All characters belong to Janet Evanovich. Completely Babe. Rated M for mature content, adult situations and language. Mistakes, illogical circumstances and unrepentant romantic encounters of the Ranger kind are entirely my fault. Places, names and procedures have been altered to fit the story. I am neither a medical or law enforcement professional, so all mistakes are mine. My deepest thanks to everyone who has read this story and those who have taken the time to review.
Steph dug her fingers into the seat cushion as the helicopter circled the arcade building once before pointing its nose towards the south. She tried to breathe deeper to avoid hyperventilating, but her primal fear of flying wasn't any better with rotor aircraft than it was with jets. Coupling that with the adrenaline crash she'd been fighting off for the past hour, and Steph was left deciding whether to quietly faint or continue in denial only to have a much louder meltdown that would involved sedatives and perhaps a padded room when they reached the trauma center.
Before she could decide, Bobby shifted in his seat and tilted the tablet so she could see it. "Wanna see how we monitor the patient's vitals in flight?"
Even as he explained the app and how it communicated with the onboard equipment, Steph noticed that Bobby wasn't saying a whole lot about Ranger's current condition. She studied his face as he explained the numbers and lines on the graph, and couldn't detect any sign of worry, either in his eyes or around his mouth. While Bobby could be as good as Ranger in disguising his emotions, he seemed to be openly cheerful in a way that didn't seem faked or practiced.
Something clamped onto her left index finger and Steph blinked at the cuff. "What's this?"
"Making sure I don't get in trouble," said Bobby as he watched the readout on the machine he balanced on his knees. "You're being transported as an ambulatory medical patient. If I don't do my job in monitoring you, the next time I try to hitch a ride with these guys they're going to make me sit on the front bumper."
"Skids," said the medic in the front seat. He didn't take his eyes off Ranger but his grin flashed white teeth. "In a high wind. During winter."
Bobby shuddered in mock horror. "See, Bomber? So just to make sure I stay in their good graces, do me a solid and let me get these done."
Put that way and paired with the sad puppy eyes that he must have learned from Lester, Steph gave in as gracefully as possible. She knew the medic and flight nurse were watching her, weighing her relation to Ranger and Bobby and RangeMan. So Steph forced a smile and let Bobby do what he needed, but all the time she was wishing that she could be the one on the stretcher, and that it was Ranger watching over.
All she needed was for Ranger to open his eyes just once, to let her know he was still fighting to come back to her…
Steph shifted in her seat, too well aware that she had no right to believe that Ranger would be thinking of her after being critically injured. More than once he'd said he loved her, but there were all kinds of love—and only one Ranger. It was more likely that he would come back because his men needed him, and because he wasn't the type to give up.
The beep of the heart monitor in the rack above the gurney sped up and both medic and flight nurse were instantly on the alert. Ranger stirred, his head moving restlessly as much as the neck collar allowed, muttering under his breath. Bobby slid off his seat, kneeling next to the stretcher as his hand rested on Ranger's shoulder and he whispered in his ear.
Ranger's agitation increased. He said something Steph didn't quite catch, and Bobby answered him in a little louder voice. Then Ranger shifted and the rails under the stretcher rattled.
"What's going on?" Steph asked.
She bit her lip as soon as she said it, well aware that she shouldn't distract the medical personnel from their jobs. Ranger's shoulders and back tensed and the entire stretcher apparatus jumped; the flight nurse unbelted as the medic reached into an overhead bin and pulled out a small zippered pouch.
Bobby glanced at the pouch. "Too risky. A sedative on top of hypovolemic shock is going to give him more problems than even he can handle."
"I'd rather not crash into a farm field between here and Penn Trauma," the medic shot back. He put the pouch back in the compartment. "You have a better idea?"
"I hope so." Bobby glanced at Steph. "Honey, you don't have to if you don't want to—"
"Of course I want to."
Unbuckling her restraints, Steph took off her helmet and stuffed it into the narrow bit of legroom between her seat and the stretcher. Her hip and side throbbed as she braced herself on the edge of the seat and lowered herself to the floor beside Bobby.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked.
Gently, he took her hand and placed it on Ranger's left shoulder. "Keep it there. Talk to him, and if you can think of anything that would help him recognize that it's you, use it. Hopefully you can reach him, because the more he thrashes around, the more likely he's going to tear something important inside where we can't get at it to fix it."
Steph closed her eyes as the warmth of Ranger's skin soaked into her injured hand. The connection helped ease some of her exhaustion, and erase her fear and panic. She leaned on the metal framework for a moment to find a more comfortable position, and Bobby muttered an apology as he scrambled up and took her vacated seat.
"Talk to him, Bomber. Let him know that you're right with him and that everything is under control."
Careful not to disturb the breathing tube, Steph rested her forehead in the hollow of his shoulder, turning a little so her breath would feather against his neck right below his ear.
"Carlos," she said softly, breathing out to punctuate each word, "it's me—Steph. We're safe and I'm right here. I won't leave you."
Something touched her forehead and Steph blinked to focus her eyes. They widened a little when she realized that he'd turned towards her. A frown line deepened between his closed eyes and the stretcher shook again.
"Sshh, Carlos. Stay still. Can you do that for me? Remember you said I could drive every now and then? I want to drive but you must stay very, very still."
Steph slid her fingers through his hair, not really paying attention to what she was saying. All that mattered was that his body relaxed and the frown faded. Her own breath came a little easier, even though she was bent over the stretcher at an uncomfortable height and her new position meant she could feel every little vibration running through the helicopter.
The aircraft banked suddenly and she swallowed hard. The muscles under her tightened again and Steph pressed a kiss to where his shoulder and neck met.
"It's okay. We're in a chopper with Bobby and the pilot just made a turn. I guess you can add helicopters to the list of things I don't enjoy riding."
The flight nurse coughed and Steph raised her head. The woman winked at her with a broad, barely contained grin as she raised the blanket covering Ranger's arm to check the oximetry cuff. His hand was wrapped around the steel framework, the fingers relaxed and loose. A wide plastic band circled his wrist, and dropped down to disappear in the slot between the cushion and the outer steel rods.
It took Steph a moment to process what she was seeing, and when she did, she turned her head away from the flight nurse and medic and shot Bobby a frantic, quizzical glance. Fortunately, his Bombshell ESP seemed to be working.
The RangeMan medic shrugged. "Ranger wasn't convinced you were safe. It took four firefighters and two deputies to get him on the stretcher."
"And I thought I'd seen it all," said the medic. He adjusted the machine holding the IV solutions dripping into Ranger's vein. "Whoever he is, he was highly motivated to make sure you were okay."
This time Steph didn't blush when the flight nurse grinned in her direction again. She readjusted her position, wincing a little when the sore and bruised muscles in her right hip pulled. The pain was growing again, but she wasn't going to move. Not as long as Ranger needed her to be right where she was.
Denial was a skill, one that Steph relied on both personally and professionally. It carried her through a marriage and divorce with Dickie Orr, losing a job and most of the mishaps that had occurred since becoming a fugitive apprehension agent. The only times it failed her was when Ranger was injured while protecting her.
Her fingers sifted through Ranger's hair again, tracing the curve of his ear and down to his strong jaw. His body relaxed and the heart monitor slowed back to a regular pace. Steph listened to it and her eyes grew heavier. A yawn slipped past her control, cracking her jaw as it escaped.
Bobby tapped her shoulder. "Why don't you rest your head on the cushion?"
Suspicious, Steph narrowed her eyes at him, not sure if his suggestion was completely legit. Bobby wisely spread his arms so she could see he wasn't hiding a syringe anywhere, and when she searched his face again for signs of sincerity, he held up two fingers together and mouthed scout's honor.
"Don't give me that, Robert Brown," she said as she shifted her weight a little more to left side. "I know you and Lester were responsible for the Girl Scout cookies. And don't think there isn't payback coming for stacking them in the break room in full view of the cameras while Ranger was in the office all day."
This time both the medic and the flight nurse were grinning, and Steph managed a smile of her own as she tried to pick a spot where she could rest her head without disturbing Ranger too much. She finally picked out a tiny sliver of the cushion right next to his shoulder, resting most of her head on her upper left arm and straightening that out so it rest alongside his. Her fingertips were just below his elbow; at first she worried about disturbing him, but finally Steph tucked them under his arm and called it good.
This position was even less comfortable. Injured muscles and the abrasions protested, but not loudly enough that she couldn't ignore them in favor of the calm that washed through her when she was in contact with Ranger. Steph adjusted her head so she was staring directly at the side of his head, and she rested the back of her right hand against his cheek.
I love you, Ranger. I can't say it aloud because I don't want to scare you away, but I can admit it to myself. I love you and I can't imagine a life without you in it. Please just come back to me this time.
Please.
It was probably her imagination, but Steph could have sworn that Ranger shifted closer to her. The faint scent of Bvlgari tickled her nose as Steph took in a deep breath. That familiar smell, coupled with his warmth, lulled her deeper into relaxation until she tipped over the edge and slid down into sleep.
She was floating through the air, adrift on a warm summer breeze. Strong sunlight shone on her upturned face and chased away the chill deep in her body. A feather tickled her nose and she heard Ranger laugh, the deep, carefree sound that she heard too rarely but always wanted to hear again. Steph sighed happily, willing to float on the wind forever, dancing through the air and basking under a gentle sun with Ranger.
A strident voice cut through the peaceful calm, yelling words she couldn't understand. Steph blinked and the dream was gone, replaced by a white-tiled room with a single light overhead, blue curtain walls and enough machines blinking, beeping and whirring that she had no problem whatsoever in recognizing where she was.
Her head thumped back into the pillow and Steph stared at the ceiling panels as she took stock. No IV lines ran into her hands, wrists or elbows; no monitor leads stuck to her skin. In fact, the only monitoring equipment she was hooked up to was a finger cuff and the blood pressure cuff. She straightened her legs, wincing at the protest of sore muscles, and felt the telltale scratch of the hospital blanket against bare skin. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that her blood-soaked and torn shirt, jeans and shoes were gone, and they'd been replaced by the hated thin cotton gown that opened in the back.
A loud hum signaled the next scheduled reading of her blood pressure. Knowing this drill better than most, Steph laid as still as possible and breathed deep, thinking calming thoughts as she waited for the machine to finish.
In…out. In…out. In…
A shadow detached from the corner, rising from the molded plastic chair tucked underneath the hand sanitizer. It rose with graceful swiftness and Steph yelped before she could stop herself, grabbing onto the rails of the bed and nearly climbing over them in reflex.
Hector stepped into the dim light, his hands held up to show her he didn't have any of his many weapons out. Steph froze until her brain caught up with her racing heart, then sagged against the railing just as the blood pressure alarm went off on her monitor.
"Damn it," she muttered as a shadow passed behind the front curtain and a short, brown-haired woman with a stethoscope folded around her neck hurried in.
"Glad to see you awake, Mrs. Arenas. My name is Kallie. How are you feeling?" Deftly she silenced the alarm and punched a reset code into the machine. It chirped and then obediently started another reading cycle. "Would you like your bodyguard to wait outside while the doctor examines you?"
"Uh—" She glanced at Hector and caught the slight shake of his head. "No, that's okay. He can stay."
Kallie's lips pursed a little as she looked between the still-silent Hector and Steph. "Mrs. Arenas, you have the right to privacy, even from your own employees. You'd be perfectly safe—"
"No." Hector didn't move, but something in his posture shifted from relaxed to alert. "Stay here. No leave alone."
"But—" The machine beeped as it finished the reading and Kallie checked the numbers. "I'll send Dr. Garcia in to see you. We're in the process of pulling up your medical records so we can get the tests started."
Steph hitched herself a little more upright, hissing when the action reminded her of the abrasions on her hands. Her whole right side hurt with a burning pain that was ten times worse than it had been. Hector was by her side in an instant, sliding his arm around her for support until the pain faded.
It eventually did, but in its place there was exhaustion, the kind she felt only when she was very sick or injured far worse than she wanted to be. Hector gently eased her back onto the pillow, and he fitted a second one behind her so she wouldn't have to strain her neck to see people. That little consideration made her feel a little more in control, and when Hector didn't move away, Steph didn't feel quite so alone, either.
Wisely the nurse stayed at the foot of the bed. "I can't get you anything for the pain until the doctor clears you. He's ordered a blood panel and a CT first, then he'll decide what needs immediate treating and what comes second."
The best that Steph could muster was a weak smile at the idea of being poked and prodded, but she'd been in the ER rooms around Trenton proper enough times to recognize that this wasn't one of them. So at least the people doing the poking wouldn't be yapping about it to the Burg grapevine as soon as they left the room, privacy laws be damned.
"Don't worry, Mrs. Arenas. We'll get things squared away and get you settled as soon as possible." Kallie patted her foot. "Everything will be just fine."
Steph could only nod, waiting until the nurse closed the curtain behind her and walked away. As soon as the sound of the footsteps faded, she glanced at Hector with the questions she didn't know how to ask in her eyes.
Number one was who the hell was Mrs. Arenas?
The former gang member dug into his RangeMan windbreaker and pulled out a familiar object. Steph held out both hands, trembling a little in her eagerness to grab hold of the smart phone she hadn't seen since Bobby slid it into the pocket of his flight suit. Gone were the questions about her new identity. That didn't matter as much to her as having a concrete link to Ranger.
Someone had cleaned the blood and dirt off the case so that it looked like new. Steph tapped the screen and entered the password, wondering what had ever possessed Ranger to use her birthday. The picture on the home screen still made her stomach flutter, mostly because she hadn't remembered when he took it Friday night. The woman was undeniably her; Steph had photos from inside the club that had been helpfully shared by others on the team. But somehow he'd captured her in the middle of a dance move that made her look like she was spreading her arms wide to take flight.
Almost as if I could fly, like nothing could keep me earthbound.
Steph swallowed hard and searched for the message icon, her heart fluttering a little at the red-encased number eleven marking it. The app took forever to open, and she clutched the phone a little tighter when footsteps went by on the other side the curtain. She didn't know how much time she would have before they were interrupted, and she needed to find out more about Ranger's condition.
The messages were all from Bobby, and she checked the analog clock on the wall against the time stamps on the messages, realizing that he had started sending the information to her, shortly after they must have wheeled Ranger into the ER.
Her heart squeezed hard at some of the reports; no doubt in the interests of self-preservation if she ever found out he'd lied, Bobby was putting in a lot of information and not sugar coating any of it. His messages were one right after another, adding test results or explaining numbers from a previous test.
"Sir! You can't go back there! Sir!"
A flurry of activity outside the curtains jerked Steph away from the screen. Hector took the phone away from her, stowing it in a pocket with a nod that told her it would be brought back out as soon as they had more time away from prying eyes. A very large shadow was backlit against the curtain and Hector placed himself in front of her, his hand going to his back and drawing a thin stiletto knife.
A large hand grasped the edge of the curtain and drew it back to reveal Ram in his black RangeMan uniform with a windbreaker over it. His hazel eyes landed on Hector standing ready and the hand went up automatically.
"It's just me. I'm partnering with you while Bobby, Hal and Junior are upstairs."
Slowly, Hector showed him the knife before sheathing it again—a silent warning of what might have happened. Kallie caught up with Ram and planted herself directly in front of him. The difference in height provoked a giggle from Steph that she quickly stifled, but it didn't faze the nurse at all. She planted her fists on her hips and glared up at the Merry Man who specialized in long range sniping.
"This is a restricted area," she snapped. "If you have not been cleared by the front desk and are wearing a visitor badge, you are required to stay in the waiting room."
Ram folded his arms over his massive chest and didn't even break a smile. "I'm Mrs. Arenas's other bodyguard. Feel free to go get one of those badges and slap it on me, because I'm not moving."
Kallie leaned forward, just enough to rise from flat-footed to the balls of her feet. "I can have you removed."
"Feel free to try," said Ram, not quite containing the amusement rumbling underneath the words.
For a moment, the nurse didn't answer. Then she pointed her finger at him. "You. Stay. Put."
Steph blinked and the nurse was gone, the stirring of the curtain behind her the only evidence that she had even moved. The three of them stared at each other, not quite daring to comment, and then Kallie was back, her expression thunderous and a bright yellow sticker crumpled in her clenched fingers.
Before Ram could react, the nurse slapped the sticker on his backside, putting enough force behind it that he rocked forward. Then she pushed past him, checking on the equipment and Steph's vital signs, and ignoring both men as if they weren't even in the room.
"Mrs. Arenas, do you have any questions before Dr. Garcia comes in?" Kallie kept her back turned to the Merry Men, an unwise decision if either of them decided she was a threat, but then Steph watched as the nurse raised both eyebrows in a questioning look. The meaning hit her a brief second later and she shook her head quickly.
No, I don't want them removed. I want you to leave so I can find out how Ranger is. Where Ranger is. And how I can get to him as quickly as possible.
"Just hurry," she whispered, the words catching a little bit as her imagination pictured Ranger in an operating room. Her memory supplied the blood from when he was shot in her apartment and her heart twisted painfully.
The monitor beeped and the nurse glanced at it. "Mrs. Arenas, you'll need to stay calm. I'll get Dr. Garcia now. He was waiting on a phone call before he came in, but he should have received it by now."
With a last baleful glare at Ram as she went past, Kallie went out. Ram leaned into the curtain just enough to watch her until she was out of earshot before nodding to Hector. The phone was produced again and just as Steph reached for it, the message alert buzzed quietly.
Her fingers shook harder this time, with trembling that she couldn't stop. Steph shuddered and Hector was there again, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and holding her close. Biting her lip, Steph pulled up the messages and read the latest one.
"He's out of surgery and stable," she said before tears blurred the screen. Swiping at them with the back of her hand, Steph sniffed and kept reading. "Bobby says he'll be in recovery for a couple hours and then transferred to ICU."
"Sounds about right." Ram checked the room outside. "Bobby said to tell you that if the ER admits you, he's arranged to have you and Ranger in the same area to make guarding both of you easier. If you're not admitted, you'll stay in one of the VIP suites until Ranger is stable enough to go to a general surgery floor. Then he'll be moved up there as well."
"Sounds like a—"
He held up a hand and Steph stopped, her ears straining to hear what had alerted him. Hector hid the phone under the windbreaker, and eased towards the head of the bed where Steph couldn't see him as easily but could definitely feel his presence.
Voices approached the curtain. Ram stepped to the side to make room as the edge billowed and a younger man with dark hair and glasses strode in.
"Mrs. Arenas, I'm Doctor Garcia and I'll be—"
He slowed to a stop as he glanced up from his tablet and his eyes took in not only Steph but Hector as well. To his credit, he didn't pale or drop the electronics, even though Steph was pretty sure that Hector was doing everything possible to be intimidating. If it sped things up, she was wholeheartedly in favor of it.
"Um, I will be your doctor today," Garcia finished with considerably less energy. He darted a glance at Ram, standing in the standard RangeMan pose of arms folded over the chest. "Um, Mrs. Arenas, we have very good security here. If your associates would like to—"
"Stay right here and be with Mrs. Arenas at all times," said Ram, his words underscored by the rumble that was no longer friendly. "We take our job very seriously, doctor, and that means you'll have to work around us."
Hector shifted behind her and Steph guessed he was glowering at Dr. Garcia as well. If it had been any where other than an ER, he would be flipping one of his knives in the air and catching it, just to let it known that he was armed and willing to use the blades.
"I feel much safer with them," she said when the doctor still kept looking from Ram to Hector and back again. "As long as there is no threat to my safety, everything will be fine."
His eyes still bounced around the bay, but neither Merry Man moved. Finally the doctor took a deep breath and moved to her bedside, prudently choosing the one that Hector wasn't on. Then Dr. Garcia put Steph through her paces, from 'breathe deep' to 'does this hurt'. Since the last one was accompanied by a sharp prod over the point of her sore hip, her answer came out a little strangled and definitely in the affirmative. The doctor abruptly took his hands away and fell back a step, burying his head in the tablet and pretending to be focused on jotting down his notes.
Hector moved within range of Steph's peripheral vision, proving that he had been the source of Dr. Garcia's sudden absorption in the tablet. The glower on the former gang member's face was truly formidable and about two tiny baby steps from homicidal. Steph touched his hand clenched around her bedrail and he glanced down at her for a long moment, his glittering black eyes unreadable. Then his fingers relaxed and he let go of the bed, dropping his hand to his side.
Ram shifted in his position by the outer curtain, drifting a little to his left so he was closer to Hector than the entrance. He did it so smoothly that Steph wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't moved while she was looking at Hector. A silent communication passed between them, and she nodded, well aware that with Ranger injured and unknown people after her, it wasn't too far fetched that Hector would be more volatile than usual.
"Mrs. Arenas, I understand your husband was brought in at the same time," Dr. Garcia said as he finished up his notes. He seemed to relax a little when he saw Hector backing off, but he kept a wary eye on him the entire time, not quite trusting. "You were very lucky not to be injured as seriously as he was. I'm going to order blood tests, x-rays and a CT scan to make sure we aren't missing anything. Once the bloodwork gets back, I'll be better able to prescribe pain medication and we'll get your obvious injuries taken care of as well. Any questions about how we're proceeding?"
"How seriously injured was R—my husband?" Steph asked, trying to cover her mistake.
Dr. Garcia frowned, shooting a cautious glance at both Ram and Hector. "I wasn't involved with his care when he came in, so I'm not qualified to give you a definitive answer. But I understand he was stable when they transferred him to recovery."
"Oh, okay." Steph took a deep breath, blowing it out in a huff and trying a smile. "I'd like to get things taken care of here, so I can be with him."
"I'll have Kallie expedite the tests as much as possible." Dr. Garcia drifted towards the curtain, obviously not wanting to overstay his welcome. "Anything else, Mrs. Arenas?"
Steph shook her head. "No, thank you."
Before the last word had the chance to even echo off the tile floor, Dr. Garcia was gone. Steph blinked a couple of times, surprised that he could move that fast, but a glance at Ram showed the Merry Man fighting unsuccessfully against a grin. Hector said something in Spanish and Ram coughed into his fist, trying to disguise his laugh.
The phone made a reappearance and Steph settled into the bed as best she could with a rapidly numbing backside, scrolling through the messages again so she could understand everything that was going on. She wasn't concerned about herself; other than the abrasions, she couldn't feel anything else off or wrong, so she assumed that the tests would be a mere formality and then she would be released to Bobby's care.
A different nurse came through the curtain on the opposite side of Ram, slipping between the wall and the edge. "I'm going to be taking you down to the CT scan and x-ray. Normally we would do the blood draw up here, but since you've had to wait so long, we'll stop at the oncology lab and have them do it."
Before Steph could do more than nod, the woman removed the cuff from her arm and the monitors turned off. She got behind the bed and released the brake with a loud thump that rattled Steph's teeth, and not in a good way.
Hector grabbed the railing, the tendons in the back of his hand standing out in sharp relief as he threw his weight against the nurse's. Then Ram placed himself at the foot of the bed, blocking it with his considerable mass.
"No," said Hector, and then the bed suddenly accelerated forward, slamming into Ram with a force that Steph didn't think possible.
Ram went down, falling backwards into the curtains and ripping them off the overhead track. He hit the floor with a terrifying thud as the bed bumped over his legs and into the hallway.
And then all hell broke loose.