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</div></div><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"></span><br/><span style="font-size: 18px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"><b>"I don't want to stick around to find out."</b> Gabriel replied, managing a smile after he recovered from his moment of embarrassment.<br/>
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He apparently had an appreciation for sarcasm, and could clearly see the humor behind the remark. Gabriel supposed that the whole thing was rather comical after the fact. Perhaps if he hadn't been let off the hook, it might not be as funny as it was now. Creating distance between the police station and himself was a given, and the sooner the better. Gabe was happy to see that Jaxon was serious too, and with or without a poker face he was cute.<br/>
</span></span><br/><b><span style="font-size: 18px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf">"I was totally serious about the meal at Picaduras. It's the least I can do for you since you did such a huge favor for me. If you like exceptionally good Sonoran cuisine, please come to Picaduras. The food is the best, and I can prove it to you if you let me. Its a source of pride for my family. My mother and father own it, they immigrated here when my mother was pregnant with me. It was my Abuela's dream to open a cantina, it was a small grocery and then it just expanded once people tasted her Burrito Molcajete--its a burrito with marinaded rib-eye steak, pico de gallo, poblano peppers, onions, guacamole--unbelievably delicious. Or you can try something else on the menu. I could recommend other platters. You get a lot for your money, but this is on the house. Including drinks."</span></span></b><br/><span style="font-size: 18px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"><br/>
It was when Gabriel got to talking about his family's restaurant that his chocolate hued eyes began to sparkle.</span></span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"></span><br/><span style="font-size: 18px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"><b>"Do you like traditional guitar music? Friday night we have authentic Mexican guitar and half price Margaritas."</b> Gabriel asked Jaxon.<br/>
<br/>
Gabriel had started to reach for the passenger side handle, as the two men paused beside an alpine white Chevy 1500 parked outside the police station. </span></span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"></span><br/><span style="font-size: 18px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"><b>"Nice truck, Jaxon. One day I'm going to have enough money for my own truck. I've been saving it up. Can't decide if I want to go to school, or if I want a truck." </b>he chuckled.</span></span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"></span><br/><span style="font-size: 18px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf">His attention shifted to the front seat of the truck immediately, when he saw the dog seated on his Master's seat obediently waiting for his return.</span></span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"></span><br/><span style="font-size: 18px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"><b>"Wow, what a pretty dog!"</b>Gabriel exclaimed.</span></span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"></span><br/><span style="font-size: 18px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"><b>"What kind of dog is he? Looks like a German Shepherd,"</b> he asked, equally impressed by the fact he/she didn't bolt out of the truck when the driver's side door opened.</span></span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"></span><br/><span style="font-size: 18px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf">All the Belgian Malinois did was jump into the back passenger seat, but not before Gabriel could get a good look at him. Jaxon's dog was a well balanced, square dog, elegant in appearance with an exceedingly proud carriage of its head and neck. The dog looked strong, agile, well muscled. He was wary of Gabriel, paying close attention to his owner's interaction with him. His dark eyes were alert, and full of life.</span></span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"></span><br/><span style="font-size: 18px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"><b>"Hey there boy," </b>Gabriel crooned his introduction by using the language of dog, and already had his hand out in a friendly way to get him to sniff  his hand.</span></span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"></span><br/><span style="font-size: 18px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"><b>"Hope he doesn't want to bite my hand off, because I need it to wash dishes at Picaduras." </b>Gabriel laughed, giving the Malinois a caress after he had satisfied the canine's curiosity.</span></span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"></span><br/><span style="font-size: 18px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"><b>"You have a nice dog. My mother has two bratty chihuahuas, a black male named Diablo and a gold female named Tequila. Trust me their names are accurate."</b> he replied to Jaxon.<br/>
<br/>
<b>"And what's your name dude?"</b> he asked Jaxon's dog, in a high pitched voice while petting him.</span></span><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf"></span><br/><span style="font-size: 18px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#bfbfbf">The truck left the police station parking lot, and a sigh of relief was traded for anxiety when he paused to check the messages on his phone. He was supposed to have met with Slater Conway hours ago, and like always, there were a shit ton of unanswered voice messages and texts from his boyfriend. The tone of the last text made it clear that he was very pissed off with him. He was reading the rather threatening message when Jaxon's voice snapped him from his reverie.<br/>
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<b>"Huh? Oh! Sorry about that. Make a right on Darrington Road, and follow that until you get to Eastlake Boulevard. Then make a left on Eastlake. Follow Eastlake Boulevard for about four traffic lights, and make a left on Emerald Book Drive. Its about three blocks you have to drive from there, when you make a right on Vista Grande Circle. That's my Tío Armando's house. I rent a little casita in back. Its small, but there's enough room for me." </b>Gabriel instructed Jaxon, as they continued their drive.<br/>
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In the back of his mind, Gabriel was becoming ill at ease and there was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought about the message on his cell phone from Slater. The apprehension began to slowly build the closer Jaxon got to his home, but Gabriel tried to take his mind off of it by asking Jaxon some questions. The young man's long hair was flipped back so he could view the world around the truck more clearly. Jaxon voiced a warning that Gabriel would certainly pay close attention to the next time his parents asked him to distribute flyers.<br/>
<br/>
<b>"I'll definitely look into doing the marketing for the restaurant that way next time. What line of work are you involved with, Jaxon?"</b> Gabriel asked, figuring that was as safe a question as any in which to start.</span></span>