No words were exchanged the first hour of the drive. They were traveling dimly lit back roads in a nondescript car in utter silence. Stephanie sat with arms crossed, head tipped back and eyes closed, but fully awake. Ranger was in his zone.
Stephanie squirmed in her seat. She crossed her legs. Then she uncrossed them and tucked her foot up underneath her thigh.
"Problems?"
"I need to pee."
Ranger let out a soft sigh. He checked his rearview mirror before pulling off the desolate two-lane road. When he put the car in park, Stephanie made no move to get out.
"I thought you needed to go."
"Not that bad."
"Stephanie, we're at least twenty miles from the nearest gas station. Even if you could hold it, I'd rather not stop in a public place until we're done driving for the night."
After releasing her seatbelt, Stephanie attempted to open the door but found it locked. She tried the automatic button on the door but nothing happened. She faced front again and said, "Are you going to let me out?"
Ranger released the locks and she stormed out of the car, slinging her purse over her shoulder. When she was about ten yards from the car, she heard Ranger's door open and close. He called out, "That's far enough."
She whipped around. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
"I'm not going to cop a squat this close to the road."
"This road is deserted, Stephanie. Nobody is going to see you."
"You can."
"Nothing I haven't seen before."
"You've never seen me pee!"
"Babe, if you're thinking this is turning me on, you're sadly mistaken."
She glared.
Ranger said nothing else. He just folded his arms across his chest and stared out into the field where she was standing. With a huff, she dug a tissue out of her purse, tossed her bag a few feet away and unsnapped her jeans facing the road. She tugged her pants down and squatted. Once she was able to start relieving herself, she looked up at Ranger and saw that he was watching her pensively. She knew he couldn't really see anything, hunched in the weeds as she was, but this new humiliation added onto current events triggered an unwanted sting of tears behind her eyes. The blessed numbness that had set in while in Joe's bedroom was giving way to fear, panic and anger.
Finished, she hiked up her jeans, grabbed her purse and stormed toward Ranger. He looked like he was about to say something when she swung her purse in an arc aiming for the side of his head. In a voice thick with tears she yelled, "I HATE you!"
He deflected to brunt of the blow, yanked the purse from her hands and tossed it onto the road near the passenger door. She slapped at his chest with both hands, repeating over and over, "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"
He took the punishment with no more reaction than a clenched jaw. Realizing she was getting no response, she started kicking his shins and pounding on his chest with her fists. His lack of reaction made her furious. She pulled her arm back to slap him across the face. He caught her wrist inches before she connected. "That's enough, Stephanie." His voice was both harsh and controlled.
Panting, she looked into his hard eyes and began struggling to free her wrist. He barked, "Enough!"
She stood there frozen and stunned. He'd never spoken to her that way before. He'd certainly never yelled at her. With a tear rolling down her cheek, she whispered, "How could you say those things to Joe? Why would you let him to believe-"
"I needed to expedite our departure."
"But now he thinks…"
His hand tightened on her wrist. "What Stephanie? He thinks I've kissed you? Touched you? Tasted you? Fucked you?"
Tugging fiercely to get free, she spat, "Stop it!"
He jerked her car door open, put his hand on the top of her head and shoved her in. Once her feet cleared the frame, he tossed in her purse, slammed the door and walked around the back of the car. When he was inside, he restarted the car, checked his mirrors and pulled back onto the road.
Five minutes passed before she spoke again, albeit sullenly. "I thought you were Mr. Morally Right."
"You want to argue morals with me, Babe? I'm not married. You're not married. Consent is implied when your tongue is in my mouth and you're dry humping my thigh. Seems you might have some moral issues, though."
"Fuck you."
"I'll have to pass right now. You smell like Joe."
She turned to face away from him as much as the seatbelt would allow, closed her eyes and tried to sleep.
When she woke again, it was nearly dawn. The car was parked in front of a run down motel complete with a miniscule pool. Ranger had a small black lockbox on his lap and was flipping through various credit cards and IDs.
"What are you doing?"
He didn't look up, just continued flipping through the cards. "Trying to decide who should check into the motel." He pulled out two IDs with identical pictures and waved them in the air. "Should I be Joaquin Martinez or Anton Espinosa today?"
She looked out the passenger side window studying the filthy pool in the twilight. "Is one of them not an asshole?"
He picked an ID and two corresponding credit cards. Then he began flipping through the left side of the lockbox.
"What are you doing now?"
"Looking for Anton's bride."
He pulled out a credit card and matching ID and handed them to her. She studied the California driver's license in shock. It was a recent picture of her but not the same as the one on her 'real' driver's license. The card said she was Katherine Anne Espinosa. She snorted in disgust. "We're married."
He flipped the box closed and locked it. "Yes, but apparently Katherine is exceedingly unhappy with her asshole husband."
Leaning across her, he popped the glove compartment open and pulled out handcuffs.
"You've got to be kidding me."
Swiftly grabbing her left wrist, he cuffed her and then attached the other bracelet low on the steering wheel. Then he picked up her bag and dumped the contents on her lap. After examining all the items, he carefully checked the lining of her purse before quickly tossing the items back in.
She knew she should be outraged, but she was so stunned by his behavior, she simply watched passively. "Why did you …that's just …"
"I know you have a handcuff keys on your key ring. I also know you left your keys on Morelli's kitchen counter, next to your cell phone. I need to be sure you don't have an extra key."
"How sweet."
He shoved the lock box under the seat and opened his door. Once out of the car, he slammed the door shut, beeped it locked and walked purposefully toward the office.
Ten minutes later, they were inside a seriously dated motel room. The carpet was an indeterminate shade between brown and orange. The avocado green and orange comforter on the queen-sized bed was circa 1970. There was a small table with two chairs in front of the window and a 32-inch television bolted to the dresser. The room smelled like cigarette smoke.
Ranger dropped their two duffle bags over by the vanity. He then began removing his weapons. When he reached over his head to pull off his shirt, she said, "What the hell are you doing?"
He tossed the shirt on the floor and toed off his boots. "We're taking a shower and then we're going to sleep." Question answered, he released the top snap of his cargos.
"Can't you just undress in bathroom?"
He paused just as he was about to shove his pants down. "I'm not leaving you out here alone."
"What could happen?"
He gave her a withering look. "Stephanie, you have a long history of not following orders and running away. Get undressed and get in the shower."
"No."
He propped a hand against the wall, tipped his head down and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Stephanie. I don't have the time or the inclination to deal with your behavior right now. I'm under a great deal of stress. I need to focus my energy on getting us from point A to point B safely. I don't have it in me at the moment to play the gallant superhero, or to kiss your ass because I've pissed you off. Get the fuck in the shower before I lose my temper."
He turned, peeled off his socks and shucked his pants. He turned back to see that she was undressing, albeit grudgingly. She tossed her clothes on the pile he'd made and walked past him into the bathroom. He reached across her and turned the faucet on. When the temperature was satisfactory, he grabbed her upper arm and tugged her in behind him.
They both washed up with economical motions, only touching when they switched position to utilize the showerhead. Ranger finished before she did. He stepped out of the shower, closing the curtain behind him. When she heard the bathroom door click shut, she slid down the wall, buried her face in her hands and cried silently under the cooling spray.
A/N: Don't forget to check out my blog, Mrs. Middle America, where I also post weekly!