One Shot Prompt from Lyllyn, trish94509 and jillianpappan. Thanks!

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“Good judgment comes from experience, and experience comes from bad judgment.”

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Juana’s POV

“So, what do you do?”

Besides sit with losers like you trying to find something in common? “I’m a cop.”

His eyes widen. “Really?” He laughs nervously. “FBI or something?”

“Yeah.”

The smile drops. “Really?”

I flash the badge. “Really.” I chew another forkful of the excellent steak he’s paying for. No need to waste food.

This is another failed date but he’s decent in bed. He’ll go on the reserve list.

-oOo-

My apartment is way too big for just me. I got this place because Man—

I refuse to think his name.

He left. He left me. After fifteen years together, he packed up and moved to New Jersey. He calls now, on occasion, now that time has worn away the hurt and the anger.

I open the fridge and find the half empty bottle of Merlot stashed inside. I pour a glass and wait for it to come to room temp before drinking. Ugh. Should have poured this out yesterday. I need to stop buying bigger bottles. At least Man—

I have to stop thinking about him.

-oOo-

“Hey, we’re going out tonight and I won’t take no for an answer. Put on your heels, do your makeup and let’s go find a bunch of horny frat boys to pay for our drinks!”

Marisa. Still thinks she’s 21. I’m dragged out at least twice a month on these little ‘excursions’ to party and have fun. They always devolve into a bitch and moan session where she and my other friends complain about not finding men or how horrible their men are.

I sit silently and try not to let the pain of my regrets ruin the evening. I had the perfect man and I let him walk away from me. I screwed that relationship up and I regret it now.

I put on my pumps anyway. At least I can pretend to get drunk off someone else’s dime.

-oOo-

“Juana! You’re 31! Your eggs are getting old,” my mother moans.

I’m the only unmarried daughter. I hear this lecture at least once a month.

“Have you thought about getting them frozen? You know, until you’re ready?”

Translation: Perhaps you should set what few viable options you have aside and pray for a man.

“That’s expensive, Mom.”

An audible sigh. She’ll ask in 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .

“How is Manuel?”

“Fine.”

I don’t know. He left the Bureau and went to work at RangeMan. Haven’t heard from him yet. He should call in another month or so.

“You should call him. Maybe go see him.” My mother examines my face and attempts to pluck my wayward brows with her fingers. I duck and twist away from her. “Pretty yourself up. I’m sure he misses you.”

I’m not so sure. We end up fucking like rabbits every time we’re together but we can’t agree on anything. It’s depressing. I love him and I want him to come back to Baltimore. I’m ready to make some changes in my life if he is. Maybe living in PG County wouldn’t be so bad.

-oOo-

“Juana?”

Mrs. Sanchez. She never calls me. “Yes? Hello, Mrs. Sanchez.”

She sniffles. “Sweetie, Manny was shot.”

Every worst case scenario runs through my head at that moment. I don’t know how I ended up on my floor, but my legs refuse to support my weight. They’re in denial.

“How . . . how . . .” Now is NOT the time for my throat to close! “How is he?”

“Stable. We’re headed to him. I thought you should know.”

We disconnect and I pack enough for a month. I don’t know how long I’ll be there. I just know I’m not leaving the hospital until he does.

-oOo-

I take personal leave, head to Trenton, and barrel into the hospital as if I own it. His mother and father are talking to some huge black guy but I keep walking.

“Room 315, Juana,” Mrs. Sanchez calls. I’m glad; I had no intention of slowing until I was with him.

I find the room. Manny’s pretending to snooze.

“She’s not with me.”

He cracks an eye open. “Good.” He smiles. “I wasn’t ready to have to start faking OK.”

I smile but it’s shaky. “Now, I thought we had an agreement. I get shot, you save me.”

He laughs. “Whoops. Where were you?”

In Baltimore on a date with some asshole. I should have been with you, by your side, saving you for once.

I don’t leave Trenton for two weeks.

-oOo-

He won’t leave RangeMan. Getting shot? Pfft. Minor injury. Band-Aid level. I gape at him. Band-Aid level? He grins; his coworkers are ex-Special Forces. He’s not going to get a lot of sympathy over a few bullets to the chest.

Lose a leg; that’ll get ’em hot.

He loves it. Great salary and benefits, great guys he works with (I agree there. Some of them are gorgeous. Ram? *faint*), good bosses. They all show, except the great man himself, to check on him once he’s released.

The great man is recovering from a gunshot to the chest.

We have the usual argument. I’m determined to get him back to DC and back on the career ladder. What are his career prospects with RangeMan? There’s no upward mobility there. He’ll be just another one of the guys forever.

He doesn’t care. He’s sick of the Bureau, of the politics, or the infighting. The lack of support. The insanity.

The sex was fantastic. As usual. The argument was frustrating.

As usual.

-oOo-

“I’m a cop.”

“Really?” Chinese buffet. He’s cheap.

“Yeah. Anne Arundel County.” He smiles. He’s handsome. One of my better picks lately. “You?”

“Cop.”

His smile drops. “Really? Where?”

“FBI.”

He looks nervous. I smile. “So who do you really work for?”

“Anne Arundel County.” He fidgets. “Public works.”

“Trash?”

“Water.”

I nod. As long as it wasn’t trash. We have a decent conversation. He’s funny, wry and modest. Nice.

I don’t sleep with him. Let’s see how date two goes.

-oOo-

Date two is good. Ice cream and a run in the park. He has a dog. I bring Pepé.

Pepé hates his dog.

We chat and the wry humor turns into self-deprecating humor. I hear all about his ex. He’s not over her, no matter how many times he says he is.

At the car, I turn to him. “Call her. You still love her. Make the sacrifice to be with her. Quit putting yourself through this drama.”

He swallows hard. No confidence. Manny has plenty of confidence.

-oOo-

“Juana.”

He’s here, like clockwork. I drop the robe. He sighs. “Are you interested in more than my dick?”

“Yes. But I’d like to get the hello out of the way now.”

He rolls his eyes and flashes me a smile.

His tongue still reigns supreme.

-oOo-

I’m staring out of the window wishing I smoked. After that round, a cigarette would be required in the movies but I never learned how. Besides, he hates the smell of cigarette smoke. He’s leaning back against my headboard, arms crossed.

We’ve not changed our positions.

He’s not coming back to the Bureau. I’m not leaving it.

He’s not leaving Jersey. I’m not leaving Baltimore.

He’s not ready for kids. My eggs are going bad every day (according to my mother).

“Juana, what do you want?”

You. I just want you. I’m tired of the meaningless affairs, the empty sex, the searching for someone better than you. There is no better than you. There’s just you and I can’t let go.

A sigh. He slides from between my sheets and walks over to me, naked. Beautiful. Unashamed. I can barely see the bullet wound now. Public indecency charge if anyone saw him right now, but I think that any woman looking at the cock I’m staring at right now would envy me.

He closes the curtains, slips my robe from my shoulders, and lifts my leg around his waist. He’s already dressed, I’m already wet, and we both know how this works. We lost it to each other. My first time was great and I’ve been addicted to him ever since. He took his time and made it great for both of us.

We’ve been in sync, horizontally, ever since.

-oOo-

“Juana Baez, this is James White.”

I glance at him then stop and take a second look. Not bad. 5’10, black hair, black eyes. He’s giving me an appraising look and I glare at him.

“You stand no chance.”

He smiles. “Long odds. I like that.”

I stand with my file. “Like what you want. Don’t touch it.”

Sam clears his throat. “Juana, James is an expert on gangs. He’s been assigned here to help.”

I snort. “The brass taking The Wire a bit personally, huh?”

Sam reddens, James smiles, and I reassess.

Maybe.

-oOo-

“Long odds still in play?”

“Definitely.”

You stole my file, you bastard. I just added a month on.

-oOo-

“Speed dating? Marisa—”

“You need to get over Manny!”

I feel like I’ve been slapped. Marisa is glaring at me.

“Manny’s gone, Juana. He comes into town, fucks you silly, and you let him. You let him! He uses you—”

“I use him!” Marisa and Petra stare at me. I can’t stop the tears. “I greet him at the door naked. He actually comes to talk to me and I’m so fucking desperate to see him, to be with him, that I tell him to fuck me before saying anything. Before we start arguing. Before the fights. Because when he leaves again, I want to remember how good he felt, how he made me feel. I keep hoping that one day, maybe he’ll get it. Maybe he’ll understand how much I miss him. How much I still love him.”

I sink to the floor, ignoring the wet black drops that fall onto my brand new white skirt. My girlfriends are all looking at me in shame, horror, and pity.

“Oh, Juana . . .” Marisa dabs at the mascara on my skirt. Everyone moves, pulling out Tide-to-Go sticks, tissues, trying to fix me, trying to patch something broken.

No matter how many times they dab at the black spots on my skirt, they’ll still be there. Faint. I’ll know they’re there.

-oOo-

“So what do you do?”

“I’m a cop.” Pasta. I’ll have to bust my ass in the gym tomorrow. “You?”

“Congressional aide.”

Poorly paid, overworked, lives in a sublet apartment with another aide. He’ll want to come back to my place. No way.

I’m right.

-oOo-

Sureños don’t talk. So the fact that we got a name was a miracle.

Diego Mendoza. Big shit. From the Bay.

The Sureño is dead three days later. The tag near him is a skull with stitches where the mouth should be.

Well, that’s self-explanatory.

Except that it’s not.

Who killed him? Whoever did the tag knew he talked. So . . .

How did the streets find out he talked?

-oOo-

“Juana? You busy Friday night?”

“I’m busy every Friday night, James.”

He smirks. “I’m wearing you down, girl! I’m wearing you down!”

I laugh. I can’t help it. Urkel? Hilarious.

Maybe he’s not as big an asshole as I thought. Sam’s put him in charge of retraining the gang units on the east coast. He’s brilliant, just like Sam said he was.

-oOo-

“I work in M & A.”

Mergers and Acquisitions. Promising.

I listen to him talk about his job. He likes to use TLAs (three-letter acronyms), throw words around and make himself appear impressive.

I started in the FBI in White Collar. None of this is impressive. He’s a junior associate and has been for five years. No upward movement. His career is stalled and he can’t figure out why but the money is great. Really great.

It’s led to an inflated sense of self, an undue sense of importance, and a sense of braggadocio.

I’ll bet he’s overcompensating.

I’m right. Dick’s a shame. So tiny even the money doesn’t add inches. I decide not to save his pride.

I leave his apartment with his smile. Not from an orgasm but from busting his ego down to the size of his dick.

-oOo-

“Juana! I don’t want to hear about your failed date with another man.”

I laugh. “Manny, he tried to impress me, but when I kept asking questions about what he did in M&A, he didn’t have a response. Turns out he works at the firm as a PA.”

He laughs. I like to tell him about some of my more interesting dates.

As far as he knows, I’m not sleeping with anyone else. I like to keep up the pretense.

“So what are you doing?”

“I’ve taken over bonds enforcement. Great work. The department numbers are zooming.”

I smile. He sounds happy.

-oOo-

“Juana, you’re obsessed.” Sam is frustrated with me. Something about Diego Mendoza isn’t right.

The information doesn’t make any sense. Diego Mendoza disappears from Texas and no one can find him. No one knows anything about him. No death records matching his name, no unsolved bodies fitting his description. He entered the military and that’s it.

How do you disappear from the military? Intelligence, maybe?

I sigh. “Sam, I’m telling you, there’s more to this than you think. Please listen to me.”

Sam drops into his seat and blows a frustrated breath. He looks at me. “Juana, you have a full caseload. You don’t have time, shouldn’t have time to go off investigating crimes that don’t exist. Stick to your caseload. Please.”

-oOo-

The year zooms by. Arrests in the gangs units are exploding. Sam is thrilled.

Latin Kings, Vice Lords, Folk Nation, all these groups are getting caught and arrested. Convictions are doubling. James is working with the ATF and ICE to bring them down.

It’s impressive. Very impressive. He’s serious about the work. Quantico called him to the training center to run classes on how to identify gang members. They’re getting smarter and slicker now.

“Juana? Busy Saturday night?”

I smile. “Maybe. Maybe not. Ask me Friday.”

He smiles and walks off with a swagger in his step. He’s getting sexier.

Ambition makes me so horny
Not the fussin’ and the frontin’
If you got nothing, baby boy, you better
Get up, get out and get something

Amil never lied.

-oOo-

The first date is at a local Thai place. We share plates and talk.

He’s cagey about his past and I find I don’t mind. I’m not ready to discuss mine either.

He’s a gentleman. He walks me to my door, kisses me, and leaves.

Promising.

-oOo-

I decide to dig into James’s past. Advantage of working here: background checks! I run them on every man I date. Just in case.

It’s a blank slate.

FBI commendations, service record, military commendations. Training record.

Nothing before the military.

Odd.

-oOo-

“You investigated me?”

I blush. He caught me by surprise. “I investigate every man I date. You’re not special.”

He laughs but his eyes are cold. He’s not amused. “French?”

“Ask me Friday.”

-oOo-

Date two is excellent. He orders wine (“Never order the second cheapest bottle. It’s the shittiest one.”), we try each other’s meal and we talk. He’s determined to rise in the ranks. Lots of ambition.

“The Marine Ball is next month. I’d love it if you would accompany me.”

I’m flattered. “Thank you. I’d love to.”

He smiles and calls for the check. Again, I’m walked to my door, kissed, and he ensures I’m locked up tight inside.

I’m being treated like a lady. I love it.

-oOo-

“How’s RangeMan?”

“Good. The Bureau?”

“Same as always.”

We hang up and I wonder what that was about.

And for the first time, I realize the hurt is less.

-oOo-

Pepé hates James.

“I don’t know why he’s acting like this,” I tell him. I’m cooing at Pepé. “He’s normally such a baby.”

James laughs. “Well, there goes the theory that dogs can instinctively sense when someone is good or not.”

I laugh and put Pepé down. “Sit!”

Pepé sits, growling and eyeing James. We leave for date three. Poetry night at a local restaurant. I have a great time.

I’m considering sleeping with him but I don’t know.

Sex with Manny is deep. Loving. Wonderful. Fulfilling. It’s a union of body and soul. The man knows my body like he knows his own. I have no secrets from him in a bedroom.

Sex with other random guys I date is to fulfill a physical need. Scratch an itch, so to speak, while waiting for Manny to visit.

Sex with James? I look at him. Nice body, keen mind, ambitious. Everything says I should jump him but I’m hesitating.

I guess it’s because if I sleep with him I’ll give myself permission to let Manny go. I’m not ready to do that yet. If I let Manny go, that’s like saying I don’t love him anymore.

I still love him. I’ll always love him and I’m not ready to let go of the possibility of Happily Ever After with him.

Someday.

-oOo-

I still can’t make any headway into Diego Mendoza.

James is frustrated that I’m not sleeping with him. I told him that if it’s serious, he’ll wait. I was in a relationship with another man for 15 years. I’m not ready to jump into another one.

James’s face softens. “Oh. Well, that makes more sense.”

He courts me. Slowly. I’m being treated wonderfully. Flowers, candy, inventive dates.

My mother hates him and she doesn’t hide it.

“How’s Manuel?”

My sisters groan on my behalf. “He’s fine.”

“What’s he doing now?”

“Still at RangeMan. He’s the head of bonds enforcement now.”

James turns around, a questioning look on his face. My mother is thrilled.

“Wonderful! Did you call and congratulate him?”

“Yes, Mom.” I take the cake from the oven. “He’s happy.”

My mother casts her eyes at the ceiling. “Call him! You said he wasn’t ambitious and you were wrong.”

Thanks for rubbing that in, Mom. James is stone-faced. “Mom,” I say warningly. “Manny and I are no longer together.”

My mother is ignoring me. “Such beautiful babies. You would make such beautiful little babies with him.”

-oOo-

“I didn’t know you knew anyone at RangeMan.”

“Just Manny, James.”

“Is he the—”

“Yes. He’s the fifteen year guy.”

-oOo-

There’s a sting going on.

We’ve lost three agents in the gangs group. James is stunned.

I’m noticing that we’re not arresting all the gangs. MS-13 has taken over this area and they’re barely touched. Meanwhile, the Latin Kings are arrested for everything up to and including jaywalking.

“Why is that?” I add the spaghetti sauce to the noodles. James is mixing a salad.

He looks at me. “I’m taking them down one gang at the time. Besides, the greatest number of Latin Kings are a part of the Chicago ‘Motherland’ faction. The guy in charge of gangs in Chicago is an ass. I’m working with Sam to get some pull there. Taking down the ‘Bloodline’ faction is killing them on the East Coast.”

“What about MS-13? They’ve damn near taken over the capital.” I dish up the spaghetti and take the plates to the table.

James shudders. “Believe me, I want every piece of evidence I can get my hands on when I go after them.”

A flash of the guy, minus his head, under that skull tag flashes through my brain. I look down at my spaghetti.

Thank god gruesome scenes don’t affect my meals. Otherwise I couldn’t eat this dinner.

-oOo-

The arrests are mounting and the gossip is rampant. Consensus? RangeMan. Maybe Ranger Mañoso himself. We’ve confirmed his partners are in Texas. He’s missing. Supposed to be overseas, but no one believes it. Correction: no one wants to believe it. James certainly doesn’t want to believe it. If it’s not Mañoso, then there’s another gangs specialist out there he doesn’t know about.

Other possibilities are checked and discarded. We’re nearly certain it’s him.

I’m called to Sam’s office.

“Juana. Are you still in contact with Manuel?”

I look over. James is stone-faced.

“Yes. Kinda.”

“Meaning?”

I shrug. “We get together every six months and chat. He calls at least once a month.”

“When is he scheduled to call you again?”

I stare at Sam. “My business, Sam. We don’t talk about the Bureau or RangeMan in those calls and I’m not changing policy.”

He sighs. “We think RangeMan is behind the sting.”

“Then you might want to make arrangements to talk to them but I’m not your spy.”

The order goes out a week later. If you talk to anyone at RangeMan, you have to be wired.

I glare at James. “I know you were behind it.”

He shrugs. “I need info, Juana. I know he’s your ex, but he may know something. I’ll bring him in on a material witness order.”

I snort. “Good luck getting him to talk. You forget, he worked for us. He knows the law too.”

-oOo-

Diego Mendoza started out in California. Parents are Salvadorian immigrants and his father served in the Salvadorian Army. They immigrated to LA but had a hard time finding work.

Diego started committing petty thefts, graduated to armed robbery, and was the suspect in a murder before being cleared. His family eventually moved to Texas and he stayed low profile. Entered the Army and disappeared.

I’m missing something obvious. I know it.

-oOo-

I finally sleep with James. Technically, it’s excellent.

But just technically. The foreplay is excellent, he hits all the right spots, and the orgasm is spectacular.

But there’s no love in his passion. It’s just sex.

My heart calms its fears.

Manny isn’t being replaced. James is officially dick on tap.

-oOo-

Marisa is pregnant. She’s been married two months. I’ll never forgive her for the horrendous maid of honor dress she made me wear.

“Congrats!”

She’s not so happy. “It’s way too soon. Ken and I wanted some time.”

I laugh. “Babies come when they want. Have you thought about names?”

“You mean, in between the constant retching? Yeah. James for a boy. Juana for a girl.”

I frown. “Juana?”

She snorts. “Yeah. Juana. I love your name. It’s classic but not old-fashioned.” I smile and clasp her hand. OK, maybe I’ll someday forgive her for the dress.

“James?”

“The best man, remember?”

Yeah. Handsy little bastard until I told him I could break his arm. “I thought you intended to give the kids Spanish names.”

She sighs. “I did but Ken keeps reminding me he’s not Latino. Naming our daughter Juana instead of Joan or Joanna is fine for him but Diego is a bit much.”

I laugh.

-oOo-

I bolt upright in bed.

Naming our daughter Juana instead of Joan or Joanna is fine for him but Diego is a bit much.

Diego. What’s the English equivalent?

I grab my phone and look it up.

James.

I hop out of bed and pull the entire file.

Diego Blanco Mendoza.

His mother’s maiden name was Mendoza.

His name is Diego Blanco.

James White.

Diego Mendoza story ends about where James White’s story picks up.

Oh god. Is it possible?

I sit in front of my computer and stare. I mean, is it even likely? I doubt it, but that little voice in the back of my head keeps saying Keep digging.

-oOo-

A month later I’m certain I’m right. I burn everything I have onto multiple CDs, DVDs, and flash drives. I take them to my mother’s house.

“If anything happens to me, make sure Manny gets this box, Mom.”

She’s worried. “Juana, what’s going on?”

I shake my head and smile. “I’m not sure, but I think I may have kicked the hornet’s nest here.”

-oOo-

James is furious.

Now that I’m certain I’m right, I’m looking at this man and noticing the flaws.

The grasping ambition that’s made him multiple enemies in our office. The arrogance I mistook for self-confidence. The careful manipulation of facts I misread as brilliance.

This fucker is a thug. A hood. A gang leader. He’s the ring leader on the East Coast. No wonder Sureños aren’t being arrested.

He’s not going to arrest his own men.

“I just think we should see other people.”

“Really?” he drawls. “Why?”

I sigh. “Because I realize I don’t love you. I don’t want to waste your time or mine.”

“And the past six months?”

“No one ever said I could take a hint.” I smile. My stubbornness is well known at the Bureau. James doesn’t smile. I sigh.

“It’s not you, it’s me. I’m just not ready for a relationship yet and I know you want more.” I smile sadly. “You want everything. I’m not ready yet.”

“Fine.” He stands. “Just don’t expect me to wait around for you to realize Mr. Fifteen Years is never coming back.”

Fuck you too, James.

-oOo-

Manny shows a few nights later.

Best. Sex. Ever.

“Do I need to put protection around you?”

I can’t hear anything for the orgasm that consumes me. A full SWAT team could break in right now but they’d have to wait for me to finish this. I’m riding this out.

I finally open my eyes when I realize Manny went from hero to zero in ten seconds. His face and body are tense and not in a good way.

“Manuel?”

“There’s a camera next to your dresser,” he whispers.

“OK, maybe I do need help.”

-oOo-

Beep, beep, beep.

The fucking beep has got to go. I need a new alarm. I’ve always hated that noise.

“Juana?” I open my eyes. Older woman, Hispanic, going gray at the roots. Brown eyes, worried, pinched look on her face.

“Oh my baby! I’ve been so worried!” She sobs and I’m caught off guard. Who is this?

I look around the room slowly. More people. The other women look like this woman. The men are unfamiliar.

The doctor enters the room and smile. “Ms. Baez, do you know what year it is?”

Should I? The fact that I don’t, I can’t recall, scares the shit out of me. I try to speak but my mouth is dry. A cup, with a straw is placed in front of me and I swallow. Water. Delicious.

“No.”

He nods. He motions to the sobbing woman next to me. “Do you recognize this lady?”

I look at her. She’s looking at me as if I should. I’ll guess. “My mother?”

“Are you guessing or are you sure?”

“Guessing?”

Wrong answer. Her lip trembles, the tears reappear, and the sobbing starts all over again. I look at the doctor.

“Now I’m pretty certain.”

He smiles and leaves.

-oOo-

The women reappear every day. My mother (I’ve been assured she is my mother) can’t stop moving. She’s fluffing my pillow, changing my socks, and chattering.

Someone named Manuel saved my life. My mother loves this person. I wonder if I do.

Her phone rings. “Ah!” She beams, delighted, and answers.

“Hello!” She nods, listening. “Yes, she’s awake. Don’t tell her your name. She needs to try to remember.”

They’ve been told not to use names around me. I need to remember who everyone is. I’m suffering from memory loss and that’s how we’ll know it’s coming back. The other women are #1, #2, and #3.

She hands me the phone.

“Hello?”

“Juana.”

“Manny.” The name slips out. I’m not sure if it’s right but I’d follow this voice into hell because I’ll come out alright in the end if I do.

I hear an exhale. “Yes. Juana, oh god, cariña, how do you feel? Something besides bored, flat on my back and my foot is getting numb, please.”

I laugh. This person knows me. That was going to be my answer. “You’ve answered your own question.”

He laughs. I know this laugh.

For the first time in days, I’m smiling. This isn’t some horrible test that I’ll fail. Well, actually it was a test and I passed for the first time in days.

-oOo-

We talk for an hour each day. Manny tells me things, talks to me about everything and nothing, makes me laugh and cry and I can’t wait for his next call. It’s the highlight of my day.

I finally identified woman #1 as my sister Ana. Woman #3 is my friend Marisa. I’m not sure about woman #2 yet.

I get new visitors today. The faces are familiar but I can’t come up with the names.

“Juana. How are you, baby?” The dark-eyed guy kisses me but it’s all wrong. His eyes are cold. I squirm away.

“Fine.” I look over at the other man. I’ve learned to go on the offensive until I figure out who people are. “What are you doing here?”

“We wanted to check on you. We were worried.” The other man does actually look worried. “BPD is investigating. So far, we know that it was a gang shooting. Appears to be random.”

I snort. Manny assured me it wasn’t random when I asked him to tell me how I ended up in the hospital. I know there were cameras in my bedroom. All over my house, really.

Manny doesn’t lie to me. Clearly this man does.

“I live on the second floor of a five floor apartment building. I could believe it was random if I lived on the first floor. Not the second.”

He pinks. Caught in the lie. I look at the other man. He smiles. “Still sharp, I see.”

“I’m not stupid.”

He sits and takes my hand. I snatch it back. Everything about this man makes me feel dirty. “Had many visitors?”

“My mother and sisters. Marisa.” Woman #2 is my sister Letty. I finally figured it out today. I don’t see her that often (she lives in New York), so it took me longer to place her. She cut her hair and dyed it blonde. Ick. It doesn’t work with her skin tone.

“No one else?”

“Is that any of your business?”

He smiles. “Juana, I’m concerned, OK? My girlfriend is nearly killed in a gang shooting, she supposedly loses her memory, although you seem pretty sharp right now, and is in the hospital.” He takes my hand and won’t let go this time. “I’m concerned. I made arrangements for you to recover out of town, away from this madness.”

“Thanks for telling me. I might not agree, James.” Ha! James. Now I remember.

The fact that I remember his name causes his eyes to flash. I can’t tell if that’s anger or not.

They leave twenty minutes later.

-oOo-

Something has my hand. Well, no, it doesn’t have my hand. Something is on top of my hand. A larger hand.

I open my eyes and catalog the room. My mother, sitting near the window, reading. She looks over and smiles. So do my brothers and sisters. Everyone’s smiling.

I look at my hand.

Spiky black hair. I see half a face. Long eyelashes (that’s a crime! Why do men have such gorgeous lashes?), full lips. A pinched look on his face. Asleep.

This must be Manny. I run my thumb over the cheek and he opens his eyes. They’re bloodshot and exhausted.

“You need to eat.”

Everyone smiles but I haven’t taken my eyes off him. He smiles.

“What? I don’t get to share your Jell-O?”

I shudder. I hate Jell-O. “You can have it.”

He laughs then stretches to kiss me. I have bad breath but he doesn’t appear to care. “Hey, beautiful.”

“I look a wreck.”

“More wrecks should look like you.”

A throat clears. “We’ll leave you two in privacy.”

I wave absently. Nothing is more important than this face. I love this face.

-oOo-

We’re on the road. To Charlotte, he says.

Manny’s told me bits and pieces of what’s going on. I know he knows more than he’s telling me, but I trust him. I don’t need to know everything to know that. I can trust him.

-oOo-

“Mama?”

“Juana.” She exhales. “Are you OK, baby?”

“Yes. I’m fine. How is everyone?”

“Happy you’re out of the hospital. Trust Manuel.”

Don’t have to tell me that.

-oOo-

We return the Miata to Trenton and take the train to Boston. We’re picked up at the train station by someone named Vic.

“Mark’s got the car.” Vic brought a wheelchair. I love him already. Manny settles me in the wheelchair, two other guys grab our suitcases, and we head outside. I’m moved into the SUV carefully and off we go.

We arrive at RangeMan Boston and Manny carries me inside. I smile into his shoulder. A woman is waiting.

“Juana.” She smiles at me as Manny places me in the wheelchair again. “Welcome to Boston, dear. I’m Susan and you can call me at any time for help, OK?” She places a blanket over my legs and pushes me to the elevator. She starts telling me the visitor rules then unlocks the door to our new temporary apartment.

It’s beautiful. Soft blues and gray.

Manny helps me out of the chair and holds my hand. I look around.

“Nice digs.”

“Ours as long as we need them.”

“How long will that be?”

“I’ll find out soon enough.”

-oOo-

Manny’s asleep. I’m thinking.

I nearly died. I nearly died and what do I have to show for my life?

A string of meaningless affairs. A stalled career. No children. No husband. No dog.

Poor Pepé. I don’t want to think about his death. I know I’ll break down when I do. I loved Pepé. He kept me sane when Manny left. Manny told me he arranged for the dog to be buried in my mother’s backyard. I love him for that. I know he hated Pepé.

All because I didn’t want to leave home. I didn’t want to leave DC. Baltimore was far enough.

I was fixated on Montgomery County. Visible success. Mommy, Daddy, two cars and a white picket fence with a dog outside.

I look at Manny. He’s been promoted at RangeMan. Quiet success. Supported at work. Loves his job.

Loves me. He wasn’t trying to keep up with the Joneses. He could care less about the Joneses. He just wanted me.

What in the hell was I doing?

I stare at the ceiling.

When I needed him, he was there. He’s been my cheerleader, my best friend, my support, even during the five years we’ve been apart. When I call him, he’s there.

I’m shot, he’s with me.

“Manny?” I poke him. He stirs.

“Hmm?”

“Marry me?”

-oOo-

Manny makes a large pot of coffee. My words shocked him. He’s gearing up for a fight.

“Juana . . .” He sighs.

“You think I proposed because I’m still in shock.”

He says nothing but his eyes are clearly saying, well, yeah!

“I’m not.” I take a big breath. “Those bullets cleared my brain.” I swallow hard and look at him. “I woke up and couldn’t identify my mother. I couldn’t identify my family, my friends, my boss. I felt isolated and scared. Then you called. I couldn’t see you. I only had your voice, and Manny, I would follow that voice into hell and back.”

He smiles faintly. I try to stand and he puts the coffee cup down and rushes to my side. Perfect. I cling to him.

“I’m not crazy and I’m not in shock. I’m serious. I love you. I always have and I’ve never given up on us. I realize now what you mean. The house? The cars? Means nothing. Means nothing without you.” I choke on the sentence and he rubs my back. “I love you. Only you. I’d live with you in a mud flat in the middle of the Sahara if it meant I could be with you for the rest of my life.”

He grins. “I think we can manage better than a mud flat.”

I slap his arm and giggle. “You know what I mean.”

“Kids?”

“We have time.”

“Jobs?”

I snort. “I see what you mean. I’m leaving the Bureau.” I smile at him. “Up to protecting one soon-to-be unemployed federal employee?” He laughs. “I’ll find something.”

“Want to work for RangeMan?” I stare at him. He shrugs. “I’d asked about the possibility.”

“I’ll think it over.”

We smile at each other.

“I’ll make the arrangements.”

-oOo-

My mother is in tears. We sent physical pics of the ring and the wedding. Lester Santos took our pictures and postmarked them from DC for us.

She’s hiding them until we tell her it’s safe to display them, but my sisters and brother have congratulated me. In code, of course. We warned them they might be tapped.

-oOo-

I stare at my husband.

My husband.

He’s on the mats with someone from Boston. Kickboxing. It’s not going well for the other guy. Manny’s determined to get this department cleaned up.

No wonder he loves this job. It’s the ultimate testosterone rush. Everything is about physical power or mental trickery. He comes back upstairs, sweaty and hot, and we have sex everywhere.

We make plans at night. Babies in a year or two. My eggs are dying and Manny wants all the kids out of the house before we hit retirement age. That means we have to get started soon, but not right now.

Manny didn’t confess. He simply handed me the phone.

“Mrs. Sanchez?”

“Yes.”

“Hello. I hear you want to join my company.”

My eyes widen. I look at Manny. He smiles faintly and nods.

“Y-Yes.” Oh my God! Is this really Ranger Mañoso?

“I’d love to have you. Your work blew this case open. Halved the time it will take to bring justice to those who are still waiting for it. Excellent work and great instincts. On a personal note, you’ve married one of my best. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” I sink into the couch. I can’t believe this.

“We’ll talk again, but until then, let healing and getting stronger be your number one concern. Don’t worry about anything else. You’re part of the family. We protect our own.” Click.

I look at Manny.

“You lied to me.”

“You were wired.”

All blood drains from my face. Manny looks amused.

“He was there.” My mouth drops. “He was in disguise a few tables over. He scanned you for a wire. We knew.”

I feel my face heat up.

“And you still talked to me?”

He sighs. “I kept you out of that case for as long as I could, but I knew that if anyone could get the info, you could. I believed in you. Was I shocked you were wired? Yes and no. Forgive me?”

“For?”

“Lying to you.”

I sigh. “You had to. There’s nothing to forgive. Forgive me for deceiving you?”

“I would if you had.”

-oOo-

I accept the job with RangeMan. Mark walks me through the paperwork and sends it to Trenton. I’ll start once this case is over.

RangeMan physical standards are insane. They’re worse than the Bureau’s! I nearly fainted but every man around here is gorgeous. You could sell a ‘Men of RangeMan’ calendar in minutes off these guys.

Susan’s no slouch either. She and I walk on the treadmill in the gym and she tells me that she’s in the best shape of her life. With these men to encourage her, she’s slimmed down to a size six.

“I could never manage it before but with the constant reinforcement around me, it’s so easy it barely requires effort,” she says, speeding up to a jog.

I think about my butt. Manny loves it. I have a tiny waist but it’s nearly impossible to find skirts because of the saddlebags. I’d love to slim those down.

-oOo-

“Mrs. Sanchez.”

Lester Santos. Fucking gorgeous but he’s scary. He’s the guy walking the razor thin line between brilliant and psycho. Manny loves him. Les is his boss and Manny says that working with Les, under and with him, has only sharpened his skills.

That’s a scary thought. Manny was no slouch before.

“Les. Hello.” I move back and he walks in. Manny’s not here.

“Feeling vengeful?” I raise an eyebrow. “We’re ready to take down James White.”

“I’m in.”

He grins. “You have no idea what I have planned.”

“Doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t harm me and Manny says you’re brilliant. If I get to twist the knife, I’m in.”

-oOo-

We’re on a plane to DC. Manny’s excited.

“I’ve been watching Les work for weeks. I’m excited to execute this.” He kisses my ringed finger and grins.

I roll my eyes but inside I’m thrilled.

This is mine, my darling. And I’m going to enjoy it.