A/N: Thank you for all your lovely reviews. I'm sorry if I missed anyone. Very angsty chapter, this one. And references I make to the Battle for Mogadishu in '93 are in no way shape or form meant in a negative way. I don't think it comes across like that, but I don't want to offend anyone. Lastly, thanks to Lisa for helping with my plot issues.

Can You Have Your Cake & Eat It?

Chapter Thirteen

"So, you fancy some waffles?"

Aaargh! Yeah, so I could stick them… "That'll be fine," I gritted out as I retrieved my almost cold coffee and took a drink. Man, this stuff was awful. I grimaced as I swallowed the mouthful, and then eyed up the coffee maker. "You mind if I make more coffee?"

"Sure, go ahead." Lester wandered around the kitchen, gathering together the stuff to make waffles.

It was interesting to watch him potter about; he seemed so at ease, though he tensed up when his cell rang. Another conversation in Spanish ensued, and he was back to tearing at his hair. Whatever it was, it obviously wasn't good news.

He hung up and I looked at him expectantly. "Well?"

"The drop's 9pm tonight at Dante's; ten crates of RPG's and similar shit. Hell, Bobby doesn't need this crap right now; we have to do something."

And then I had another one of my crazy ideas. "What if we…" No, this really was stupid.

Lester looked at me seriously. "No, go on, I've not got a clue what to do."

I chewed on my lower lip. This plan was nuts, and I'd be in serious shit if I got caught. "Call Jamie, tell him we're picking it up instead."

"You have to be kidding me?" he exclaimed.

"No. Maybe we could store it downstairs with the rest of Rangeman's weapons. You said yourself that no one knows about this place, so who'd think of looking here for it. We just have to hold onto it long enough to find a buyer, or raise the cash to pay off Jamie or whoever, and then destroy it."

Lester shook his head. "I'm not selling it. I'd rather destroy it, but we're talking $300,000 here, where the fuck are we going to get that sort of money, Steph?"

"I honestly don't know. What if Rangeman buys it?"

Lester snorted, almost choking on his coffee. "Yeah, I can just see that conversation going down real well with Ric. 'Hey cousin, can I have $300,000 out of petty cash to buy a load of arms so I can destroy them to keep Bobby out of the shit?"

I gave him my pissy look and filled up the coffee maker. "So what do you suggest?"

He let out a sigh. "That you're right, we pick the shit up and stash it here. But after that, I have no clue. Man, Ric's going to kill me if he finds out about this."

"Does he know about Bobby?"

He shot me a 'well duh' look. "Of course he does – helps to have inside intel on the dark underbelly of Trenton."

This whole situation sucked. "Tell me about his tattoo."

"Okay, you know I said that Bobby didn't want to get involved?"

"Yeah."

"Well, his family weren't too happy with his choice, and decided to make an example out of him. He went to see his father a couple of days after he told them he was out, just to clear the air, and ended up being drugged. Once he was out cold they carted him off to the tattoo parlor and got him inked. It's usually a just small gang tattoo, but his father thought it would be funny for it to cover his whole back; a subtle warning to not cross him again."

Holy shit! "That's awful…" What else could I say?

Les nodded. "Yeah, but we both reckon he got off lightly; could have been a lot worse, like fatally worse. You don't cross the East Coast Brotherhood, Steph."

I scrubbed my hands over my face. "I'm still not sure that this is such a good idea, Lester. Maybe we could just call the police, get them to deal with this."

He shrugged. "Possibly, but then this shit could end up coming back at Bobby somehow. We need to keep him out of this."

"So we go to the source and take out the guys before they make the drop, and then call the police in. If it's not in the hands of the Brotherhood, then if the shit hits the fan, no one is going to suspect that either us or Bobby had a hand in this." Where the hell do I get these ideas from? Shit, I was starting to scare myself.

"Nice, you sure you've never worked for the government? You are one cunning, cold and calculating bitch when you have to be," he said with what seemed to be genuine respect.

"I'd do almost anything to help my friends, and Bobby needs my help. He may not know it yet, but I do; I have a bad feeling about this whole thing and I don't want to see him hurt," I replied as I poured fresh coffee. "Where do you keep the sugar and cream?"

"Glass jar in the left hand cupboard, and in the fridge," he said as he looked at me intently. "You really care about him, don't you?"

I glanced over at Lester as he cracked a couple of eggs in a bowl and set about mixing the batter for the waffles. "Like I said, Lester, Bobby's my friend. Besides, he's one of the few people I know who have been there for me recently. No matter what has happened in the last couple of months, he's been willing to help me out; even if it's just been a shoulder to cry on."

"He's a decent guy," Lester commented.

"How long have you know him?"

Lester smiled and cocked his head, like he was remembering something. "Too long. Going on ten years now; met at college and both of us dropped out to join the army. I was bored with university and Bobby wanted to get away from his family; guess it worked out for well for both of us."

Wow, it was nice to hear one of the Rangeman guys opening up about their past. "So you were with Ranger and Tank in the forces?"

He turned the waffle iron on and poked at the batter with the whisk. "Sort of. We were all Rangers at one point, but Ric and Tank are older, so no, never all at the same time. Hell, they were in Mogadishu in '93, while I was still in high school."

I paused, coffee mug half way to my mouth. "Like in that film, Black Hawk Down?"

"Yeah."

Oh my God. "That mission was crazy, wasn't it?"

He shrugged again. "I don't know, they don't talk about it; don't blame them."

Just like that, he shut down and I knew that the topic was closed. Nice going, Steph. "Let's go over tonight again," I suggested as a way to change the subject.

His demeanor changed instantly, from closed off, back to the usual Lester. "We need to pull off a hit on the supplier, and then call the P.D in to collect the stuff. I'll make some calls after lunch to get a fix on where this shit's coming from, and then plan the Op."

"When you say hit, do you mean kill?" I asked quietly.

He looked at me like I was nuts. "Yeah, why?"

I shook my head rapidly, "No reason, don't mind me."

"What did you think we were going to do, Steph?"

"There is no 'we,' and I thought you were going to knock them out or stun them, or something."

Lester let out a bark of laughter. "Oh Stephanie, Stephanie, Stephanie… We have to make it look like another gang got the drop on them, and no gang member is going to stun someone, now is he?"

"No, but I don't see why I have to get involved, it's not like you need me to do a distraction, and I can't shoot worth a damn."

"Your plan, you get your hands dirty. Besides, how many guys have you shot dead now? Is it two or three?"

I didn't like where this conversation was going one little bit. "It was self defense. I can't just kill someone for the hell of it!"

"Good job I can then," he responded with an evil smile.

I pinched myself on the arm. Ow! Shit, I wasn't dreaming. "I came to you for help, not to get involved in murder."

"Fine, we'll forget all about it then."

Lester was fucking crazy. "But what about Bobby!" I yelled as I slammed my mug down on the counter, splashing hot coffee everywhere.

"He's a big boy, he'll handle it."

I snorted. "You believe that about as much as I do."

"Maybe, but I can't run this Op. solo, and I'm not getting anyone else at Rangeman involved. Look, I just need you at act as lookout. Do you honestly think I'd ask you to kill someone?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

Lester rolled his eyes. "I maybe a bastard, but I'm not a fucking bastard, Steph. I'm as worried about Bobby as you are, and I'm willing to cross the line; that's my choice. I expect you to do what you feel comfortable with, nothing more."

I nodded once. "Okay."

"So you'll help me with this?"

"For Bobby?"

"Yeah Steph, for Bobby."

"Yes." Damn, I was so going to hell. Lester poured batter into the waffle iron and the hot coffee churned in my stomach. I think I'm going to be – no I am going to be sick. I bolted for the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind me, just making it to the toilet in time.

I finally finished retching a couple of minutes later, and rested my forehead against the cool side of the tub. Just how far was I willing to go to help a friend? Not far enough, it seemed. This was wrong, what Lester had planned, but what the fuck was I supposed to do? I didn't want to see Bobby get hurt.

The door clicked open and I felt Lester kneel down next to me. He pulled me back against him, tipped my head back and placed a cold, damp cloth on my forehead.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'll call around a couple of guys I know, get them to help me out. Fuck, I'm such a bastard, I shouldn't have even considered putting you in that situation, Steph."

"No," I rasped out, "I'll do it. I know what you guys would do to keep me safe, what you have done to keep me safe. It's only fair that I reciprocate; I'm just not going to shoot anyone, okay?"

"That's fine with me, darlin'. You still hungry?"

"I want to shower and clean my teeth," I told him.

"Okay, you do that, and I'll call in some back up anyway. Heard a friend was in town, be nice to catch up."

Why did I have the feeling that this friend was as crazy as Lester?

"Come on, sweetheart," Lester said, as he gently helped me to my feet. "Get yourself cleaned up; I'll see if I can find you something to wear."

"Thank you. I'm sorry for – you know…"

"Don't worry about it," he said as he pulled me into a hug

"I still hate you right now, Lester," I muttered.

"Yeah, and I hate you too," he replied cheerfully as he dropped a quick kiss on my forehead and sauntered out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.