Manny’s POV—Baltimore, MD, Thursday
Today’s fishing session is probably my most dangerous. Juana Baez is an ex-girlfriend of mine, the only time I ever mixed the job with my personal life. She works in Major Crimes. I saved her life, twice, and it wasn’t a bad breakup, so she was happy to hear from me.
Every time I see her again, I wonder why we broke up. Juana is 34, my age, with long brown hair and brown eyes. Coke bottle shape that looks good in everything she wears. Everything about her turns me on. We loved each other, had fun, shared the same interests, and our families got along. We were the perfect couple. Oh. Right. That was the problem. Juana wants someone who adores her, worships her, and lives only to cater to her every whim. I want a woman a little more independent. My salary (at the time) did not support Juana’s preferred lifestyle. When I moved to Jersey, that was the end. Trenton was not the place she wanted to be. Oh well. It was wonderful while it lasted.
“Manny!” We’re at a sidewalk café in a safer area of town. The Wire was not a storybook fantasy. We hug and I motion for her to sit.
“How’s it going, Juana?”
She sighs. “I hate the Bureau. Simple shit takes a fucking miracle now. We’re so concerned with terrorism that unless your warrant application has some sort of terrorism angle, good luck getting it approved in the next six weeks.”
“Shit,” I mutter. My instincts are ringing. Something’s off. I cough twice, pound my chest and motion for her to take a menu.
“Otherwise? Eh,” she says.
Ranger is about three tables over, in disguise (excellent disguise) and listening. I see him point a bug detector at her and widen his eyes. She’s bugged. Great. We’re both bugged.
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