Author's Note: My muse has gotten a big boost from a gem I found in my trolling. It's a 2 year old WIP called This Never Happened by JudeCairnsmom and even though I've only gotten through 8 out the 84 chapters, it's a delicious AU and I think it should be listed as required reading for all us Babes. It's just that kickass.
Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"
Ranger's POV
"Babe, are you sure you want to go into the Burg today? From what you've told me, crazy shit spreads like wildfire around there and I think your dad almost plugging Morelli like a wild Christmas turkey counts as crazy shit.", I asked her as we pulled out of the garage.
"You're 2 for 2, Batman but the big fish I wanna bring in today lives in the Burg. And even if he didn't, I'm done hiding from all the gossip mongers and I…I need to beat the hell out of someone. Violence is a better coping mechanism than crying and eating sweets until I puke."
"It's good cardio, too." I quipped, getting a fond eye roll and a smile from her.
True to her words in the tub, she had spent the night on 7 with me but we didn't make love. Steph needed comfort in a different way last night and thankfully I was just as good at holding a woman as I was at satisfying one. A few more tears fell but I wiped them away, reminding her that her mother was in the extreme minority. It would take all of my fingers and toes three times just to count the people who adored her in Trenton alone, not to mention my guys in Boston and Miami and of course, Julie.
After all the mayhem with Scrog, she and I had been in regular contact and she always asked about Steph. How she was doing, what she was doing, if she had dropped Morelli on her own yet or did I have a Master Plan to get her away from him because "we so needed to be together"…she'll be ecstatic to know that a Master Plan was unnecessary.
It wouldn't have worked anyway. One thing I learned very quickly about my Babe is that she does what she wants to when she wants to and if you do manage (by the grace of every Saint and God in existence) to force her to do what you want her to, you'll catch hell the whole time.
"Go 3 streets over from my mother's and take a left. Skip's name is Jackson Willington from Illinois. He's called Little Wet Willie on the streets but he's 6'4 and 245 pounds, give or take a doughnut. He's wanted for domestic assault, attempted rape, and domestic terrorism. All three charges can be traced back his now ex-wife Kendra Hicks. He beat the hell out of her with a Louisville slugger and if it weren't for some Girl Scouts knocking on the door, there would be no attempted anywhere near the rape. They turned him in and he spent 18 months in prison and when he got out, he attempted to blow up the post office she worked in. He's been leading the authorities on a wild goose chase ever since. His bond's a half a mil.", she summarized from the Intel file.
"How'd he end up here?"
"He's got a cousin. Kenny Willington and he's just as big and twisted as he is. I remember him because he used to roll with the Morelli boys before he got locked up in Juvy in 8th grade for beating up his mother for making him do his algebra. I can handle one but not both and…"
"What is it, Babe?"
"I don't want to face the Cops by myself. Don't get me wrong, only an idiot would be on Morelli's side but I still don't want to hear them sound off on what's happened. A little dignity is all I ask. Is that so unreasonable?"
No. And if they give her shit today, I'll give them a broken face.
/
Stephanie's POV
I barely knocked once before I heard a shotgun being pumped. Carlos and I hit the deck just in time for a huge hole to be blasted through the door and I heard the sadly familiar sound of a Porsche car window shattering behind us. Son of a bitch! 7 months of good car karma down the drain just like that! This SOB's gonna need a catheter by the time I'm done with him…
"Bounty Hunter Cunt, I ain't goin' to jail!" Wet Willie howled through the hole. Oh, I know he didn't just call me a…scarlet filled my vision. This fucker's going down!
"Wanna bet, jackass?" I replied conversationally as I slugged him in the nose, breaking it like a piñata.
It broke further when Carlos kicked the door in and while they tussled, I came face to face (well, face to chest) with Cousin Jackson. I could smell the 1800 leaking from his pores but drunk or not, that knife in his hand could still do some pretty bad damage if it got me. Not giving him the opportunity to try, I knocked it out of his hands and kicked him like a kangaroo in the groin. As I expected it only staggered him but when he turned to find his blade, I charged.
I jumped on his back and sank my teeth deep into his shoulder, making him howl like an enraged dragon and buck like a wild bull to try and shake me loose. I held on tight though, even as he spun and I clawed at his face, trying to get at his eyes. After all, you can't stab someone if you can't see…
He finally threw me and I landed on the sticky kitchen floor. Lucky for me, there was a cast iron skillet within reach so once he came at me again with another knife, I was ready. It probably looked like that scene in Kill Bill with The Bride and Vivica Fox but I was just trying to hold him off until Carlos could get to him and get to him he did. A bullet shattered Jackson's kneecap and I lashed out with a left cross to his temple. Down goes Frasier!
An almost peaceful silence descended, broken only by heavy breathing by both of us and the chirping birds outside.
"Did you get him?" I asked after a few minutes with a nod towards the living room.
"Yes. He's out like a light. Are you okay?"
"Ask me when the adrenaline wears off.", I replied as I cuffed Jackson's hands and zip tied his ankles. "Help me move him. We'll take him too."
Carlos grabbed his shoulders and I got his ankles as we half carried, half dragged Jackson to his heavily bruised and bloody cousin. I could see a couple of teeth floating in a pool of vomit and I grimaced.
"Overkill, much?"
"He called you a cunt. He's lucky he's still breathing."
"I've been called worse, Carlos."
"Irrelevant. I'm not going to let some asshole insult you if I can help it. It's a part of us being idiots together. As is dragging half dead bodies together. It's good practice for the string of cross country homicides we'll eventually do." he replied with a half smile.
My laughter was ragged and borderline hysterical but genuine.