It was a good thing the morning after fell on a Sunday, a day when Damon normally tried to do no more than the necessary chores, just catch up on odds and ends around the headquarters. Today he was in no shape to do much else. Rosalinda always went to town to go to mass and sometimes talked Julio into going with her. Either Brandi had joined them or she was hiding out in their adobe house. He really didn’t want to know. About a gallon of coffee cleared the worst of the cobwebs out of his head.
Around noon, he finally felt like eating a little. He’d just sat down at the table on the back porch with a couple of tortilla and cold bean burritos when he heard the distinctive roar of a motorcycle.
Eric? Oh s**t, what I am going to say to him today? I don’t know how to deal with this. I’m more
