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“Thanks, Razor, er, Garcia.” She paused and grinned. “I still can’t wrap my mind around the fact that you turned out to be a fed.”
Garcia frowned. “Yeah, we’ll keep that secret between us.”
“Of course. Well, for the record, you look good too, all cleaned up.”
“How’s the shoulder?” Garcia asked, nodding to where she’d been shot during their last meeting.
“It’s fine.”
Wilson thought her answer was a bit dismissive. He vividly remembered driving her to the hospital while Garcia hoveredover her, trying to stop the bleeding. And he remembered sitting beside her on the Lear on the flight back, her shoulder bandaged and sore. She’d been dismissive about the injury at that time too, insisting it was fine. He remembered being impressed by her and thinking she was one badass chick.
“Where’s my manners? Please sit.” She motioned to her couch and the easy chair that crowded the room. “And can I get you anything to drink?”
Both men sat, Garcia on the chair, Wilson on one end of the couch. They both declined a drink. She sat herself where she’d been. Teddy, her cat, was no longer in the room.
“We stopped by earlier,” Wilson said. “It was close to six.”
“Yes, one of my neighbors told me two men had been here.” She paused and smiled; her gaze mostly fixed on Wilson. “I would never have guessed it was you, though. I got stuck at work. We can’t leave until all the kids are picked up and one little girl’s mom was a half-hour late again. She’s a nurse and said she can’t leave until her relief nurse is there.”
“You sound like you don’t believe her,” Wilson said.
Reina shrugged. “I don’t like thinking so badly of her, but I wonder if she’s using, not that I’d report her. From what it looks like, the little girl is loved and well cared for.”
“You’d know if someone was using,” Garcia said.
“Yeah, a user can always recognize another person doing the same thing,” Reina said.
“You’re still clean, aren’t you?” Wilson asked.
“Yep, sure am,” Reina replied, her pride evident.
“I’m proud of you,” Wilson said.
Reina’s smile grew bigger. “Thanks, Jimmy. I’m proud of me too.”
“I’m glad you’re doing so well,” Garcia said. He wouldn’t mention that her once heavy Texas accent was gone.
A loud thud came from the short hallway that led to two bedrooms and the bathroom. Both men immediately stood and drew their weapons. Reina recoiled, pressing her back harder to the couch, seeing their weapons suddenly on display.
“Shit,” she cursed.
“Who’s back there?” Wilson whispered, his adrenalin spiking, ready to take on the threat.
“No one, my cat,” she replied in a normal speaking volume.
She watched in disbelief as the two men, with weapons grasped in their hands, proceeded down the hall. She saw them duck into each of the three rooms. In her past life, she hung out with men who were always armed, and for good reason. Afterall, they had to carry weapons as they were carrying drugs and cash. But it had been a lifetime ago since that was the norm she lived with. Now she found it disturbing.
When they re-entered the living room, Jimmy cradled Teddy in his arms and stroked his fur. His handgun was no longer in his grip. “You didn’t tell me you had a cat,” he said.
Reina shrugged again. She didn’t tell him everything, even though she would like to. Confiding in him was easy. He was a good listener, and he gave good advice. “His name is Teddy, and he adopted me.”
“He has good taste,” Wilson said with a grin. He re-took his seat beside her on the couch, still holding and petting the cat.
The remainder of their visit was comfortable and uneventful. About an hour later, Garcia gave Wilson the nod, indicating itwas time to go. It was still a four-hour drive home, which would get them in after midnight. Wilson gave the cat a final pat and then set him on the couch.
“You have to go now, don’t you?” Reina asked.
“Yeah, unfortunately, we have to drive back to our HQ yet this evening,” Wilson said, coming to his feet.