The way Mike saw Rivera be with his own kids, he had no doubt.
Mike stood, grabbing his blazer off the back of his chair, saying, “We got enough time to pick up a Mimi’s before the meeting. Coffees are good. But her cookies, brownies, anything in the case is only one step down from Hilligoss and it’s a narrow step.”
Rivera stood, replying, “Wasn’t sure about a vacation in Hoosierland but you Indiana folk know how to eat. After a while, I’d miss my barbeque and Tex-Mex but that’d be a long while.”
He shrugged on his blazer as they moved to and down the stairs together, Mike returning, “You get home, don’t tell anyone or we’ll have to send the crew out to cut out your tongue. Most folk think Indiana’s a state to drive right through. They took a minute to eat our food, experience our hospitality, understand the depth of our loyalty and they did it in fall when the trees are in color, no one would ever leave.”
“I’m sensing this,” Rivera muttered.
Walking past Kath at the reception desk, jerking up his chin and getting a finger wave in return which made him smile, Mike muttered back, “Sense it all you like. It’s the God’s honest truth.”
Rivera pushed open the door, grinning at him. Mike walked through grinning at his boots.
They hit Mimi’s and got coffees. While there Rivera proved irrefutably that he was a good husband and Dad when he bought a shitload of cookies and brownies for his wife and kids. Both of them carrying white, paper coffee cups with cardboard sleeves and Rivera a big white bag, they walked out of Mimi’s, one door down and into the door that led to Tanner’s offices.
They went up the steps and Mike didn’t bother knocking or announcing them when he opened the door at the top, strode through and held it for Rivera. This was because Tanner had cameras and already knew they were there.
And Mike would know why the bullpen was empty when they walked through Tanner’s reception area. He did this smiling at Tanner’s Mom, Vera who was on the phone behind the receptionist’s desk. But in his office were Colt, Sully and Merry along with Ryker, Tanner and, fuck him, Cal and Tanner’s go-to guy, ex-CIA agent and currently certifiable Devin Glover.
“Jesus, holy fuck,” Rivera murmured, coming to a quick halt and looking up at the tall, hulking, tattoo-sleeved Ryker. “Boy, what’d your Mama feed you growin’ up?” he asked.
“Newborn babies,” Ryker answered, scowling down at Rivera.
“I see this. Totally,” Rivera replied.
Ryker frowned.
Then he asked Mike while still frowning at Rivera, “Who’s the new guy?”
Mike stepped in and performed introductions not just to Ryker but all around.
Then he looked at Tanner and noted, “I wasn’t aware this was a party.”
“I made some calls,” Tanner pointed out the obvious.
“Seems the new guy brought party treats,” Ryker remarked, his eyes on Rivera’s white Mimi’s bag.
“Go for them, I’ll cut off your hand. These are for my woman and kids,” Rivera returned and Ryker’s eyes went from the bag to Rivera.
Then he smiled his scary Ryker smile.
“A throw down with me so you can give your woman and kids brownies. Don’t know if that’s stupid or crazy,” Ryker mused out loud.
“Don’t give much of a shit what you think it is,” Rivera shot back.
“Blood’s a pain in the ass to clean up and no one here has time to do it. Can you two stand down so we can have this powwow and get on with our days?” Merry cut in.
“Yeah, and suddenly I got a hankerin’ for Mimi’s,” Sully murmured then looked at Colt. “Why didn’t we stop by before we came in?”
“’Cause if we did, Ryker would have been up in our shit about it and if we do it after, he won’t be around so he won’t,” Colt replied.
“Right,” Sully said on a grin.
“Reminder,” Mike put in. “I got a situation I need to see to so maybe we can get this started.” His eyes went through Colt, Sully, Merry, Cal and Devin. “You wanna tell me what you all are doin’ here?”
“Well, I, for one, didn’t haul my ass up those steps to watch The Ryker and The New Guy Show,” Devin noted cantankerously.
“So why’d you haul your ass up the steps?” Mike asked and Devin’s sharp eyes came to him.
“Before I spill, I hear Ryker’s gettin’ cake. I want one too,” Devin demanded.
Jesus.
“Dusty’ll make you a cake,” Mike agreed. “Now talk.”
Devin opened his mouth to speak but Ryker got there before him.
“Mine’s twelve layers,” he declared and Mike looked at him.
“Pardon?”
“I been workin’ this a while. My cake is twelve layers. That asshole just threw in. He don’t get one that’s twelve layers. At most, six.”
Devin’s eyes narrowed. “Half? Are you shittin’ me? I got more than you in a week ‘cause you’ve had your thumb up your ass.”
Ryker crossed his arms on his chest and stared down his nose at Devin as he contradicted, “I been nosin’ around.”