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was good, very good, but she couldn't imagine anything more annoying than having him there to second-guess her.
    If Homicide had sent anybody but Mike, her desire for independence and the need to prove herself would have outweighed any other consideration. She wouldn't exactly have obstructed, but she would have revealed only the major facts and kept the details to herself. After all, who knew at this point what was going to be important in this case and what was not? Why spill too many beans and confuse people? Sometimes a stupid detective became invested in a certain bean too fast because it offered the easiest outcome, then tried to bully everybody else into seeing things his way. April had handled everything just right, she'd called an ADA instantly, and she was gratified that the one she got was Chinese. Dean Kiang was good-looking, seemed very professional, and she'd been pleased at the team they made. Then Mike had to stick his nose in and raise the tension level by claiming her loyalty. .
    "I'm kind of surprised to see one of you people here in the middle of the night," she said after a pause in which Mike didn't thank her for coming through without an argument, or for telling him the story on what they had so far. "Isn't that kind of unusual?"
    He raised the eyebrow that was crooked with bum scars from the previous June, when he'd jumped in front of April and the hostage they'd been trying to liberate just before an explosion that almost killed all three of them. Whenever he raised that eyebrow, April felt a thousand times less worthy than she was. She felt double and maybe triple stupid in ways she didn't begin to understand. Loyalty and love had gotten her all mixed up. And now they weren't even on the same team.
    "What is this 'your people and my people,' querida?" Now both of Mike's dark eyebrows shot up.
    April's cold fingers became still in her lap as she wrestled with the problem. Sanchez glanced at her hands speculatively. "I thought we were all one people,' ' he murmured, resisting the impulse to take one hand and squeeze it.
    Outside, the snow was beginning to falter. The flakes were smaller, not so puffy and dry. It seemed to be warming up as suddenly as it had gotten cold;
    it might even turn to rain soon. The wipers squeaked over melting snow on the windshield.
    With a shrug April relented. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be territorial."
    Mike laughed. "Yes, you did. Always have to do everything yourself, don't you?" he teased.
    She opened her mouth, then closed it. Only a few weeks ago, when Mike had been in a similar position in a precinct squad, he'd been every bit as territorial about their cases. But why argue? She breathed in the familiar cologne that permeated his clothes and even the upholstery of his car. Mike's perfume—one couldn't get away with calling it anything else—was unlike anything April had ever smelled before or since. On the surface it was sweet and spicy, but underneath it had a pungent sort of kick that kept her off balance as long as he was around.
    In the early days of their relationship this almost palpable aroma used to give April a headache. The squad room of the Two-O had reeked of it. In fact, it was Mike's smell that had first gotten her attention. She hadn't known where the powerful essence originated. Then she realized that when Sanchez wasn't around for a while it would disappear, only to return when he did. After that she noticed the pirate's smile with which he studied her and his interesting hair that was different from Asian hair. Mike rolled up his sleeves when he worked, revealing the hair on his arms. He had a fine layer of hair on the backs of his hands, and most likely on his chest, too. In spite of the prevailing taste among April's relatives on the subject, hair on a man's body did not seem altogether barbaric to her.
    Jimmy Wong, April's last lover, had one lone hair on his chest growing from a mole near his left nipple, had never smelled of anything but garlic