A/N: Thanks so much for all of the great reviewers who are enjoying this. Finally, Sharon has seen Castillo- let the fun begin!

CHAPTER 7

"You two know each other?" Provenza sputtered into his cocktail.

Sharon took the reins before Castillo, who was as visibly moved at their reunion as she was, could even respond. "Yes." Her words and demeanor were efficient and surprisingly calm, almost as if she was working on a case. "We met years ago at a another conference- right here in Miami, in fact."

"Cool!" declared Rusty. "Provenza and I ran into Amy and Marty, the other day, at the exhibition hall. They came looking for some fun after her uncle's memorial. We all hung out, and had a great time. How did you guys get together?"

Sharon hummed, and dared not meet Castillo's gaze as he seated himself next to Sykes on the outside end of the booth. "I attended a presentation given by the lieutenant, here."

"Actually, my rank is now the same as yours."

"You made Captain?"

Damn! But she made the mistake of looking across the table, at her one-time lover. She couldn't help herself...

Castillo's dark eyes flashed as both he and Sharon recalled their shared memory of their past disagreement, and his pull of rank over her. Both looked as though they wanted to laugh, but instead played things cool. He apparently was just as afraid of going there as she was.

"Yes. It took awhile, but I never gave up hope. There were times I doubted I'd get there, and I have to wonder if the brass decided to promote me out of pity."

"A promotion is a promotion, amigo," Provenza declared as he clinked his mojito to Castillo's water glass. "Enjoy your days in the sun, while you can. Meanwhile, you give all of us lowly lieutenants something to dream about."

Sharon caught the older man's gentle barb at her and smiled into her wine.

"Anyway," Sykes piped up, eager to fully introduce their guest. "Martin was my uncle's boss. They called him 'The Glue Man'– the one who kept the unit together. Best guy anyone could work with- that's what Uncle Larry always said."

"Amy," Castillo warned softly.

"No, it's true!" Sykes insisted. "When Uncle Larry died... you were so wonderful. The whole Zito family came for his funeral, and you spent time with each of us. Even a shy little kid who hid behind her mom's skirt."

Rusty snorted. "You, were ever shy? Yeah, right!"

"She was adorable. And scared," Castillo stated. "It took some doing, coaxing her out, but children need assuring in times such as those. It was my honor to help."

"Martin gave me my first 'official' police assignment," Sykes told the group. "He and the unit bequeathed my uncle's pet goldfish, Harriet, to me. They said it was for 'protection purposes,' but looking back, I bet they just didn't want to deal with her. My poor mom had to truck her with us in a pickle jar, all the way back home on the airplane, but I felt so important as her new guardian."

Of that, Sharon had no doubt.

She watched the interaction of Sykes and the hero cop, playing out before her, and found herself recalling a story confessed to her by Castillo himself, in the small hours they'd shared. He'd spoken of the death and murder of one of his detectives, which Sharon now assumed was most likely Amy's relative. It had weighed greatly upon him. As did the later departures of his unit's two best men, Sonny Crockett & Ricardo Tubbs. Such events, along with others from his past, made him older than his years at the time, and gave him a wide shadow of melancholy.

There was a peace about him, now. Time had softened the severity of his features, making him appear less intimidating. If not more handsome. Absently, Sharon wondered if he had married, and had children. He wore no ring, but of course, that did not matter these days. If it ever did. Like her, he now wore glasses. Simple wire rims. His thick mustache remained, but it, like the rest of his hair, had more silver in it than black. Marty Castillo was...

"Sharon, are you okay? You look funny."

Rusty's whispered concern, brought the woman out of her musings. Was she that obvious? Of course. "Yes, Honey. It's just the wine," Sharon told the boy quietly. "And the heat. I'm switching to water from here on out."

She listened as Provenza and her son joined in on the conversation. Clearly, they were both very comfortable with Castillo, which seemed a little odd. Provenza rarely liked anyone, and Rusty was naturally cautious around older men.

Red flags abounded. Sharon felt her old worries and fears of returning to Miami, creeping back around herself.

"I apologize for not being here sooner, but my previous meeting ran longer than expected."

Provenza actually chuckled at Castillo's statement. "Judging by the high dollar suit you're wearing, I'm guessing you were doing some undercover work in the mafia. Or one of the drug cartels."

"I might just as well have been."

Dressed all in black, from his tailored jacket and pants, to his shirt and tone-on-tone tie, Castillo certainly looked the part. With his beautiful olive coloring, and air of spicy cologne, he could have walked right out of a Mario Puzo novel.

Not that the woman captain had noticed.

"How so," Sharon asked cooly.

"Actually, Captain Raydor," Castillo began pointedly. "I have a non-profit program for at-risk kids, and my meeting was with a potential donor. A perfectly legal, and sadly cutthroat in business, donor."

"Oh."

"Yeah, Sharon. Martin's got this thing where he buys broke-down houses, and then gives jobs to kids on the street. Kids that might get into, you know... things. And instead, they go to work on the houses. The houses get fixed, and so do the kids. Right?"

Rusty's eyes were searching Castillo's for approval, and that put Sharon on further alert.

"Couldn't have explained it better myself, Rusty." Castillo took a sip of his newly arrived scotch. "But it's not slave labor. The kids learn from, and work alongside, master craftsmen. Tradespeople. Artists. They get paid in the short term, with enough dollars in their pocket for a good meal and a safe place to sleep. And in the long term, they get skills to pull themselves up into a better place in life."

It sounded like a lovely picture, one that Sharon would've wished for Rusty to have been given in the past, but unfortunately, had not. "What if they don't tow the line, and the opportunities given to them?"

"Then, I kick their ass."

"Which you certainly are capable of, Captain," commented Provenza.

"And you did, just the other day," Rusty added. "Ours!"

Seeing her superior bristle, Sykes took the opportunity to explain to Sharon, what Provenza and Rusty were getting at. "Martin and I challenged the boys here, to essentially a game of laser-tag, at a vendor's booth. They were selling a training system that was really true to life-"

"And frakking awesome!"

Provenza elbowed Rusty for his cheerful interruption. "That is until you've been knocked flat on your aging back, and feeling like you've had your chest blown out by a Glock."

"Aw, Louie," cooed Sykes. "Sometimes a good pair of eyeglasses is still no match against a better, and more youthful gun."

Provenza grumbled into his menu, as Sharon smiled. She knew that Sykes adored the old goat as much as she did. "I wish I'd been there, to back you guys up."

"That's okay, Sharon," Rusty confidently told his mother. "After Marty gave me a shooting lesson at the next vendor over, I did much better in our rematch."

Sharon nearly choked on her water. "He what?!"

Suddenly realizing what he'd just said, Rusty paled. He could see that his mother already had her tight look on her face, and was loaded for bear. His mind reeled at how to play things, without getting grounded while on vacation.

"You taught my son how to shoot? A gun?"

"Yes," Castillo replied calmly to Sharon's pointed question.

"Why?"

"Because he asked."

#TO BE CONTINUED#