know about it. If it’s as bad as I think we might be going to war soon.”

Michael just nodded and the powerfully built man exited the club’s office. Tommy made his way out a short time later and got into his Stretch. The Malibu club was his next stop, and maybe he’d be able to relax for a little while. There he’d meet with Kent Paul who had another band to promote and deal with his cocaine abusing lawyer. It wasn’t easy being Caesar, but if you didn’t step up there would be anarchy. Everybody hated the bad guy until he was gone.

After the sex display and shake down at the rather brutal boxing gym Yareli and Becker drove around for a bit. They didn’t talk much, but made the rounds talking to hookers, concerned citizens, and a few druggie informants. Despite all the work available there were always people looking for a quick way to make money and those on the bottom of the economic ladder fought the most viciously for every dollar. For every Tommy Vercetti there was at least a hundred others who were in the ground, in jail, or coked out of their minds living like zombies. For Becker it had always been keeping the machine running.

That was what he was thinking as he stared out at the colorful urban landscape through the window when Robina interrupted his thought when she said, “I need to make a phone call Becker.”

“Fine pull over at the next phone booth and do it I’ll grab a smoke or better yet we can check back in at the station.”

“Yeah this is the kind of call you don’t want people seeing you make, and I don’t want to go back to the station or home for that matter,” she said remembering that Blake and his cronies were listening to every phone call.

“You like cheesesteaks?”

“Yeah why I want to make a call I don’t need a sandwich.”

“Just drive I’ll let you know when to stop.”

https://youtu.be/StKVS0eI85I

A short while they pulled into a parking lot next to what used to be a building. Construction workers had been taking down what was left of the old building, but were now breaking for lunch. There was a line for the food truck that was in the corner of the parking lot near the street. Rather than waiting online though A.J. just sat down at one of the empty tables and waved to someone in the food truck and got a wave back. He held two fingers up and sat back down and gestured for Robina to join him and unsure she did and soon she got her answers.

A short time later the truck’s own came out carrying two baskets and two beers in a cardboard box. Robina thought she stumbled but as she turned around to get better view he realized that she was one of the attractive women that were in Becker’s file. She’d been a girlfriend or something but the picture neither did her just is or told the full story. She had long dark hair up under a bandanna so there was no mistaking the fact she had an eye patch over her right eye, and while she had a good body in shorts and tank top you could see a prosthetic leg below the knee. She moved on it pretty good, and while Robina tried not to stare it wasn’t something you saw every day.

She put the food and drinks down between them but she immediately walked over to Becker and walked around behind him and threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek loudly. She smiled and said, “Hey baby you’ve away too long. Did your favorite for both of you. Hope your new girl don’t mind me kissing you.”

She looked at Robina and while still hanging on Becker she held out her left hand and showed her a diamond ring before she said, “We’re cool right? I’m married now but this is a great guy I hope you know that. I’m Jaime,” she said as she moved to offer her right hand to Robina who shook it and looked at Becker curiously. She wasn’t this friendly just because he tipped well.

“Oh you jerk you didn’t tell him you were coming to see your favorite ex for lunch?”

“No I didn’t and she’s not my girlfriend she’s got a badge too. She’s my new partner.”

“That’s cool so did he tell you about how he saved my life and everything, “she asked as she sat down next to Becker and took out a pack of smokes only to place them down on the table and reach out to hold Becker’s hand. Robina shook her head and took out one of the baskets and smiled.

“No we still have a few secrets it’s only been a few days. Already almost got me killed though.”

“Yeah he does that so you want to know about him and I?”

“You know what this was a bad idea I think we’ll get this to go.”

Robina picked up the cold beer and cracked it open and took a drink and then shook her head wildly before saying, “hell no talk girl I want dirt on him.”

Jaime laughed and then signed before she began by saying, “It was a few years back. Well more than a few really. He was still in uniform and I’d just arrived from Puerto Rico and I was being very stupid. I’d dance at the strip clubs and turn tricks after last call until dawn and sleep all day. I fucked and sucked like it was going out of style, but this one treated me and all the working girls with respect. I was being stupid though I mean I’d get into a car with anyone, but my luck ran out one night.”

She clearly tightly squeezed Becker’s hand before continuing. She looked down and then back over at Robina and said, “One night some psychopath tried to take me. You heard about him on the news the Chainsaw Killer. Well he tried to get me to go with him I said no he came after me I jammed a switch blade in his side, I was a slut but I wasn’t stupid. He beat me so bad destroyed my eye, broke my ribs, and screwed up a lot of other stuff. He was throwing me in the trunk of his car. He liked to chop up people at home when A.J. is trolling around on graveyard shift and see’s what is happening.”

She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek before turning back to Robina and saying, “I thank god he didn’t take a coffee break. The creep tries to take off but my lovely leopard print skirt gets caught on the car and he drags me down the street while A.J. is chasing him. Fortunately he sees what is going on and drives his cruiser into that guy’s car. He gets out and blam blam, twice with the shotgun breaking the window and then gut shots him and leaves him to bleed out. He comes over to me, I had road rash all over and I’m bleeding but this one he doesn’t care. He picked me up and puts me in the back of the cruiser and drove like a mad man to the hospital.”

“Wait you bagged the Apartment 3C Killer? I thought the guys in homicide nailed that guy. I mean they talk about that investigation at the academy.”
Becker smirked and replied, “They were on the right track, and they figured I was just lucky. They mentioned me in the report for helping them locate the killer. I called it in and they found plenty of evidence in the car. They weren’t happy that they didn’t have a live suspect, but I didn’t give a shit.”

Jaime hugged A.J. and nodded and told them to eat, but after they ate and drank for a few minutes she started to tell her story again. “So I’m in bad shape, but he makes sure they take good care of me. Doesn’t know more than my first name then, but he tells them I’m a cop’s girlfriend. So they don’t dump me out as soon as I could hobble away. I lost the leg from being dragged and the eye well I still have one pretty one,” she said rubbing the side of her face. There was clearly visible scar that the black eyepatch didn’t cover.

“He visits me, makes me go to therapy, and soon as my leg heals enough he takes me for a long walk on the beach and tells me I should never turn tricks again. He lets me live with him and in exchange I cook clean and got used to a life sober. You know it was a lot better sleeping at night, reading books, and just well talking to a man for a change. I mean I was with him for six months and he didn’t touch me for two. I thought it was because he thought I wasn’t pretty any more. Well no he respected me,” she paused for a moment and giggled before saying, “I’d been with a lot of guys but we actually made love and well I felt good for a change.”

Becker actually might have been blushing but her put down his beer and said, “She doesn’t need all the details. I helped you get back on your feet introduced you to Bryan and well you’re happy and married.”

“You did more the help a little and I’m married now and three months pregnant honey. If you hadn’t saved me none of that would have happened,” she said tossing the cigarettes over to Robina.

“I’ve quite but I keep getting tempted.”

She sat and talked with the pair for a little while longer before it was clear she was needed to help out with the crowd. She did explain that her husband who was from Philadelphia gave her the idea for the stand. There were already a million good Spanish food trucks so it paid to be different and it was working out for her. Robina knew from this short but very telling conversation that she wouldn’t be saying anything bad about A.J., and the department lied as well. The task force had probably cost a fortune, but some patrolmen who wasn’t sleeping cut down a serial killer in the act. She watched Jaime and realized why these people were loyal to this man, he earned it.

Half a cheesesteak later and more fries than Yareli would care to admit she looked over at her partner and asked, “I wanted to use the phone and you got me a free lunch. Mind explaining this to me?”

A.J. just smiled and gestured for Jaime to come back over and she did placing two chocolate milk shakes in plastic cups in between them on the table. She also placed down some napkins and told them to enjoy desert and walked away. He reached over and slid the napkins closer to her and as they move it revealed a satellite mobile phone. He gestured to the phone before picking up his shake and said, “Bryan is a bit of a survivalist and always wants to be able to call Jaime. She lets friends use it from time to time. It’s almost impossible to trace, and there are dialing instructions on the back. So make your call I’m going to enjoy this shake.”
Yareli picked up the phone with a nod of appreciation and went over by the fence and dialed the phone. She hoped Claire would be home and several rings later she was greeted by a clearly sobbing woman saying it wasn’t a good time. She told her she was with the department and explained Maria’s situation and Claire reacted about as well as someone being told that their lover was under arrest and in the hospital would. After she calmed down some and began asking questions about bail and visiting Yareli couldn’t hold back after hearing the kind voice on the other end of the phone. This woman deserved better than the department courtesy call.

So she slowly explained who she was and told Claire her first name and that received the loud response of, “Wait you’re her little girl! You’re the one in the angel tattoo. Oh my god her favorite picture of you is her holding you while she is cooking you’re in a diaper and purple t-shirt and you hair is those cute braids. I told her a million times to reach out to you, and you were the one to find her. She has so much love for you honey.”

Yareli was sure she was blushing as she heard all the kind things Claire had to say about her. She finally broke in and said, “Well I’m not exactly her daughter but I have a lot of love for her too. She took good care of me though and taught me a lot, but if you know her she’d say she wiped my ass and taught me to be a woman.”

That got a laugh out of Claire and Yareli suspected it was the first one in days since Maria failed to come over or call. They talked more and she promised to do all she could to get her out or at least get her in for a visit. Claire expressed guilt over demanding half the housing payment to which Yareli replied, “Don’t honey she made a bad choice trying to do a good thing we’ll work it out I promise. So can you keep it together for me, and go back to work honey I’ll give Maria your love.”

Claire spoke softly but she agreed and told her all the numbers she could be reached on and made Yareli promise to call as soon as she knew anything. Also just to talk about the woman who was such an important part of her life. She never used the word lesbian, but the way she talked about Maria was nothing but love. It was heartwarming to know her friend and care giver had found someone so wonderful. Now it was just a matter of making their relationship work, and that wouldn’t be easy. Still though she ended her conversation on a positive note told Claire they’d be sitting down for a drink soon.

She finished her call and walked over to Jamie who was now back with A.J. and politely returned the phone with thanks. Jaime smiled and after hugging them both talked to A.J. a little more before going back to her work. Yareli looked at A.J. just said, “ready to hit the road partner? We have plenty of time left on our shift to find trouble.”


https://youtu.be/40nYZbX0uCM