Disclaimer: Everyone belongs to Janet Evanovich except the ones that are mine, and I'm just playing.
Warnings: All 12 books, Sappiness.
A/N: Karen, smooches Girlfriend! Thank you for putting up with me, editing, and being my friend!
Thank you to all of you wonderful readers and reviewers. Please keep the reviews coming, Ranger says that if you want more of him in each chapter, well … you know what you have to do! The care and feeding of the male ego! Yeesh!
Don't forget to read Kashy's "Keep The Faith" … you don't want to miss it! Read and review it please, you'll be glad you did!
The Name Of The Game!
By Stayce (XJerseyGirl)
Chapter 19: Dodge Ball!
Stephanie squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed hard. Maybe she was hallucinating, she thought. Maybe the night vision goggles were making her see things? She took a deep breath and cracked her eyes open. Damn! The dogs were still there. So much for denial! Why did stuff like this always happened to her? What the hell did she do to deserve this? 'This' being the two snarling dogs that were standing not three feet away from her.
Her mind raced through everything she knew about dealing with vicious dogs: you don't make noise, you don't look them in the eye, you don't run, you don't make any aggressive moves … but all those things required her to be quiet and stay put, when all she really wanted to do was scream her head off and run like hell!
The dogs were frozen in position, legs stiff, heads down, hackles raised, teeth bared. Oh great! They were drooling … probably in anticipation of having her for dinner. Their eyes glittered in the dim light and their focus was locked on her. Steph watched their muscles bunch as they prepared to launch themselves at her. She could practically feel their hot breath on her throat, the throat they were going to rip out if she made one false move.
She took a slow, deep breath to steady herself. Maybe if she showed them that she was friendly and wasn't a threat, she thought. Okay, nothing ventured, nothing gained. "Nice doggy," she whispered. "Good dogs," she crooned. The dogs didn't even blink and Steph started to sweat.
She knew that she had to figure out some way to get out of the situation, but what? She didn't even have anything that she could distract them with, like a ball or a Frisbee or a cat. No donuts or TastyKakes, not even a cookie in her pockets. Where the hell was Lula with her bacon and pork chop diet when she needed her? If Lula had been able to outrun that pack of hungry dogs while she was wearing high heels, surely she should be able to outrun these guys in her boots. Okay, so maybe not, and she let a whimper escape her.
Bobby heard her. "Stephanie … are you alright? Answer me! Steph, tell me where you are!" There was urgency in Bobby's whispered voice. "Steph …"
"Bobby?" She whispered, praying that he could hear her. "Bobby? I have a little problem. Dogs!" She 'sing-songed.' She could hear the dogs panting on either side of her and she tried talking to them again, "Nice doggies, good doggies, pretty doggies …" It became her mantra and she repeated it over and over.
"Okay, Steph, listen to me. Can you see if they're wearing collars?" Tank's voice, this time.
She cut her eyes slowly to the animals. "Uh-huh. Both of them, with little box thingies attached to them."
Bobby's voice whispered, "Stay calm Slugger, just don't move and you'll be okay."
"Yeah, just take it easy, Bombshell. We handle this kind of stuff all the time. We got tranquilizer darts in the gear. Gonna send somebody to get 'em right now!"
"Oh, thank God!" she whispered back, almost weak with relief that washed over her. Doggie darts! Wonderful, beautiful doggie darts that would put the animals to sleep. They'd tranquilize the mutts and she'd get out of this in one piece instead of looking like a can of dog food.
Stephanie stayed crouched against the column, her legs trembling from holding that position for so long. Precious minutes that should have been used to rescue Zoë were ticking away. Granted, this wasn't anybody's fault, there wasn't any way of knowing that there would be guard dogs in here, there just hadn't been any time for surveillance. Still, she felt guilty that, yet again, she needed to be rescued. Why couldn't it be Tank or Bobby for a change?
The whole team was seamlessly adapting to this new little glitch in the plans and Steph could hear the chatter among them as they changed positions. Hal was inside the fence now, staking out the watchman's trailer in case he had to be dealt with, and Cal had moved in from the boardwalk to replace Hal at the fence line. Lester and Jeanne had moved closer to watch for unexpected guests who might crash their 'party.' The others were still out on the boardwalk to provide backup. Steph couldn't tell who had been dispatched to retrieve the tranquilizer gun, but it seemed that RangeMan really was prepared for anything.
The dogs knew that somebody was coming long before Steph saw Tank's shape separate itself from the shadows. She watched as he approached slowly from the front of the building, his automatic weapon aimed at the nearest dog. At the same time, Bobby came into the building from the back. The dogs saw him too, and they repositioned themselves to cover all three intruders, their heads turning back and forth, their muscles twitching. Tank stood to one side, between Steph and the dogs, Bobby on the other side of her. Neither one of them had a tranquilizer gun.
"Guys? What's going on? Where are the doggie darts?" She was starting to get nervous again.
Tank said soothingly. "It's taking too long to get them, Steph. We're running out of time. Bobby and I are trained to improvise and overcome, and we're gonna take care of this, Sweetie. Just relax, everything's gonna be fine!"
Bobby spoke softly, "The dogs are controlled by an electric wire that marks the perimeter of their territory. It's called an invisible fence. If they come too close to it, those little boxes on their collars give them a shock. They won't cross that wire. All we have to do is string it between you and the dogs. Piece of cake!"
"Bobby!" she whined, "these dogs think that I'm a piece of cake!"
"You gotta trust us, Steph. We know what we're doing!" Steph just whimpered in response.
At his signal, Tank would distract the dogs and Steph would head straight up the stairs as fast as she could go. If the invisible fence didn't work, he and Bobby would neutralize the animals. Steph didn't ask what that meant; she really didn't want to know. "But no matter what, Bombshell, you'll be safe, I promise," he said. And what Tank promised, Tank delivered. Steph blew out a big sigh. She was SO going to kill them if she got out of this alive!
"Ready, kids?" Tank whispered. "On three … one … two … three … "Sit, Ubu Sit!" he bellowed. The dogs swung their heads toward Tank when he yelled, then to Bobby as he threw the coiled up wire across the floor, then back to Steph when she took off running. Bobby immediately raised his weapon to cover the dogs as Tank caught the wire and wrapped it around a column, effectively corralling the animals. They dashed back and forth along the wire, looking for an escape route, and finding none, frantically paced back and forth, growling at Tank and Bobby.
On three, Steph had jumped up and bolted away from the support column, sprinting across the floor as fast as her shaky legs could carry her. Her heart was trying to beat itself out of her chest and her pulse was pounding in her ears. She didn't stop to look back, just headed for the stairs. She leapt over stacks of building materials and power tools with the skill and grace of an Olympic hurdler. She heard the dogs start after her and the panic that she felt coil in the pit of her stomach spurred her on.
She hit the stairs running full tilt and got half way up before she stumbled and went down on her hands and knees. Scrambling up the steps on all fours, Steph reached the next floor and fell flat on her face on the landing. She automatically curled up into a ball and covered her head with her arms, protecting herself against the brutal attack that she knew was coming.
Holding her breath, Stephanie waited for the dogs to pounce on her, but long seconds passed and nothing happened. She had just started to unfold her body when Tank and Bobby materialized at the top of the stairway. They silently scooped her up, each grabbing an arm, and hauled her up the steps to the fifth floor where Irena had told Steph that Zoë was being held. They crouched in the darkness of the landing, listening for any telltale noises, but all they could hear was the fog muffled sound of the waves hitting the beach.
Communicating through hand signals, Tank indicated that he would search the left side of the fifth floor; Bobby went to the right, and Steph flipped them both off before they silently melted into the darkness. Steph made her way down the middle, gun in hand, crouching behind anything that could provide cover. She didn't expect to find Zoë alone, none of the team did. Based on the ransom demands, these kidnappers weren't the brightest criminal minds that they had dealt with, but still, no one really knew what they were capable of. The team had to be prepared for anything.
The night vision goggles they all wore allowed them to see the piles of materials, tools and all kinds of equipment that littered the floor, as well as helped them to keep visual track of each other. The front of the building was completely open, no walls or windows had been installed yet, and only a flimsy piece of yellow 'Danger' tape was strung from column to column across the opening. Between the darkness and the thick fog that was now creeping into the building, swirling around their feet and curling up the support columns, one false step could send them into a five story free fall.
Tucked away on the far side of the fifth floor, against the back wall, Steph found a makeshift room camouflaged by stacks of lumber and covered with tarps. A thin sliver of light showed from under the door which wore a variety of locks and deadbolts. She alerted the guys to her find, then moved closer to investigate. With her back to the wall, her gun held in both hands, she slipped closer and listened. She could hear the faint drone of voices and music from inside the room. It sounded like a TV, she thought, or maybe a radio.
The door stood slightly ajar and Steph approached it cautiously, holding her breath, trying to peek through the crack. Frustrated because she couldn't really see much of anything, she very slowly pushed the door open an inch and put her eye to the opening. A camping style lantern sat on the floor and in the dim light she could see Zoë, sitting on a bare cot. The girl's knees were pulled up to her chest and she sat with her back to the wall, watching a small TV that sat on a crate in the middle of the room. Duct tape was wrapped around her wrists and a chain ran from her ankle to the leg of the cot. Steph could see that the floor around the cot was littered with food wrappers and Coke cans, water bottles and magazines. At least they were feeding the kid, she thought.
The hinges creaked eerily as Steph pushed on the door again and she quickly wrapped her fingers around the edge to stop the noise. Zoë jumped and turned her head toward the doorway, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw Steph. Stephanie raised a finger to her lips in a 'Shhhh' sign and after a second, a clearly startled Zoë gave a slight nod. She seemed to understand that Steph wasn't a threat. The girl nodded her head toward the other side of the room, behind the door, as if to indicate that there was someone there. Stephanie nodded in understanding and held up one finger, Zoë nodded, two fingers, Zoë shook her head 'no'. Zoë closed her eyes and leaned her head onto her shoulder, indicating that her guard was asleep. Steph smiled and gave her a 'thumbs up' in return.
She inched the door open slowly while Zoë nervously watched her guard. Once she had pushed the door open wide enough, Steph stuck her head in just far enough to look around the door. Sure enough, the guard appeared to be fast asleep and Steph slipped silently into the room. Holstering her weapon, she pulled out her stun gun. Since the man was asleep, he'd never know what hit him.
Zoë's guard was a big man, who sat tipped back in a desk chair, his legs crossed at the ankles and his feet propped up on the desk. He was sound asleep, snoring softly, his chin on his chest. On the desk in front of him were a glass and an almost empty bottle of vodka. Cautiously, Steph moved behind him and pressed the stun gun to the back of his neck. His eyes opened in the second before she hit the button and zapped him, and she watched as he slumped further down and slid off the chair. His feet were still on the desk as his butt hit the floor and the chair slowly rolled away allowing his head to hit the concrete floor with a sickening thud.
Steph turned to find that Zoë had crawled off the cot and was huddled in the corner. She was trembling, staring at the man who was lying limp on the floor. "Oh my God!" she choked out, "Is he dead? Did you kill him?"
Steph pushed Zoë back onto the cot and grabbed her by the shoulders, giving her a little shake. "No, he isn't dead, just knocked out." She quickly peeled the duct tape off Zoë's hands, and then examined the chain and pad lock around Zoë's ankle. Tears streaked down Zoë's cheeks and she started to sob. Steph squatted down in front of her, squeezing the girl's hands.
"Zoë, look at me!" she whispered and gave her another shake, "I know you're scared and that you've had a real bad time, but you have to pull yourself together. My friends and I are gonna get you out of here. But you have to help us … you have to be calm and quiet. Okay?" Zoë swallowed hard and nodded her head. "Do you know where the key to this lock is?"
"They keep the key in the desk draw …" Zoë's voice died in her throat and her mouth hung open as she stared over Steph's shoulder.
Steph jumped up and swung to face the door, pulling her weapon. She immediately relaxed and grinned. Tank was a pretty impressive sight, dressed head to toe in black, wearing body armor, carrying an assault rifle and enough gear to launch a small invasion. He looked like he had just walked off a action movie set and he was pretty damned intimidating. He had stepped through the doorway into the tiny room and filled the small space, looking larger than life. He gave Zoë a smile and a wink.
After Steph retrieved the keys and freed Zoë, Tank took the chain and wrapped it around the unconscious guard's ankles, locking it securely in place. He searched the man, taking his weapons and cell phone. Steph found the duct tape and with Zoë's help, bound the guy's hands. While they wrapped the tape around his head to gag him, the man groaned and started to stir. Zoë paled at the sound of the stun gun as Steph zapped him again.
They were just leaving the room when they heard Lester's voice on their head sets. "Heads up boys and girls, some unexpected party goers are coming down the boardwalk. Three men, dark clothes, armed. Headed for the main entrance by the trailers. ETA three to five minutes. Wrap it up and get the hell out, now! Report your locations every two minutes."
Tank answered. "We have Zoë. We're on the north side of the fifth floor. One guard, down. We're coming out. Bobby first, Steph and Zoë, me on cleanup."
Zoë stared at Steph, looking at her clothes and weapons. "Are you guys cops?" she asked, sounding very young.
Steph shook her head, "No Zoë, just friends of your father's."
"Wow!" Zoë breathed. "Who knew my dad had such cool friends?" Tank and Steph grinned at each other.
Tank pulled out a pair of night vision goggles and slipped them over Zoë's head, adjusting them over her eyes. He whispered instructions, "Stay with us, follow orders, keep quiet. We'll take care of you and get you home in time for breakfast. Okay?" She nodded bravely, and Tank patted her shoulder. "Good girl, let's go!"
Steph turned off the lantern and Tank pulled the door closed, locking several of the padlocks that hung on the outside. They didn't want to make it easy for anyone to find out that Zoë was gone. Bobby was waiting for them outside the door and led the way to the stairs, but halfway there Lester reported that the three men were already headed into the building. They needed to find a place to hide, quickly.
Bobby and Tank went down the stairs to shadow the men, while Steph took Zoë up to the next level where they hid among all the materials and equipment. They covered their hiding place with a tarp but left an opening so that Steph could keep an eye on the stairs and most of the floor. She had her Glock and her Beretta, her stun gun and Mace. Unless in danger of discovery by the kidnappers or the watchman, she and Zoë would stay put until one of the team came to get them.
From their hiding spot Steph and Zoë could hear footsteps and men's voices echoing up the stairwell from the first floor. As they got closer, Zoë gripped Steph's arm, "That's them," she whispered, "the guys who brought me here from my Mom's place." Steph nodded and patted her hand.
Telling Zoë to stay put, Steph slipped out of their hiding spot and crept over to the open stairs to listen. She had recognized one of the voices and wanted to peek down the stairwell to see if she could get a look at the men. She laid flat on the floor and peered over the edge into the dark. She could see the beams from their flashlights as they climbed the stairs and she held her breath when they got to the fifth floor landing. One man stopped to light a cigarette and in the dim light from the flame she was able to put a face to the voice. Ivan! The other two she had seen on the street in Brighton Beach. They left the landing and went in the direction of Zoë's cell, still unaware that anything was wrong.
Slowly and quietly Stef slipped down the steps to watch them, crouching in the deep shadows on the stairs. Halfway across the level she saw Bobby, hidden behind a stack of crates, also watching the men. When the three realized that the door was locked, they pulled on the padlocks with no results. Between the three men, they forced the door open, and all hell broke loose. Steph could hear them yelling and cursing in English and Russian. They dragged the guard out of the room but left him lying on the floor. Ivan was so furious that he kicked the unconscious man in the ribs and one of the other guys had to pull him off the guard.
Thinking that Zoë had escaped by herself, they decided to search the building for her. Ivan was sure that she couldn't have gotten past the dogs on the first floor. He ordered one of the men to go and leash the Dobermans and to use the dogs to search the building for her.
Steph turned and scrambled back up the stairs, passing on the information about Ivan to Tank and the rest of the team. She pulled Zoë out of her hiding place and started searching for a new one. The dogs would have found her immediately, and Zoë would have been trapped. Wood and sheet rock, insulation and various other building materials were stacked at least ten feet high against the back wall of this floor, creating the perfect place to hide. Steph boosted Zoë up onto the top of the stacks, ordering her to stay there until one of the guys came to get her. The dogs couldn't get up there and if Zoë lay flat, she couldn't be seen from below.
Steph took off to find a hiding spot of her own, one that allowed a full view of this floor. With her heart in her throat, she moved cautiously from one support column to another, trying to get as close to the stairs as she could. She really didn't want to leave this floor and leave Zoë alone, but if she could lure the kidnappers away from the teen, that's what she was going to do. If she heard them coming, she would head up to the next floor, making enough noise that the men would be sure to follow her.
She sat with her back to one of the columns, waiting, trying to calm her stuttering heart and erratic breathing when she heard voices coming from below. She felt the adrenaline kick in and it coursed through her. She was on her feet, moving quickly, and she made it to the stairway before she threw herself behind the boxes of electrical equipment that were stacked there. She didn't want to get caught on the stairs and be seen. She wanted these men to think that she was Zoë, unarmed and helpless, trying to hide from them.
Glock in hand, she moved cautiously, her foot on the first step, when she realized that she wasn't alone. There was somebody standing behind her. Before she could spin around, a heavy hand was clamped tightly over her mouth and her arms were pinned to her sides in a vice-like grip, dragging her off the stairs. She struggled against him, but he pulled her against his chest and lifted her off the floor, carrying her away from the stairs and toward the open front of the building.
"Just had to come back, didn't you, bitch? Just couldn't take a warning. ,"
Steph immediately knew what he intended to do with her and fear curled in her belly. She twisted hard in his arms and tried to bite the hand over her mouth with no success. Kicking her feet back as hard as she could, she caught him in the knee with her boot heel. He grunted and staggered, going down on his knees, loosening his grip on her as they fell.
She landed hard, on all fours and wound up with her attacker half on top of her. She had managed to hold onto her Glock, but as she turned around to point it at him, he grabbed her wrist and twisted it, knocking her hand against the floor. She lost her grip on the gun, and it skittered across the fog slicked concrete floor and flew out the open front of the building.
She scrambled to get away from him so that he wouldn't have the opportunity to pitch her out after the gun, but he grabbed her ankle and tried to haul her back toward him so he could get his arms around her again. He reared back up on his knees as Steph turned onto her back. He still held one ankle, but she pulled back her other foot and kicked out with the sole of her boot, hitting him in the stomach as hard as she could. When he doubled over and let go of her ankle, she scuttled back from him and got to her feet.
In the dark she almost tripped over a pile of two by fours that were stacked in the middle of the floor. Grabbing one, she swung it like a baseball bat, putting everything she had in her into that swing as he charged her. She felt the reverberation shoot up her arms and heard him grunt as the wood connected with his head. She was prepared to swing again when she realized that he had stopped coming toward her. He put one hand to his head, swayed and reached back for the column behind him. He missed it and staggered backwards, hitting the 'Danger' tape that marked the open front of the building. Steph watched in horror as he teetered on the edge for a second, fighting for balance, and then fell backwards, disappearing down into the fog. All Steph heard was the muffled thump as he hit the ground, six floors below.
Stephanie backed away from the scene, fighting to breathe and stay calm. She ran her hands over her face and realized that she had lost her night vision goggles as well as her headpiece in the struggle, making her both deaf and blind. She had no way of communicating with the rest of her team, no way of letting them know what had happened, and no way to see the dangers in her path. Slowly, she made her way back over to Zoë, who had seen the whole struggle. Zoë was just about to drop her goggles down to Steph when they both heard the all too recognizable tap of the Doberman's toenails on the concrete.
Steph slowly moved away from Zoë's hiding place. There was just enough light for her to see the dog stalking her, taking a step forward for each one she took back. It was snarling with its fangs bared, and this time, there was no electric wire to save her. Steph backed up until she hit the wall behind her and froze. From somewhere in the darkness a voice bellowed, "Schlachter! Sitz!" The dog spun toward the voice and Steph heard two soft pops.
She leaned against the wall and watched the dog turn back to her. In his hind quarters was a little feathered dart. He had his head down, but now he wasn't snarling, his tongue was lolling out of his mouth and he didn't look so much dangerous as drunk. The dog staggered a little bit, then kind of wandered over to Steph and lay down at her feet, a puddle of drool growing under his mouth.
Steph was so relieved that her legs got wobbly and she slid slowly down the wall to sit on the floor. She felt a little lightheaded and giddy, and strangely sleepy. Her legs were stretched out in front of her, and in her thigh was the cutest little brightly colored feathered dart that she had ever seen. As she curled up on the floor next to the dog, Stephanie wondered if she was drooling, too.
RSRSRSRSRSRSRSRSRSRSRSRSRSRSRSRSRSRSRSRSRSRS
Ramon Escobar was being escorted to his cell by two prison guards and the superintendent of the penitentiary. His hands were cuffed to a chain around his waist and his feet were shackled together, forcing him to take unnaturally short steps. Add to that the physical limitations from the stroke, and Superintendent Wilmott was afraid that Ramon would appear to be weak and frail. He had worried needlessly. Escobar exuded strength and power.
The Superintendent held him by the arm, appearing to steady him. Of course, this was all for show. Ramon's reputation had preceded him and from the day he had arrived, he had been the acknowledged alpha dog in the prison. However, with these last months spent in a prison rehabilitation facility, several other inmates had been jockeying for that position. Wilmott smelled trouble and he would do whatever was necessary to keep his squeaky clean record at the prison untarnished, even if that meant climbing into bed with a sadistic son of a bitch like Ramon Escobar.
Wilmott wanted to throw his support behind Ramon, realizing that it was to his benefit for Escobar to regain his position of power. Ramon ran his organization from inside the prison. Everyone knew it, and Ramon knew that everybody knew it. But in exchange for overlooking his illegal activities, Ramon liberally greased every palm in the prison. Nobody cared where the money came from, drugs, prostitution, murder, guns, they only cared where it was going … into their pockets.
Prison life was peaceful with Escobar in charge. If truth be told, he and his men ran the place, and Wilmott really didn't care. It was less work for him. Escobar didn't tolerate in-fighting or power struggles among the prisoners. There were no more gang rapes in the showers or shankings in the yard, few stole from their fellow prisoners and there were no threats of riots. The only violence was at the hands of Escobar and his band of enforcers who subscribed to the theory that it was better to be feared than to be liked.
Ramon was like the Colombian Godfather, he negotiated treaties among different factions, rendered services in exchange for favors, punished offenders, and had no tolerance for violations of his rules. Essentially, Ramon did Wilmott's job for him, and Wilmott had given serious thought to finding some infraction of the prison rules to charge Escobar with in order to keep him here a while longer. Only the fact that Escobar would have gutted him in the middle of the cafeteria with the entire prison population watching, had kept him from actually doing it.
The prisoners on Escobar's section stood in the doorways of their cells, clearing the hall out of respect for their returning leader. They applauded as he passed, and called out greetings, 'Q'vo?' and 'Como estas?' 'Hey man, glad you're back!' Despite being chained, Escobar acknowledged each man, shaking their hands, making Wilmott and the guards stop at each cell door and wait. The message he was sending was subtle but clear … Escobar was in charge.
All these prisoners considered themselves Escobar's men, willing to do whatever he asked, in hopes that when they got out, they would find employment with his widespread organization. He had a reputation for demanding absolute loyalty from those who worked for him, and in exchange for that loyalty his men lived the good life. Escobar was as famous for rewarding allegiance with the wildest and most extravagant gifts, as he was known for punishing disrespect in the most cruel and bloodthirsty manner imaginable. While his business acumen was never questioned, his sanity often was.
Che stood in the doorway of his cell, his arms folded over his chest and watched Escobar closely. The two men had exchanged handshakes and a few words. Che was the one person in the world that Ramon called 'friend.' Ramon had been inside for over two years when Che was transferred into this facility. During a power play among the prisoners, Che had foiled an assassination attempt on Ramon's life; the two men had become friends. Che knew more about the inner workings of Ramon's organization, his private life, his thought processes and his plans for the future than anyone else in the prison, maybe outside the prison as well. Ramon had acknowledged Che as his second-in-command in the prison, and it was a well known fact that when Che was released, he would assume a position as Ramon's right hand man on the outside.
Now, Che studied the man as he walked away. Something was off, different, about Ramon, but Che couldn't put his finger on it. They all knew that some famous plastic surgeon had worked on his face; supposedly trying to repair the scar, but that had been a failure. No, it wasn't his looks. He limped, but that was to be expected, too. Che would have to give it some thought, figure out what it was, and then figure out what to do about it.
Once Escobar reached his cell and was un-cuffed and unshackled, he stretched out on his cot and rubbed his aching head. He had never given in to pain before, but he had been plagued with headaches since the surgery to alter his eye, to make him appear to be blind. He still had partial vision in the eye, but the surgery had affected his depth perception and focus, making both his eye and his head hurt. He lay there with his eyes shut, hoping for a few minutes of peace and quiet.
"Cabron, te ves bien!" Che leaned against the doorway, humor and sarcasm in his voice.
Ramon opened his eyes and turned his head, smiling at his friend. He rolled off the cot and the two men embraced briefly, slapping each other on the back.
Che grabbed Ramon by the shoulders, "You're a sight for sore eyes, Jefe. I was beginning to worry," the emotion clear in his voice.
"Me,too, mi amigo, me,too! You have to tell me what's been going on in here."
"And you have to tell me what's going on at home," Che said softly.
Ramon blew out a deep breath and nodded in response.
Before the men had a chance to really talk, the 'lights out' bell sounded. As Che went to the door, he pulled a magazine from his back pocket and handed it to Ramon. "It's got some good pictures," was all he said as he went back to his own cell.
Ramon looked at theTrenton Monthly that he held in his hands. It was an old copy, from over a year ago. He lay back on his bed and flipped through the pages, glancing at the pictures of the city that he had left behind. He turned a page and his breath caught in his throat. He was staring at a photograph of a lost life.
It was at that charity ball. They were on the dance floor and he was holding her close. Her hand was curled in his, and he held it over his heart. She was wearing that red dress, the one that made her look like she was walking through fire, the diamond and ruby earrings he had given her glittered in her ears. Her beautiful face was tipped up to his and they were smiling into each other's eyes. They were so clearly in love that it was almost painful to look at the picture.
He suddenly had an overwhelming sense of her … almost as if she were there with him. He could see her beautiful blue eyes when she smiled at him, and he could feel her move under him when he was buried in her. He could hear the little noises that she made in her sleep, and he could smell her shampoo when he buried his face in her hair. He could taste her skin on his lips. He wondered where she was, what she was doing, whether she was happy, if she had forgotten him.
He closed the magazine on the glimpse of the life he had left behind. The life he would never see again. He shut his eyes and prayed for sleep … and dreams of Stephanie.
Ranger and Stephanie had been friends, lovers, and partners.
He had been gone five weeks, two days, eleven hours, and thirty-four minutes.
TBC …
Okay, so who do you think Doggie Darted Steph? The bad guys? The good guys? Should Steph feel guilty for the guy that fell out of the building? After all, he was trying to kill her, wasn't he … that's self defense, right? And what about Escobar? Everybody in the prison knows him … will they see a difference? What will Che do? Is 'Ramon' in danger of discovery already?
Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, please keep 'em coming. Ranger wants to know if the scars add character, or do you want him to return to his 'drop dead gorgeous' status? Steph wants me to ask you if she should spend the weekend in Deal with Niko? She says she's off sugar again and needs a little action! Please let us know what you think!
I have to apologize again for posting late. I've taken on what has turned out to be a full time job, complete with an hour commute, each way and it's really cut into my writing time. I get a couple of weeks off in August and hopefully will be able to get back on schedule. Until then, I can only promise to post as often as time will allow, but I WILL keep posting. Thank you for being so understanding!
Jefe … Chief, Boss
Q'vo? ….. What's up?
Como estas? … How ya doin?
Cabron, te ves bien! … You look good, you son of a bitch!