Breaking the Rules
Chapter Two
Kevin and I spent a relaxed afternoon together, after our massage. He had a shitty assignment that week with eight blocks of Intel room in five days so I waited for my distraction job with him while he worked the Intel room. Working the Intel room, was seen as the worst job and so they tried to roster it so that they only had it twice a week, but it seemed Kevin had been… procrastinating on fulfilling his requirement of in-room time and had thus scored an almost full week of intel work.
It was Monday, and he had a long work day as he had a morning surveillance shift and an evening shift in the Intel room which didn't allow him to go home in the middle to get some sleep. I felt kind of sorry for the guy so I had volunteered to keep him company after my massage and before my distraction job. He talked about various things going on in his life and I relaxed and enjoyed the not-so juicy gossip he shared.
Kevin was about as straight as they came. If it had two arms, two legs, two tits and was female he wanted to be in its pants. Luckily he and I were good friends; otherwise it could have gotten awkward between us. Wait, what was I talking about? It did get awkward between us. In fact, he'd been quite a thorn in my backside for the early months of his time at RangeMan, but we eventually sorted it out.
Actually, Hector had walked in on me trying (for something close to the hundredth time) to explain politely that I wasn't even remotely interested and had taken one look at my stressed face and Kevin's cocky one and said quietly, "She's not interested, Kevin. Stop making a fool of yourself."
They were, the way everyone tells it, the first words that Hector ever said to Kevin. The pair had worked together on two ops over three months and Hector had not said a single word to him, Until that moment. Kevin had been so astounded that Hector could actually talk that he just sat there and stuttered for a good twenty minutes.
He hadn't really pestered me since and he'd become great fun to work with. It hadn't taken long for us to work everything us and although it had arisen between us since then, never in a serious way. Kevin understood I wasn't interested in sex-without-commitment; at least not with a colleague. I wasn't prepared to deal with the backlash of having slept with someone I worked with – especially now that he was such a good friend.
Although he wasn't much for commitment, he'd apparently met this new girl who he was really worked up about. He thought this might be a serious relationship (I was sceptical) and had been trying the commitment thing on for size.
Well, he hadn't had sex with anyone but her since he met her a week ago.
By his standards, that was quite a statement.
Tank, Bobby and Lester walked in as he was filling me in about his successful week of monogamy and Bobby laughed, "oh, yeah, did you want to place a bet, Steph? When his commitment ends? It's twenty to buy in."
"What are the bets?" I asked.
"Lester's got tomorrow. Cal has Wednesday, I'm on Saturday and Tank is on Thursday."
I pulled out a twenty and passed it over, "I'm saying Friday."
Even Kevin looked at me in surprise, "you mean you think I can last only a week and a half?" he said, his voice reflecting a bit of hurt.
I quickly hurried to soothe a wounded male ego, "Don't be silly, Kev," I smiled, "I think you can go as long as you want to – assuming she's good enough and creative enough in bed."
He still looked a little upset so I smiled at him, "I just said Friday because women have a tendancy to refuse sex on a Friday night – because they're tired – and that's when guys want it most, right?" I had overheard that one through the thin walls between the locker rooms when the guys were complaining about their various girlfriends refusing to have sex on a Friday because they were too tired.
Tank shook his head in amusement, "you are a laugh a minute," he smiled at me, "Thanks for taking care of the paramedic," he said, "I never understand why they listen to you and not us."
"Maybe because I'm not male and hot enough to melt metal?" I returned his smile with a small one of my own. It was a long standing joke that the only prerequisite I thought RangeMan had when it was hiring, was that all the guys had to be extremely fine specimens of men.
"Yeah," Tank smirked at my compliment. I noticed, as a laugh circulated the room, that the numbers had gradually built up to around ten men. Tank addressed the room, "hey, does anyone know who owns the new SUV?"
Cal, who'd been operating the Intel room when it was delivered shrugged, "it was driven in by a random. It's an advanced delivery for something. It was definitely a RangeMan purchase, payment slip came out on a RangeMan credit card, but it was one of the Miami crowd. Rumour has it some of the old team are returning to town."
"Old team?" I was confused. I wasn't aware that RangeMan was old enough to have an 'old team' and I was fairly sure I knew everyone who worked for the company.
"The founders of RangeMan," Tank supplied, "Ranger, Diego and Mara."
"Are the last two names supposed to mean anything to me?" I asked, a little snootily. But the speculation of Ranger returning being repeated here caught me by surprise.
"Ranger's brother and sister."
"This is a regular old family business?" I frowned, "how cute!" More importantly – how had I not known? I'd been working with these guys for three years and as good as living with them for one and a half, how had that sort of information escaped my notice?
"The three of them were a real team," Tank shook his head at me, sensing where my mind was going and signalling me not to make too big a deal about it. "nothing got past them. Ever. Mara and Diego moved back to Miami about three years back. Ranger followed a year and a half later." He watched me carefully.
I could tell that he wasn't the only one watching my reaction, almost the entire room at fixed frosty looks on me at that point. Even I could sense the importance of the timing of Ranger's departure, but I couldn't see what relevance three years ago had. I replied to Tank with a silent nod.
He was about to say something to me when someone piped up from the back of the room, "Why would the Boss be coming back?" I was saved!
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a new body standing in the doorway, and nodded to him in greeting. Jesus Rodriguez was in charge of the Trenton office of RangeMan. "Does he need a reason," Jesus stepped into the room at that moment, his movements even and calm despite the tension evident in his forehead, "even I don't know why the SUV was delivered," he said to the group, "all I know is that it was ordered by the Miami office and they paid for it. I have heard nothing to suggest that any of the Manoso's will be returning to Trenton any time soon."
"Hey, Jesus, do you know why they left?" It was Cal. I knew what Cal was asking. He'd had a hard time dealing after Ranger had left – he'd not fitted in so easily as some of the others had, and it was only because Ranger had been around to talk to and get help from, that he'd been comfortable enough at RangeMan to stay on. When Ranger left, Cal had been very close to quitting because he couldn't cope. I never really understood what kept him on, but he was still here and I was glad of it.
"I do," Jesus answered calmly, "they had set the business up so that it could be run by someone like me, so they could return to their homes in Miami and their families."
"Yeah, but why did Ric stick around so much longer than the other two?"
"I am not privy to that kind of information," Jesus said finally, "and this conversation is not a matter for discussion. The car is there for a reason which will be revealed to us eventually. Tank, brief everyone on tonights job and get going."
Tank was very good at following orders, and as soon as he started detailing the plans for tonight, every one paid attention. It was a small distraction job, but routine. I would go in wearing a skimpy number and would catch the eye of our target – using pretty much whatever means necessary - before leading him outside and then taking him down. After that, I was free to go home. It was Lester's op, so he would be waiting outside the front door for me while his partner, Bobby, would be monitoring the microphone. Tank the only other active member of the team for tonight would be inside, watching me from a back corner. He would help out if it didn't look like it was going to go down as planned or if it looked like I needed the extra depth that would come from his presence.
Considering I'd had plenty of time after my massage, it took only a few minutes to get everything together. I touched up my hair and makeup and slipped into my outfit. The 'slut get up' of the night, as I liked to call my distraction outfits, was a black leather miniskirt that barely reached mid thigh when I stood up, paired with a black silk cloth about the size of a handkerchief which was held across my chest by a few silver metal strands. A sizeable amount of Hollywood tape removed any chance of undesired exposure and I was ready to go.
Lester was pretending to be a 'Bouncer-In-Training' at the door, and was working with the actual Bounce on the door. He nodded at me once and the Bouncer realized that I knew him, and let me inside. Although named 'Ice', the club was hot. I was surprised at how crowded it was for a Monday night. People usually tried to pretend that they were starting the week off well, so Monday nights were generally quieter than most. There was a fair proportion of the room on the dance floor and a number were at the bar. I sensed Tank at one of the booths, but couldn't spot my target.
"Is he in the club yet?" I asked into the mic.
"Haven't seen him enter," Lester replied.
"Tank?" I prompted, when the big man didn't reply to my request. Was it that hard to say yes or no? Mind you, Tank and Hector were from the same tree if you wanted to look at it like that; neither liked to talk, too much (not that Tank could hold back all the time). Peas of a pod and all.
"He's not hiding out in the gents, if that's what you're asking," Tank responded, his voice almost acidic.
It took all my will power not to laugh out loud and the I'm-wounded-by-your-lack-of-patience tone of voice he used. Instead, I allowed a small smirk to appear as I surveyed the room. I walked up to the bar, and took a seat, ordering a mineral water. The bartender eyed me in surprise, "You sure you don't want something stronger, luv?" He wasn't from the states, his accent was slightly British.
"I'm working," I said matter-of-factly, "you're not from around here?"
"I'm on a study-tour," he replied. I looked him over and it made sense, he was a good fifteen years younger than me. He continued, ignorant of my scrutiny, "I went broke about a month ago and picked up this job to pay my way."
I nodded politely, and sipped on the mineral water. "Is it always this busy?" I asked. The club was full of people, there was barely space to move at certain areas. It would have been a student heaven.
"On weeknights," he nodded.
"What?" I was surprised, "it's not shut on weekends, is it?"
"God no," he shook his head, "it's just they've got this horrendous band that plays on the weekends, so nobody wants to come; especially because there are so many other options on a weekend."
I nodded, "what sort of music does the band play?"
"It's punk-rock," he said, "but it's not very good. It's sung by these girls who look like they're gay or something and…" he shrugged, "I guess the whole appearance is just a big turn off."
"I used to have some friends who were big on music,"
"Yeah?" he looked only mildly interested, "What are they doing now?"
"He's just walked in" Lester announced through the mic, saving me from answering. I turned around, ignoring the bartender and in a long scan of the room, I pretended I was looking for someone, and merely passed my eyes over my target. It was definitely him. He wasn't looking towards the bar, but was making his way determinedly towards a table in the darkest corner of the room.
"Looks like this one isn't going to happen," Tank muttered, "Why don't we pack up and go home. I'm sure we can get him another night."
Giving up is never an option for me, and I wasn't about to start now. "Come on, Tank," I said, "This could be fun. Besides, I always love a challenge!" I heard a few guffaws from Bobby and Lester.
"Fine," Tank acquiesced with good grace.
I downed my drink, thankful it wasn't actually alcoholic – getting sloshed would have put a big crimp in my non-existent plans for the evening – and stepped onto the dance floor. One of the first things I learnt at college is that if you have the confidence to dance on your own, you'll only be alone as long as you want to be. There is something eye catching about a woman who is prepared to dance by herself, who is prepared to make a statement: I am a single woman. I am having fun without a man. It's almost a challenge to men, that they need to prove that a woman will have more fun with a man. Admittedly, I have no problem with that sort of 'mixed' fun, but I needed to entice this man out – or, at least, get him out, with me in the vicinity.
I began to sway my hips ever so slightly, just picking up the tail end of a slow song. A split second later, 'Dirty Dancing' by The Black Eyed Peas came on, and I began to really move. Dancing, is almost a sexual experience – when done properly – and one I fully intended to take advantage of; especially to such a song as this. I began to dominate the floor, I was in the middle and people stepped out to give me some room. My eyes were shut as I really began to feel the music – my hands roamed my body as I moved to the beat of the music, skimming over my breasts and down past my crotch before running back up my sides and into the air. Someone stepped up to the challenge I offered and I opened my eyes; Tank.
He was a good dancer, his movements erotic and appropriate. He pulled me close to him and I greeted him with a smile and then began to grind against his thigh. He grabbed me and lifted me up, I twisted my legs around his waist and leaned back as he mock-thrust into me, spinning me around. It was an amazingly erotic experience. I shimmied down to the ground and then raised myself up around his body, my breasts gripping his leg and arm.
"Damn, Bombshell!" I heard him mutter.
The song came to an end and Tank and I stepped away from each other, with a kiss.
"Fuck!" Lester could be heard over the mic. I glanced up and noticed he'd stepped inside the club.
"Dance with her," Tank commanded, shooting me a smile, as he leaned in to whisper in my ear, "you need to be 'available'. This guy isn't in to poaching."
I shivered and smiled, "you got it."
I recognized the next song as 'Dance Like This' by Wyclef Jean and Claudette Ortiz. I held my arms out to either side and began to shake my chest, my head thrown back. As I leaned a little further back, Lester appeared. I grinned, "Hey," I said with a smile.
"If this is how you dance, Bombshell, I'm going to have to take you clubbing more often!" he laughed as he pulled me up close. I was hot and sweaty, and he was similar (albeit for different reasons) and our hands began to roam the expanse of the others body. He was a much better dancer than Tank, probably because he was Spanish and it was in his blood, but whatever it was – he was an amazing dancer. He pulled me up against his groin and, gripping my ass he swung me over him once, twice, three times. I threw my head back at the sensations he was evoking in me. He began to grate against me and I felt like a truly sensual, sexual, beautiful person for just that brief moment in time as I felt him hard and pulsating against me.
Halfway through the next song, though, the dynamic in the club changed. I felt my skin prickle and the hair on the back of my neck stand up. My body was reacting in ways that it hadn't reacted for a very long time. There's only ever been one person who could make my body react like that and I hadn't seen a single trace of him for eighteen months. I whispered to Lester, hoping the mic would pick it up, "Is Ranger in town?" I asked.
"What makes you say that?" Lester looked surprised at my question. I wasn't sure if he was surprised because I thought Ranger was there, or if he was surprised because he knew something I didn't.
I didn't respond right away, I waited briefly for a response through the mic, but all I got was Tank's breathing. Finally I responded, "I can sense him. Well, I'm either sensing his presence, or something is about to go seriously wrong."
"Whatever it is, Bomber, I've got to get back outside," Lester apologized looking at me slightly worriedly, "my break is over."
"As far as we know, Ranger's still in Miami," Kevin's voice came over the mic from the Intel room.
"Yeah, well something bad is going down," Tank said, "Call off the op, Bobby. This isn't-"
"Excuse me," someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around, losing my concentration on the conversation going on through my mic. It was my target for the night, "I saw your partners left you. Would you care to dance?"
I laughed and tossed my hair back, "I'm a bit thirsty actually," I said, "may I get a drink first?"
"Let me get that for you," he offered generously, and led the way to the bar, his hand resting on my bare hip. It was sweaty and sticky, but I didn't want to complain as I was hoping to entice him outside with the temptation of hot and sweaty sex. He took my order and brought my drink. I sipped it for a few moments, waiting until a decent song came up before I suggested we return to the dance floor.
My skin was still prickling as I stepped back out and I was still absolutely positive that Ranger was out there, however I had a job to do and I couldn't afford to get distracted. This guy was dangerous, despite how nice he seemed. He did score points for his ability to laugh at himself - he was a hopeless dancer - and we whiled away three songs, despite the voices in my ear (Tank, Bobby and Lester) telling me to get out of there.
A while later I turned to the man (who still hadn't told me his name), "Sorry, but I have to get home. Would you mind escorting me to my car?"
"You have a curfew?" he asked with a faint smile.
I shook my head, "I'm tired."
"So you need an escort to your car?"
"This place isn't the best part of town at this time of night, you know," I tried the slightly nervous smile and luckily it worked.
He offered me his arm, and I took it, "Thanks," I giggled, "I hope I can remember where I left my car!"
"I'm sure I can drive you, if you forgot," he offered.
I nodded seriously, "thanks for the offer, but I should at least try and find my car first."
"Of course," he agreed genially.
We left out the front door, and Lester slipped behind us. As we moved up to where I knew Tank and Bobby would be, I watched everything around me, "I'm sure it's around here somewhere," I giggled as if I was a bit drunk, making myself sway slightly as I walked. As soon as we reached an empty stretch, I began to make my movements a little less predictable and then all of a sudden, I 'swayed' into him, knocking him to the ground; unconscious as a result of my stun gun connecting with his arm.
Lester arrived in time to slap on some cuffs and then Bobby and Tank pulled up in the van and we loaded him in. As we drove I turned to Lester, "hey, Les, can I take you up on that offer to go clubbing another time?"
He turned and grinned a wolfish grin at me, "I would like nothing more than to dance with you again."
I returned his smile, "thanks."
At the police station, I remained seated – there was no need for me to slow down the already bureaucratic process by annoying the cops with my presence. Lester stayed to keep me company.
"Are you sure it was Ranger you saw?" he asked.
"I didn't see him," I said quietly.
"So how did you know he was there? You have a sixth sense or something?"
I just looked at him.
"What?" he countered my look.
"I sensed him," I said finally.
"You sensed him?" Lester looked sceptical, "that doesn't make sense, Steph."
"Just trust me on this one, Lester," I said calmly, "I had the same reaction I have had every time I've ever been around him. Nobody and nothing else – not even donuts – makes me react like that; how could it be anything but Ranger?"
"I just find it hard to believe that he was there and I didn't see him go in, and Tank didn't see him in there."
"What if Tank did," I responded, "didn't you hear his command to end the op? What was that about?"
"I guess we'll have to ask him," Lester responded, "I just find it a bit difficult to believe you can sense a single person."
"It's not that," I countered. "it's like…" I paused as I tried to think of something he would understand, "if someone's watching you, you can always tell, right?"
He nodded.
"And I know you can tell whether Tank or I are looking at you, right?"
He nodded again.
"So doesn't it stand to reason that I could tell someone was watching me, and because I am familiar with the way Ranger has looked at me before, I could sense that it was him because I was familiar with it?"
He nodded, but this time slowly and with less certainty.
"Well, anyway," I shrugged, "I guess it really doesn't matter anyway. If he was there… he didn't want to talk to us."
"So was there ever anything between you two?" Lester asked as Tank and Bobby piled back into the van.
"What's up?" Bobby looked between us, "anything between who-two?"
"I just asked Steph if there was anything between her and Ranger," Lester said, his eyes not having left my face.
I shook my head, "nothing emotional."
"But something physical?"
"Yeah," I nodded, biting my lip slightly as I looked out the window. "Can you take me home?"
"You're telling us a different story to what the word on the street is," Lester said, throwing a meaningful glance at me, "Rumour has it you've been marked as Manoso's woman."
How could a man I'd not seen from for eighteen months have so much bearing on my life? How is it that he could be so powerful as to have 'marked' me, despite our not having spent more than a night together? "what does that mean?" I asked, quietly.
"Nobody's going to mess with you," Tank said quietly, "the partner of a Manoso is safe from everyone. Something happens to you, and the entire family is going to come down on whoever was responsible."
"But I'm still not safe enough to avoid a price on my head," I said dryly, "does that tell you something? Like; maybe the streets are wrong?"
Lester shook his head, "not on things like this, they're not."
"Maybe the streets are making things up, because neither Ranger nor I are talking," I said meaningfully. Lester and I had had this discussion many times before, when I was trying to educate him on gossip and how to pick the juicy stuff from the rest of it. I continued coolly, "Well, I'm telling you now," my tone hardening as I spoke, "there was and is nothing going on between Ranger and I. Clear?"