A Random Life

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Rated M! slightly more suggestive than my usual...

a/n for those of you who thought last week's Stephanie was ungrateful and whiny [in the newest Shelter chapter]...consider her situation: 6 1/2 months pregant, a big house sprung on her w/ no input from her, very far from friends, family, and familiar places. I'd love the house but maybe I'd be a little grumpy too? What do you think? How would you feel?

10 - Do These Come in Black?

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[Stephanie. A dreary spring evening in late March]

Ranger walked into our loft on Haywood Street, silent as usual. He set his weapons belt on the glass coffee table and sat down next to me on the leather sofa, still silent.

"Hey, Ranger." I offered my face for a kiss but he just sat staring into space.

"Babe."

"Uh, are you okay?"

"Yeah. So, Steph, I need you to do something for me." He sounded neutral—tired, not angry—but I was worried.

"I'm not gonna like this, am I?"

Ranger shrugged a fraction. "I think you'll be okay with it."

"Okay, shoot. Er, uh, you know what I mean."

sigh. From Ranger!

He said, "You know how it was really dark when I left the house this morning?"

"Uh, well no, I was asleep...?"

He nodded. "I got a call at 3.47 am from a snitch. I'm looking for this guy Bernard Whitesmith. Federal FTA. I got up, got dressed in the dark so I wouldn't disturb you..."

I smiled at him. "And I really really appreciate it. So...how did the pickup go?''

''Whitesmith is a bad man, Steph, he should never have been bonded out. This time the arrest was for Grand Theft Auto-"

"That's not federal," I interrupted.

"The man stole a classic restored 1927 Duesenberg J-model phaeton from an antiques auto dealer in Parsippany. The owner was just getting ready to let a supreme court judge give it a test drive..."

"A what? A Duesenberg?"

"Yeah. It's a high end luxury car, or was, almost hundred years ago. One of the fastest racing engines of the day, a "straight-eight" cylinder, overhead cams; 4oo HP. Topped the 150 MPH mark easily. Some old lady had it in her barn, a family heirloom, mint condition—just brought in, polished up and tuned up."

"Who'd want an old car like that? Did it even have satellite radio? Bluetooth?"

"Babe, it barely had a gas gauge. But that's the charm of these old cars. And they're works of art, really."

"Works of art?"

"Yes. And this car was valued at $500,000. Anyway, Whitehouse was running from a stickup at the 7-11. He wanted a getaway car, he didn't care what. He dragged the dealer and the judge out of the car at gunpoint, doused them with charcoal lighter. Lucky for them, the car's cigarette lighter didn't work and he couldn't find his Bic. He got six blocks and the Duesenberg died."

"Old age?"

"Funny. Whitehouse was arrested for grand theft auto, felony armed robbery—the 7-11, remember?—and attempted murder of a federal judge."

I nodded. "Hence the federal warrant, when he went FTA."

"Exactly."

"So...?"

... ... ...

[Ranger]

Eighteen hours earlier, I rolled out of bed and silently dressed in the dark. I armed myself by touch: familiar Glock 9mm in the back of my jeans; my other 9mm on my ankle; my knives—here and there. I shoved a set of handcuffs into my back pocket and tiptoed out the door. Stood out in the foyer, putting on my boots.

Married life.

Tank was waiting for me in the garage. We silently drove to the warehouse on Grove Street. Took down Whitehouse, textbook, perfect. All in the dark, more or less.

Once he was secure I rolled the man over. I shined my Maglite to make sure it was him.

"You Whitesmith?"

"Who wants to know?"

"Bond enforcement. Ranger Manoso."

The FTA looked me over and laughed, his face a distorted mask in the darkness, only illuminated by my flashlight. He said, "So you're the great Manoso."

I said, "And you're a deranged moron."

The man shrugged as best he could with his arms cuffed underneath his body. "We all have our problems."

"Yeah but we're not all firebug sickos, asswipe," growled Tank.

''I am not a sicko, big boy—"

Tank lunged.

"You think you're a fucking genius, you tried to incinerate a judge!"

"I am what I am, a genius with access to unstable chemicals," smirked Whitehouse.

Tank glowered. "BBQ lighter fluid isn't really bigtime, idiot."

"Enough." I said. "Right now the genius is getting a stay in the local lockup." I was tired and this was going nowhere. I hefted Whitesmith to his feet and shoved him towards the Explorer.

... ... ...

Now at home I finished the story, turned to Stephanie.

She was watching me wide eyed. "Then what!"

"We got to TPD just fine, babe, still pitch fucking dark out, still oh dark hundred. The place was pretty busy, change of shift coming up."

Tank and I manhandled the idiot into the brightly lit station, stood there a moment while our eyes adjusted to the glare.

"And every cop in Trenton started laughing their fucking asses off," I told Steph.

"What! Why?"

"Whitehouse was wearing a set of neon pink tiger stripe velvet and fuzzy neon—I don't even know what. Faux monkey fur?— trimmed handcuffs, babe."

"Ooooh..." Finally Stephanie blushed a little. Yeah, I could see light dawning in her eyes. "Oh."

"Yeah, sound familiar? Like maybe I picked them up by accident in the dark?"

"But..."

... ... ...

[Steph]

Ranger turned and stared at me with his black unfathomable eyes. "I don't embarrass easily, babe. But every cop in this city now thinks I tie you up with pink fuzzy handcuffs."

"Uh..." Only fear of his reprisal kept me from laughing too.

"Care to explain?"

"No..." I frantically tried to find a good explanation.

Ranger reached into his cargo pocket and pulled out the pink cuffs. "Since everyone in town thinks I use these, babe," he dangled them in front of my face, "I think we should make their fantasy come true."

I jumped up. "Nooooo..."

But of course he was faster and in a second I was, well, chained naked to the headboard in our bedroom.

Ranger smiled at me and started undressing. Halfway naked he froze. "Just tell me these cuffs aren't Morelli's."

"What? No. No...I was just, uh, thinking that we—you and me, I mean—" I stammered.

Ranger stared into my soul, read my mind. He nodded a little. "Fine."

"What was the favor you mentioned?" I squirmed a little under his scrutiny. Was he measuring me for nipple rings, or what? He seemed intrigued by the cuffs at least. I told myself that was good—so far. "You said you needed me to do something?" I was hoping he wouldn't ask me to use the cuffs on him! Not pink!

He said coolly, "In the future, please keep your sex toys here in the bedroom. If you strew them all over my dressing room, I shudder to think what I might inadvertently be wearing next."

"I'll do my best, Ranger."

He pulled off his cargo pants and smiled at me again. "Payback's a bitch, babe."

Excellent. I smiled.

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the end, series tbc

yes, yes, probably he'd have noticed the furriness...but he just woke up! So just, suspend disbelief?—and review anyway?