Page 108 of The Crush
Main Street in La Orilla is bustling. People brushing past at a hurried pace as if they’ve only now noticed the decorations on every street lamp, only now realized that Christmas is nearly here. Three weeks to go and countless presents to buy before it’s all said and done.
As I move down the sidewalk, I lose track of the number of times I’m nearly oractuallyknocked into by people. Most of the collisions quickly turn into excuses to stop and chat—to stop andpry—once they recognize the face of their obstacle. Therefore, by the time I finally arrive at Sunflower Cafe as planned, Brenner is already sitting in a booth in the far back corner, his hands pressed hard together where he rests them on the table in front of him.
Unsurprisingly, he is the only one here in a suit, making the seasoned agent stick out even more than he already does amongst the crowd of lunch regulars. More than one head is currently turned in his direction with open speculation that they feel no need to hide, reminding me that the only thing worse than being famous in a small town is being a stranger in one.
I check my watch before I glance toward the breakfast counter and then make a point to greet every single table in between the entrance and the spot where Spencer sits. As I do, he scowls and raps his knuckles on the table with impatience, visibly annoyed by the time I reach him and slide into the booth across the table.
At first, neither of us speak, the heavy wait only broken when Brenner says, “Nice of you to return my call.”
“Sure.” I nod at a passing waitress with gold eyeshadow, who offers up a pot of regular and a pot of decaf. I push my cup in her direction and receive a full pour of the latter before Brenner waves her away dismissively.
“Nice of you to call yourself,” I continue after a sip. “Didn’t think you higher-ups actually made your own calls.”
“Didn’t really have a choice.” Brenner drums his knuckles on the table again. “Apparently I’m the only one in the office whose family Evette Rivera doesn’t seem to know personally.”
“Eva,” I correct. “And I wouldn’t be so sure.” I lean back and take another sip of my coffee. “What is it that I can help you with, Brenner?”
The corner of his mouth twitches at the informal address, and he reaches for the briefcase next to him, landing it on the table with an authoritative snap. While he searches its contents, I allow myself another quick look toward the counter.
“Not sure if you’ve seen the latest,” Brenner says, drawing my attention back as he tosses a few newspapers onto the table. Each one documenting a new development on the Cali cartel. “Or perhaps you’ve been too busy on the farm?”
I know he means it as an insult, but I only nod and push the papers back in his direction with my fingertip. “I’ve seen it. Should probably get yourself down there.”
“I was going to suggest the same to you,” he replies smoothly. “Especially considering you couldn’t wait to get yourself gone a few weeks ago.”
“Change of plans,” I say simply. “Did you not receive my resignation letter? I left a copy with your receptionist when I turned in that temp badge you gave me. I mailed a copy, too. To you and to the Houston office, in case there was some sort of hang-up in all that red tape.”
“I heard.” Brenner studies me. “Agent Ríos, you can’t tell me that you’re really going to throw awaytwelveyears of work? Surely someone of your…tenure…would be better served providing the kind of leadership we need. Especially in Colombia. Someone who understands the unique—”
“Haven’t you been in at least twenty?” I interrupt. “Thought I heard that you were one of the first DEA sign-ups back in ’73. Bet it seemed real flashy back then,” I say, false sympathy in my tone. “Until they assigned you here.”
Brenner’s salesman smile stays in place but it doesn’t meet his eyes. “Yes, well, we go where the job demands.”
“How true,” I agree. “Although, I imagine there can’t be too many people lining up to go take on Cali right now. Not with their resources. Not after Escobar.” I fix him with a level gaze. “They told you that you had to go after you sent me home, right? That you’re shipping out unless you can find someone else…withtenure?”
Brenner’s lip curls, and I mentally hug Eva because her influence truly does extend past the town line, including to Brenner’s receptionist. “You know,” Brenner seethes. “I was giving you this as an opportunity. As a chance to redeem yourself after what happened.”
“I’m good.” I take a sip of my coffee. “Thanks though.”
Brenner looks at me with open disgust, all the carefully polished veneer falling away as he jams the papers back in his suitcase and stands to leave. “Really is a shame that you’re choosing to leave things sounfinished,” he says, looking around at his surroundings with that same disdain. “Although, given where you came from, I suppose, it’s impressive how much youdidmanage to accomplish.”
“Not really,” I reply, a more genuine smile beginning to play at the corners of my mouth as he storms away. I don’t even mind that he tosses back the last word.
“Enjoy your retirement, Agent Ríos.”
“Will do.” I tip my head back against the booth until I feel someone slide in next to me.
“Well,” Isabel says, looking sideways at me from under the brim of her ball cap before she steals my coffee. She makes a face after the first taste and reaches for the sugar. “Awfully nice of him to wish you well.”
“It really was.”
She takes another drink as she leans into me, neither of us much bothered by the surrounding patrons who still very much view us as a small-town attraction even if this isn’t our first appearance.
“Any big plans for your retirement that I should know about?”
“I’ve got a few,” I say easily. “Maybe more than a few.”
“That’s good. But remember to pace yourself and take breaks,” she suggests thoughtfully. “Since you’re now at that age—”
