What if?

Chapter Fifteen

They sat on opposite ends of the small love seat. Even then, their knees knocked together. Gripping the stem of her wine glass, Kate stared at the Cuban across the couch, trying to figure him out. Kate could feel Esposito's eyes bore into her, trying desperately to do the same thing. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and sipped wine. Javier drummed his fingers on the couch arm.

"Do you need more wine?" Kate asked and reached for the bottle.

"No," Espo chuckled, blocking her hand from the wine. "No more wine. You need to relax." Kate laughed.

"Tell me some things you like to do?"

"I'm a pro burper." Kate laughed. Espo nearly fell out of his chair looking at her sideways.

"I don't think so." He shook his head playfully and challenged her.

"I think we both know what needs to be done." Kate stood and headed for the fridge. Espo guffawed.

"Alright. Ready? Go!" Kate shouted and tipped her can up. The bubbly liquid drained down her throat. Espo's can slammed into the coffee table first, then Kate's. She sat, letting her rumbling stomach sit, brew. Javi let out a long, loud belch. Kate laughed before being consumed by her own belch, a low growl from the pit of her throat. It quickly erupted onto a roar that blew Javi away.
"Jeez!" Javi exclaimed, pretending to fall of his chair from the force of the burp. "Where did a nice woman like you learn to do that?"

"Those two rug rats." Kate pointed to a picture standing on the table behind the couch. Two young fair skinned, dark haired boys were crouching down in the tall grass. They looked into the camera with frying pan sized eyes, smiling, carefree. Javier picked up the photo and studied it.

"Are these your boys?" He asked.

"No! I'm not married." Kate laughed. "They are my brothers, Peter and Kris. They're older now. I think they were four in that picture." Kate rambled and then mentally slapped herself.

"How old are they now?"

"Ten."

"Ten? Why the big age gap? That's, what, twenty years between you and them?" Javi cocked his head. You could see the mental gears spinning.

"It's a really long story."

"I've got nothing but time." Javier sat back and watched Kate intently.

"Well," Kate started, not knowing how to continue. "When I was nineteen, someone stabbed my mom-"

"Okay, now we need wine. More wine." Javier grabbed the bottle and downed a glass. Kate half chuckled. "What the hell! Why would they do that?"

"I don't know. That's partially why I became a cop. Two more women were killed the same way my mom almost was. I want to find who's behind and put them away

"My dad and I were at a restaurant, waiting for her. She would've bled out alone and cold had it not been for an old friend. He saw the whole thing and saved her life."

"Does this hero have a name?"

"Rick." Kate spun her wine glass in her fingers.

"Castle?" Javi laughed. "Okay, so what happened next?"

"Nothing. After my mom got out of the hospital, my parents decided to have another kid." Kate hid behind her wine glass, assessing Javier for a reaction. She hadn't meant to tell him the whole story. But once she started talking, the words just tumbled out of her mouth in clusters.

What Javi did next surprised her. Kate had expected him to bolt for the door, move country, never talk to her again. Instead, he leaned across the couch. Kate's face smushed into Javi's shoulder as he have her a tight hug and a peck on the lips. He then picked up a photo of Johanna lying on the table.

"Wow," He mused. "You would never have known she was stabbed. She's so strong. Like you." Kate blushed and watched Javi marvel at her. She watched his biceps flex as he stretched his arm to set down the two pictures. She noticed his beautiful eyes, deep and dark, hooded. When he glanced up at Kate, her heart jumped and she looked down at her dark wine.

Then a thought occurred to Kate. She was letting him peel back the tough layers Kate had worked so diligently to put up. She was opening up to Javier. Kate had finally told someone other than Rick about her mother. Not some BS, happy-go-lucky, fairy-tale story. The real story. The one involving mysterious figures and knives and a hero.

And then another thought poked its provocative finger at Kate. One so breath taking and terrifying she felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest with a racing thrumm.

She was falling ass over teakettle in love with the Cuban across the couch.