Daryl

A civilian screws up your undercover op. It happens. They don't mean to but the result is the same. This time a pizza delivery kid knocks on the wrong motel door. You've been in place for five hours and add that to other surveillance in the past two months and there's a lot invested in building a case. You know that the two principals each arrive with a guard, one of them with a briefcase. A little later a guy with an insulated pizza bag shows up. The assumption is that once the payment is verified, the merchandise is delivered. Somebody asked why they didn't move the money electronically. Well, that has its own set of problems and apparently these guys prefer a cash economy.

You have the timing down for how long it takes to count the money. It should be another half hour but here comes an Asian kid in jeans, tee shirt, ball cap and an insulated pizza bag. Two problems: The pizza logo isn't the one used before and the other delivery guys always wear a light jacket no matter what the weather, presumably to hide a gun down the back of their pants. You have an eye on this kid's ass and there's no gun. So he must be making a real delivery which is none of your business until it becomes obvious what room he's heading for. There are only seconds to decide if you're being set up or if this is a weird coincidence involving a wrong address or room number. You've watched the kid bouncing along, happy-go-lucky. You don't want him to get killed but you don't want to compromise the job either.

"Fuck! I'm going in." You rip off the bulletproof vest and hop out of the van. The room door is open by the time you come around the corner and an arm is reaching for the kid.

Glenn

I meet the man of my dreams in a nightmare.

I'm delivering pizza to a downscale motel. The room door opens and a tough guy stands there looking confused. I see two men at a small table counting a lot of money. They look up but don't reach for the guns laying beside the cash, maybe because another man standing beside them already has a gun in his hand. I'm pretty sure Tough Guy at the door is going to yank me inside never to see the light of day again when an annoyed voice up the walk shouts, "Hey! Is that my pizza? Room 108?"

I edge away from the door. "Uh, yeah. It looked like 103. Sorry about that."

Tough Guy's arm is still reaching for me. The man up the walk says, "I called over 30 minutes ago. Do I get it free?"

"That's another chain, sir, but I can give a discount plus a coupon for your next order."

I'm still backing away and Tough Guy lets me go but continues watching. I turn and follow the man down the walk. Another room door is open and a woman looks out but she shuts the door as we go past. We go around the corner to a van parked there. The back doors open and the man picks me up, shoves me inside and gets in after me. The van rolls slowly away. Someone on a radio is saying their position is compromised and they're coming in.

Even in the dim van I can see blue eyes and light brown hair. Or maybe it's called dirty blond. I'm Korean and I think right away they'd make a nice contrast to my brown eyes and black hair. The man is wearing a plain dark tee shirt, sleeveless and a little tight. It outlines very nice pecs and what would have been a flat belly except for the six-pack abs. The shirt is probably sleeveless because it would be too narrow across the broad shoulders and sleeves would be tight on the muscled arms. He's wearing dark pants and laced boots. At first glance he looks like a regular guy but a second glance would have you thinking he looks kind of official in a casual way. There's an FBI vest on the bench seat beside him. I suddenly realize he probably risked himself to get me out of a dangerous situation. He's staring at me, not unfriendly exactly, but not like I expect the man of my dreams to look at me.

"You may have screwed up an important op. And you could have gotten hurt. Bad."

"Uh … I … apologize?" I say uncertainly.

He must have thought he was coming across a little stern because he says, "I'm Dixon," and smiles the smallest possible upturn of lips. "Daryl," he adds slowly as if he isn't sure why he's giving me more information than necessary.

"I'm Glenn." I don't add anything else because I might say something like 'I think I'm in love.' Too soon.

"Well, Glenn, tell me you saw something that will make all this worthwhile."

"Like three guys counting money inside the room and everyone had guns?"

"Think you can ID the guys?"

"Yes."

"All four or just the one who opened the door? Did you get a good look at the ones inside?"

"Yeah, I saw them. I think I can ID all of them."

Daryl smiles again, a genuine one this time. "Boys," he calls out to the driver and the guy on the radio. "We've got a witness. And he brought dinner." Daryl opens the pizza box and takes out a slice.