Unwanted Distraction 20
I settled into my seat, trying to get comfortable. I leaned on one side, and then turned to my other. But something about the car was different. At first, I couldn't put my finger on how. Then it hit me why the car was different—and in my defense, with my diminished eyesight, it was easy to overlook. The reason I didn't notice at first was because the Turbo we were driving was not the one we'd driven earlier. Both were black with black leather interior—which was no surprise to me, since that was Ranger's preference both for his personal and company vehicles. If you looked at the dashboard, you would see it was computerized. It both lit up and talked, sort of like KITT in the eighties TV show Knight Rider. My POS cars never had anything like that, and it felt like being in a rocketship or sci-fi movie.
Once that mystery was settled, I was able to rest. It wasn't long before the motion of the car, combined with my exhaustion, lulled me to relax and had me in dreamland in no time flat. For awhile, I slept peacefully, but then something changed.
In the beginning, I dreamed Ranger and I were dancing. His body was pressed close to mine, and we were about to kiss. Our lips were getting nearer and nearer, puckered and ready to smooch, when my dream turned from being pleasant to a nightmare. This change upset me, even though I was deep in sleep. It was evident I didn't understand what was happening.
In the dream, I was being chased first by both a masked man and Ivan Flunkman. They stopped chasing me when Terry Gillman appeared. Yup, she was in it, too. There was no escaping the mob princess, but she didn't look like one. Instead of her normally chic wardrobe, she was dressed like a shepherdess in Baby Lisa's nursery rhyme storybook. What was that character's name? Little Bo Beep, that was the one. Her costume consisted of a pale pink and white checked pinafore with frills on its hem over a pink dress, and she was carrying a crook to guide the men who wore sheepskins.
She was chanting in a singsong over and over again, driving me crazy. "Men are like sheep—where one goes, the rest will soon follow."
"What does that mean?" I demanded.
More sheep men joined in, bleating—even Ranger and Joe. Soon, I was trapped deep in sheep and I couldn't move. Things deteriorated even more when, one by one, the sheep were slaughtered, and the surviving ones screamed in terror, because they knew what was about to come. The sound was so loud, it was deafening.
Then suddenly, I was startled awake. For a second, I was so disoriented that I didn't know where I was—or why I was so uncomfortable. I had a crick in my neck from leaning on my side. I was rubbing my neck, when I realized I was still in the Turbo. With my other hand, I patted the smooth texture of the leather interior, which was not as comforting as it usually was for me. Even though the car's air conditioning was on high, I was awash in perspiration.
It couldn't be helped. I had a feeling of dread as my spidey sense went into overdrive. I understood from the dream that something was very wrong. Worse yet, I knew exactly what it all meant. While asleep, my subconscious had been aware that Ranger was talking about last night's shooting. What I overheard chilled my blood and caused goose bumps to pucker all over my exposed skin.
Instantly, I was aware that there had been two shooters, not just one. Yes, Ivan Flunkman was one of the gunmen. It was then I knew who the other shooter was. I heard all the details, though I didn't process it all half asleep. Okay, I didn't know exactly who exactly the shooter was, but rather, I knew it was a member of the racist extremist group who'd targeted us.
Ranger was still talking on the phone, when I blurted out in a shaky voice, "Life in Trenton might as well be a death wish. The ballistic report came in, didn't it? There were two shooters, not just one. You know who the other shooter is, don't you?"
I couldn't stop talking. It was if I had diarrhea of the mouth and what made it worse was the longer I spoke, the higher my voice went. I sounded more like Minnie Mouse on crack than myself. I had never been more frightened my entire life.
There was another psycho on the loose gunning for me. When, oh when would this kind of thing stop? Black spots swam before my eyes, and I was having trouble breathing. There was a pressure in my chest, which kept squeezing and became very painful.
I was oblivious to the fact that Ranger was still speaking to an unidentified caller while all this was happening without missing a beat. He said, "Later," into the Bluetooth of his phone, and an audible click of the call ending was heard. He glanced quickly at me. "Take it easy, Stephanie." His eyes went back on the road, but he continued speaking, his voice gentle, yet strong. His right hand searched for, and then held my left one.
"We're safe. An unmarked Rangeman vehicle is tailing us a discreet distance away. Plus, we're under constant surveillance by both the Feds and the Trenton police, so we're protected."
Ranger's actions and words calmed me like no one else could. It wasn't long before I was feeling better and more in control. I took a deep, cleansing breath, and then I started to speak.
"Okay, that's good." I replied. "Everything just got to me all of the sudden. I guess it's all sinking in."
"No need to explain. You've been through a lot the last couple of days," Ranger reassured me.
"To think I was actually relieved that for once, I wasn't the target of some psycho stalker. This time, it's a whole paramilitary group, for God sakes. It is freaking unbelievable. I should've known better."
"Don't get too down on yourself. You know if this all gets too much for you, we could pull the plug on the whole operation. Morelli is still Flunkman's target, so you weren't wrong about that."
"That is freakin ironic, isn't it? Seems Joe is getting his just desserts—poetic justice, don't you think?"
"Yes, he seems to be a psycho magnet, too. Cops make a lot of enemies, but one obsessive like that is dangerous. As for the others, if it wasn't you, there would be someone else. Racist extremists are a lot like schoolyard bullies: they don't feel good about themselves unless they're tearing others down."
"Getting back to the mission or op whatever you servicemen call it, I think I want to see it through. No, I can't just pull the plug on it. We have to get them before they hurt someone else. They don't discriminate; any innocent is in their way. By the way, it sounds like you have been picked on by both racists and bullies."
"Can't believe you picked up on that. Pretty astute of you, Stephanie," Ranger said as his left eyebrow quirked up.
"Not really, Ranger. I can see the hurt in your eyes and the slightest catch in your voice. But getting back to the more pressing matter, I know that I will be safe with you. That you would never let anyone or anything hurt me if you could stop it."
"You can count on that. I would never put you in danger needlessly."
"I know," I said, squeezing Ranger's hand that was in my grasp. "It is the one thing I have always known, even when I wasn't sure of anything else. You guys need to plan. Too bad I can't train right now. If I ever could use it, now is the time."
"Don't worry about that. We'll be at Haywood soon. When we get back there, why don't you go back to sleep? You look beat."
"Thanks a lot, buster... But you know, truthfully, stick me with a fork. I am done. Can you come up to five with me?"
"Wish I could …" Ranger started.
He never finished his statement, as my stomach growled from hunger and protested my maltreatment of it. My face flushed in embarrassment since it was so loud and obvious it was me.
"Looks like the beast needs to be fed before you get back to sleep," Ranger said in a matter-of-fact manner.
"You know, I am very hungry." I said sheepishly.
"No wonder. You haven't eaten anything since we had dinner at your folks'."
"That is true. I never had breakfast this morning."
"Babe, this morning was a little crazy. We didn't have time to eat."
"Yeah, that's for sure. Or anything else." I gestured to my hair. "The braid is starting to get to me, but at least my hair won't be all knotted."
"Anything you want to eat? Doughnuts or peanut butter and olive sandwiches are not options."
"I'm not really in the mood to eat either of those," I said. You know what I could go for?"
"Please, Stephanie; tell me what you're in the mood to eat?"
"Okay, don't laugh after I tell you," I said reluctantly.
"Don't worry, Babe; you're not a line in my expense account for entertainment anymore."
"Good to know. But I am craving—as funny as it sounds—a Thanksgiving feast. You know, roast turkey, chestnut stuffing, pumpkin pie, cranberry sauce, candied sweet potatoes with the marshmallows, even a salad for you..."
"Hmm, I get the idea. I think you'd mention every dish you wanted if I let you keep going. I have a better idea. Let me call Ella and see if it could be arranged. It's a novel idea. I've never heard of Thanksgiving in July before."
"Mkay," I said agreeably, hoping that it could.
I saw Ranger press a number of his speed dial, but with my bad eye, I couldn't tell what number it was.
"Ella, can you do me a favor? Yes, it does involve feeding Stephanie," Ranger said with a smile. "Is there any way you can have a Thanksgiving meal made for us?"
Ranger was silent for awhile as Ella spoke. I was on pins and needles, waiting to hear what she said, because I couldn't hear her. I had a large craving for a gobble day meal and hoped that she be the party to accomplish that desire.
"Okay, thanks. I understand."
I bit my lower lip, waiting to be told that I was out of luck. Unfortunately, I'd bitten it so hard that I tasted something metallic. Shit, did I have to make myself bleed, too? Wasn't I battered enough?
Ranger was conspicuously silent and didn't volunteer what had transpired in the conversation. The silence was maddening, and I couldn't take the suspense anymore.
"So?" I asked.
Silence. One minute ticked away, and then another. And still no information from Ranger was forthcoming. I just wanted him to put me out of my misery and tell me it was a no go.
It wasn't until we got to the underground garage of the Rangeman building on Haywood and parked in one of Ranger's reserved spots that the man in black related what Ella told him.
"We have to go to the break room. It seems that yesterday, Louis was craving a turkey dinner, too, and Ella cooked him it. There are leftovers, but I think she prepared everything you requested."
I wanted to do a happy dance. Maybe, just maybe, my luck was changing for the better. I might be bruised and battered, but I had Ranger. Plus, I was about to eat the food I was hankering for. That made me two for two.