A/N: This chapter is re-written (as of 7 September 2009) because I made a fatal error – I got carried away with an idea and veered the story off-track from my original plan. And I like my original plan. I want to stick with my original plan. The changes herein are subtle but they change the tone and ultimate resolution of the chapter. I apologise to anyone who feels put out by the changes but if I had not made them, I believe I would not have been able to finish the story at all. Now I'm back in the saddle and intend to see it through to the end. I hope I can count on your understanding.
I am using the wonderful characters created by Janet Evanovich, without permission. I derive no profit from their use, other than the gratification of playing with them.
With grateful thanks to Dee and JannyB whose advice and feedback has been invaluable. A special thank you to Magdalync who encouraged me to follow my muse wheresoever he taketh me.
I'm also grateful for every review and PM; feedback is so important! I think (hope) I've responded to every one individually; if I haven't, it was an oversight and I apologise.
Warning that there's lots of bad language in this chapter; Ranger swears like a trooper in his own head.
This is written from Ranger's POV, btw (you'd probably work that out yourself, but just in case).
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The Usual Mayhem
Chapter 12: Sucking it up
Well, that went fucking great, Manoso. I banged my head back against the headrest a couple times. The conversation with Stephanie resolved exactly nada and yet again, you walk way with a boner.
Stephanie was leaning over Connie's desk with her back to me when I walked in, long legs and that spectacular ass outlined by tight denim. Instant hard on.
I adjusted my crotch before starting the car. Yeah, Stephanie has me under total control. How the hell did she get under my skin like this? It's like she has a master switch I don't have access to that gives her the power to override all my controls.
Flick. Engage protective instincts. Flick. Desire on full throttle. Flick. Up the tenderness. Flick. Turn off logic. Flick. Rev up fascination. Flick. Activate love. She has all the power. I remember the shock the first time I felt the jolt in my gut at the sound of her voice and realized it was joy.
Before Stephanie, I never would have believed a woman could do that to me, and there have been a lot of women. Not now. Not for a long time. After Stiva took her, when I thought I'd lost her, it changed things. Picking up a woman was easy – they practically dragged off my pants and begged – but it was like trying to slake thirst with salt water. I don't want another woman. Only a long, sweet drink of Stephanie will do. It's ironic that it's taken this to make me realize I'm committed to her.
Out of habit, my mind turned to regaining focus as I drove back to base. It was a mistake to go to the bonds office this morning. I should have sent Tank. Would have been better for both of us to bide my time so I could talk to her in private. Couldn't help myself; had to hear it from her mouth to believe it.
I mean, what the fuck? Saturday night she was mine. For the first time, Stephanie reached out to take what she wanted. She couldn't have made it clearer she wanted me if she'd typed it out in triplicate and signed it. Not even a week later and she's engaged to the cop.
I punched the car roof above my head. Shit. Shouldn't have done that; pointless emotional outburst that probably dented the roof. Stupid, and I haven't done stupid in a long time.
If that damned operation hadn't forced me to leave her before we sealed the deal she might not have run back to the safety of the 'burg cop. And then what, Manoso? Did you think about the morning after? Fuck.
I punched the roof again. See what I mean? Just thinking about her short-circuits my control.
By the time I parked at Rangeman my discipline was back in place. Calm and alert. Focused. I checked the roof when I got out of the car and saw the small deformation in the black finish above the driver's seat. I shook my head slightly. I took the stairs to the fifth and walked through the low hum of the men's voices to my office. They nodded acknowledgment as I walked by, my presence creating a wave of silence through the chatter. That was normal but the level of tension in the room was higher than usual – the news about the engagement had made the rounds.
I stuck my head into Tank's office. He'd told me the news this morning, actually coming to the apartment rather than waiting for me to come down to the control room. He'd hardly been able to look me in the face. He knew I wanted to pick up the FTA file myself to have an excuse to see Stephanie. Sometimes a good friend is a pain in the ass.
His eyes were wary when he looked up. 'Everything okay, boss?'
I knew what he was asking but I ignored it. I don't do Hallmark moments. 'Get one of the men to take the Turbo down to Al's body shop. There's a dent in the roof above the driver's seat.'
Tank watched me for a beat before nodding assent.
I crossed the hall to my office and threw the Bordhern file on my desk. Easing back into the chair, I logged on to the system to send Binky the request for a background check and started to read the file. Half an hour later, the file was still open to the first page and I'd taken in nothing. My concentration was shot.
I glanced over at my in-tray. Three client contracts to go over, a handful of field reports, correspondence and the financials from Miami. Experience dictated the best way to gain clarity was to work my body hard so I shut down the computer and headed up to seven to change.
My mind steered back to the exchange in the bonds office. Being rebuked by Lula was bizarre but I had to give her credit for having the balls to do it. Her smart-ass suggestion that I should settle down with Rex made me smile in the privacy of the elevator. Despite Morelli's involvement, I'm sure Lula's not the only one speculating about Stephanie and me. My men assume she's my woman. For a long time now the streets have assumed it, too.
And therein lies the rub. Belonging to me is a dangerous business. It was a fact I live with and mitigate by minimizing my personal ties. There are a lot of people who would get their jollies by bringing me down and hurting those I love is the surest way to do it. When Scrog kidnapped Julie and then took Stephanie, the possibility became fact. It wrenched my gut. And Scrog was small fry.
A pile of laundry obstructed the foyer when I opened the apartment door and Ella poked her head out of the kitchen to smile at me.
'Come on in, Ranger. I'm done in the bedroom and bathroom. I'm just finishing up in the kitchen.'
'No problem. I just need to change clothes.'
'Can you leave your laundry out here when you're changed? I don't want you to mess up the bathroom again.'
I almost smiled. Ella and Stephanie are the only women I'm not related to who consistently respond to me without fear.
'Sure.'
Ella nodded her approval over her shoulder and went back into the kitchen. I stepped around the laundry pile to get to my bedroom, changed into work-out clothes and got out of her hair.
The men like to work out before or after their shifts so at mid-morning the gym was empty. Unless I called down someone I didn't have the option of a face-off on the mat. There was no one on the shit-list right now so I settled for a krav maga workout. The hybrid mix of yoga, martial arts and dirty street fighting was adopted by many covert units a while back and I incorporated it into my training regime. It would work me hard and concentrate the mind. I stripped down and moved into it.
Lula's statement about the ring coming from the wrong man kept jabbing at the edges of my concentration. I've known for a long time that Stephanie wanted me but I had no certainty that she felt more. She dreams about me. Does that count? I both hope for it and dread it.
Did she really want the ring, the suburban house, kids, barbecues with the neighbors, Little League on the weekends? It would explain why she accepted the cop. She knows I can't give her that kind of regulated life. Not without becoming someone else.
The danger that comes with my job is a self-evident obstacle – keeping her safe had become almost an obsession – but the real problem is me. Who I am. There's a reason I'm a mercenary; I need the adrenaline rush of living on the edge. It provides me with a way to live that gives me a level of satisfaction and stops me going nuts. I could do the ordinary guy thing for a while, for her, but I know the walls would close in eventually and I don't want to hurt her. I told Stephanie once that maybe I was sick, mentally, emotionally, sexually. There was some truth in that.
Being the government's hired gun means I go when I'm called and there's no guarantee I'll come back alive. I signed the contract; my life is forfeit. That's no kind of life to offer a woman. I won't do it, leave her behind time and again, not knowing whether I'll come back to her. I won't make her a promise I can't keep.
I love her. Known that for…shit, I don't know how long. Maybe since I rescued her, handcuffed naked to her shower rail. I wanted to fuck her so bad after that night. I didn't though. She was better than a hit and run fuck. She fascinated me, surprised me. I wanted more. I can't put my finger on when it became love but after Stiva, I knew. I couldn't kid myself any longer.
Stephanie thinks I used her as a piece of ass, played her. That's the accusation she threw in my face. The words she used still burned: 'You had a little itch, you scratched it and then you were done. I paid up; you moved on.'
Moved on? I have never been in so deep! The injustice of it pissed me off so much I snapped. I just had to show her, didn't I? Prove that I'd been holding back, make her admit she had the power. Eres un culo grande, Manoso. [You are such an ass, Manoso.] It was unmanly and she deserved better.
That deal was the stupidest thing I ever did and a measure of how desperate I was. I was burning for her, and she wanted me, yet the reality of sleeping with me seemed to scare the piss out of her. So I thought I'd plant a little seed. Exert some pressure. I didn't intend to collect but that night she needed that physical comfort.
Dios! Making love with Stephanie was like nothing I'd imagined. It wasn't sex; it was a fever, a drug. Como busca el agua a la sed! [Like water seeks out thirst!]
I had no fucking idea of how to handle it so I ran. But I came back. It was weak, selfish of me, giving in to what I wanted rather than what was right. I offered her everything I could, told her there was no price I wouldn't pay for her; Stephanie turned me down flat. Said she couldn't do it. I wasn't surprised, I knew what I offered wasn't near enough. Still hurt like a bitch.
One mistake after another. I keep tripping over myself.
I don't know whether it's in me to offer her anything more. My survival depends on self-sufficiency and I've been ruthless in training myself to that goal. Reliance on anything external is a weakness. The thought of losing autonomy and control, allowing vulnerability, induces panic. And the idea of being answerable to anyone is intolerable to me. I don't know whether I can let anyone in, now. My marriage to Rachel wasn't a choice and we both knew it would end in divorce after the baby was born but Rachel was lucky to get out. I've seen what happens to women who tie themselves to men like me.
Yet for months I've had flashes of having a future with Stephanie. My mind wanders in a meeting, or during meditation, in a half-dream at night, and I imagine waking up to her smile. Soothing her hurts. Watching her blossom. Living together each day and sharing the night. Making her happy. Permanently entwining her life with mine.
Crazy thoughts, Manoso. Stephanie agreed to marry the cop. She made the decision and I should be happy for her. I shouldn't muddy the waters.
I still can't figure why she accepted him. When I asked, her answer was so flat: because it seemed the right thing to do. Like a duty or obligation. Not because she loves him, or because she wants to spend her life with him. There was no passion in her answer. I could be happy for her if I saw she was happy but she's not. I saw it in her beautiful eyes.
I can't accept that Stephanie wants a 'burg life, the picket fence, the PTA, that housewife shit. She keeps running back to Morelli, trying to shape herself into a mold that doesn't fit, and it diminishes her. It's so fucked up; I don't know why she keeps going back to him, back to his bed. It kills me to watch. And I did this. I sent her back to him so he could give her what I can't but he just cuts her down.
A muscle spasmed in my jaw and consciously I unclenched it. Yeah, I love her. I have no fucking idea what to do about it, though.
My watch alarm beeped, reminding me I was supposed to be in a meditative state. Shit. I had no fucking control of my head. I'd have to punch something. I rolled out of savasana* to pull on gloves and started in on the boxing bag. Just as well I hadn't called down one of the men. Beating up on employees is bad for morale.
'You're hitting that bag like it owes you money, boss.' I looked over at Santos' smirking face. Hadn't noticed him come in and that pissed me off.
'You need something, Lester?'
He shrugged. 'I usually spar with Hal but his shoulder's not up to it yet. Thought you might want some live action.'
'Not today.' I wasn't sure I'd be able to control myself today and I didn't want to hurt him.
He shrugged again and measured me for a moment. 'Heard about Steph. Blew me away, man.'
Was that sympathy in his voice? I shook my head. He must have a death wish.
'Santos,' I warned.
'Hey, I'm just saying. I didn't think she'd end up with the cop, that's all. I thought you two were...you know...'
What the fuck? He knows this subject is off limits. Santos never will learn to keep his mouth shut. I stripped off the gloves and called him over; maybe I did want to hurt him a little. 'On the mat. No gear.'
'Oh, shit,' he muttered.
An hour later Santos hobbled to the change room with an ice pack on his face and I went upstairs to shower. I'd risk Ella's displeasure by messing up the bathroom again. I felt good, clearer and calmer than at any time since I'd come back from Philly.
I headed back down to five, making a point to check on the men at their stations before hitting the paperwork. A few of them almost jumped out of their skin when I asked them to report. Maybe I was radiating more tension than I realized.
I got through a couple hours of steady work and felt relieved to get it off my desk. My stomach rumbled, reminding me I'd missed lunch so I picked up a couple of sandwiches from the kitchen to eat while I went over the Bordhern file properly. He was an evil fuck and I was glad Connie had waited for me to come back rather than giving his file to Stephanie.
Not for the first time, I considered how to convince Stephanie to take on some serious self-defense and weapons training. It would help her feel more competent, build her shaky self-esteem and add years to my life by way of heart attack prevention. I tried a lot of strategies over the years to coax her and they always failed. She has a mind of her own. She's incredible. Her stubborn independence awes me even while it makes me ten different kinds of crazy.
A knock at the door recalled my mind to the job. 'Enter.'
Binky appeared with the background search I'd asked for and dropped it on the desk.
'Thanks,' I dismissed him and started to flip through the new data.
'Anything else I can do for you, boss?' I looked up, surprised. My men are inculcated with respect for the chain of command so they rarely break ranks.
'No.'
Binky remained standing in front of my desk, looking like he was about to shit himself. What now? He cleared his throat and looked right in my eyes.
'Surprising news about Ms Plum, sir.'
All those years of training came to my rescue to prevent my chin from hitting the desk. This was fucking unbelievable! Was every man in my employ sticking his nose in? I swear to God, I was starting to think there was a conspiracy to yank my chain. I stared him down until his balls shriveled and he backed out with his hands covering his crotch.
The door clicked shut and I shook my head. My fine body of men was gossiping like a bunch of old women. They all care about Stephanie; a couple are half in love with her and the rest treat her like a precocious little sister. They were losing her, too, and it was making them a little crazy.
She'd made me completely loco [crazy] on Saturday, deliberately baited me the whole afternoon. Then she turned up at my door in that ridiculous dress that emphasized her hourglass curves and those long, shapely legs, the sheen of sweat on her skin, those deep blues eyes stabbing me; ready to fight me or fuck me. It was like standing six inches from the midday sun and just the memory is giving me a hard-on. I shifted in my chair to re-arrange myself.
Fuck! How do we twist each other around like this? I sprang out of my chair, too twitchy to sit, and paced in front of the door as I ran her words through again. That I never talk to her; that I play her like a fish on a line; that I don't give a shit about how I affect her.
How is it possible that she had no fucking idea how much she complicates my life and messes with my emotions and fucks with my head? She's the centre of my fucking universe! Everything I have to give, I give her. I show her I love her in every way I know and she still calls me a self-centred, emotionless, uncommunicative dick. How the fuck is that supposed to work?
I stopped in my tracks and punched the door in frustration. I couldn't stop. Bam! Bam! I kept punching and kicking until my knuckles were bleeding and I'd wrecked the door. Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I slid down the wall to the carpet, leaned elbows on knees. This cannot continue. I need to get a grip, make a decision.
Tank stuck his head around the broken door hanging off its hinges, assessing the damage before landing his eyes on me. He looked ready to run. I glared at him, daring him to give me an excuse to take him on but he shook his head.
'Carlos, you gotta do something, man. You can't function and you're scaring the crap out of the men.'
Tonto del culo! [Half-assed idiot!] If I knew what the fuck to do, I'd be doing it.
I growled at him. 'Shut the fuck up, Tank, and get out of my face.' His jaw tightened and he shook his head again.
I got up and shoved past him to the washroom through the eerie silence of the control room. I locked myself in to clean up my hands, stuck my head under the cold tap then stared at my face in the mirror. A hard man stared back at me, jaw set, eyes holding something angry and brittle. I needed to get out of the office, disperse the aggression and get back in control. Time for some field inspections.
Hector and Lester were scoping a new security contract in a club downtown. I'd started partnering them for these jobs, counterbalancing Hector's menace and lack of English with Lester's social skills. It seemed to work. The two men were looking over the floor plans in the manager's office. Lester's facial bruises from our encounter were blooming and he had evidently shared the story of how he'd got them with his partner.
Hector looked over at me and his nose wrinkled like he'd got a whiff of something nasty. 'Usted deja que tu monada ir? Eres un imbécil!' [You let your sweet babe go? You're a moron!]
I caught Lester out of the corner of my eye, nodding agreement. Fucking coward was hiding behind Hector. Hector can't be intimidated and I brush off the occasional liberties he takes but I was in no mood for his cajones [machismo]. I glowered at them. Lester took a step back.
'No me jodas, Hector.' [Don't fuck with me, Hector.]
'Haz algo, hombre. Ella te ama.' [Do something, man. She loves you.]
Fuck! What the hell would he know about how Stephanie feels, what she needs? He either couldn't see how close I was to snapping or he didn't care. A firestorm in Afghanistan had been easier than dealing with these hen-peckers on my payroll.
I gave him one last warning, pushing him backwards with a hand to the middle of his chest. 'Déjalo! Esta no es su negocio.' [Leave it alone! This is not your business.]
Hector looked at me steadily, ignoring the escalation. 'Usted arrepentirá de esto.' [You'll regret this.]
Regret. He had no idea. I was also itching to rearrange someone's face but I knew once I started I wouldn't be able to stop. Better retreat before this turned into a slaughter. I went back to the car, my hands shaking, and ransacked my relaxation techniques to find some control.
What the fuck did they expect me to do? Stephanie is not the kind of woman who will give in to pressure. She can't be forced. Confrontation doesn't work. Bluffing her doesn't work. Overpowering her doesn't work. Stephanie is her own woman; give her information and open alternatives and she always, always, makes the right decision; make any attempt to control her and her instinct is to dig in her heels out of sheer stubbornness.
And, even if I had any power to influence her, in what direction would I push? What the fuck do I want? I sprang out of the car and slammed the door, pounded my fists against the roof. I stared across the blacktop of the empty parking lot.
Think, Manoso. You're a strategist, a tactician. Get your mind into gear. Break down the objectives. Outline a plan. Make a decision. What do you want? I took a slow, deep breath and let it out, feeling the tension drain from my body as my mind shed the dross and shifted into hard calculation.
I don't want her to marry Morelli. I won't stand by without a fight and let him break her spirit. I want her. I want Stephanie to choose me. I want to make a life with her. I want to make her happy.
I have to figure out how.
First, I need to know whether she loves me. I know she wants me but if she doesn't love me enough, if she doesn't want a life with me, I'm lost. My heart clenched at that thought and I pushed it away. Emotion is a distraction.
Second, I need to know what she needs to be happy. I don't believe she needs or wants the whole 'burg catastrophe. I know that's not Stephanie. But how far is she willing to bend? What does she need?
Third, I need to work out how I'm going to meet those needs. God knows I want to but I have to do it within the constraints of my obligations and my personal limitations. I told Stephanie this morning that what she wants is reasonable and I need to make that true. I'll make damned sure that if she reaches for me, I'll be there, body and soul.
I shook my head. Too much unproductive emotion. Still not thinking clearly and I have a feeling I've overlooked something. I need to stay away from her long enough to clear my head and make sure this plan is clean, all angles covered, without emotion or desire getting in the way. I have to be sure this is best for Stephanie. I have to be sure that I can deliver on what I promise.
Besides, I need to give her space so her gut, her spidey-sense, leads her to the right decision. I know she responds physically to me in the same way I respond to her. I have to back off, give her time and space to discover for herself that I am the man for the woman she wants to be.
I got back in the car and started up. I shook my head; no physical contact. No kisses, no caresses, no innuendo. Tank would have to tie me up to keep me on the straight and narrow. Stephanie said they were planning a spring wedding; I'd be damned if I allowed Morelli to stay in her bed that long.
By the time I got back the men were changing shifts. They scuttled around me like cockroaches in the light, careful to avoid meeting my eyes. I was going to have to give them Ella's cookies tomorrow.
I stepped into Tank's office and he looked up, his eyes guarded. Probably wondering if I'd demolish any other parts of the building or work my way through the men instead. I leaned a shoulder against his doorjamb, arms folded across my chest and face relaxed.
'Got plans for tonight?'
Tank's face softened instantly and he clamped his mouth to fight a grin. 'Lula.'
I felt a muscle at the corner of my mouth quiver. Tank had it bad.
'Got time for a beer upstairs before you go?'
Tank's eyes sharpened, assessing the implications. 'Sure. I'm just cleaning up. I'll be there in five.'
oOo
'Carlos, you're making a mistake.'
I didn't answer, just fixed my eyes on him, unmoving.
Tank scrunched up his face. 'She's gonna take this the wrong way, man.'
'It won't be for long and I'll make sure she doesn't.'
He dropped his head onto the back of the couch. 'Lula's gonna give me hell when she finds out.'
'Then don't tell her.' I allowed myself a full grin and his face finally relaxed.
Tank chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. 'Shit, Carlos. When do I take over?'
'Right now. But if she needs me, you call me stat. Otherwise, it's all you. She's your number one priority.'
Tank nodded once, affirmative. He finished his beer, left the empty on the table and went back to the control room to put my orders into play before going home to his woman.
I took a deep breath and let my head rest back in the armchair. Now that I had a goal, a plan of action, a lot of the tension and anger had dissipated and my thoughts were sharp and clear. I sucked down the rest of my beer and put the bottle on the floor.
I walked over to the shelves in the living room, picked up a sleek, enameled Japanese box and took it back to the chair. It was purely decorative, empty except for one photo that I'd placed in there for safe-keeping. It was of Stephanie and me, taken by one of the guys – probably Hal, he's always got a camera on him somewhere.
It was taken after one of her cars blew up and we stood in close contact, facing each other with the vehicle on fire behind us. I was tucking a curl of her wild hair behind her ear and she had one hand resting on my chest, the other at my hip, both of us smiling, our eyes locked. My face was open; she's the only one who ever sees that face. In the midst of the inferno, Hal had caught an intimate moment and she was so beautiful, even disheveled and with dirt on her face.
I studied the photo and hoped to God that I was right. There was still the minefield of my government obligations to deal with but there was no other woman for me and I'd bust a gut to make it work for us. If I did this right, if she loved me, she'd listen to her instincts and choose me.
That's the thing. I want Stephanie to choose me. It would be easy to seduce her but I don't want to. I don't want any question in her mind or in her heart. I want her to see me clearly and choose me freely. I'll work for it and bend for her, as much as I can without breaking, but she's going to have to bend as well. It would be an unconventional life. If she loves me.
I considered calling the realtor in the morning to start the search for a batcave; the lake house was too rustic and too far away from a mall for Stephanie to enjoy it. If and when the time came, we'd do it together.
The conversation in the car a week ago about whether she had anything at stake had come back to bite me in the ass. Now I was putting everything in me on the line. No more backing away from her.
My cell rang and I answered automatically. 'Yo.'
'How's it going, tough guy?' I hadn't heard that soft voice in almost a year but I recognized it instantly and smiled.
'Evie! How's my favorite girl?' I settled back into the cushions, still studying the photo.
'Watch yourself, Manoso. Jethro will be climbing outta his grave to slap you upside the head.'
I grinned into the phone. Standard wisecrack, standard response. Slaps upside the head had been Jethro's specialty until I taught him better manners. 'You visiting? I can make time.'
'Nope. I've been Stateside for a couple months now. Pentagon needed a profiler with mission experience. Back in Washington with Isaac.'
'How is that godson of mine? Must be in third grade by now. He's got to be raising hell.'
Evie laughed. 'Hey, I've had genetic input as well as his dad! Isaac's the spitting image of Jethro, though.'
I smiled, trying to picture what the kid looked like now; it had been five years since I'd seen him. Since Jethro's funeral at Arlington.
'So what's going on with you, Carlos?'
Something about her tone made all the pieces fall into place. I shook my head in disbelief. Tank had called in back up.
'When did he call you, Evie?
'Late afternoon. He said you'd run off most of your men if you didn't get it together. Told me you're in love with a woman named Stephanie who has decided to marry some other guy 'cause you've been dragging your heels. He said if you didn't get your head outta your ass, she'll do it and you'll crash and burn.'
'I'm going to kill him.'
'No, you're not. You're going to talk to me, Carlos, and then you're going to listen to me.'
'Is that so? You talk tough on the phone, Evie. It's a turn-on.'
'Yeah, well, distance gives me courage. But I'm serious, Carlos. If you want her, you need to let her in. I can help you.'
I thought about it. Evie had lived through the flip-side of my particular nightmare and she was the best profiler I'd ever worked with. Maybe she could give me a handle on it. Her perspective couldn't hurt. It was going to be a long phone call. I got another beer and settled into the couch.
TBC
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