Monday dawned sunny and cold.  Carlos and Danae, after much pleading and badgering, had managed to convince Trent to take them to work with him.  They squeezed into his car and tried their best to keep hidden from bad guys with laser sights on high-powered rifles.  All this was carried out in secret in Trent’s garage.  When they arrived at Thunder Investigations, they all ran quickly up the outer stairs “like spooked squirrels,” Butch told them when they slammed the door behind them.
        “Butch!” Trent greeted the burly one-time boxer.  “What brings you up here?”
        “I was just wondering how things were going,” he said.  “But I think I got my answer.  Nice to see your lovely face again,” he told Danae.
        “Oh yeah,” Carlos formally introduced Danae to Kim, and the two exchanged pleasantries.  Butch chatted with them for a few more minutes before going back downstairs to clean his bar.
        “While you’re here,” Kim told Carlos wickedly as she handed him an enormous stack of files, “you can sign off on these cases.  Can I get you anything?” she asked Danae.
        “I’m fine, thanks,” she replied.  Carlos flashed a smile at Kim over the small mountain of files he carried and went into his office.  Danae followed him.  While he leafed through the cases, Danae made some phone calls.
        The first was to the morgue.  “Hi, Judy,” she said.  “Can you run another check on a Tim Orson for me?  I just need someone else to look at it to make sure I didn’t miss something.”  Judy asked if she was looking for something in particular.  “Anything will help,” Danae said emphatically.  Carlos glanced up in time to see her pale.  “Gone?  Well who signed him out?”  There was a pause, then Danae thanked Judy and hung up.
        “Who took the body?” Carlos asked.
        “A Nicolai Orson,” she said, chewing her lip thoughtfully.  Her eyes lit in a sudden epiphany before she clenched them shut as if in pain.
        “You know him?” Carlos was growing alarmed.
        “I think so,” she replied as she dialed another number.  “I need to call my friend back home.  Hi, Erin?”
        “Danae?” Erin asked.  She had never heard Danae so worried.  “You missed the funeral.  I figured you would at least come home for that.  His parents asked about you.  Even he was asking about you a couple weeks before he passed away.”
        “Look, I’m sorry.  Things are crazy down here, and I don’t really have time to explain,” Danae paused.  “Was it a good service at least?”
        “It was great.  I didn’t know Gabe was so wealthy.”
        “Was Nic there?” Danae asked.
        “Nic?  Why?” Erin asked.
        “This is important, Erin.  Was he there?  Have there been any questions about Gabe or Nic by the police or anything?”
        Erin lowered her voice.  “Now that you mention it, there’s been talk by the police that Gabe’s death was a murder, but they can’t prove it.  Why?”
        Danae paused to think.  “You might know:  Did Nic have a brother?”
        “Uhh…”  Erin mulled over the question.  “I think so.  A younger brother.  Tom?  Tim?  Jim?  Something like that.  What is going on?” she shouted over the receiver.
        “Can I call you back?  Thanks,” Danae hung up the phone before Erin could reply.  “I need to go back to my apartment,” she told Carlos.
        He sat back in his chair and folded his arms.  “Not until you tell me what this is all about.”
        “The guy who checked the corpse out of the morgue?  Nicolai Orson, Tim Orson’s brother.”
        “And?” Carlos asked skeptically.
        “And Nicolai was supposed to be Gabe’s best man in our wedding.  AND,” she went on before Carlos could ask again what the relevance to her rambling was, “right before I left for Dallas, Gabe showed up and gave me a box full of our wedding stuff and said I should have it.  I looked through it when I moved into my apartment, and he had thrown in a note about how much I still meant to him and all this stuff.  The bottom line is that he put in his planner with it.”
        “You have hold of concrete evidence about his drug dealings,” Carlos translated.
        “And now Nicolai shows up and picks up the body of a man we think was instrumental in this whole stupid conspiracy to get one or both of us dead.”
        “You think Nicolai wants the book?” Carlos asked.
        Danae nodded and scoffed.  “My Gabe…a bastard to the end, huh?”
        Carlos didn’t have a good answer to that, so he let it go without comment.  “So how are we going to get out of here without Trent stopping us?”  The master of mischief, he hatched a fool-proof plan for them to make their escape within a few minutes.  He slipped out of the office and whispered to Kim.  “Danae and I need to get out of here, if you know what I mean.”  Kim flashed Carlos a knowing smile, and he filled her in on what she needed to do.
        Both of them went into Trent’s office, talking excitedly at once.  Deftly, Carlos swiped Trent’s keys from his hanging jacket and maneuvered himself back toward the door, where Danae waited quietly.  She took the keys from Carlos and noiselessly escaped out the door and started his car.  She felt a little bad for stealing his beautiful blue corvette, but it was a life-or-death emergency.  A few minutes later, Carlos made his escape while Kim kept Trent occupied by hounding him about financial issues.  Danae pulled away from the curb, feeling the exhilaration that comes from having a lead foot and driving a fast car.
        Too quickly for Danae-and not soon enough for Carlos-they arrived at her apartment building.  Carlos drew his gun and gave her a crash course on casing a scene.
        “Can I,” Danae hesitated.  “Can I carry a gun?”
        Carlos balked.  “If something goes down, you’ll be too emotionally involved to shoot straight.  I’ll take care of you, ok?”  Danae nodded and produced a tiny smile.  “Ok, let’s go.”
        Adrenaline coursed through their bodies, heightening their senses.  They jumped at every little sound, and their eyes sought shady figures ready to jump them.  It seemed like it took them forever to get to Danae’s door.  With a nod from Carlos, she unlocked the door as quietly as she could while he leveled the gun at it.  When she had finished, he gently brushed her aside and opened the door, quickly entering and searching the room for anyone.  After a thorough check he lowered his gun and relocked the door behind them.
        “I think we got here before anyone else,” he said as she hurried into the bedroom to search for his journal.
        She came back into the living room and sat a blue, flowery box down on the coffee table.
        “Pandora’s box,” she murmured.  She wavered a moment and then decisively opened the box and pulled out a black leather-bound notebook.  Leafing through it, she began to read.  “‘March thirteenth:  delivered to high school.  Nic says profits are up for that age bracket.’  I hate you!”  In a sudden fit of rage, she threw the book at the wall and buried her face in her hands.  “All this time, and I still can’t believe it,” she told Carlos through her fingers.  “He was a good man, but he did the worst things.  Selling to kids?  I hate him.”
        She felt a warm arm around her shoulders pull her into a comforting embrace.  “My brother was a junkie,” he told her.  “It’s not easy to forgive them for dying without making things right, but maybe that’s how they start to make things right.”
        Danae hugged him back fiercely.  “I suppose.”
        “How touching,” a strange voice remarked.

[

       “Is Danae with you?” Margo asked Trent on the phone.
        “Yeah.  We decided it wouldn’t be safe to leave her and Carlos at my house like sitting ducks,” he told her.
        “The Indianapolis FBI called yesterday and said they’d lost track of one of their big players in a drug ring,” she explained.  “They think he came here, and they dropped Danae’s name.”
        “How so?” Trent was alarmed now.  He knew how emotionally involved Carlos was getting with this girl.  The last thing his friend needed was her betrayal.
        “They’re not saying exactly, just that they need to speak with her.  I think they don’t have as good a handle on this situation as they ought to.”
        “I’ll go get her,” Trent told Margo to wait while he dashed into Carlos’…oddly empty office.  “KIM!” he yelled.  She winced and told Trent that they had just gone to be alone and she thought they would return soon.
        “Maybe we can get her help on this new case when they come back,” she added, trying to smooth things over.
        “I don’t like this,” he said thoughtfully before walking off to tell Margo the bad news.  She agreed.
        “This smells fishy.  Someone knows more than they’re saying, and I don’t know whether it’s the feds, Danae, or Carlos.  We have to find them now,” Margo said.
        “See what you can find out on your end.  I’ll try to retrace their steps,” he told her before hanging up.  He started by checking the phone in Carlos’ office to see who they had called that morning.

[

        “I never did like you, Danae” the voice went on as she and Carlos sprang apart guiltily.  The policeman’s hand reached for the gun he had rested on the coffee table while Danae jumped off the couch.  “I wouldn’t do that, detective,” the voice was sinister in its warning, and Carlos raised both hands in defeat.
        “Well it never was about you Nicolai,” Danae retorted, and his tall, willowy figure separated from the shadows.  She gulped.
        “Have you thought it all out yet?” he asked her as he approached them.  “That he would still be alive if it weren’t for you?  That you are responsible now for the deaths of your precious Gabe and now your newest fling?”  To Carlos he said, “I’m sorry it won’t work out for you, but she’s not really worth it anyway.”
        A scowl crossed Danae’s face, and before either man knew what had happened her foot lashed out in a blur, kicking Nicolai hard in the stomach.  He doubled over and cocked his gun.  “Your mistake has been and always will be that you underestimate me.  You think those thoughts haven’t crossed my mind?  You think I haven’t wanted to start crying and never stop for Gabe?  The only reason I haven’t is because I hate him.  He made his choice, and I made mine, and YOU killed him.  Don’t put your crap on me, and leave him out of it.”  She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at Carlos, who pulled her down onto the couch.
        “I suggest you keep her under control, detective, or I won’t waste time with pleasantries,” he said.  “I’ll get straight to the killing.”  Danae moved to stand again, but Carlos had a firm hold of her.
        “Knock it off,” he said sternly.  “Play it smart and maybe we’ll live through this.”
        “Probably not,” she and Nicolai said together.

[

        “She called the morgue and asked about a body,” Trent told Margo.  “They said she hung up as soon as she found out it was released to a Nicolai Orson.”
        “So she knows Nicolai is in town?” Margo asked.  “That could explain it.”
        “Back up a minute.  Who’s Nicolai?”
        “He’s the one the feds lost,” she replied.  “He and Danae were involved somehow, but the details are sketchy.”
        “Involved, involved?” Trent asked.  Carlos would be devastated.
        “No one knows for sure,” she said dismissively.  “But he’s bad news.  He could very well be behind the shootings.  You said Carlos mentioned a theory that the same person masterminded all those shootings last week?”
        “Yeah, he thought someone was trying to draw out either himself or Danae,” Trent frowned.  “I guess we can assume that it was for Danae.”
        Margo cursed loudly, causing Trent to pull the receiver away from his head.  “I wouldn’t say that just yet,” she said.  “I need to go.  Check out Danae’s apartment.  She’s got something there that’s the key to this whole thing.”  Without any further words, she hung up the phone and dashed out of her office.  Briefly, she thought of knocking on her superior’s door, but the urgency of what she had just learned gave her the courage (or the stupidity) to barge in unannounced.  “Sir, we have a problem.”
        “Ms. Jones,” the cantankerous old man puckered his pruned face at her impertinence, “I have a guest.”
        “It’s really important,” she insisted.  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but all hell is about to break loose in Dallas, and it all centers on one girl.  We need to find her before someone else does.”
        “Unless the Russian mafia is about to engage the Hispanic gangs, I don’t want to hear it,” he scowled, making Margo wonder for scant seconds how much extra skin he had on his face, and how many faces he could make with it.
        “It’s a Hoosier drug ring about to come face-to-face with Dallas gang-bangers,” she offered, and the old man let out a string of curse words that left Margo breathless.
        “What are you standing there for?” he yelled after he paused for a lungful of air.  “Assemble a task force!  On the double!” he shouted at her retreating form.
        Within a quarter of an hour, twenty special operatives were gathered before Margo.  All of them, Margo included, sported bulky bullet-proof vests and black jackets that said “Federal Bureau of Investigations” in large yellow lettering.  She resolutely squashed the feeling of nervousness she had acquired as she threw together her first-ever task force.  “Can I have your attention please?” she asked loudly.  They continued their mindless chatter.
        An attractive, well-built man near the front of the group watched as she turned red in frustration.  “Have you ever been in a task force where the leader was nice?” he asked, white teeth flashing against his broad, weathered face.  She shook her head, and he winked.  She turned red again, this time in embarrassment, and said a little apology to Trent in her head.
        “People!” she shouted forcefully.  The room quieted.  “Here’s what we know,” she began a detailed explanation about Nicolai and his posse and their coming showdown with the remainder of the Ramirez gang.  “We have three main players: Nicolai, Carlos Sandoval, and Danae Launey.  Nicolai wants Danae dead.  Many of you know Detective Sandoval.  He wants her alive, while the Ramirez gang wants him dead. Our objective is to get Nicolai and diffuse the situation.  Questions?”  She looked around at her attentive audience.  “Let’s go!”

[

        “Danae, be a dear and pick up Gabe’s book, ok?”  She slowly moved to obey.  “That’s a girl.”  He backed up so that he could still see his two hostages easily.  “Oh will you hurry up?” he snapped.  Danae grinned until he leveled the gun at Carlos’ chest.
        “Let him go, Nic,” she pleaded.  “Please.  I’ll come with you, just let him go.”
        Nicolai’s already crazy eyes were now bugging from his sweaty forehead.  “You really like this guy,” he said with awe.  He trained the gun on her and grew hysterical.  “What about Gabe, huh?  You know that boy was crazy about you?  I begged him to let you go.  He could have had anyone, but he wanted you ‘til the end.  He’s not even cold in his grave, and you’ve found a replacement!  I ought to shoot you right where you stand.”  He squeezed the trigger dangerously, but then released it and breathed a sigh of relief.  “But that would be too easy,” he said in a sinister rasp.
        Trent heard the last part of this exchange and quietly tried the door knob.  It was locked.  He backed up and scrutinized the door.  Taking a running leap at it, he focused all his momentum on the area of wood right above the doorknob, where the deadbolt held it shut.  His heavy boot smashed the door open, and he immediately ducked to the right, finding refuge behind the kitchen bar as a shot went whizzing by his head.  Danae took the opportunity to tackle Nicolai, while Carlos grabbed, cocked, and leveled his gun at the felled bad guy in one fluid motion.
        “Trent, what the hell are you doing here?” he asked Trent, breathing deeply.  “Danae get up.”
       “Wha-What am I doing here?!” Trent shouted.  “You guys were supposed to stay with me!”
        Danae rolled away slowly from Nicolai, who remained prone on the floor.  “Danae get up,” Carlos said again more forcefully.  Trent stood up and walked around the bar to pull Danae up.  She whimpered, but did not resist his helping hand.  “Are you ok?” the detective asked her as she and Trent approached.
        “Yeah.”
        Trent called Margo’s work phone, but a secretary took his message.  “Thank you, Mr. Malloy,” she said.  “Margo is in the field right now.”
        “This is important,” he pressed.  “Make sure that she knows where Nicolai Orson is.”  The secretary thanked him again, and Trent feared the woman would not pass on the information.  “Why isn’t he getting up?” Trent asked, pointing at Nic’s still body and looking at Danae.  For the first time since she had gotten up, she released her right side, showing a growing bloodstain underneath her hand.
        “I thought you said you were ok,” Carlos reproached her as he kicked at Nicolai to turn his body over.  He had worn a long dagger in a holster that lay on the left side of his ribcage.  When he had fallen, the sharp blade cut through its sheath, his chest, and Danae’s side.
        “I am ok,” she insisted.  “It’s not deep.”
        Carlos knelt down, gun barrel to Nicolai’s chest, and checked his vital signs.  “He’s still alive.”
        “I’ll call an ambulance,” Trent said.  “Sit,” he told Danae.
        “All of you sit,” an accented voice commanded them.  In the doorway stood nearly twenty men, all of them Hispanic, all of them armed.
        With Carlos distracted, Nicolai made his move.  He grabbed Carlos by the neck, intent on choking him, but Carlos pulled the trigger to his gun, which was still pressed to his chest.  Nicolai went limp immediately, and one of the men in the hallway fired his semi-automatic gun into the ceiling.
        “Put it down, mano,” their leader advised.
        “Ramirez,” Carlos said as he gently lay the gun down.  “I should have known it was you all this time.  Couldn’t wait to join your brother in jail?”
        “A man comes to me, he says, ‘I need a girl dead,’ he says.  ‘I’ll pay you well,’ he says.  So we talk about the girl, and what a world, what a world, Carlito!  She works with you,” Ramirez told him.
        “So you and Nicolai were in it together?” Danae asked.  Despite her claim that the cut was shallow, she was dangerously pale.
        “We had something in common,” Ramirez told her.  With a flick of his gun, he motioned for Carlos to join Danae and Trent on the couch.  “We had both been betrayed by someone close to us, someone like family.”  They began to file into the apartment.
        “So which one of you killed his brother?” she asked doggedly.
        One of the men put a finger on Nicolai’s bloody neck and shook his head, saying a few words in Spanish.  “A tragic mistake on his brother’s part...”  He leveled the gun and shot twice into Nicolai’s already very dead body.  “He tried to kill one of my boys.”
        “Can’t trust anyone these days, can you?” Carlos’ voice was filled with mirth.  Ramirez struck him across the face, and his big grin vanished.
        The phone rang, and everyone jumped.  Roughly, Ramirez grabbed Danae and held the gun to her head.  “Answer the phone, but don’t try to be the hero, k?”
        “Hello?” she asked as she picked up the receiver.
        “Danae?  This is Margo Jones with the FBI, and I’m a friend of Trent’s.  Are you ok?”  Margo’s voice was quick and professional.
        “For the moment, yeah,” she answered, and her captor shook her painfully, not liking her reply.
        “Put Ramirez on the phone,” the other woman commanded.
        “It’s for you,” Danae told the man.  He slapped her, and she pushed him in retaliation.  The cold barrel of his gun was pressed to her forehead, and she held out the receiver for him to take, eyes never wavering.  “Or do you want me to take a message from the feds?”
        “What do you want?” he snapped into the phone.
        “We have the building surrounded, Ramirez.  Release your hostages, and surrender your guns,” Margo told him.
        “How about we strike a deal?” he asked, voice full of sweetness.  “If you release my brother from prison, I won’t paint the wall with her brains.”
        “We do not negotiate,” she said coldly.  “These are the terms:  Surrender your hostages and your guns.”
        “Then they die,” he said.
        “Then you die,” she countered.  Just then, Danae passed out cold on the linoleum.  Carlos would have started forward, but Trent grabbed his jacket, and several hostile-looking men pointed their hostile-looking guns at him.
        “I’ll get back to you.”  Ramirez put down the phone and motioned for two of his guys to drag Danae’s body over beside Nicolai.
        “For God’s sake, let me stop the bleeding at least,” Carlos entreated.
        “You know, it’s interesting,” Ramirez told him, “that you she is your weakness, and you are hers.  It’s very cute.  Juan, see to her.”  Juan grinned savagely, and Carlos protested.
        “Not Juan,” he stood up, and Juan pointed his gun at the cop.
        Trent pulled him down.  “Yes, Juan,” he argued with his best friend in a low voice.  “It’ll be alright, Carlos.  Stop thinking with your emotions and start thinking with your brain.”
        Carlos said something in Spanish that sounded threatening, and Juan bared his teeth in another awful smile.  “Juan is bad news,” Carlos told Trent.  “I told him if he touches her he’ll be sorry.”
        Trent searched his friend’s dark eyes.  “You threatened worse than that,” he corrected.  While he didn’t know Spanish well, the blonde man had distinctly heard the word “testículo.”
        “What’s the plan?” Carlos asked him.
        “We try to live through this,” Trent answered.
        “Great,” his friend said.  “How do we do that?”
        “I haven’t gotten that far yet.”
        Danae regained consciousness, opening her eyes into a hideous face that was way too close to hers for comfort.  “Carlos!”
        By some miracle, no one shot at him as he crossed the room and took Danae in his arms, away from the leering Juan.  “I gotcha,” he told her as he picked her up and set her on the couch.  Gingerly, he lifted the hem of her blood-soaked shirt.  She didn’t complain when he had to gently pull the shirt away from the wound, where it was stuck, though he knew from experience how much it had to hurt her.  In a moment of compassion on Ramirez’ part, Juan brought a water bottle and two kitchen towels to them and thrust them at Carlos.  He awkwardly juggled the supplies until Danae took them from him.  Professionally, she swabbed her cut and improvised a bandage.
        Then they waited.  For the moment, everything was at a stalemate.  Ramirez wanted them dead, but if his three hostages died, the feds would have no reservations about taking him out.  Meanwhile, the feds would not make a move so long as Ramirez held his hostages.  Tension still filled the room and everyone in it, but the panicked nature of the last hour was slowly fading.
        Finally Ramirez came to a decision.  He rapidly ordered his henchmen to grab Carlos, and they all went into Danae’s bedroom, leaving only five men behind to guard Danae and Trent.  Even with the door closed, Danae could hear the cold packing sounds and groans that had to be Ramirez “reasoning” with Carlos.  She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the noises.
        “I think I’m going to be sick,” she whispered to the men.  One nodded his head at the other, and he escorted her to the bathroom.  She shut the door behind her and ran sink faucet while she knelt before the toilet pathetically.  Every minute or so, he would knock on the door and tell her to finish her business, but she just lay on the cold bathroom tiles and tried not to cry.  She no longer cared if she lived through this, but she felt helpless when she thought of the grim fates Trent and Carlos would undoubtedly meet.  It was all her fault.  “Uno momento, por favor!” she yelled, exhausting her knowledge of Spanish in a single sentence.  She stood and washed her face and hands…and had an epiphany.  It was a long shot, but it just might work.
        When she opened the door to the bathroom, she fell immediately into her guard’s hands.  Unprepared, he caught her with both hands, releasing his hold on his gun.  Quickly, she sprayed an aerosol can of bathroom freshener in his eyes, and she took his gun while he screamed in pain.  Roughly, she shoved him inside the room and waited for his friends to come check on him.  Only one came, and he surrendered almost immediately when she surprised him.  She took his gun as well and locked him in the bathroom.  She could hear the sounds of a brawl, and as she sneaked into the living room, Trent was kicking and punching the remaining guards.  They gave up when she pointed the gun at them, and she and Trent ushered them into the bathroom with the rest of their feeble gang.
        “Margo?” Trent asked as he picked up the receiver, which still rested on the kitchen counter.
        “Trent?  Oh my God, I’m so happy to hear your voice.  What is going on up there?  The snipers keep laughing at something,” she said.
        “Danae and I took down some of Ramirez’ men,” Trent said.
        “Excellent,” she mused.  “You might make it home to dinner after all.  Ok, here’s what we’re going to do…”

[

        “For the last time, Carlito,” Ramirez used the affectionate version of Carlos’ name, “tell me who else is testifying.”
        “For the last time, Ramirez,” Carlos mumbled through a fat lip, “It wouldn’t make a difference.  Your brother is going to jail, and now you will, too.”
        The sound of gunfire coming from the living room stayed Ramirez’ hand, weighted with brass knuckles, from hitting Carlos yet again.  “Go!” he told his men, and he followed them as they ran into the living room, where feds were waiting for them and the five men they left to guard Trent and the girl were scattered around the room, unconscious.  Fearing they were dead, the other members began shooting at the officers, but the FBI had had time to set up.  Their position was good; the Ramirez gang would not walk away unharmed unless they surrendered.
        While the gun battle raged in Danae’s cramped living room and kitchen, Trent and Danae hid in the shadows at the end of the hallway, waiting for her bedroom to empty.  Trent rushed in, catching Ramirez off guard with a running kick.  He landed lightly on his feet and kicked the malicious Hispanic two more times squarely across the jaw before he finally slumped to the ground.  Danae, meanwhile, had followed Trent, and she began assessing Carlos’ wounds.
        “How do I look?” he asked as she took in his puffy eye and fat lip.  She lifted up his shirt and saw nasty welts already rising on his stomach.
        “Handsome as ever,” she grinned, and Carlos, despite everything, smiled broadly.

[

        Trent soaked in a steaming bath Margo had thoughtfully drawn for him when he was finally released from questioning by medical and federal personnel.   The adrenaline had left his body, and he was fatigued and sore beyond all belief.  It could be worse, he thought soberly, I could be dead.  A slight knock came from the bathroom door, and Trent opened his eyes.  “Come in,” he told Margo.
        She came in shyly and sat down in a chair, tucking her chin-length brown hair behind an ear.  He could tell by the way she was fidgeting that she had something important to say to him.  “You’re absolutely gorgeous by candle light,” he told her, not waiting for her to begin the conversation.  He sat up in the tub, and she moved to kneel down beside it.  Again, right before she was going to begin speaking, he stopped her, but this time with a passionate kiss.  He knew, as her mouth was pressed against his, that he needed to tell her what had been on his mind the past few weeks.
        “Margo, I’ve got something to say.”  She started to say that she had news for him, too, but he silenced her with a rough hand gently placed on her mouth.  “I love you, Margo Jones, more than anything or anyone else in the world.”  Trent started smiling.  “I just thought I should tell you.”
        “I love you, too!” she said with a strangled laugh.  “I was just going to tell you-”
        Trent cut her off with another hot kiss, and they slowly stood up.  Margo handed him a towel, which he wrapped around his middle.  Margo took his hand and led him into his bedroom, where they tumbled onto the springy mattress, lost in each other.

[

        Danae paced nervously outside of Uppercuts.  She couldn’t decide whether to go inside and face Carlos or just walk away from everything.  It had been two days now since she’d seen him, and she missed his smile, his stories, and his laugh terribly, but she was afraid of facing what they’d been through together.  The messy life she had tried so hard to leave behind in Indiana had followed her to Dallas, nearly killing them both and bringing out the worst in her.  She had just decided to leave when Carlos came outside.  He had seen her through the window walking back and forth.
        “Hey,” he said with a light voice and guarded countenance.
        “Hi,” she said.
        “You didn’t go back to your apartment did you?” he asked.
        Danae surprised herself by actually laughing.  “There’s not much left of my apartment to go back to.  Butch set me up with some temporary housing for now.”
        “You should have come to me,” he told her.
        For the first time since their awkward meeting, she met his eyes.  “I didn’t know if I was still welcome.”
Carlos unfolded his arms. “Why wouldn’t you be?”
        Danae tucked a curl behind her ear and met his frank brown eyes.  “Listen, I’m so sorry about how things turned out.  I’ve been doing a lot of thinking the past couple of days, and I know I didn’t handle things well.  I’ve got such a temper on me…This whole thing with Gabe and Nicolai…I can’t think straight for hating them and myself so much.  I came here to make a new beginning, but I’m not doing so well,” she said.  “I’m making the same mistakes all over again.”
        “Congratulations,” Carlos answered her pell-mell confession/apology dryly.  “You’re human.  I sympathize, I really do, Danae, but here’s what I want to know:  are we going to be friends or not?”  Before she could answer he rushed on.  “We’ve known each other for what?  A week or two? And we’ve spent nearly every day of it together.  I’ve seen your dark side; you’ve seen mine.  We’re bonded, somehow, and I know you feel it.  But the fact remains, that when it comes down to it, I don’t really know you as well as I ought.  So if you’re willing, I want to be friends.  I want to get to know you.”
        Relief flooded her face, and Carlos was cast in doubt.  He wanted to rush right into a relationship with her, but he didn’t want to find out in a few more weeks that he couldn’t stand her.  That she wasn’t the one either.  It was best to be friends first, but did she ever want anything more?
        As if in answer, she hugged him fiercely, and he buried his face in her hair.  The embrace felt perfect and safe, and the last of their reservations melted.
        “Do you want to come in and eat with us?” he asked as they let go.  “Trent and I have a new case that we could sure use your expert opinion on,” he goaded.
        “Yeah, sure,” she smiled.  Carlos held open the door for her and began to explain.  “This woman called saying her house is haunted.  She hears voices and sees glowing lights.  It’s pretty cool…” he trailed off.
        Margo, Kim, Trent, and Tommy made room for Danae at their table, and as she met these new friends, she thought about how foolish she had almost been by walking away from Carlos forever.  Things were looking up.

The End