Disclaimer: The primary characters in this story belong to Janet Evanovich. I make no money for this work. While I work in healthcare, the names and places detailed in this story are not based on specific persons.
A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews. I hope you like this update as well. Thanks to FairTaxGirl (for helping me get my had out of my ass!) and Margaret Fowler for reviewing this for me.
Previously:
I felt a rush of male pride and in a rare moment of playfulness, leaned down and bit her gently on her ass. She gasped and laughed with me. I finished dressing and headed down to the guard gate, slamming my blank face in place. This would be fun and educational.
Control Chapter 12Ranger's POV
I walked into the guard shack to find Ram standing in front of the door and Michael pacing in the small guard shack and mouthing off. "Who the fuck do you think you are? You can't keep me here. I'll have your fucking job!"
Ram was silent, standing in front of the door with his arms crossed. I entered behind him and motioned for him to leave. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ram give a little smirk as he left, no doubt looking forward to cleaning up the blood of this mouthy little asshole.
Michael looked up as Ram left and surveyed me. I could see his eyes taking in the Glock at my side and the knife beside it. "Great, another fucking thug. Who the fuck do you people think you are? You think you can intimidate me with your gun and your knife? You don't know who I am or who my family is. I'll fucking ruin you."
I raised my eyebrow and slowly lifted my weapons off my body, placing them on the desk. When I was finished, I crossed my arms and stared, giving him time to get good and scared. To give him credit, Michael did seem smart enough to know that me removing my weapons was not a gesture of peace, but an invitation for something more physical. He stopped pacing and stared back at me, sweat breaking out on his forehead.
After a few moments, Michael, speaking in a much calmer voice, said, "Who are you and what do you want?"
I smiled my best feral smile and said, "My name is Ranger and all you really need to know is that I am the man in Stephanie's life now. The police will be notified that you broke the restraining order by attempting to see Stephanie." I stepped forward until I could smell what he'd had for lunch on his breath and spoke quietly. "If it happens again, though, I won't call the police. We'll handle this in a nice, quiet place of my choosing. Do you understand?"
Michael, face red and breathing heavily, nodded. I moved my head to indicate he could leave and he left quickly, giving me a wide berth on his way out the door.
As I watched him drive away, I looked over to Ram and Zero and they nodded once. They had gotten the trackers on his car. Now we would know where he was at all times.
While I had enjoyed the confrontation, particularly the fear I was able to instill in him, I knew it wouldn't be that easy to be rid of him. Things were never this easy, but we needed the restraining order violation before we could take things further.
Walking back to the apartment, I called Tank to notify him that the trackers were in place and to keep an eye on them. I stopped at my car and picked up my gym bag with my change of clothes.
When I got back to the apartment, Steph was still out like a light, so I called Pino's and ordered her a meatball sub and myself a salad. I showered quickly and put on clean clothes. The food arrived after about 30 minutes and I took the meatball sub into the bedroom and held it under Steph's nose. She stirred and moaned. Lula had told me that the meatball sub from Pino's was one of Steph's favorites. She slowly opened her eyes and gave me a lazy, sexy smile that made my breath hitch. She stretched and said "Hi," leaning over to give me a slow kiss.
"Come on sleepy-head. Let's eat." I watched her climb out of bed and felt the urge to haul her right back. She walked naked into the bathroom and came out wearing a short, silky black robe.
I got her a drink and we sat at the table eating, but not saying much. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was wild. She had a little sauce on her chin. She looked beautiful.
Stephanie's POV
Ranger and I sat there together, having dinner, with me lost in the after-glow of great sex. He didn't look anymore after-glowy than he usually did, other than he seemed to smile a little faster than usual.
Ranger told me what had happened with Michael and I amused myself for a moment hoping that Michael had peed his pants.
We made plans to see each other the following evening. He had a late night job to do and I needed to get some rest before work in the morning. We kissed goodnight and I felt myself wishing for him to stay. He must have read my thoughts on my face because he said, "Babe, I've had this job planned for several days, or you couldn't kick me out of here tonight."
I smiled and gave him another quick kiss as he left. I admired the view until he turned the corner.
Thanks to a day of great sex, I slept well and was up and at work bright and early the next morning. I checked on how all my patients had done over the weekend and no one had any problems. We didn't have any new admissions, so I would have time to spend getting discharge plans ready and talking with some of the patients about their after-care plans. I also had a growing list of recently discharged patients that I wanted to call and check up on, Mr. Hamilton chief among them. When patients left the acute unit, I had no internal responsibility to follow-up with them, but unless they went to another program, I felt that I should at least speak with them a few times after they left to ensure they were okay and offer more support if needed. Some weeks, these calls took a lot of extra time, but it eased my mind when I spoke with the veterans, so I felt like it was time well spent.
Dr. White, Cheryl and I met early in the morning to plan discharges and as I suspected, Cal would be discharged today. After the meeting, I went in to talk to him and explain the discharge procedure. I set up appointments with an outpatient psychiatrist to manage his medication and scheduled him to begin a PTSD support group that I set up off campus. Cheryl and I had trained several veterans to facilitate this as a vet-to-vet group and so far it had been very successful. They met off campus for the veterans that weren't comfortable coming to the VA. Occasionally, they asked Cheryl and I to come and talk about a specific issue or to help direct someone toward more intensive help if it seemed they were spiraling out of control. Finally, I set him up to begin his Prolonged Exposure Therapy on Friday with Dr. Michaels. I had called in a favor to get this psychologist to do the PE because I felt he would be a good match for Cal. He was a large, heavily tattooed former Marine and there was nothing Cal could throw at him that he hadn't seen before. He also tended to know just when to push his patients and when to back off. I prayed that this match would work as well as I hoped. If the patient and psychologist working together in PE didn't mesh well, it didn't bode well for the success of the therapy.
I gave Cal a list of his appointments and talked with him about how he was feeling. He was ready to go home, but was understandably anxious about beginning his regular routine again.
"I'm nervous, but I feel stronger." Cal said.
I reiterated to him that the people around him would be a good support for him and that he was welcome to call me at any time. Cal thanked me for the help and asked to borrow my phone to call for a ride to take him home. I was about to walk him to my office to use the phone when I realized that I was going to his home tonight.
"Cal, I'm going to Haywood when I get off this afternoon. I can give you a ride home if you want."
"Thanks, Stephanie, that would be great. That gives me the rest of the day to talk to some of the guys here before I leave." After the first several days on the unit, Cal had started to bond with some of the other vets. They talked and played cards and made plans to see each other after discharge. Cal had also befriended one of the older Vietnam veterans, Mr. Brady. Mr. Brady had been in and out of the VA for years and was well known by all the staff. He never had visitors and always kept to himself. I knew that Mr. Brady felt like he had alienated his family years ago when his PTSD symptoms were so violent. After a few bad fights with his brother and some verbal altercations with other family members, he had completely cut himself off.
Cal had confided in me that his father had been a Vietnam veteran and that Mr. Brady reminded him of his father. "My dad was never violent with us, but I think he was afraid that he would be. I wasn't born yet when he got home from the war, but I've heard stories that he drank a lot for a few years and got into some bar fights before my mother finally told him he had to pull it together or get out. He stopped the drinking and the fighting, but he was never really there. He kept himself distanced by working long hours and never saying much. I never understood why he was that way until I saw Mr. Brady. Now I know that Dad felt like he didn't have a choice."
Cal's thoughts about his father were heart breaking. I had seen a lot of this, particularly among multi-generational military families. PTSD is a hard thing for a spouse and children to understand until they're further removed from it by the passage of age and time.
I went down my to-do list for the day and made a lot of follow-up calls. I tried Mr. Hamilton several times, but only got his voice mail. I spoke with the Suicide Prevention Coordinator, who assured me she had spoken with him over the weekend, which made me feel better. Hopefully, he would call me back and come in for his appointment later today.
The day passed quickly and I picked up Cal from the unit and we made our way over to Haywood. The closer we got, the more Cal seemed to vibrate from nerves. He twitched, shook his legs and crossed and uncrossed his arms. When we were about a block away from the building, I pulled over and turned to look at him.
"Cal?"
He turned to look at me and I could see the misery in his face. I knew that he was afraid that when he walked back in that building, his symptoms would start again and he would feel out of control.
I took his hand and said, "Cal, you know what's going on now. It'll take some time to adjust, but it will be fine. The men in that building like and respect you and they will help you in any way they can."
Cal was silent for a moment before he replied. "I know they will help me, but I'm afraid they'll think I'm crazy. What if they don't trust me to partner with them on a job or they jump up and leave every time I enter a room?"
"Cal, that's not going to happen. First of all, you'll be on light duty for a while. That will help you learn to trust yourself again and the guys learn to trust you again, too. These men understand what you've been going through. They don't think you're crazy."
Cal took a few deep breaths and nodded at me. I started the car again and turned the car toward Haywood. The garage opened when we got close enough to enter.
After we parked, Cal shot me a look and then got out. When we were halfway to the elevator, Lester came out of the stairwell and yelled, "Hey, asshole, we thought you'd never get here!" That seemed to loosen the tension and they did a swift man-hug and got in the elevator with me.
Lester turned to me and said, "Hey, Beautiful, the boss is on five waiting for you." He wagged his eyebrows at me and I had to laugh.
We found Ranger in the control room. Everyone got up and spoke to Cal and Ranger introduced me to the men in the room I didn't know yet, a huge blond guy named Hal and a smaller Hispanic man with tear-drop tattoos named Hector.
I chatted with everyone for a moment and Ranger and I were about to head up to his apartment for dinner when the police band radio cut in announcing a probable suicide. I stiffened and felt a jolt of fear go through me. Ranger looked at me and put his arm around me. "Babe?" I could only hold my breath and listen for the name. Please not Mr. Hamilton, please. The dispatch continued with the name: Ben Hamilton. Mr. Hamilton. I gasped and felt tears start to fall when Ranger rushed me out of the control room and up to his apartment.
A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews, prayers and well wishes for my surgery. The surgery went well and I'm feeling much better than I expected.
