A/N-this story was inspired by a fic by Wendy whose awesome stories were at Plumstyle Fanfiction. I hope if she ever reads this it'd be OKAY w/ her….Standard fanfic and fanfic-fanfic disclaimers apply.
Cupcakes warning: if you love Morelli, you probably won't like this story, although Joe is more sad than bad.
One of the little things in 17 that bothered me a lot was when Morelli tells Steph:"Yeah I'm a nice guy." which has always been Ranger's sort of wryly humorous line! [the contrast between his bad guy image and his real self...].
This story takes place right after Take a Chance. It is also MY epilog to Eleven on Top. In my Plum World, JE's books take place at random times; please don't try to make the timelines merge, ok?
Half Past Eleven
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from Eleven on Top, pgs 304, 305 hc: I tumbled out and fell into Ranger's arms. He was as stunned as I was. His eyes were dilated black and the line of his mouth was tight. "I saw you folded up in there and I thought you were dead," he said..."I've had six really bad hours looking for you. I need to know you're safe."
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Coming home with Ranger after the Stiva arrest.
[Stephanie]
We walked out of the police station at about 3 AM. Ranger was silent at my side. Hal and Tank veered off silently to their Explorer. Someone had (of course) delivered Ranger's Porsche and left it parked in the fire lane in front of the cop shop.
Not towed, needless to say, not even a ticket.
Ranger's lawyer handed me his card and said, "Please call me if you ever need anything. Anything at all."
He got in his Lexus and drove off. Ranger beeped open the Turbo and said, "Where to, babe?"
I just looked at him. I had no idea what to say, where to go.
He helped me into the car and fastened my seat belt. Laid a little rubber just to annoy the cops on duty.
We drove a few blocks in silence, then he said again, "Steph? Should I stop for coffee? Donuts?"
I just shook my head.
When I opened my eyes we were pulling up at the Rangeman garage entrance. I was suddenly so relieved to be here with Ranger and not in a confrontation with Morelli that tears started running down my face. I bit my lip and turned away so Ranger didn't see me crying.
"Babe, looks like Morelli got a ride, do you want to see him tonight?"
Joe was getting out of his cousin Mooch's car, hobbling on his crutches. So much for no confrontation.
Morelli was having issues with our break-up. My helping him out this past week had maybe led him to think we-he-still had a claim on me. I sighed. "I guess I better do this now, get it over with."
Silence from Ranger.
"Can we go up to your apartment and talk?"
"Call me in my office when you're done."
"No! I want you there with me!"
"Are you afraid of Morelli, babe?"
"No. But he just doesn't get it yet. I was only at his place to help him out, as a friend. You know that's all it is."
"Problem is, he doesn't, babe." Ranger reached out and took my hand, the hand that now wore his rings.
"Please, Ranger."
….
[Ranger]
I knew she'd gone through a lot and desperately needed some down-time, but here was Morelli with a full head of steam just about to burst. And all on Steph's head. How could a man who supposedly loved a woman be so blind and selfish? Morelli was all about Morelli. If he gave her too much trouble he'd get thrown out, I promised myself. Or I'll kick his stupid ass. Steph had been crying in the car, she never cried. And even now she was quivering like an exhausted greyhound, pushed too far and too long.
[Joe ]
They got out of Manoso's Porsche Carerra 911Turbo. He had parked in a space in front of the elevator along with his other personal cars—the big Ford truck Steph loved, a 700 series Mercedes sedan, a BMW 830Ci sedan and a Porsche SUV. Need I say, black, new and shiny? And who the hell buys a Porsche SUV? I thought. The other cars in the garage were an assortment of shiny new black Rangeman SUVs—Explorers, GMC Yukon Denalis, and Land Rovers. A Lincoln Navigator and an Escalade truck. All with black tinted windows and the very expensive alloy wheels. Ranger treated his staff well, it seemed.
There were a few other cars that weren't black, including an amazing yellow Ferrari with NY vanity plates that read ''ONESHOT" and a top of the line silver BMW 850 sedan and a cream BMW Z6 convertible. Even discounting the megabucks Ferrari that didn't look like one of Ranger's own cars, there was maybe a million dollars worth of vehicles here, maybe more. This place looked like a luxury import car dealer showroom.
We rode up to the penthouse. Manoso beeped us in with some high tech gadget. Jeez.
Steph immediately headed to the shower, leaving me with Ranger. The apartment was spacious and austerely elegant. Black leather and I presumed good antiques, lush carpeting, oriental rugs, real paintings on the walls. Like the personal cars it shrieked Money, money, money. I felt a major pang in my gut. Envy, I realized with dismay. This guy has it all.
Ranger handed me a beer and gestured to the cast on my leg. "Another fractured bone, Morelli? Maybe when you're feeling better you should come over here to the gym and I'll show you how to fall so you don't get hurt all the time."
I felt my face color up, not sure if what I felt was anger or embarrassment. I said sarcastically, "Oh yeah? I guess you never broke a bone, Superman? Didn't you ever injure anything when you were jumping out of planes playing soldier? Didn't anyone ever have the guts to pop you one and bust your nose?"
I was upset that I'd been helpless tonight during the search for Stephanie. And that yes I did have another broken bone. I was ashamed though as soon as I said the part about playing soldier. As far as anyone could tell from Manoso's extremely sketchy military records he had been one of the best, an elite soldier who performed effectively, even heroically. He had a lot of medals and commendations even though the rest of his file was wiped clean.
I sighed. I had been a regular enlisted man in the navy. I did my four years but I was never good enough for Special Forces. Certainly no asked me to volunteer for the SEALs.
Manoso looked at me and finally said, "Do I look like anyone ever broke my nose?"
I think he meant that no one would ever score a hit on him, he was too good, but I stared at him, actually seeing him for once. Usually I saw him through a haze that was partly red rage and partly green envy. I thought he was a thug and a lowlife, not too bright and not acceptable company for my sheltered Burg girlfriend. A muscle head. A mercenary. But-I knew women, including Stephanie, found him attractive.
And, yeah, okay, his sheltered Burg girlfriend, soon to be his wife. I just couldn't get my mind around that, though. Stephanie is mine. Mine!
Now I looked at him and saw that no, his nose was freakin' perfect. Not touched by an ER doc's hurried hands and not repaired by a good plastic surgeon either. It had the straight elegant lines he was no doubt born with.
Examining him dispassionately I could see that he was truly a handsome young man, with fine features and beautiful dark Latino eyes. He had a wide generous mouth and gorgeous white teeth. Thank god he hardly ever smiled because his smile was blinding. And after seeing his home and the cars and this building, I was revising my opinion of his intelligence. He was smart enough to have made a lot of money and to have a lifestyle far beyond what I could ever hope to achieve. And he had the taste and sophistication to go with it.
Usually when Manoso talked to me, admittedly not much and not often, he spoke heavily ghetto, the slang and intonation of the streets and the projects. It added to his brutish thug persona. Tonight he spoke quietly with correct grammar and no hint of street. Like the affluent lifestyle, the accentless soft voice was a strangely discomforting revelation. How much was Manoso and how much was a con or a cover? And…did Steph realize? She must, she appeared to know him very very well. Too well.
They're fucking engaged?
Ranger looked at me some more and must have decided that the conversation wasn't going anywhere because he took his beer and sat down on the sofa. He closed his eyes.
"Sit, Morelli. Short showers aren't Steph's thing."
I felt my temper flare. How dare he tell me—me!—about my girlfriend's personal habits. But I took a seat across from him.
We sat, waited. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Manoso's mind was apparently elsewhere and he had not noticed, or was ignoring, my annoyance.
Finally Steph emerged, still toweling her hair dry. She walked in saying, "God, I needed that. I hope I never get another whiff of formaldehyde ever!"
She was interrupted by a knock on the door which was immediately followed by the entrance of two men when Ranger opened the door. I was surprised because Ranger did not seem like someone you'd just drop in on. One of the men was Ranger's cousin, Lester Santos. He and Ranger didn't broadcast their relationship but I knew they were family from police investigations I'd done on them both. And Lester looked a lot like Ranger, same build, same eyes and smile but very short hair. The other man was a stranger to me. He was young and blond, and yes, another good-looking guy.
Santos strode in and grabbed Stephanie, hugged her tightly and whirled her around. He kissed her soundly and said, "You scared the crap outta us, beautiful, are you okay?"
She smiled. "Sure, Les, I'm good."
Ranger told her, "Les and Antonio did the computer work that helped us locate the old lady in the tax office and find you."
She turned to the second man who like Santos pulled her into a tight hug. This embrace seemed a bit different though. This man held her close like Manoso had done earlier. He finally pulled away and they locked eyes, oblivious to all of us. He didn't kiss her but his eyes searched her face. His face was intense and strained, his eyes dark with concern. Steph gently touched his cheekbone with her fingertip.
Then she said, "Awesome hair, Anthony."
The guy had his long hair pulled up in a samurai style topknot, sides buzzed short.
Lester said, "He was so nervous he pulled out his braids!"
Steph said, "Oh baby, poor you." The guy frowned a little, said nothing.
I glanced over at Manoso to see how he was taking these intimacies. He was smiling his almost smile and looking indulgent. Steph went to Ranger's side and he put his arm around her waist. I could see how she leaned into him for support and comfort.
I thought, Why am I even here? Steph obviously has an entire life here with him and his crew, a life I knew nothing about. These tough hardened men love her and she loves them back.
"Steph, come down to the comm room so everyone can see that you're okay. If you're up to it?"
"I'm in my pajamas, Les."
"We don't mind, you look real cute."
She did too. Little soft pastel and grey outfit, yoga pants and baby tee. Little white ankle socks. Very girly. Steph never does girly. And why does she have clothes like that here anyway? She lives here now? Keeps pjs here? He bought them for her? What?
She hesitated. Manoso said, "Go ahead, babe, otherwise we'll be interrupted all evening."
She smiled and nodded. "But you guys"—her eyes included me—"will wait?"
"Yeah, babe." She and Ranger locked eyes for a moment. Whatever she read on his blank face reassured her, I guess.
"Okay, Les, c'mon."
She and Santos walked out, his arm slung around her shoulders. I could hear him teasing her gently, he had a soft attractive voice when he wasn't being Ranger's thug.
The blond guy turned to Ranger and they hugged tightly. They didn't seem at all embarrassed by my presence. Ranger finally mumbled something in Spanish, addressing the other guy as hermanito.
Little brother? Who is this guy?
Ranger turned to me. "Anthony Stewart. Joseph Morelli." He did the introduction coolly.
The blond man said, "The cop? The ex?"
to be continued...