by LK Shaw
I appreciated the fact that my sister seemed to think it was the women that were the problem and not me, but it wasn't fair to them. "You know, maybe they had a good reason for not wanting to commit to something long term. Did you ever consider that maybe I was wrong for them and not the other way around?"
"Of course. You're my brother, so I know that you're far from perfect. Like far, far from perfect."
"Excuse me," I sputtered.
"What? It's true. But so are the rest of us. We all have our faults. But I also know all the good things about you. The biggest thing about you is that you love with everything. If those women had been worthy of you, you would have put your all into it. So, if it didn't work out, it was because they didn't do the same thing."
Wow. Was what Ines said true? All this time, I'd decided my shitty love life was my fault. I worked too many hours. My job was too dangerous. I was too picky. Or maybe there was something wrong with me. I wasn't good looking enough. Wealthy enough. My family took up too much of my time. Looking back, there were definitely women who no doubt thought that. But more often than not, it was something about them that always held me back from putting forth the effort to make things work.
“I guess I'd never thought about it that way."
With Michele, it was different. She was different. There was this vulnerability beneath the surface that I wanted to protect. She presented a strong front to everyone. She had to. She had a daughter to raise, and she did it by herself. That required a strength and resilience far beyond what people understood. My father had that same strength. It hadn't been easy for him to raise five kids by himself, but he did it. Ernesto, Manuel, and I helped as much as we could, but it wasn't the same. It was probably harder for Michele because of her age, and because I was pretty sure she didn't have anyone to turn to for help.
"Like I said, you two are perfect for each other. And because I love you and want to see you happy, I’m going to give you a piece of advice. Never, ever, lie to her. There’s nothing she hates more than a liar. I want Michele to be happy as well.” Ines rose from her seat and patted me on the cheek. "Don't fuck it up."
I'd left the house and was on my way to meet Oliver down at the Navy Pier. It was a huge tourist attraction and far enough away from his apartment in Little Village that the chances of someone from Los Lobos seeing us together were slim. I hadn't forgotten his call from earlier today. Since all the excitement of the day had finally settled, my brain shifted into work mode.
I made a quick stop at the coffee shop for an Americano before weaving in and out of the crowd, making my way down the pier like I was just another visitor. It was peak summer vacation season. Normally, the crowds didn't bother me, but every bump and nudge from the warm bodies surrounding me made me more and more twitchy. I couldn't wait until this conversation ended so I could get the hell out of here and back home.
My gaze darted back and forth through the throngs of tourists until finally, I spotted Oliver standing near the press box and ticket booth. I shouldered past a cluster of people and made my way over. About six feet from him, his gaze met mine. He jerked his chin in greeting.
"Thanks for coming."
I took a sip of my coffee and glanced around, taking in everyone, checking for eyes and ears. "What was so urgent that you needed to see me?"
"Maria Luis Valesquez," he said under his breath.
Shit, no wonder he'd been in a rush to meet.
"What about her?" I took another drink, trying to settle my nerves.
"There have been rumblings through the grapevine. Bits and pieces of intel. Nothing solid, but vague references of an alliance."
"Between?"
"Valesquez and Morales."
Jesus Christ. If she was making some type of arrangement with the leader of Los Lobos, was she planning something against her half-brother? Trying to get El Diablo to turn traitor?
"Can you find out to what end?"
"That's what I've been working on. She despises Salazar and has been doing everything she can to take away his power. If she succeeds, she could potentially take over the whole Sinaloa Cartel."
This was huge. This was also something the DEA needed to know if they didn’t already. "Let me talk to my contact with the Feds. See if she's got any further intel. After Álvarez and King, Valesquez is on their watch list. It isn't every day that a woman becomes the most powerful drug smuggler in Mexico."
“I'm going to keep my ear to the ground and see if I can't get one of Morales' lackeys to give me more," Oliver said.
"Don't push too hard. This isn’t all fun and games. You could compromise the whole investigation if you blow your cover. Worse, they could kill you.”
He scoffed and patted my shoulder in a placating gesture. “I swear that bullet did more damage to your balls than it did your leg. Stop worrying so much.”
I jerked out from under his touch. “As your handler, it’s my job to worry. Especially considering how reckless you can be.”
Oliver’s eyes widened and he gestured to himself. “Me? I’m the reckless one? You seem to forget who dove into the Chicago River after a suspect tossed a bag of drugs in there. Or who ran headlong into the Thanksgiving float parade to continue a foot pursuit. Oh, yeah, and who’s the one who didn’t wait for cover in the middle of a drug raid and got himself shot because he was trying to be a hero? Don’t talk to me about being reckless, you damn hypocrite.”
“And look where it got me?” I yelled back. The crowd around us all stared in our direction, and I stepped closer, lowering my voice. “It was because I was careless that I got shot. Which is why I’m telling you to be careful. I could be dead right now, and so could you. You know what? I’m done here. Call me when you have more news.”
With that, I spun, slammed my empty coffee cup in the trash, and elbowed my way through the crowd. Away from this place.
Chapter 12
The door to the locker room swung open again, and another nurse filed in. Excitement filled the air, mostly because their shift was over, and it was time to head home. I, on the other hand, vibrated with emotion for an entirely different reason. As soon as I left here, I was going to meet Pablo for our date.
I stared at my reflection in the dust-covered mirror, leaning in to get a closer look while I applied a little more mascara. Since I quit dancing, I’d stopped wearing a lot of makeup. But I’d been told that it made me look a few years older, so I figured it couldn’t hurt. Not too much, but enough that Pablo wasn't reminded of how young I was. After I finished applying my eyeshadow, I dabbed my lips with a pale pink gloss. It would disappear after a few sips of coffee anyway, but at least I'd put some effort into looking nice.
"Where you going that you're getting all dolled up?" My co-worker, and the first friend I'd made after I started working here, Gretchen stood behind me. She was old enough to be my mother, but she had a youthful vibe to her that made her seem more like a sister. Or at the least the cool aunt every girl wanted.
“I'm meeting a friend for coffee."
"Please," she said with a once over between my freshly brushed out hair, makeup, and the slightly more than casual outfit I'd changed into. "All of this tells me your so called 'friend' is a guy."
My cheeks filled with heat.
“Fine. Yes, it’s a guy.” I turned to face her. “But, it’s just coffee."
Gretchen rolled her eyes. "A woman doesn't pay this much attention to her appearance for casual. So, spill the tea. Who is he?"
I moved a few steps and settled on the bench in front of a row of lockers while she dropped next to me with a grin that said she was ready for all the juicy, or in this case not so juicy, details.
"His name's Pablo."
"Ooh, Latino. Is he muy caliente?" She fanned herself like she was having a hot flash. "That's the extent of the Spanish I remember from high school."
"He's gorgeous," I sighed. "He has the most beautiful hair I've ever seen on a man. It’s a little on the longer side and he wears it all mess
y with these kind of dark, wavy curls that dip down over his forehead and his ears. I just want to brush them back and run my fingers through it. And don't get me started on his eyes. They're the color of warm honey, and every time he looks at me it's like they penetrate right through me and see all the way to my soul."
"Lord almighty. Do I need to get the fire extinguisher and hose you off? Hell, you might need to hose me off. I'm totally jealous. He sounds delicious."
He really was. "It's more than just his looks though. There's something about him that makes me feel safe, you know? And god, he's so good with Maisie."
"That's the thing you gotta watch for when you're a single mom. How they treat your kids."
Didn't I know that? I'd experienced disappointment with that before.
"Does he have any hot brothers?" Gretchen waggled her eyebrows. I only shook my head, because she was happily married to her high school sweetheart and had been for the past eighteen years.
"Sorry, both his brothers are already taken. He's got a huge family. I'm friends with his sister, and they're all really close. I've never been around people like them before. They would do anything for each other. No questions asked."
"Well, I hope you have a great date. I can’t wait to hear all about it, because you know I’ll be asking the next time I see you. Old married women like me need to live vicariously through young people like you,” she said.
“Whatever. You’re hardly old. Anyway, I should probably get going. I have to meet him in about thirty minutes, and you know how traffic can be heading downtown." I rose, grabbed my makeup bag from the counter and pulled my purse from my locker before locking it.
Gretchen waved as I headed out of the locker room. "Don't forget to use protection," she called out just as the door closed behind me. I sputtered out a laugh and glanced around hoping no one else heard her. Good grief, this was one date for coffee.
Nearly twenty-five minutes later I was pulling into the parking garage a block from the coffee shop. It was a little mom and pop place that had been around longer than I'd been alive. The sun shone down from the cloudless sky and cast a bright glare off the Chicago River. I loved coming into downtown. Everything was so big and busy down here. People were always walking around exploring all the city had to offer.
I reached the entrance and stepped through the front door, the cool blast of air hitting my face. My eyes scanned the interior and quickly met Pablo's gaze. I waved and mouthed a 'hey'. He returned my smile with the one of his that made my insides gooey and rose from his chair to greet me.
"Hi. I'm glad you could make it," he said.
For a second, I froze, not sure if I should shake his hand or reach out for a hug. I had no idea what the protocol was for a coffee date. Luckily, I didn't have to decide, because Pablo wrapped his arms around me. Mine circled the middle of his muscular back. The hug only lasted for three or four seconds, but his scent surrounded me, and I breathed in sandalwood mixed with just a hint of…chlorine maybe, like he’d just been at the pool. There was also a subtle aroma that I guessed was all Pablo. He pulled back and gestured toward the table.
"Why don't you have a seat, and I can grab our drinks. Unless you need to look at their menu."
I sat in the chair opposite the one he'd vacated. "No, I'm good. I'll take a regular coffee, please."
"Any cream or sugar?"
"Black," I said with a shake of my head.
"You got it. I'll be right back." He turned and headed to the counter to place our order.
Of course, I watched him the entire time. It had been almost two years since I'd been out on a date, and I was rusty. Not that I'd had that much experience with it in the first place. And the track record I did have wasn’t saying much for me either.
After Jonas, I hadn't trusted my judgement with men enough to dip my toes back in the dating pool. Yet here I was out on a date with a guy that I was almost sure was a good one. Or maybe just too good to be true.
No, don’t do that. I wasn't going to compare Pablo with my experiences with Warren or Jonas. This time I was going to go slow. Make sure that my instincts weren't playing tricks on me just because he was beautiful. Outer beauty often hid inner ugliness. My mother was a prime example.
Pablo returned with our drinks and sank back down into his chair. "How was your day?"
"It was uneventful, thank goodness. Which is actually a good thing when you work in a nursing home. A slow day is a good day."
“I can relate to that. A slow day for me is a good day as well. That means I'm not busting down doors, chasing people while they dump things out of their pocket, or getting shot at."
The last made me wince. I'd tried to hide it, but I must not have succeeded since Pablo reached across the table and touched my arm. "Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's something that happens more often than I'd like, so I promise that wasn't directed toward any single incident."
It made me feel better hearing him say that, but then I felt like a jerk that it made me feel better. I couldn't imagine someone shooting at me, not just once, but multiple times. "That has to be tough on you. Knowing that you could be trying to arrest someone and they start shooting."
"It comes with its challenges. Since I work in narcotics, we always know going into a bust that it could turn violent. Usually things go down peacefully, but the bigger dealers have the most to lose so they fight the hardest to protect themselves and their product.”
"Like Mr. King?" I asked.
"Exactly."
"Do you enjoy it? Being in narcotics, I mean?" I took a drink of my coffee, savoring the roasted flavor.
Pablo mirrored me and brought his drink to his mouth. He didn't answer for a second. Instead he plucked at the lip of the paper cup. The hesitation took me by surprise. I'd expected him to answer with ‘of course.’ But it seemed like maybe that wasn't the case.
Finally he spoke. “I do. At least I think I do. Or I did, anyway. I reveled in the excitement of my job. I got to put bad guys away, and there was this rush when I did. I'll even admit I was a little cocky. Except lately, I feel like everything is different. That I’m different.”
"What changed?" I asked softly, unsure if I should continue a topic that had turned a lot more serious than I'd expected.
He rubbed his face. “I got careless. I went into a raid thinking I was bulletproof. I underestimated the suspects, and in return, one of them shot me. Ever since I started back to work last month, things aren't the same. I'm not the same. It's just made me question a lot of things."
I sat there stunned. On one hand, the guilt over him being shot kept threatening to rear its head. While on the other side of it, Pablo admitted that him getting shot was because he didn't take proper precautions. That bit of information did a lot to ease the sense of responsibility I continued to feel despite all his protests to the contrary.
"That must be hard. Questioning everything you'd done before. I understand that completely. There are so many things I've done in the past that I analyze, over and over, wondering what I should have done differently. My mother, despite being the most un-motherly woman known to man, and a rotten human being to boot, actually shared a piece of wisdom that has stuck with me. She said that the mistakes of our past shape and mold our present. But that doesn't mean we can't break the mold to change our future. I always took that to mean that the person I am today because of mistakes I made in my past doesn't mean I can't become a different, better person tomorrow by learning from them. I'm sure she meant something completely self-serving, but that's how I choose to interpret her words."
It was Pablo's turn to sit silently. I held myself still instead of fidgeting. He was probably thinking what a terrible person I was for speaking ill of my mother. I tried to not ever talk about my parents, but sometimes things like that slipped out.
“I think that's actually a pretty accurate interpretation. It makes me feel a bit better. Thank you for that."
"You're welcome." I ducked my head a little se
lf-consciously. I'd never taken compliments well. I always felt awkward. A compliment coming from Pablo made me fluttery for other reasons.
"Well that was probably the deepest discussion I've ever had on a first date," he chuckled trying to ease some of the tension in the air.
“Me too."
“I guess that means we'll have to keep it much lighter on our second one. I know this one isn't even over yet, but I'd really like to see you again. Maybe for dinner? I'm a pretty decent cook. You and Maisie could come over one night. If you'd like that is."
There went that pitter-patter again. “I'd like. I mean, that would be nice."
"Good. Now that we got a lot of the serious stuff out of the way, how about we talk about something much better? Like, what's your favorite food? I want to be prepared for date number two."
For the next half an hour we talked about superficial things like what was the last movie each of us saw. It was Avengers: Infinity War for Pablo and some made for television movie I couldn't remember the name of for me. If we were Cubs or Bears fans—baseball had been something I’d enjoyed watching with my grandfather before he’d died, so I was a Cubs fan for life, while Pablo said since they'd grown up in Colorado he was more a Denver Broncos fan. What the best view of the city was—Willis tower or the Centennial wheel—we both agreed hands down on the latter.
I'd discovered that while he had a great sense of humor, he also tended to be a little on the more serious, quiet side. I avoided all conversation about family while he regaled me with antics from his childhood. He'd looked up to Ernesto, his eldest brother, but still felt somewhat apart from the rest. Ernesto had Manuel, while Victor had Ines. In a sense, he'd been an only child like me.
“I've had a great time today," I said.
"Me too. I meant what I said about dinner. I'd really like it if you and Maisie wanted to come over one night this week or next if you're free."
I smiled a little shyly. “I've got a huge test I'm studying for on Thursday, but we could come over one night after that."