A/N: I know that Ranger would probably react a bit more viloently to the situation than he does in this chapter, but if he did he'd kill Morelli and that would be the end of the story, so I think I found a solution that was slightly more realistic. I know I've been really bad at responding to reviews, but my computer's been acting up and I was barely able to post this. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!
On my knees, I'll ask
Last chance for one last dance
'Cause with you, I'd withstand
All of hell to hold your hand
I'd give it all
I'd give for us
Give anything but I won't give up
'Cause you know,
you know, you know...
The next week passed slowly. I had a lot of work to catch up on and a lot of things to be briefed about, so I didn't get to see a lot of Stephanie.
After I got back from the cop station I had beaten the shit out of the first man I saw – Lester – in the gym for hours. I kept imagining the cop's Italian face in place of Lester's. Tank confronted me later in the locker room.
"You alright, man?" he asked, his big arms folded against his chest.
I just nodded and tried to brush past him, but he blocked the way and had the height advantage over me. I always hated him for his height. "It's just you looked like you were enjoying beating the crap out of your cousin. I haven't seen you that angry since the time he –"
"Don't say it," I snapped, I hated being reminded of that. I ran a hand through my thick hair, making it stand on edge. I sat down on the bench in front of the lockers and looked up at my best friend. "Does Steph seem…different in any way to you?"
He thought about it for a minute. "I don't know. I haven't seen her in a while. Bomber quit and stopped coming by when she got engaged to Morelli. I only see her when I drop Lula off at the bonds' office sometimes, and we usually don't talk much."
"But she doesn't seem…" I searched for the right word. "Off to you?"
He gave a Tank-shrug. "Last time I saw her was about three weeks ago. She seemed like Bombshell to me."
I nodded. Steph may have Tank and her friends fooled, but not me. I knew something was wrong and I had a pretty good idea what. The problem – well, one of the problems – was that I had no proof to support my theory. Judges and juries don't like that very often. Maybe I should have a word with her family? Perhaps they've noticed a change.
I tugged a black shirt over my head and took the elevator to the garage. I had some body receipts I wanted to check in at the bonds' office.
The drive felt longer than the ten minutes it took to get there. Once again, Lula's red Firebird was no where to been seen, so I guessed she was off chasing FTAs and making the world weirder place. Who would have thought? A plus sized black hooker turned bounty hunter cleaning the streets of crime?
Steph was digging through the filing cabinet, Vinnie standing behind her, taping his foot on the ground, obviously waiting for something from her. He turned around when I opened the door.
"Oh, thank God your back!" he said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Ever since Steph quit it's been hell. I get complaints almost every day, and she shoots people. Stephanie never shot people. She didn't even carry a gun!"
I assumed he was talking about Lula, but said nothing, just handed the receipts to Connie and told her to send the checks to RangeMan. I walked up to Steph and put a hand at the base of her neck. She flinched at my touch, and I felt ill at the thought of her being scared of me. I brushed back some of her wild curls and saw another fresh bruise where I had put my hand. My blood began to boil again and I all but dragged her out of the office to the alley.
"You fall down the stairs again?" I asked.
She squirmed for a second before answering yes. The squirming alone told me she was lying. "The Rangemen tell me you haven't been to see them for a while," I said, the corners of my mouth tugging into a smile. "They all miss their Bombshell."
She shrugged, but I could see in her eyes that she missed them. She'd become the annoying little sister they never had to many of them and she'd earned to the respect of them all. With the exception of Rodriguez, but he's an ass. I don't know why I hired him. I may have been drunk.
"Joe doesn't like me seeing them," she said.
I narrowed my eyes at her. Who was he to say whom she could and couldn't see? He didn't own her; she was her own person. A responsible adult and could make decisions for herself. "Tell me about the wedding," I said, folding my arms across my chest.
She didn't perk up like I hoped she would or like most women do when they relive what is meant to the best day of a girl's life. "It was nice. My aunt and uncle flew in from Florida, I got to meet all of Joe's Italian relatives, and no one got the Eye put on them by Grandma Bella."
Always a plus. I didn't know a lot about Italian voodoo, but I knew that Grandma Bella wasn't someone I wanted to walk into at night. What is it with elderly grandmothers?
"Where did you honeymoon?" I asked.
"Italy. Joe's uncle owns a hotel and we were able to stay there for two weeks," again, no change in her body language.
If I had to pick a place to take her for two weeks to celebrate what should be a joyous occasion, I'd have chosen somewhere exotic and tropical, like her. I'd have chosen somewhere with lots of sun and sand, and we'd have stayed in a private five star hotel. "You enjoy it?"
She nodded and stared at the floor for a moment, looking like she wanted to say something. "What is it, Babe?"
She looked up. "I…I thought I should let you know that I'm thinking of quitting."
I didn't say anything for a moment. I just stood there, looking at her with dark eyes. "Working for Vinnie?"
She gave another nod. She'd been doing that a lot recently.
Why would she stop working for Vinnie? She loved Lula and Connie, and she loved her job. There was only one reason as to why she would even consider quitting. And the more she told me, the less I liked it. "Why?"
"Well," she started. The way she dragged it out confirmed my suspicions. "Joe recently got a promotion and he says he's earning enough to support us both."
"You don't have to do what he says," I told her.
"'Burg wives don't work," she simply said.
"Babe," I said, meeting her gaze. "You're not a stay-at-home-clean-the-house kind of person. Your better thank that. Don't ever let anyone take that away from you. That's not the Stephanie I know and love."
An uncomfortable silence stretched between us and I tried to think of something to say. I didn't want to walk away; I wanted to be near her forever. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and hold her. I wanted to stroke her hair and tell her that everything would be OK. I wanted to make love to her for nights on end. And I wanted to be where Morelli was now.
It wasn't that I was jealous of him. Steph had made her choice and I respected that. As long as she was happy. Except she obviously wasn't and that was what was bothering me.
"Joe said you paid him a little visit the other day," she finally said, breaking the silence. I saw her wince slightly and fear flash through her eyes. "Care to explain?"
I gave a half shrug. "I just felt it was my job to tell him that if he hurt you I'd kick his ass. Usually when a woman gets married, it's the job of her father, but I felt obliged."
I rested my hand on her cheek and hoped she'd relax to my touch like she often did. Often had, I corrected myself. She seemed permanently tense. I positioned myself behind her and slowly began to rub her shoulders. Her muscles were knotted and stiff. I would have guessed that the stress was not from the pressure of getting the right files in order.
I came across a bruise and she winced again. "That was from the skip," she said before I was able to ask. For some reason, I believed her about that one.
"Didn't your husband notice?" the word husband was like venom and I was barely able to say it.
She stiffened and hesitated. She was living in fear and I hated it. I needed her to feel safe around me again before I could do anything about it. "He probably thought I got it when I fell –"
"Down the stairs?" I finished for her.
She nodded. I mentally sighed and then mentally shot something. It did little to ease my rage. "I have to be getting back," she muttered. "I've got work to do."
I watched her stumbled away and noticed for the first time that she was limping. Another injury sustained from 'falling down the stairs' I guessed.
I drove a block away from the office and dialled Tank's cell phone number. "Yo," he answered in typical RangeMan attire.
"It's me," I said.
I heard a mumbled voice in the background and heard him whisper: "It's Ranger."
Lula's voice came through the phone. "Yo, Batman, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to borrow yo' man for about an hour."
And then she hung up. Great, my second in command was out having a nooner. Seemed like everyone was getting some but me.
Judging from Steph's reactions and body language, I'd say the abuse only began a few weeks ago. I knew that as it got worse she'd withdraw further and further away from her friends and family. And me. And I wouldn't let that happen. But she was strong, and I respected her enough to let her fight her own battles and sort her own problems out. She was smart, and I knew she'd do what was best for her. However, if I saw her get any worse I'd do something about it, and it wouldn't be pretty. No one hurts my Babe and gets away with it. Morelli would pay whatever happened, but if he carried on, I'd kill him, cop or not. I'd have to ask Bobby about domestic violence victims and see what could be done to help them. I didn't think Steph would go to a therapist, she's too proud for that, but I'd be there for her whenever she needed me.
God help me, I need her.
I drove back to the office and took the elevator to the control room. "I want a man watching Steph's house at all times," I said. "And I want one following Morelli." Cal nodded and left the room.
I could tell they were all itching to ask questions, but no one did. They were probably more than slightly suspicious that she hadn't stopped by to see them or returned any of their calls, but they obeyed my orders without protest.
I took the elevator and used the key fob to get to the seventh floor. I shrugged my shirt off and got a bottle of chilled water from the fridge. I took a long pull and ran a hand through my hair. I felt responsible for what was happening to Steph. I had a strong feeling that if I had never left, she wouldn't have married the jerk-off and this wouldn't be happening to her. The second I saw her get any worse, the cop would disappear.
TBC
