Bombshell in the Wind
Stephanie's got her own secrets she's never told the boys, and now Ranger, Morelli, and the Merry Men are stuck trying to piece together the mystery she's left behind after disappearing. Who's the mysterious former Special Forces agent who guards her location on fear of death - and why's he so scared of Steph? And how did they never find out about her very powerful, very influential buddies in Vegas? Hold on tight, Sweet Pea, you're in for one wild ride! Babe all the way - but that doesn't really matter this time around. Cupcake friendly. Set after Explosive Eighteen. *Note: this is my first FanFic, so we'll see how we do. I love feedback! Stephanie's 31 here, since I couldn't think of a better age, and is probably a lot out of character. But oh well, here it is!
1
Getting the Last Word
I'd never given much thought to how my old friends from college would repay me for all I did for them between the time I met them in my second year of climbing Mount Everest toward that Academic Degree, and when I finally returned home to spare myself of my mother's continued insisting that there was nothing an uppity out of state college could give me, that one in my hometown of Trenton didn't offer. Yeah, I'd left behind a band of people forever altered by meeting me, but by the time I returned to the 'Burg, I'd been changed myself.
In truth, I was never one for becoming a barefoot and pregnant 'Burg housewife, always craving excitement and adventure - as was obvious by the time I was seven and took a not-so-much-flying leap off the garage roof - but after nearly a year of hanging out with the most crazy hilarious - and just plain crazy - people I'd ever met, I realized within my first week back that I would never be fully satisfied with life if I followed what was expected and got married and settled down with 2.5 kids and a white picket fence.
Well, now I had a surplus of adventure, and some excitement of the very bad variety. I stared down at the tenth little pink plus sign I'd seen this afternoon, and felt like I was going to throw up. Of course, that might just be morning sickness, some twisted little voice in the back of my head taunted. Ten pregnancy tests. Ten pink plus signs. There was absolutely no doubt in my mind; I was pregnant. But I didn't know what to do about it.
Oh, I knew who the father was - there was no question about that. But I also knew that he was definitely not boyfriend/husband material. Ranger had made it very obvious he didn't want a relationship, and I was certain he wouldn't be happy about the baby.
The baby. Shit!
I stood up, and dropped the white, plastic Stick of Doom on the sink, and began pacing in my little bathroom. I was drawing a complete blank. I knew I had to call someone, but -
A knock on the door interrupted my worrying. My eyes flashed to the alarm clock, noted the late time, and I began running through a list of who it could be as I made my way to the peephole. My parents were a possibility - though I didn't expect them to be on the other side of the door. Valerie, my older sister, wasn't a likely candidate, either. Morelli was known to show up at my door every now and then, considering our off-again on-again relationship, but a of couple weeks after my capturing the Rug, we'd had one of our locally famous quarrels, and were currently in the off-again stage. Ranger was out; he would just vaporize into a ghost of mocha latte goodness and slide through wood of my door, physics be damned. And any number of my college friends was equally likely to show up as my parents - but I wouldn't put it past them to have received my mental distress call and shown up like the heroes they all secretly were; everyone in my life seemed to be trained in the damned ESP I lacked.
But when I looked out the peephole, I was surprised to see that it was Morelli waiting on the other side. He looked worried, and slightly pained - no. Not pained. Disbelieving. Whatever this was about, he wasn't sure if it was a dream or not, any more that I was. Opening the door, I cocked my head. "Joe. What are you doing here?" I wasn't willing to forgive him. Not one bit. Not after all the shit he'd pulled and the things he said.
He shifted uncomfortably, rubbed the back of his neck. And then he pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "Cupcake, you're under arrest," he informed me, and while I was stunned into silence, he quickly maneuvered my wrists behind my back and handcuffed me. Last time he'd cuffed me, I'd been naked. It hadn't been for fun, though. It had been years ago, when he was my first FTA, and I'd stolen his car. He'd chained me, naked and wet from my shower, to the curtain rod, and I'd had to call Ranger to come save me. Now, he was arresting me.
"What?" I finally gasped, and yes, my voice was shrill. And no, I didn't give a damn. "Why?"
He paused, to lean back and meet my gaze for a minute, before saying, "Dickie Orr is dead. Found with a strip of duct tape across his nose and mouth and tied to his office chair. And cupcake, a lot of people saw you try to strangle him day before yesterday. A lot of people heard you tell him he'd get what was comin'. Cupcake, they think you killed him." And with that, he dragged me down town.
Bail was set at a staggering amount, but I didn't have to worry about who I would call for help. As per usual, (if anything was "usual" in a case like this) Ranger arrived shortly after we did, and paid without blinking. It only took a few minutes, total, but I zoned out for most of the time. When Ranger led me out of the Police Department, I was more than happy to follow him. But when I watched his back as he strode to his Porsche 911 turbo, I saw the tenseness I hadn't noticed before, and knew he was royally pissed. Maybe not the best time to tell him what I'd just remember then, I thought, as the image of the pink plus sign swept through my mind again.
He drove in silence, but that wasn't unusual. He usually entered a Zen place when he drove. This wasn't it. He usually obeyed every traffic law and street speed, but as he made a hairpin 105 mile per hour illegal left turn, I knew that was out the window, as well. His . . . aura of just extreme anger rolled in waves through the car, and by the time we were slowing down and turning into the Rangeman garage, I was nearly trembling. I followed him down the hall to the elevator, even though I really didn't want to be in such a confined and small room with Ranger while he was in a state like this, and waited by the door when he stalked into the center of his seventh floor penthouse.
"Ranger . . ." I finally began, but he silenced me a single look.
"Babe. Don't even start. First, you nearly get half of my men killed in a reckless stunt that could have been avoided if you'd just worn the fucking microphone, then you attack a man in public, and now he's dead, and you're wanted for murder. Dammit! Don't you ever think, Stephanie?" He stopped. He didn't have to say anymore.
"I'm pregnant. It's yours," I said, since it was all I had to say. He froze all over again. And then he was moving. He stalked straight toward me. Grabbed my chin with two fingers and tilted my head up. His brown eyes met my blue ones. He arched a single brow.
And he whispered, "That's impossible, Babe. I had a vasectomy after Julie was born."
I scoffed. Mirrored his single arched brow. And whispered right back, "Impossible? Mr. Big Badass Mercenary, you should know better than that. Yes, the odds are not in favor of pregnancy, but it's not impossible. You're the only one I was with for just over a month before Hawaii, and I wasn't with Joe, or anyone else, for that matter, for a while afterwards. And I had a lapse in birth control. None of it was impossible." With that, I turned, and pressed the button on the elevator to go back down to the control room. "Don't worry." I added to his stunned disbelief by saying, "I'll get Tank to give me a ride home." Sometimes it was good to get the last word.
