Sadly, not my characters and never will be. Thanks to JE who thought them up.
Warnings: A little dark and there's some nasty language. Written as a response to the Dance Challenge on Yahoo's RangeManWriters
Retribution
by
SueB
He called.
She didn't answer.
Unusual, but not unheard of.
He called a second time.
Still no response.
It was Sunday. Dinner with her parents was at six o'clock. It never varied and she wouldn't tarry.
He let call number three ring on and on until it ended in her sweet voice. Recorded. Asking him to leave a message.
Dread settled heavy in his stomach.
All banter stopped when he checked in with his men.
"Bead on Stephanie," he said.
Hal's fingers swiftly produced a screen. "At home, Boss. Everything all......" Hal turned around.
The Boss was gone.
Not all right.
*******
Her car was there, parked at a rakish angle right beside the dumpster.
No light at her window.
His first thought -- storm the building.
But that was foolish and he stayed alive because he was not a foolish man.
Observation and a small light revealed a trail -- lip gloss, a pack of tissues, a tube of mascara. Like she had dropped her bag and didn't take the time to pick things up.
Hurry overtook him. Stairs two at a time. Swift movement down the hall.
He stopped before her door. Hand stilled upon the knob. Straining to reach inside with all his senses.
Listening. He heard.
A tiny cry. A sharp breath. A little whimper.
Sounds that crushed his soul.
The locks had never been a problem. He paused to let his eyes find her in the dark.
On the floor, curled against the couch. A ball of quivering misery.
"Babe," he breathed scooping her up.
Quietly he held her. Offering his warmth and strength.
She shook for endless minutes. Silent tears soaking his shirt.
With voice and hands he soothed her.
And her tale spilled out.
A former skip. A chance meeting. Ugly deeds.
He kept his anger coiled tight inside giving only gentleness to her.
Finally, she fell asleep.
He made a call. Divulged a name. "I need your help," he told his friend. "Find him."
The information was not long in coming.
Tank knocked softly on the door and entered.
"You're the only one I trust completely," Ranger said, "to keep her safe til I get back."
The men exchanged a knowing look.
******
Stupid Fuck.
He'd gone straight home. Was sitting on the front steps of his house smoking a joint. Music on a radio beside him.
A voice, soft and deep and deadly, came out of nowhere.
"You hurt the wrong woman," the voice said.
The man squinted his eyes like that could help him see into the darkness.
A figure all in black slid between the shadows.
"Who the hell are you?" the man asked.
"I'm the devil," the figure said.
"Huh?"
"Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?"
"What the fuck."
"It's hell."
The End.