Disclaimer: Please see previous chapter. This is for Denny's Rainbow challenge on PP; No beta, so all the idiotic mistakes are mine. For all the ladies at BB.
Another Day, Another Disaster – 02
As she turned the corner and pulled out onto Hamilton, another shaft of pain shot through her head, blinding her to the speeding truck that roared towards her. She wasn't aware of the danger until she heard the sickening crunch of metal and felt the door pinning her in her seat, the force throwing her upper body violently sideways and cracking her head painfully against the big steering wheel.
Then everything went black.
As soon as the first call came over the police band, half the Trenton PD raced towards the accident scene, some murmuring "not again", while others simply couldn't believe that the indestructible Big Blue could possibly be totaled.
Racing towards the scene from the opposite direction was what was possibly every single vehicle housed in the underground garage at Rangeman as they thundered towards the woman they considered their little sister and friend. The occupants of those vehicles were intensely silent; every single man praying silently that the old car had protected her, just as they always had.
In the lead SUV, there was no emotion on the big mans' face as he maneuvered around the few vehicles he encountered. The few people who really knew him understood his lack of emotion, though. It was the same for them. The blank face was his defense mechanism. Never let them see your fear. Those six words had been drilled into him from the time he was a young boy and he had faced the gangs that roamed the streets of his new home in the city. They served him well all those years ago, and again when he'd enlisted in the Army. When he was accepted into the Rangers, they'd saved his life more than once, as well as those around him. More than ever, he needed to heed those words now.
When Tank reached the crowd of police cars and emergency vehicles he brought the SUV to a screeching halt; he was out and moving towards the wreckage of the Buick almost before his truck came to a complete stop. He plowed through the curious onlookers and official personnel like a raging storm, never pausing until he reached the center of everyone's attention. What he saw nearly made his heart stop. His inner dialogue pleaded to God to please let her be alright. For more than just her sake.
Firemen were frantically trying to cut through the mangled wreckage with their fire axes, meeting with limited success, while two paramedics inside the wreckage were busy trying to access and stabilize their patient. All he could see was blood and a mass of curly brown hair as they worked furiously on stemming the damage.
Frustrated that they seemed to take an inordinate amount of time to extricate her from the wreckage, he grabbed the frame of the crumpled door and gave a mighty heave. Several pairs of hands that led to black shirted chests had joined him, and they all moved as one, intent on the task. The metal screeched and groaned, finally giving way as they tore the door from the crumpled mess.
Firemen immediately rushed over with a backboard, elbowing their way through the cluster of black. They didn't meet very much resistance; they were simply thankful that the Rangemen had cleared the way for the emergency workers to do their job, and they weren't wasting a moment to take advantage of the time gained.
The Bombshell Bounty Hunter was carefully pulled from the twisted remains of the old car and placed on the backboard, the two paramedics following behind closely. The one who had been supporting her head inside the car was loaded down with IV bags that were attached to the needles in her arms, the other carrying their equipment. In no time at all she was loaded into the waiting ambulance, which took off with lights and sirens blazing almost before the back door had been secured.
Tank threw a look at Lester and Bobby, and with a slight nod turned and sprinted for his SUV. Lester pulled out his phone, quickly dialing the number to the taxi cab company that Frank Plum worked for occasionally as he made his way to the passenger side of Bobby's SUV. The remaining men in black followed suit, peeling out with a resounding screech of tires as they raced in the ambulance's wake. They weren't the only members of fast-moving caravan; all but one police car fell in behind, lights and sirens adding to the cacophony of sound that split the air.
All too soon they arrived at the emergency entrance to St Francis Memorial Hospital, although Tank felt like the drive took forever. By the time he had alighted from his SUV, hospital personnel were already opening the back doors of the ambulance and the paramedic who'd ridden in back started to recite his patients' vital statistics to a doctor who had run outside to join his medical team. They immediately began wheeling her inside to a trauma room, a nurse stepping forward to stop the entourage from joining them in the treatment room.
Tank knew he should be calling Ric to apprise him of the situation, but he hesitated. His friend and boss would want to know her condition, and until the doctors were able to assess her injuries, they wouldn't even speak with him. So he waited, hoping that when he was finally given a report by one of the doctors treating Steph, the news would be good. Or at least offer hope. He didn't think he'd have the courage to call his best friend when there was no hope.
His thoughts were interrupted by the ring of his cell phone. He ignored the disapproving looks from the hospital staff as he took out his phone and looked at the display, his stomach plummeting when he recognized the number. His earlier thoughts of waiting to call his friend were moot now, so he turned and made his way out to the ambulance bay, pressing the button to take the call he dreaded most.
"Yo!" His voice didn't have the usual tone of command when he was left in charge, and he cringed, knowing his friend would hear the difference and know something was wrong. He was right.
"What's going on, Tank? Where's Steph?" Ric, or Ranger as he was known on the streets, had felt a knot of fear deep in his belly, hence the call, and his friends' voice only confirmed the feeling that something was indeed terribly wrong. His world was tilting, and he needed to understand why.
He heard Tank clear his throat, and the knot curled tighter, causing him to hold his breath. "Ric man. It's bad. She got broad-sided by a truck just down the road from her parents'. The doctors are working on her now. She doesn't look good. You need to get here ASAP." Tank felt the sting of tears in his eyes as he finished talking and took a deep breath, willing them not to build and fall. Hope. They'd both need that now, more than ever.
"I'm on my way. Post the guards." Ric hung up and immediately called his pilot, instructing him to have the plane ready for take off as soon as he arrived at the airport. He then called his brother Marcus, telling him there was an emergency and he was back in charge. He grabbed his keys and took the stairs to the garage, not willing to wait for the elevator. He hopped into the silver Porsche parked next to the elevator doors and peeled out, heading for Miami International Airport. Time was of the essence.
Tank clipped his phone back onto his belt as he made his way back in to the ER waiting room, glad to have something to focus on besides the worry he'd been consumed with. He'd tell his friend the specifics when he got there. Right now, it wasn't important. He needed to keep his head clear for the task ahead; mainly keeping Stephanie Plum safe, which included the guards he'd post outside the trauma room, as well as preventing the curious from intruding.
He caught Ram and Vince's eyes, instructing them without words to take up positions on either side of the trauma room door. Their only response was to move to their posts, standing at attention with arms crossed intimidatingly over their chests. No unauthorized person would now be able to enter the room without Tank's approval.
His glance drifted to the rest of the black-clad group clustered nearby. He nodded when Lester caught his eye, letting him know that Ric was on his way. Hopefully by then they would know Steph's status, good or bad, and would be able to deal with the aftermath. None of them would know what to do if the news was bad, though. More than anything he hoped they'd never have to find out.
His silent communication with his friend and co-worker were interrupted by the arrival of Frank and Helen Plum, Stephanie's parents. They were trailed by her grandmother, Edna Mazur, who for once wasn't groping the Rangeman when she reached them. Frank Plum's face was impassive, yet Tank saw worry and fear in his eyes. Stephanie's mother, on the other hand, wore her feelings out in the open, much more like her daughter than most realized. The fear and worry present on her countenance was tinged with anger, and Tank wondered what her mother could possibly be angry about. Unfortunately, he could take a guess; that she thought the accident was her daughter's fault in some way, which made Tank angry on his friends' behalf. This wasn't her fault!
Frank walked directly up to him, silently asking questions that Tank didn't have the answers to. Yet. This was almost as hard as facing Ric, only he would need to hold back his thoughts with this man. He simply shook his head, communicating the unavailability of information. Too bad her mother couldn't understand.
"Where is my daughter? What has she done now? Why are you all just standing here?" Her voice was shrill, making the men standing around her cringe. Surprisingly, it was Joe Morelli who stepped forward. Wrapped up in worry over the fate of both his friends, Tank never consciously noticed his presence, although he supposed it was to be expected. Even though there had been rumors that Steph and Morelli were no longer an item, there had been no reports of the typical screaming matches that heralded another one of their 'breaks'. As far as any of his men knew, including Ric, they were still a couple.
Morelli's voice cut into Helen Plum's tirade. "Mrs. Plum, Steph was hit by a truck just around the corner from your home. She's being assessed and treated right now. The driver of the truck is in custody right now, since the cause of the accident hasn't been determined yet. I don't think she did anything wrong though. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Right now we're just waiting for word on her condition." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, clearly not happy with having to wait for answers. He hated not being in control, of not knowing all the facts, and not being in charge of what information was released. As much as he disliked his position, he knew Manoso's man would be making those decisions. That is, until Ranger himself appeared and took the reins.
Joe didn't much care for Ranger and his men, although he had a grudging respect for their tenacity in trying to keep Steph safe. 'Trying' being the operative word. Keeping Steph out of danger was like telling the rain to stop falling. His former girlfriend excelled at frustrating everyone's efforts to keep her out of harms way, whether she consciously tried or not. Her propensity for landing in the middle of practically every serious situation that cropped up in and around Trenton, especially his cases, was part of the reason he'd agreed they could no longer continue to fool themselves, as well as everyone else. He just wished she would…no, he wouldn't go there again. They were over. Done with. She wasn't his anymore. In fact, if he was honest, she never really was.
His inner musings were cut short by a commotion building at the emergency room entrance as Lula, Steph's friend and sometimes co-worker, charged into the waiting room wearing her usual rainbow of too-small spandex, followed closely by Connie Rosolli, another friend and co-worker. Connie was also the secretary at Vincent Plum Bail Bonds, where Steph worked as a BEA bringing in the lower-end bail jumpers. It was a job Joe hated, even though he'd been Steph's first apprehension.
Lula made a beeline for Tank, correctly assuming he would be the one who would be receiving all the information in regards to Steph's condition in Ranger's absence. Tank shook his head in the negative before Lula was even able to voice a question, causing her to cross her arms over her chest and 'harrumph' in disappointment. Under different circumstances he might allow amusement at her display of irritation to show on his face, except right now he couldn't think about anything but what was going on in that trauma room his men were guarding. There was nothing even remotely humorous about the days' events.
And the day wasn't even half over yet.
Tbc…
Word count without disclaimer and title: 2241
