A/N: This is a "missing scene" from Lean Mean 13. We all know how Ranger reacted when Lula and Steph blew up Hanson's house but what was he thinking. The sentences in bold were taken directly taken from the book, though the tenses were changed to reflect Ranger's POV.
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Janet Evanovich. I make nothing from my efforts.
In Ranger's Head
I had just finished a business meeting and I was in the Cayenne, headed back to Haywood, when my cell phone rang. Picking it up, I looked at the caller ID and noticed the call was from Tank. Flipping it open, I answered with my customary, "Yo."
"There's been an explosion."
"Where?" I didn't say it but I was concerned. If there was an explosion in Trenton it was a good bet that my Babe was nearby.
"Comm center caught the call on the police band scanner, a house on Myrtle Street."
He didn't say anything but I could tell by the tone of his voice that there something he was wasn't telling me. "Spill it," I demanded.
Blowing out a deep breath, Tank said, "Talked to Lula at lunch. She and Bombshell were picking up a skip this afternoon...he lives on Myrtle."
'Damn,' I swore mentally. This was bad but like I said, it wasn't unusual for stuff to explode when Steph was near.
"I'll be there in 10," I answered and snapped my phone shut.
I whipped a U-turn in the middle of the street, stepped on the gas pedal and sped towards the detonation. As I drove towards the explosion, my thoughts turned to Steph. I've known her for a few years now and I can honestly say I've never known another woman quite like her.
The first day I met her, watching her walk across the diner, I could tell something was different about her. I was immediately I attracted to her but I couldn't explain why. She was beautiful, that was obvious but that wasn't all there was too her. She had an inner beauty that draws people to her. I tried to use what Steph likes to refer to as my "ghetto" Ranger persona, to scare her back to her nice safe life but she wouldn't scare, instead she stood her ground. Although I didn't tell her, I was impressed, she had nerve and backbone!
And then she called when Morelli locked her to the shower curtain bar! She looked so damn hot and sexy. It took all my self control not to leave her cuffed to the bar and take her right there. Luckily, she was so angry she didn't notice how much she turned me on, with that thought; I had to reach down and adjust my tight cargos. Even years later, just the mere thought of her affected me.
When I heard she had caught Morelli I couldn't help but be a little surprised. He was a trained cop and a detective and she was novice bounty hunter. He had all the skills necessary to survive on the street and all she had were her instincts. It didn't seem like a fair fight but somehow she did it. She got her man, locked him in the back of a freezer truck and took him in. It was one of the last times I would doubt her.
My cell phone rang again interrupting my musings. Flipping it open, I answered, "Status."
"Her car is parked out front," Tank informed me.
'Shit!' I cursed to myself. I knew she'd be there but I hoped I was wrong. "How is she?" I asked Tank.
"She's not out front."
'What!' Steph was always sitting on the curb, waiting for me to show up.
"Rangeman," I heard Tank say, "The house is fully engulfed."
I felt a knife twist in my heart. One of my greatest fears was losing Steph. My Babe was a magnet for trouble. Not matter how hard she tried to avoid it trouble just seemed to find her. As she was fond of saying, it wasn't her fault. It was never her fault. I just feared one day I would be too late and something horrible would happen to her. I silently prayed today was not that day.
I managed to keep my voice level as I ordered Tank, "Find her," and I hung up.
This was not happening! She has survived Ramirez, Cone, Stiva, the Slayers and Scrog, she could survive this. Things blew up around her all the time. Cars only lasted a few months until, as my Babe put it, they went to the great scrape yard in the sky. Even buildings weren't safe from Steph's touch. The funeral parlor was a prime example of that, though she'd claim that wasn't her fault. Her luck always seemed to hold and Steph would come out with barely a scratch.
What if her luck didn't hold this time? What if lost her? I don't know what I'd do without her, how I'd go on. Steph had become the light in my dark world and I couldn't imagine my life without her.
I loved her...without qualifiers. I hated that I never told her, not really. I always stuck something on it, like 'in my own way.' What the hell does that mean? I mean, shit, of course it's in my own way. How else could I love her? It's totally and forever. God, I could be so stupid! Now I may never get the chance to tell her.
Suddenly, my phone rang. I didn't bother to look at it, before I growled, "Yeah."
"I've got her," he said into his walkie, "She's in the back with Lula."
At that moment I rolled up and parked my Cayenne directly behind the other SUV. Relief flooded through me as I strode across the yard. Thank God! She was still alive. I scooped Steph up and held her close, mostly to assure myself she was still here and whole.
"I was afraid you were still in the house," I said, "Are you alright?"
"I got blown out of it," she told me, "And then it started raining."
Shit! She nearly died and she didn't even realize it. She was blown out of an exploding house. One second later and she would have still been inside and been blown sky high instead of out of it.
And what's with the raining thing? It's not raining. The water is from the fire hoses out front, trying to put the raging house fire out. Why didn't she realize that? Maybe she had a concussion. I took a closer look at my Babe. I nearly laughed but instead I smirked, just a little.
"It's not rain. It's from the fire hoses on the other side of the house." I continued, "Babe, your high as a kite."
"Yes! And you are so cute!"
Cute? I was NOT cute. I was tough. Tough guys were not cute. Ruggedly handsome yes…cute never! I didn't even dignify that statement with a reply. Instead I swept her up in my arms and carried her towards the Cayenne.
I let Tank take care of Hanson and Lula, as I loaded Steph into my vehicle. We drove down the alley and turned onto Chambersburg Street, as I slipped into my zone, as Steph called it.
All I could think about was how thankful I was that Steph was still alive. How grateful I was that my chance to tell her how much she meant to me hadn't slipped away. I vowed to tell her how I felt. Someday…when it was safe….maybe….