Thank you for all of the reviews and emails regarding the babies! You all had really great suggestions and I'm excited to get started on the next few chapters. Hope everyone had a nice weekend -Jill
Piles and piles of clothes from my parents' closet were sitting on the Formica kitchen countertops when I swung through the door leading into the kitchen from the dining room. The ironing board was up, the Jack Daniels was out in plain view, and my mother was red-faced and sweating as she toiled over one of my father's dress shirts. She was oblivious to my presence as I entered the kitchen and took a seat at the table.
"How long has this been going on?" I whispered to Valerie. She was sitting at the kitchen table with Grandma, both of them regarding my mother with sort of a quiet awe. They each had a highball glass filled with iced tea in their hands. No word yet on whether the iced teas were Long Island or not. Valerie just shook her head and thunked it onto her outstretched arm.
Grandma was the one to answer me, leaning close to whisper in my ear. "Since about six a.m. Four hours. After your phone call last night from the Hard Rock, the poor thing practically went into a meltdown and wasn't able to do much of anything, let alone iron. Soon as that board went up this morning and the whiskey came out of the cabinet, I realized things were bad. She's taken every article of clothing out of the damn walk-in and is ironing it whether it's wrinkled or not."
I had to back away from Grandma or I'd get buzzed off the smell of her breath. The iced teas were, no doubt, Long Island. "Maybe no more of that," I said, pointing to her half-empty glass.
"Nonsense," Grandma replied. She took a healthy swig and set the glass onto the kitchen table with a small bang.
"So I guess congratulations are in order," I said to Grandma. "You and Ranger's Uncle Manny, tying the knot and all at White Wedding. Are you moving in together?"
"No, we're not. And what are the cotton-pickin' chances that you'd stumble across our wedding photo at that dive? Good grief." Grandma shook her head. "That old Cuban bat got me liquored up at Stevie B's and when I was good and sauced, he sweet-talked me into some late-night nuptials on the boardwalk."
"Wait a second. I thought he'd already asked you to marry him. At least that's what you said at dinner the other night. I figured you'd be happy to be with him. And liquored up?" I repeated. "How much did you have to drink? And why the hell did you let him drive you all the way to Atlantic City just to toss back a few? We have bars here."
"I thought Atlantic City sounded like fun, since Point Pleasant's starting to get overrun with the older crowd, if you know what I mean. Not enough hot, sexy men to stare at over there. Now Atlantic City is a hotbed of activity, if you'd like to get a gander at a young stud with an excellent package. And to answer your previous questions, I thought maybe I'd like to settle down with this one. He's supposed to be one hell of a catch, according to the ladies at the beauty parlor. And all I had to drink was a shot of Jim Beam."
"That's it?" I squeaked out. "One shot? Surely you would have realized what you were doing, then."
"I'm a lightweight, what can I tell you?" Grandma took another sip of her tea and raised her eyebrows at me over her glass.
"But Mom said you reeked of bourbon when you came up the path last night," I said to her, confused.
"Some tipsy old geezer tried to hit on me at the bar, probably because I was wearing my good orange sequined dress. So Manny splashed his Black-Eyed Susan in his face. Only the old geezer ducked, and Manny ended up spilling his drink on the front of my gown." The mental picture I'd just gotten of three senior citizens engaged in a love-triangled bar fight at an Atlantic City pub had me fighting back laughter and succeeding for a change.
Valerie, who'd been silent this whole time, finally spoke up. "I hate to ask this, and believe me I do. And please don't take that the wrong way, Grandma. But did you and Uncle Manny happen to…consummate this marriage at all?"
My mother heard my sister and a loud moan escaped her throat. I watched as she slammed down the iron, twisted the cap off of the Jack, and poured two fingers into a tumbler before chugging it.
Grandma scoffed. "Consummate, hell. He couldn't consummate a six-foot hole in the ground."
"So what happened? Elevator didn't go all the way up to the penthouse?" I asked, unable to hide my smile.
"That damn elevator of his wouldn't go past the first floor. Might as well have been dead. Loretta Steinhauser was right. There I was, thinking I'd finally be able to do the hanky panky again after all these years. And with a relative of your hot bounty hunter husband, none the less. But no."
I watched my mother start to reach for the Jack again, but she caught herself in time and continued to iron fervently.
"Too bad you didn't realize all that before you married Manny," I joked to Grandma.
"I'll just bet you knew all about Ranger's expertise in the sack when you two walked down the aisle," Grandma said to me, a mischevious glint in her eye. "I saw the way he was always looking at you, like you were a healthy, non-fattening alternative to dessert for him. Ain't that a pip. I bet you two had been doing it way before your wedding. Hell, with a man as hot as Ranger I'd have him naked and chained to a bed before he even asked me my name."
My mom abandoned her ironing all together and slumped against the kitchen counter with the half-empty bottle of Jack in her hand. "You see?" she said to us weakly, brandishing the bottle. "This is what I'm reduced to because I have a mother who thinks she's a teenaged sex-kitten and a daughter who'd been repeatedly fornicating with my son-in-law long before she married him."
Everyone looked to me to say something to fill the uncomfortable silence. "Not long before," I said uneasily. That was the best I could come up with? Smooth, Plum.
My mother crossed herself and took another swig of whiskey.
Three and a half weeks later, Grandma was still married to Ranger's uncle Manny and, slowly but surely, I was growing out of my clothing. According to Dr. Radcliff's calculations, I was approaching my ten-week mark and the baby was perfectly healthy so far. Ranger has been attending every single appointment with me and is even using my latest ultrasound photo as his computer desktop.
Yes, it's true. The big, bad mercenary bounty hunter does have a soft side.
I woke up that morning with a headache and a severe bout of morning sickness. My stomach rolled as soon as I sat up in bed and I reached for Ranger. His warm body turned to face me and he wrapped his arms around my waist as I lurched forward, nauseous beyond belief.
"Babe?" he questioned sleepily.
"Shit," I grunted. I quickly threw myself out of bed before I hurled on the comforter and slammed myself into the bathroom.
So much for morning sex.
When I came out after brushing my teeth and hair and washing my face, I skulked over to my dresser and yanked open the drawer that held jeans and capri pants. Muttering to myself, I began pulling on pairs of jeans and tossing them to the side when the buttons and zippers wouldn't hold. Ranger watched all of this with a hint of a smile tugging on the corners of his luscious lips.
"Why don't you just dig out your old maternity clothes?" he finally asked me.
I blew out a sigh. "I donated most of them to the church's clothing drive a few months ago. Besides, I didn't even need maternity clothes until I was about fourteen weeks along with Samantha. I'm only ten weeks!"
Ranger got out of bed naked and padded over to me before pressing his front against my back and wrapping his arms around my waist. "How about you come take a nice hot shower with me, babe? You might feel better."
He was distracting me from my task at hand, which happened to be Operation: Find Clothes To Fit Stephanie. I groaned and leaned my head back against his shoulder as his hard length pulsed against the small of my back and the fingers of his right hand found a nipple. Screw the damn clothes operation. My new mission was Operation: Get Ranger Inside Stephanie's Body ASAP.
It was really hard to refuse his suggestion of a hot shower. Especially when his talented hand was doing such magical things. He pinched and rubbed my nipple until I was writhing against him, wet beyond belief and humming from the waist down. "A shower would be nice," I managed to get out. Chuckling against my neck, Ranger picked me up and threw me over his shoulder before walking us to the master bathroom and banging the door shut with his foot. At least he was still able to lift me. That made me feel a lot better.
I slammed my bottle of water into the treadmill's cupholder and slung a towel over the handle. The time had come for Stephanie Plum-Manoso to get fit and healthy for her second pregnancy. No more overloads of Tastykakes and pineapple upside-down cake. No more Ben & Jerry's binges. From here on out, it was soup and salads and sandwiches, and low-fat frozen yogurt for dessert. In a last-ditch effort to further discipline myself and to give Ella a much-needed break, I'd told her about a week ago that I was going to try and take over preparing dinner, thinking I might learn how to prepare healthy gourmet meals for Ranger and I with the help of a cookbook and a couple of TiVoed Bobby Flay episodes.
Which quickly proved to be a disaster, because it turned out the only thing I was really capable of making were phone calls to Mike the Greek's and Pino's for delivery.
Ranger immediately put a stop to that and re-hired Ella to bring dinner up nightly. Thank God. The only thing from Pino's that Ranger allowed himself to put into his body was a green salad topped with grilled chicken and his usual tree bark and alfalfa sprouts, and he was starting to look a little green each time he heard me ordering it for him over the phone. The only things from Pino's that I allowed myself to put into my body were the extra-cheese pizza, meatball subs, and buffalo chicken wings (sans blue cheese dressing). And the indigestion that usually followed just wasn't worth it anymore.
I'd set Samantha up in her Pack n' Play nearby and had given her some toys and books to look at while I exercised. Since it was a Saturday morning, only a few of the weekend guys were lifting weights on the far side of the gym. I climbed up onto the stupid treadmill and started off at a slow walk, keeping an eye on the Pack n' Play. Sam was pressing buttons on her Fisher Price musical fishbowl and the little music was filtering towards my direction. She was happy and occupied for the time being. Okay. Time to get serious, Plum.
When I'd had enough of slowly plodding along and my legs felt good and warmed up, I bumped the treadmill up to a powerwalk. This is good, I thought. I could practically feel the fat melting off of my thighs. Yeah, right. But for some reason, knowing that I was exercising was sort of making me feel better already.
The door to the gym clicked open to my right and Dayna stomped through before slamming it behind her. She was carrying a water bottle and a towel. Her ten-week belly poked out from under the hem of her tight little tank top. Her facial expression was set to not happy and she spotted me before angrily heading my way.
Dayna Marrero-Santos yanked the emergency stop magnet off of my treadmill, brazenly grabbed a hold of my ponytail, and pulled my head down so that it was level with her face. I was too stunned to move.
"Of all the pregnancy talks we've had, Stephanie Plum-Manoso," she began, her voice low and threatening. "You've been warning me about what to expect, since you've done this before and the only real knowledge of pregnancy that I have came from a couple of textbooks and a sixteen-week clinical rotation down at a hospital in the dregs of Miami. The vomiting, the weird food cravings, the big boobs, the bloated belly. I kind of figured all of that would happen. But the expanding ass?" Dayna's teeth clenched. "I'm half-Cuban. I have a big ass, anyway. They run in my father's side of the family, so I can't really help it. But a little heads up would have been nice! Hey, Dayna. By the way: your thighs and your butt cheeks'll grow right along with the baby, so be prepared to -
I laughed. God help me, I laughed. I couldn't help it. She was just so cute. I watched Dayna's face turn an interesting shade of red and I swore I saw steam wisping out of her ears. She still had a death grip on my ponytail, but I was now laughing so hard no sound was coming out of me and tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. When I finally managed to open my eyelids, Dayna let go of my ponytail and, to my complete surprise, doubled over and began cracking up noiselessly.
"Steph," she choked out. "I can't - I'm not - I'm actually glad you didn't take me seriously."
"But your face," I managed to get out between loud guffaws. "You were so pissed!"
Dayna wiped a tear from her cheek. "I'm sorry I yelled at you," she gasped, trying hard to control her laughter. "And it's definitely not you that I'm mad at. It's just that I'm all up and down these days. Last night, I kicked Lester out of bed for practically no reason and felt so extremely sorry about it afterwards that I joined him out on the couch and we ended up sleeping there all night, squished together. Ugh, I just feel like I'm on an emotional rollercoaster and can't get off."
"Welcome to the club," I replied dryly. I took a couple of deep breaths and bent over to ease the ache in my side.
"It's just that none of my shorts and jeans and scrub pants seem to fit me anymore. I'm a little bummed out." She saw me giving her the yeah, right glare. "Okay, a lot bummed out."
"Funny. I'm having that same problem. Nothing buttons or zips." I re-tied my ponytail and set my treadmill back to a slow walk.
"You're lucky," Dayna scoffed. She put her water and towel up on the treadmill next to mine and bent down to stretch her legs. "I'm not even able to pull anything over my thighs or hips, let alone button or zip it!" She righted herself and we both turned towards the gym's door when we heard someone yank on the handle.
Lester banged his way into the gym wearing a tank top and gym shorts. Weight-lifting gloves poked out of the back pocket of his shorts. He was hooked up to his iPod and was mumbling along with the song that was playing. He approached us and wordlessly wrapped Dayna into his arms, still mouthing the words to the tune he was listening to. She popped one of his earphones out and gave him a sarcastic smirk.
"My butt is expanding, Lester," she lamented to him. "I'm a little upset about this." Lester sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he looked behind her to check it out. Lester Santos, Ass Inspector.
"Mmmmm," he groaned, his eyelids fluttering shut as he reached around to Dayna's bottom and grasped one of her cheeks in his huge hand, causing her to gasp and smile. "I'm not. I'm seriously loving it. Sexy as hell."
"Yeah?" Dayna asked him, grinning wider. She molded herself flush against his front and slid her hands up his back and into his short, thick mussed spikes before pulling his face down to hers.
"Fuck yes," Lester murmured against her lips before capturing them with his and eliciting a groan from her throat when his tongue swept inside her mouth. His hands slowly slid from Dayna's ass up her back, underneath her tank top. Dayna pulled away from him breathlessly, casting an embarrassed glance up in my direction.
"Um, baby..." she whispered to Lester, nudging his chest. "Later."
I stared down at them. "You guys really have no shame, do you?"
Dayna grinned wickedly and shrugged. "I know this may sound a little arrogant, but when your man is this fine," she began, throwing a thumb in Lester's direction, "it's hard to keep your hands off of him. You should know, Steph."
Yes, I sure as hell did.
Les chuckled lightly and gave Dayna's butt cheek one last lustful squeeze. "I'm gonna go do some reps with the free weights. You two stay here on the treadmills and try to work off those pregnancy rolls." He took off across the gym, jogging over to where Cal and Ram were pumping iron.
"Jerk," Dayna and I called after him. She climbed onto her treadmill and we both took off at a fast powerwalk pace.
"We should make a pact to exercise at least four times a week until we deliver," Dayna said, swinging her arms side to side enthusiastically.
"Sounds like a plan," I replied excitedly.
Exactly five minutes after starting our powerwalk, Dayna and I simultaneously whipped the emergency stop magnets off of our treadmills and collapsed onto the gym mats, panting heavily with our chests heaving.
"Screw this," I gasped out. "I'll stick to eating better. And having sex to get exercise."
"Yeah," agreed Dayna. "Let's go to the mall and just get some bigger pants. No amount of healthiness is worth this kind of torture. My lungs are on fire. I haven't worked out much since I started here at RangeMan last year. And when I wanted to lose five pounds to fit better into my wedding dress."
"Want to see if Lula feels up to doing some maternity-clothes shopping?"
"Sure."
Lula was sitting in the backseat of my latest vehicle courtesy of Ranger, a black Mercedes GL550 SUV, with the overhead air conditioning vent blowing full-force onto her sweaty face and neck. She was decked out for our shopping trip in an authentic fake-fur vest and a pair of shocking green stretch pants. A large shocking green bow was tied into her hair, which happened to be back to its original color of black and curled into tight ringlets.
I felt like a total simp compared to her. Dayna and I were still in our workout clothes, but we'd added warm-up jackets. Leave it to Lula to be overdressed. Well, underdressed, depending on how you looked at it. The fake-fur vest didn't do much to conceal her basketball boobs and protruding poochy abdomen.
"I need an igloo," Lula exclaimed. "When's the weather supposed to start changin'? It's already October."
"Lula, it's sixty-five today," replied Dayna. She shivered in the passenger's seat next to me and pulled her warm-up jacket tighter against her chest after closing her air vents.
"Feels like ninety-five." Lula harrumphed and crossed her arms.
She sure was moody. I suspected it was because Tank and Hal had left for New York immediately after Bobby and Ana's wedding reception dinner the night before and still hadn't returned. Rodney Carmichael, a high-bond customer of Vinnie's, had gone FTA and was reported to be hiding out in a Yonkers housing project with his grandmother. I'd overheard several naughty references to Brown Bear Lovin' throughout the previous evening, both at White Wedding and at the Hard Rock. It was safe to assume that the Lovin' has been effectively put on hold until Tank comes back into town, whenever that may be. Lula was probably in a state.
I swung the Mercedes into the parking lot of the Quaker Bridge Mall and squealed to a stop in a front-row parking space. "Everybody out," I annouced. I loaded a sleeping Samantha into her stroller and stuffed her diaper bag in the mesh bin beneath the baby seat. We all grabbed our shoulder bags and trooped in through the Macy's entrance.
When we reached the shoe department, however, we officially lost Lula. Rows and rows of marked-down clearance footwear stood between her and Dayna and I. Lula began wading through the racks, her eyes as big as soup tureens and her mouth slightly ajar as she scanned the matched pairs of bargain heels.
"Forget it," Dayna said, nudging me. "She's gone. Let's get something to eat at the food court and then go to Motherhood Maternity."
I sighed and said loudly, "Okay, let's do that. I could really go for a gyro."
Lula's head snapped up at the mention of gyro and she bustled towards where Dayna and I stood. "Gyro? I could go for a gyro."
"I thought so."
When the last bite of Greek lamb wrap had been eaten and the last sip of Sprite had been slurped up, we threw our trash away and began meandering towards Motherhood Maternity. We stood in the store's entrance, trying to decide where to start after a saleswoman had greeted us.
"Pants," Dayna said immediately. She made a beeline for the jeans and began loading several pairs into her arms.
"Shorts," I said, zipping Samantha's stroller over to a rack holding several cute pairs in different colors.
"Mini-skirts and dresses with feathers," Lula announced. Store chatter ceased completely and seven pairs of eyes bore holes into the back of Lula's head. She stared back at everybody, wide-eyed. "Um, I meant pants."
After canvassing the store for nearly an hour, we all squished ourselves into a dressing room and began hanging up everything we wanted to try on. I hung up a few pairs of shorts and a couple pairs of capri pants. Lula hung up a few dresses (sans feathers) and some tasteful wraparound maternity shirts. Dayna hung up a couple pairs of jeans and several pieces of...lacy lingerie.
Lula whistled. "Damn, Sexy ain't gonna know what hit him when he gets a load of you in those getups."
"Didn't we give you enough of that stuff at your bachelorette party three months ago?" I asked Dayna, pointing to the lacy red teddy and three pairs of black lace panties.
She nodded. "Truthfully, it's a little worn-out. A lot of it is ripped and torn and frayed."
"Why?" asked Lula, confused.
"Because she's married to Lester Santos, that's why," I replied, rolling my eyes and smiling. Dayna grinned wickedly and absentmindedly rubbed the swell of her rounded belly.
Lula nodded knowingly. That answer was apparently enough for her.
We each took turns behind the changing screen in the dressing room, modeling things and cracking up when certain items were too big or too small. Things were going well until Lula emerged from behind the changing screen decked out in tight leopard-print stretch pants, a matching leopard-print wraparound top, and a zebra-striped shawl. She looked absolutely atrocious, especially after trying on all kinds of cute things that fit her so well.
"What the hell is that?" Dayna asked, her eyes bugged out. "Did they maim half the animals at the Staten Island Zoo just to make that outfit?"
Lula scoffed. "You're just jealous because you can't pull this off, Lady Santos," she exclaimed. She twirled in front of the mirror and fondly patted the shocking green bow still tied in her hair. "This here's an original. Authentic maternity wear for us full-figured women."
I couldn't believe that Motherhood Maternity even stocked those kinds of clothing.
"Lula, come on. Get serious. You aren't actually thinking about buying that outfit, are you?" I asked her.
She looked taken aback. "I'd better give Batman a call and tell his ass to stick it to you as soon as you walk through the door when we get back to Haywood. You need to get some."
"I get it plenty, thank you."
That did it. I was going to strangle Lula with her shocking green hair ribbon.
Ranger called my cell when we were on our way home.
"Babe," he said as soon as I'd answered. "Got a lead on Katarin Restrepo, thanks to one of your searches that you did for me earlier in the week. I'd like you to come with me to Hamilton Township on surveillance tonight, if you want."
"Sure, I'll go," I said. "But what about the baby?"
Dayna leaned over and nudged me. "I'll take her," she mouthed to me.
"Nevermind," I said to Ranger. "Dayna'll take her."
"It's nothing dangerous," Ranger informed me. "I just need to ensure that Restrepo lives at the address listed on her search file. I'm out of other ways to find out and that leaves me with surveillance as my only other option. You and I will watch the front, Santos and Ramos'll have the back. She's due back to her townhouse between ten and ten-thirty tonight. When we've got a positive ID on her location, we can then set up a sting for another time and go from there."
"Okay," I replied. "I'll be home in about thirty. Love you."
I could practically feel Ranger grinning over the phone line. "Love you too, babe," he husked out.
The lowered tone of his voice promised a thousand different dirty things. Lula was right. I needed to get some. Batman had succeeded at turning me into a complete and total nympho.
My eyes were trained on the tail lights of Lester's Escalade directly in front of us. The night had darkened significantly and Ranger and I followed behind Les and Ram in silence. He was behind the wheel of his Denali, sitting next to me in his "driving zone."
I hated his "driving zone." As soon as he slipped into it, I wanted to drag him back out and force him to converse with me.
Suddenly, the image of Dayna seducing Santos with sexy lingerie popped into my mind and a horrible thought crossed my mental pathways.
"Ranger?" I countered.
"Babe," he grunted, eyes still focused on the road ahead, his right forearm draped over the steering wheel and the other resting on the window frame. He was wearing a tight black tank top and baggy black cargoes. His hair was starting to grow out, pushed back off of his forehead with soft-hold gel. A diamond stud poked out of each of his earlobes. I wanted to rape him.
"Am I still sexy pregnant?"
Ranger turned his head to face me and the corners of his lips quirked up into the beginnings of a smile.
"Fishing for compliments, babe?"
I shook my head. "No, I really want to know what you think."
"I'll let you know as soon as we're in position in front of Restrepo's townhouse."
"Fine," I huffed, as he grinned and turned back to the road, once again slipping into silence.
Ten minutes passed. Lester put his blinker on and slowly pulled off of the main road and onto a residential street in the upscale outskirts of Hamilton Township. Ranger and I followed as he cruised into an un-gated neighborhood of newly built yellow brick townhomes, slowing down when a small cul-de-sac loomed into view. Lester pulled to a stop in the cul-de-sac and Ranger drove up beside him before rolling down my passenger window.
"It's two streets over," Lester said from his open window, decked out in clothes identical to Ranger's and a black White Sox cap backwards on his head. "Three-sixteen Rosebush Avenue. We'll be in the alley behind the house in case Restrepo decides to come in through the back entrance."
"Ten-four," replied Ranger. "Steph and I will be two houses down, across the street and hidden behind those large juniper shrubs near the road. Switch your wire on, Santos. Do a mic-check as soon as you and Ramos are in position."
I watched as Lester positioned the receiver to his wire and nodded his assent to Ranger. He pulled the Escalade out of the cul-de-sac and drove to the end of the street before making a left. Less than two minutes later, I heard his voice filtering into my ear.
"Sound check," Lester announced. Ram, Ranger, and I all chorused our "checks" and "heres" and Ranger took off slowly down the street until we were parked two houses down from three-sixteen Rosebush.
"We're in position," Ranger said to the guys. "Let's hurry up and wait."
Ranger unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to me before drawing my face to his with his warm hands. He pressed his full, luscious lips to mine and slowly worked his mouth against me until I was moaning uncontrollably and wet beyond belief. He pushed his hot tongue between my lips to better taste me and gripped my face tighter as he fought to control his his lust. His hand made its way up to my breast and he flattened his palm, moaning when he felt my nipple, hard and hungry for his touch, in the center of it. Ranger moved to lick the shell of my ear and pulled back from me, breathless.
He leaned his forehead against mine to get a hold on his heavy breathing. "Does that answer your earlier question?" he gritted out, his voice thick with sexual desire.
I could only nod as I moved to kiss him again, relishing the feel of his soft lips pressed against my mouth and feeling his heart pound through the thin ribbed fabric of his tight black tank top.
"Ranger," I whimpered into his ear. Ranger reluctantly dragged his lips away from my throat and panted against my sweaty neck.
"Babe...Dios, I want you so fucking bad. But we have to keep an eye out for Restrepo. If she slips through my fingers because they were occupied deep inside of your fucking gorgeous body, I might as well consider her a lost cause and call it a night."
I felt myself gush at his words. "Always the job, Batman." I grinned at him and pulled my bra back over my breasts. "I'll get you later."
"Damn that," Ranger growled against my lips. "You'd better be ready, Stephanie. You're playing with fire tonight. I hope you realize that." Ranger grabbed the back of my head and roughly pushed his tongue into my mouth. "Playing with fucking fire."
I chuckled and sat back in my seat. "It's nice to see that I can unnerve you with something so simple as a few words."
Lester's voice crackled over the two-way and he cleared his throat. "Everything okay in there?"
"Yeah, why?" I asked him as nonchalantly as I could manage. I froze. Shit. Ranger and I had clearly forgotten that we were all wired with the new two-ways. The ones that didn't require you to push a button to talk. The clear plastic coils attached to our receivers had a mic somewhere in them that picked up every word we said.
"Because if you're playing with fire, you'd better be careful that you don't get burned, beautiful." Lester laughed.
"Santos," Ranger warned menacingly, slouching in the leather driver's seat and running his hands through his silky black hair. "Forget you heard any and all of the aforementioned banter or I'll fire you right fucking now."
Ram spoke up. "Consider it forgotten, Bossman. Damn, Santos, is it me or did the temperature in here just go up about ten degrees?"
"Ramos..." growled Ranger.
"Sorry, Boss. That's all I got. I'm done, I promise."
"Hey, Steph," Lester spoke up. "What did Dayna buy at the mall today? All she showed me were a couple of pairs of jeans and some maternity shirts. She had another bag that she refused to open, though. She just shoved it in our closet. Do you have any idea about what could be in there?"
I smirked at Ranger. I turned to face him and tugged on my bra strap and reached down to flash him my panties. Ranger got the message and stifled a laugh. Dayna was obviously hiding her sexy new lingerie from Lester until she was able to model it for him. And I had absolutely no doubt that he wouldn't tear the new stuff off of her, either.
"Um, no, Les. Sorry," I replied.
"That's okay," he said. "She put the bag in our closet. I'll just look in there when I get home."
"No, don't! I mean, maybe it's a surprise. You know...for you."
"I hate surprises. Fuck it, I'm looking."
"Dayna will kill you."
Lester let out a bark of throaty laughter. "Can't say I'd mind. The last time she threatened to destroy me I came so hard I nearly passed the fuck out. Believe me, it'll be worth it."
Ranger licked his lips and smiled before answering, "What'd you get her to do to you, man?"
"Everything. She did every-fucking-thing to me, and I didn't even have to tell her what I wanted. Ladies and gentlemen, my wife is fucking amazing. Christ, I couldn't walk for two fucking days."
"Hell, yeah," I heard Ram exclaim, a smile in his voice.
My cheeks flamed and I did a slow burn in the passenger's seat, humming from the waist down. I desperately wanted Restrepo to show up so that Ranger and I could go back to Haywood and I'd get the chance to turn him into a cripple for two days.
My prayers were answered. As soon as my brain had finished entertaining that erotic thought, a pearl white Range Rover pulled up into the driveway to three-sixteen Rosebush and the engine was cut. I got out the night vision binoculars to get a gander. A young Hispanic woman dressed in a barely-there cocktail dress exited the driver's side and slammed the door behind her before strolling up the front path.
"Range Rover just pulled up," Ranger said to the guys. "A woman just got out."
"It's Restrepo," I confirmed, still peering through the binoculars. "Positive ID. I recognize her from her background search picture."
Katarin Restrepo reached into the mailbox attached to her front door and began sifting through the stack of envelopes that was inside. I watched her open a few and her brows furrowed as she read. She suddenly ripped up the papers that were in the envelopes she'd torn into and carted the rest of the unopened mail through the storm door and into her townhouse.
"Affirmative," Lester said. "We'll meet you out on the main road."
"Ten-four." Ranger fired up the Denali and put it into gear. Just as he was about to hit the gas, a flashy black Lincoln Navigator made its way down Rosebush Avenue and stopped in front of Restrepo's townhouse. As much as I hated to prolong getting Ranger naked and flat on his back on our mattress, I knew I had a duty to at least stay and see who climbed out of the Navi.
"Wait," I said, putting a hand on Ranger's arm. "Don't go anywhere." I put the night vision binoculars back up to my eyes.
The Navigator slowly pulled into Restrepo's driveway and the headlights were cut as the driver's side door opened. A dark male figure dressed in a black dress shirt and black dress pants exited the SUV and slammed the door shut before beeping the alarm remote. The man turned to look at the street and I was momentarily afraid that he'd see me staring at him with binoculars through the windshield, but I quickly realized that the Denali was hidden from view behind the tall juniper shrubs.
As the man continued to stare in our direction, I kept the binoculars trained on his face and was horrified to eventually find that it was Tank.
"Ohmigod," I gasped, lowering the binoculars and then quickly sticking them back up to my eyes again. Tank ducked to look at his reflection in the driver's side window of his Navi and brushed at a renegade wisp of one of his eyebrows. I watched in horror as he took some mints out of his pocket, popped a few in his mouth, and began to elegantly stride up the front path of Restrepo's townhouse. I thought he was supposed to be in New York with Hal!
"What?" Ranger hissed earnestly. "What, babe?" Ranger took the binoculars from me and plastered them up against his driver's side window. He let out a long, slow breath when he realized the identity of the hulking muscular stranger in black.
"Tank's paying a visit to Katarin Restrepo. And it looks social!" I stage-whispered to Ranger.
Ranger just shook his head. "Shit."
TBC...what's old Tankie up to? Fraternizing with the enemy? Lol Poor Steph and Dayna, their bodies are changing and they're clearly not handling it all that well but their men are loving it. Oh, well, it comes with the territory! And Lula is dealing with severe hot flashes and a lack of Brown Bear Lovin'. Please let me know how you're liking the story so far! Con mucho amor, Jill
P.S. - Lester and Dayna asked me to tell you all that they're sorry if they've embarrassed any of you with their sexual exploits. They just can't help it. And you probably wouldn't be able to either, if you were married to Sexy Lester Santos!...Ranger and Steph, however, just hope you still think they're a hot couple.
