4 Stranger Danger… Meaning Ranger
It was midnight and I couldn't sleep.
Like Connie had promised, I had been able to move into her friend's apartment straight away and yes, it was a nice little flat I now inhabited and yes, I had MONEY NOW! Ka-Ching! At that thought I did a little happy dance.
But heavy emotions swirled in my head, disturbing not only my sleep but dance moves too. Those MIB people at O'Brien's were a pure coincidence. Today, they saved my life.
What if this bounty hunting went seriously down the toilet in the future too? What else could I do? Move in with my parents? What a horrifying thought. I hadn't even called them to say I was back in town.
I went to kitchen and poured some juice. I needed to calm down. I had money. Rent was not a cause for stress for a while. O'Brien was a mistake that wouldn't happen again. And hopefully by the time he was released from prison, I was already dead or trained to kill. Connie had hinted that she knew someone who could train me. "A real life G.I. Joe," she had described the man. I wondered if he'd be up to train a person who was seriously out of shape, not to mention hated guns. Connie had said not to worry because the man owned her. Somehow that didn't make me feel any better.
I sighed. As much as I tried to rationalize my future, I still felt restless. Something was disturbing my soul, as if my personal space had been invaded.
Sometimes there's a surprisingly obvious explanation for everything. Someone had indeed invaded my space. When I returned to my bedroom, a man was sitting on my bed. He was big. Muscular. His skin mocha-latte coloured. On top of his imposing body, he had a thick wad of black hair that looked silky in the moonlight. His face was unreadable but like his body, it resembled a sharply sculpted marmor statue.
I had immediate dislike for him.
"So you're Stephanie Plum," he said in a quiet voice, almost whispering.
"And you are?" I managed, holding the glass with both hands so it wouldn't drop or shake like a leaf midst of a storm.
"Ranger."
"And you're here because…?" I also wanted to ask why the strange nickname, but was it ever intelligent to question why Joker had a wide smile?
"You ran into my men earlier," he replied, moving to stand up.
Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!
Was he here to revenge? Was he a local drug-lord?
Standing, he hovered over me.
"I was there first," I replied tensely, taking a step back. Then added silkily, "I'm sure O'Brien is somewhere still in one piece for you to… whack his fingers off."
The man stayed blank-faced.
"Look, I don't know O'Brien personally. So you can't ransom him by threatening my life. If you leave now, I promise not to call the cops."
Still blank-faced. Double shit. He must be a psychopath too.
"Just wanted to see the cause of the eruption," he replied calmly after a pause, tilting his head slightly.
Yeah, right. And I'm a long-distance runner. Perhaps I lack in street credibility, but I'm pretty sure he just threatened me. For whatever reason, I could not understand.
I threw the juice at his face and dove at him when he blinked. I actually managed to weaken his balance and with satisfaction felt him coming down with me. He landed on the floor, I landed on him. I threw his t-shirt over his head while he squinted and ran to my front door. When I opened it, another dinosaur man waited behind it. He seemed surprised at seeing me, so I took advantage and dove at him too. Unfortunately, he was so enormous and my speed so slight, that I only bumped my head into his mountain of a chest. Quickly, he took hold of me and silenced me by putting his bear-like paw to my mouth.
"Ranger" was rather quick to follow. His blank face strained now. I guess juice attacks from females weren't a part of his usual repertoire. Must have fuelled his fire. Maybe he felt humiliated.
Ha ha.
He halted when he saw us.
"Oh man. Ranger, what did you do to her?" the man holding me groaned.
"I thought I told you to wait in the car, Tank."
Tank? Figures.
"Yeah well, I knew your wooing skills would cause something like this."
Then they just stared at each other.
"Ranger, I can hear her heart beating like she's about to meet her death," at last Tank said pointedly.
"I'm not afraid," I mumbled through his thick fingers, putting up a brave front. Ranger's eyes slid to me slowly. Like he was assessing something. I wondered if he ever accomplished anything in his life, taking so long in replying simple sentences. I bet people in line desired to kill him when he ordered at McDonalds.
"We should leave," he commented shortly.
I agreed. Unfortunately, not with the next sentence.
"She's coming with us," Ranger added and went ahead down the stairs.
I glanced upwards. Tank looked at me with a sigh and then scooped me up bridal style.
"Let's go, miss."
Like a child, I traveled the ride to a destination unknown in Tank's lap in the back-seat while the great silent one drove the black SUV they had forced me into. It was a bad sign they didn't cover my eyes.
I guess Tank had gone to a trance, because his paws suddenly flew away from my thighs somewhere in the middle of our trip.
"Ranger. She doesn't have any pants on."
I was glad he noticed. I was half-naked, shoeless, shivering. Like mine, I could feel Tank's muscles tense in anticipation when we both anxiously waited Ranger's reply. Perhaps we'd go back so I could have jeans. And call the cops.
"So?" Ranger replied after a small eternity.
Like a furious piranha, I lunged myself toward the driver's seat, but Tank managed to keep his boss safe, caughting me mid-air and caged me back inside his huge arms.
Ranger stayed stoic, as if a crazy person hadn't just tried to bite his ear off.
Who was this man? I glared hard and obviously was successful because he suddenly rubbed his neck, seeming to sense the imaginary knives I was sending.
We came to a sleek dark building, and Tank released me once inside the building's garage.
"Take her to seven," I heard Ranger say quietly to Tank.
I cringed. What was on seven? Torture devices?
Tank nodded toward an elevator and I followed him like a nice little puppy. I could feel his eyes on me on the ride up, which was rather unnerving.
We came to an apartment door and Tank ushered me in.
"Wait here," he said shortly and left.
I looked around. Wow. The place was like a hotel room. So neat, so clean, so modern. Glass, dark colours, steel. Did anyone actually live here? There was a minimum of personal possessions, if any. A wrist watch on a kitchen table. A set of keys next to it. But no warmth of cozy living. Maybe the place was merely a necessity, a cave for someone to sleep in occasionally.
I wandered around the living room and did the obvious –searched for weapons. Nothing usable was available though. Not even a fork to stab with.
After a while I heard a sound at the door. You know, in a horror movie the lead character might do something stupid right now. Like sneak behind the criminal and try to run out….
I was that stupid. And yes, my escapade was short-lived.
When Ranger grabbed me round the waist, my knee was fast to speed toward his groin but before any damage was done, he tackled me down to the floor.
"You have a tendency to act hostile toward men," he whispered, raising his brow like my behaviour was unreasonable.
I just lay there, staring up at his dark eyes, panting. Why wouldn't I try to defend myself? Not my fault that men appeared to do the most of inhumane deeds.
Ooh. This close I could smell a pleasant smell radiating off of him. Involuntarily, I dazed a bit.
Then Ranger rose and lifted me up. It was unsettling how smoothly he did that. His appearance didn't lie – he had strength.
I hated him. I didn't like anything he stood for - male body, male superiority, and male aggressiveness.
"Sit." He said that ominously enough, so I sat slowly on the living-room sofa.
He sat on the coffee table next to it, so that our knees were touching. I moved quickly to cover my legs with my over-sized night-shirt.
But he leaned close, so very close that our noses touched too. Mine was cold against his warm one.
It was a hypnotic experience to see his chocolate eyes from a millimeter distance. I usually watched only my face this close and that was in front of a mirror.
Perhaps he wasn't a slow thinker. In fact, he seemed to be the opposite of it. Intense. His eyes kept staring into me as if they would skewer into my soul. Cold sweat spread across my back. Suddenly, breathing was difficult.
I had to look away. Except he wouldn't let me. He raised my chin back up with his fingers.
"You've endangered your life," he said.
"I'm sure life-expectancy gets better when you let me go," I chirped in a taunting manner, sounding like a twisted Mary Poppins. What the hell was wrong with me?
"This is a dangerous business you are dealing with."
"What business? I'm not into drug-dealing."
He didn't reply, so I took my time watching his face, admiring his high cheek bones. He could have been a Dior model and made a fortune like that. But perhaps posing in front of a camera didn't give thrills like kidnapping people. Like… perhaps, killing people.
A tremor crossed my body. Ranger noticed it, obviously. He cocked his head a bit. The way he tracked his environment, perhaps nothing ever slipped from him. He was in a constant stand-by mode. And yet, appeared relaxed. Like a poisonous snake basking in sun, seemingly occupied in pleasure but all the same ready to bite viciously if it came to it.
What had made him to choose the dark side of the law? Maybe he had grown in poverty, in the streets. Would explain his soldier-like demeanour. He had adopted cruel but essential ways of survival to his environment from the start.
Most likely, he had learned to trust no one.
Ugh. What was I doing? Feeling sympathy for him? Was I already having Stockholm syndrome symptoms? No matter what his past, he had no right to kidnap people and threaten them.
I met his stare with the same coolness he was channeling.
I guess my sudden calmness wasn't satisfactory and it was time for Scary Tactics 101, because he pulled a small knife from his ankle and fingered its tip in a careless manner.
"Nice tooth-pick," I commented. He smiled.
"I run a business."
"So?" I said after a long pause. He, too, took his time replying. He flipped the knife in the air, twice, and then put it aside on the table and with elbows resting over his knees, steepled his fingers together.
He locked eyes with me.
"So…. it's my business when a mission fails. When a completely inexperienced, inadequate person through nepotism interferes."
I frowned. He was acting like a principle, giving a lecture to a disobedient pupil. As if his criminal organization was a serious business. I munched this in silence. Guess his attitude explained the black outfits his men wore.
Hm. A serious criminal was a bad thing. I was soooo fucked.
I started to ramble.
"I already told you I was there first! And by the way, I was there alone. Your men were armed from teeth to toe. Looked like a circus down there!" I blabbed, letting go of my shirt, waving my arms through the air.
He laughed! Surprising how nice it sounded. Not a maniacal cackle at all, more like a warm… humming sound.
"Do you practice self-defense?" he asked when his laughter died.
"No," I replied, raising my brow. What was he up to?
"Do you exercise?"
What was this, a doctor's appointment? I wouldn't dignify to answer to that. I guess he sensed the very hostile change in the atmosphere, and moved on to the next topic.
"You have a gun?" he asked quickly.
"Okay, mister. Enough of this. I get that people like you get excitement from scaring people, but the joke has run its course. I learned the lesson – do not mess with Ranger and his band of evil Merry Men. Now let me go?"
He sighed. Was that a positive sigh? Like, "fine, you can go", or "shit, still have one to kill before my beauty sleep"?
"Someone will drive you in the morning."
"In the morning?!"
"I've had a long day. Either sleep here, or walk home without pants and shoes."
"Where are you going to sleep?"
"In my bed."
"And where is your bed?"
"There." He nodded toward a closed door.
This was his apartment?
"And where I am going to sleep?" I asked wearily. In a dog cage?
"You can sleep on the sofa. Or, if you want to… with me."
His face was very hard to read, but I knew there was a hint of a smile there.
I raised my both brows. Like hell I was going to sleep next to him. I guess this was another attempt to scare.
But then it hit me. He was obviously a person who was… how should I put it… "aware of himself and his surroundings". He must've known what an intimidating effect he could have on people – no tooth picks needed. He could kill me sans weapon.
He was testing me. Why? Did he think I was so daft I'd attack him? Ok, perhaps I had, twice already, but still…. Something didn't feel right. Was he trying to distract me from something? Again, I watched carefully his expression.
"The sofa it is, then," I replied.
He rose. "Your choice, babe." He stalled. I fumed. Then he made a quick exit to his room, closing the door behind him.
Babe?! Was he a pimp too? For heaven's sake.
I massaged my cold thighs. Crying felt natural, but needed to be postponed. My kidnapper would not hear me sniffling.
I settled on my right side on the sofa, swearing to sleep one eye open in case the possible women subjugator next door would have sudden ideas. Staying up all night might be easy, considering my body temperature.
An unexpected happened when Ranger's bedroom door opened again and the man appeared with two warm blankets and a pillow. He unfolded the blankets and slid them over me disturbingly carefully, as if he was wrapping a present. I wanted to tell him to keep his hands to himself but oddly, couldn't overcome the tense silence. Finally, he handed me the pillow. I gave a chilly stare but took the thing. He said nothing, looked like nothing and went back to his room.
If I'm able to leave this place alive, I'll show "Ranger" with whom he is messing with. Tomorrow, Connie's G.I. Joe and I would make a deal.
When my shivering stopped, I was out cold, both eyes.
