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My frown deepens. Maybe her, uh,eventfulafternoon had more of an impact than I thought.

“That bad of a day, huh?” My forehead crinkles. An unfamiliar feeling threads through me: doubt.

“Like I said, you have no idea.”

If she is involved, then she’s green as can be.

She absolutely appears to be involved, and the DEA analysts likewise assessed she is, so this afternoon shouldn’t have shaken her.

Not this much, anyway.

My eyes narrow, and I pick at that feeling. I used to be able to trust my gut when it came to people.

Maybe I should try that again.

June coughs, her eyes watering, then picks up the margarita. My eyebrows shoot up. She’s clearly not a regular drinker. She takes a long draw from it, her throat bobbing as she drains the frosty glass.

“Brain freeze,” she coughs out, pinching the top of her nose.

“June was up for a grant.” Charlie’s brows knit together, and she shoots me a warning glance. “It didn’t go the way she wanted.”

I haven’t had enough contact with Charlie. I was too worried I’d blow her cover at the school, or worse, let Pierce in on the fact that I had Charlie working this case… without DEA approval.

Too bad I don’t trust anyone, it sure as shit would make life easier if I did.

June coughs again, and there’s a slightly glazed look in her eyes. At the bar, someone starts chanting to chug, and a group of rowdy college students pick up the cry.

She launches a lopsided grin at me. Guilt slides through me, and I can’t help wondering if I haven’t pegged her wrong. There’s something sweet about June, something naïve, and it doesn’t fit at all with the profile.

“Maybe I should grab some chips and salsa,” I suggest.

Pierce kicks me under the table, and my smile takes on a hard edge as I slant him a warning look.

I want her tipsy, not incoherent. My foot makes impact with his shin, and Pierce’s chair slides back a little.

He glares at me. Serves him right.

“S’fine.” June waves a hand, picking up another shot. “I feel better already.”

“Uh, I think that’s a good idea. I’ll go grab some.” Pierce is already halfway through the room, maneuvering through the crowd to the self-serve nacho bar.

Charlie gives me a knowing look. “June, you should slow down.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” She wags a finger at Charlie, leaning so heavily on the table it slightly tilts towards her. I stabilize it, incredulous. “Don’t go and try to render aid now. Bit too late to render aid. Render a band-aid. Render-aid band-aid.”

Charlie tosses her blonde hair over a shoulder, sighing. “Stop saying render aid.”

I’m lost, but June lets out a wild laugh.

“June, you need to slow down. You’re going to make yourself sick.” Charlie actually sounds concerned, and I glance back at her, confused.

I have never heard Charlie sound like anything but an asshole the entire time we’ve worked together.

Either she’s gotten better at acting… or she actually cares about June.

“Oh, how niiiiiice,” June half-sings, half-slurs. “How nice for you to tell me what to do.” Even her eyes are half-closed. “I want another margarita. I think I deserve it after what Charlie did. And didn’t do. She didn’trender aid,for example.”

June pokes me on the forearm. Goosebumps slide across my skin.