Six Hours Later…
Steph and Hector are still sleeping. Lester and Cal have been keeping the rest of us fed and in coffee. Mica is standing by at The 99 Restaurant – which Steph and Hector love – so she can get their favorite foods for them as soon as they are awake. Somehow, I don't think either of them will want hospital food.
An hour or so ago, much to my surprise, Sullivan, Franklin and Rodriguez turned up with a sea of uniformed officers we've run into since we've been here. They've camped out with my guys in the hall, taking turns with guard duty and sleeping on a bed in the hall. Periodically, someone pokes his or her head into the room for an update.
I'm floored. They all worked overtime last night, cleaning up the mess. Now they're here, giving up time off to sit with people they barely know, watching over a man and woman they barely know.
But then, Steph has that effect on people.
My cell phone vibrates against my hip. I leave the room, passing by Steph's fan club in the hall, all of whom want to know if she's awake. I shake my head and hold up my 'phone. They turn away from me, disappointed.
I flip open my 'phone once I reach the designated area for using cell 'phones. "Yo."
"WHAT HAPPENED!?!" Mrs. Plum shrieks into my ear. I guess someone called her. Someone is going to die, I decide. Just as soon as I figure out who it is.
"She's fine, Mrs. Plum. She's sleeping right now."
"HOW CAN YOU SAY SHE'S FINE?" Oh, yeah. Someone is most definitely dead.
"She is." I've learned to keep answers to Mrs. Plum as short as possible. Any attempt at a long answer will be drowned out by her next question or demand. It's far less stressful to simply give bare minimum answers.
"SHE GOT SHOT! SHE IS NOT FINE!" She sort of has a point there.
"The bullet went right through." No need to mention that she got shot twice. Or that whole cast thing.
"RIGHT THROUGH WHAT?" Valid question.
"Her leg."
"Is it broken?" At last, her volume button.
"No." No point in bringing up the cast here, either.
"Why is she sleeping?"
"It was a long night." Really long.
"Tell her to call me when she wakes up!" Click. I guess she's done with her interrogation.
I make my way back to the room. Hal, Heather and Juan have arrived. Juan has tears running down his face as he looks at Hector lying in the hospital bed. Heather is patting his back, making soothing noises.
I explain what happened, their treatment thus far, and relay everything the doc has said during his visits. Juan heaves a sigh of relief and falls into the chair next to Hector's bed. Heather turns and heads out to the nurses' station for more information. Hal flops down in the chair next to Steph's bed. I just look at him.
"Call Lula. She's frantic. Tank had to bring her to the office so he could work."
I nod and leave the room to make the call. Lula's cell or the Trenton office? I decide to just call the office, since I know everyone will want an update. I dial and wait for someone to answer.
"RangeMan."
"Tank." I hear him heave a sigh of relief.
" 'Bout time."
"Busy."
"I'm putting you on speaker. I know how much you like to talk." I hear the phone click over to the speaker function.
"Well?" Lula's still in the office, apparently.
"Aren't you on bed rest?" I tease her.
"I was until you an' Hector dropped the ball!"
I sigh. "I'm sorry." What else could I possibly say? It was my fault. My fault.
"You better be! Now you tell Lula jus' what happen!"
I tell. In graphic, guilty detail. I update Lula and the guys in Trenton regarding the physical condition and prognosis for both Steph and Hector. I tell them about Steph's cast. As expected, Lula chuckles over that piece of information.
"She know she gotta cast yet?" Lula demands, snickering.
"No," I confess. "She's still sleeping off the meds and the blood loss."
Lula laughs at me. Loudly. "She ain't goin' be happy 'bout that."
No shit. "I know."
"You need me to come up an' help you?"
Please God, no. "I think we're good for now, Lula. We need you to take care of RangeMan's baby."
"'Scuse me, but it's MY baby." I hear Tank protesting in the background. "Okay, so it's MY baby and TANK'S baby."
"But you're part of our family."
I hear Lula sniffling. I must have said the wrong thing. "THANK YOU!" she sobs. I can hear the sounds of her sobs quiet as she moves away from the microphone. I guess those are happy tears. Maybe.
"Thanks a lot Ranger," Tank grumps at me. "Now I gotta go calm her down."
"No problem. Did you call Mrs. Plum?"
"Uhhh…"
"That's what I thought. Have a nice day, Tank. Buy tissues."
He grunts and disconnects the call. On one hand, I feel bad about making Lula cry. On the other hand, Tank deserved some misery today. Of course, I recall that Rachel cried over every little thing when she was pregnant with Julie. Val cries over everything, too. Must be a hormonal thing. I shiver, grateful once again the Steph doesn't want kids.
"WHAT. THE. FUCK!" I can hear Steph's shriek all the way down the hall, even though the door to the room is closed. "GODDAMN IT! RANGER!"
I run down the hall to the room, mostly in an effort to save the nurses and the guys from her wrath.
I open the door and step in. "Problem, Babe?"
I get Steph's patented Death Glare. "You know damned well there is!"
I nod gravely. "You're right. My wife and her partner were both shot. That is a problem." I give her my nicest smile.
She gives me her dirtiest look. "This cast is the problem," she informs me, waving her hand at the black plaster encasing her leg.
"It's not forever."
"How long?" she asks, her teeth clenched.
"Six weeks or so."
"SIX. FUCKING. WEEKS?"
Lester pats her shoulder. "He didn't let them put on white. We thought you'd rather have some color. And black goes with everything!"
She turns The Glare on Lester. He drops his arm and jumps back a few feet. "How am I supposed to work like this?"
"You get a nice, paid vacation, Babe." The Glare is turned back on me.
"How are we supposed to fulfill this contract? You're going to be down two people!"
"Hal can fill in for one of you while Heather takes care of you guys."
"What about Trenton? How is Tank supposed to run the Trenton office without Hal? What about Lula? And you're still short a person!"
My head starts to hurt. I hold up my hand. "One thing at a time." She nods. "Tank has plenty of experienced guys in Trenton to help him. If Lula goes early or needs to be hospitalized, Hal can go back. Lula will need to hear from you. She's worried. I'll call Boston, if I have to."
"How am I supposed to go to the bathroom?" she asks in a small voice.
Lester grins. "No problem, Doll. I'll get you a bedpan!"
Her eyes narrow. "Lester, come here." Still grinning, the fool actually goes to her. She opens her arms. He moves in to wrap her in a hug. She smacks him in the head. Hard. He looks a little dazed. "NO BEDPAN!"
"No bedpan," he agrees, nodding and backing away.
I call the nurse, who brings crutches and follows Steph to the bathroom with the IV pole. A few minutes later, the nurse returns without Steph, looking nervous. For a split second, I wonder if Steph has run away.
"Uh… Mr. Manoso?" She's looking at me, but it's still a question. I stand up and nod. "Um. Ah… Mrs. Manoso feels dizzy and refuses a wheelchair, another nurse, or an aide."
I smile. Typical Steph. "Lester." Steph will not want me to pick her up and carry her. At least, not while she's in a backless hospital gown with no panties, which I had ended up cut off along with her cargo pants. I figure it'll be easier for two of us to help her back to bed in an upright position. Not to mention safer for me. And Lester. He and I head for the bathroom, the nurse hot on our heels.
I knock softly on the bathroom door. I hear Steph moan in response. "Babe. I'm coming in." I motion to Lester to stay outside the door. I open the door just enough to slip into the bathroom. Luckily, it's a private one. Steph is seated on the toilet, hanging on to the safety rail for dear life, her leg sticking out in front of her. She opens her eyes and then moans, turning a little green. "Babe?"
"I should have used the fucking bedpan." Her eyes have closed again.
"You want me to carry you?" I figured I should offer.
"Fuck no." She gave me the answer I was expecting.
"How about if Lester and I walk you back?"
"Both of you?"
"Yes."
"Like crutches with legs?"
"Crutches with legs and arms to hold you up, Babe."
"Okay."
I open the door and pull Lester in. "Right or left?" I ask him.
He looks at me for a minute, then at Steph, still clinging to the safety bar. "No way am I taking the side with the cast. I'll take the left."
We get her up and back to bed without flashing the world or banging the cast on anything. Steph settles back into bed with a sigh of relief.
"You okay, Chica?" Hector's voice is rough and groggy.
"I am now. Bit of advice, though. Take the bedpan."
"Huh?" Hector sounds confused. I can't blame him; he had way more meds than Steph.
"The bedpan. You want the bedpan. Not the walk to the bathroom."
"Okay." He still sounds confused, but looks as though he's dozing off again.
Juan smiles indulgently at both of them, looking relieved. "They'll both be fine," he announces softly.
I nod. "They will," I agree.
Cal calls Mica with Steph's order for a bacon and cheese steak burger with no onions and extra fries. Hector doesn't want anything yet. Mica promises to deliver it in a half hour or so.
Lester opens the door and kicks the door stop into place. He leans out. "They both woke up. Hector is sleeping again, but Steph is mostly awake."
The parade begins. In groups of two, the people who have been waiting in the hall for news begin popping in and out of the room to see for themselves that Steph and Hector are really going to be okay.
Rodriguez, Sullivan, and Franklin come in together. They linger by Steph's side, talking to her. Steph voices her concerns about coverage with Hector and her down, and only one replacement currently available in Hal.
Rodriguez shrugs. "No problem," he tells her. "We gotcha covered."
Steph stares at him, mouth hanging open. So do I. "What?" she asks.
He smiles. "We got day shift uniforms from a different district who are willing to cover you, Hector, and Ranger as long as necessary."
Tears well in her eyes. I sit down on the edge of her bed and take her hand in mine. She looks up at me. "Why the tears, Babe?" I ask softly.
"I don't know!" she sobs. Right then, I decide to take a week off from patrols to stay with her.
I kiss her face. "No tears, Babe. Everything's fine."
We spend the next hour or so working out details and updating schedules. Telephone calls are made. Heather returns to notify us that Steph will be released in twenty-four hours, provided there are no complications. Hector can go home in forty-eight to seventy-two hours, provided his condition doesn't change for the worse.
"And there's some kid in the hall for Steph," she adds, looking at me.
I make sure that she's looking me in the face. "Send him in." Heather turns to go get the kid.
A small, nervous Hispanic kid enters the room. He looks to be thirteen or fourteen, but his size could be deceptive. His eyes dart wildly around the room. He's sweating. He stands just inside the door for over a minute, looking for all the world like he's going to run if anyone looks at him cross-eyed. He's very obviously terrified. By us, maybe. But by something else, too. I watch him, trying to watch us.
"Come on in and sit down," Steph's voice is calm, soothing. I heard her use that tone with Holly and Jacob last year, and once with Mary Alice after she fell down the stairs at The Plum's.
The boy's eyes still as he focuses on Steph struggling to sit up in bed. I still her struggles with my hand. I press the button to raise the head of the bed. Lester and I each grab her under an arm and carefully slide her up in the bed until she's sitting comfortably.
The boy cautiously approaches her bed. He doesn't look away from her. She pats the bed beside her. He perches on the edge, very careful not to jostle her. My opinion of him goes up several notches.
"I… I saw who shot you," he whispers, still looking at Steph. His whisper is hoarse, like it's an effort for him to get the words out.
Steph nods gravely. "Can you tell me who did it?" she asks, equally softly.
Tears roll down the boy's cheeks. He shakes his head. "I can't!" This time, his whisper sounds tortured.
Steph looks at him for a moment, then her eyes narrow a touch. "I can keep your family safe," she promises.
His eyes snap up to meet hers. "How…?"
"If you had nothing to lose, you'd be with them."
"My sisters. They're so little. Mama's been gone for months. I can't keep them safe…" Steph opens her arms to the boy. He throws himself at her, sobbing out his fear and anguish into her stomach. I can only hear fragments of what he is saying. Steph gently strokes his back, patiently waiting for him to finish. Twenty minutes later, his thin body begins to relax. His sobs quiet.
"What is your name?" Steph asks.
"Angel Jesus Lopez."
"I'm Stephanie Michelle Manoso. This is my husband, Ranger. The gentleman in the bed next to mine is Hector. That's Juan, his life partner." Angel raises his head, looking embarrassed. He ducks his head and says hello to everyone. He apologizes for his outburst. Steph tells him not to worry. She tells him some of the things that have happened to her since she became a bounty hunter. When she is done with her tales, he is smiling and calm. "Tell us how we can help you, Angel."
He gulps. "I have two small sisters. I need to keep them safe. I was warned that if I told anyone what I saw, El Rey would hurt them, " he finishes miserably.
"Where are then right now?" Steph wants to know.
"I hid them on the roof of our building."
"Why the roof?" I want to know.
For the first time, the boy looks at me. "The roof is bad. It will not hold anyone heavier than my sisters. It will not even hold me," he finishes.
I've got to hand it to the kid, it was a good choice to make in a jam. The girls would temporarily be safe. I tell him so. He flushes slightly, looking proud.
Steph holds up her hand for a minute. I know that her mind is working at the speed of light and she's asking for silence to think and plan.
She looks at Lester and starts barking orders. "Lester. Take Heather, Mica and Cal. Use the F-150 and the Navigator. Go with Angel. Get the girls and all of their stuff. Angel's, too. Take the three kids and all of their stuff to our house. Get them settled into two of the empty rooms." She pauses for a moment. "I think we have tow empty rooms. If not, use our room. Get Jemma to get a big dinner ready. Make sure that Angel gets a tour of the house and the security systems. Call Trenton about the monitoring setup if he wants. Tomorrow, we'll worry about everything else."
As usual, everyone snaps shit and runs to do her bidding. I swear to God, it's funny as Hell to watch everyone trip over themselves and each other to follow her orders.
She settles back into the pillows. "We'll talk when you're happy with the security arrangements, Angel."
Once again, he pitches himself into her arms. "Thank you!"
She pats his back and tells him he's welcome. Lester collects two sets of keys and tosses the Navigator's to Cal. "Let's go." He places a hand on the back of Angel's neck. Next to Lester, the boy looks even smaller.
"Angel." He turns to me. "How old are you and your sisters?" I ask.
He straightens under the weight of Lester's hand. "Bella is four. Anna is seven. I am fifteen in two weeks."
I smile at him. He's older than I had thought. The girls, younger. They leave.
Steph turns on the detectives. "Find out where Mama has gone off to. And find out why those three kids were left alone like that. And if Social Services finds out about this, there will be Hell to pay." And Steph will be Hell, no doubt.
Once the room has emptied and things have quieted down again, Hector calls her name softly. She looks over at him. "I wish I had known someone like you at his age, Chica."
Steph looks him in the eye. "Then you wouldn't be you, my friend." Hector's eyes close, and he drifts off, smiling and holding Juan's hand.
"I'm proud of you, Babe," I whisper in her ear before I kiss her.
Her blue eyes meet mine. As always, I feel the pleasant sensation of drowning in them. "If we can't find a responsible family member to care for those kids, I'm keeping them. They're going back to Trenton with us when this job is over."
For a split second, I see doubt and fear in her eyes. I smile. I'll do anything to make her happy. If adopting three kids is going to make her happy, then I'm doing it. "No problem, Babe."