I'd like to blame the delay in this chapter on the busy performance season (four shows down, two more to go this weekend), but to be honest, the main reason I wasn't writing was because I was re-reading Not As Planned for, like, the third time since I finished writing it. Anyway, had a sick day today due to asthma and an upper respiratory tract infection, so I managed to finish writing and type up this chapter.

Chapter 26

As soon as Steph had consumed her butterscotch krimpet she and Ranger were each handed a protein bar and a bottle of Gatorade, and they all headed, upstairs Ranger supporting Steph who was a little unsteady on her feet. In the kitchen they met with the rest of the rescue team and hugs were exchanged all around, including with the young growly man that was introduced as Bear.

Steh then took a seat in one of the kitchen chairs while the men finished checking the house.

"Police?" Ranger asked Tank, flicking his gaze to the two stoners that had been keeping them under lock and key.

The large, bald man shook his head. "Figured you'd want to chat to them first," he explained.

"Good plan."

Ranger crossed the small, dank space to stand in front of the two boys while stretching out his shoulders. They had been bound quite extensively to the chairs they were on with duct tape, another swatch of tape stretched across their mouths. He cracked his knuckles as he stared down at the pair, noting droplets of sweat covering their faces and the way their eyes darted all around the room. Ranger had a feeling these new events were seriously harshing their buzz.

"I'm going to ask you some questions," Ranger informed them politely. "I'll be removing the tape from your mouths so that you can answer. If you decided to just scream and make noise, or not answer, or answer in a way that I deem is not substantial, I'm going to introduce you to a couple of my friends." To demonstrate who his friends were, Ranger cracked his knuckles once more, ominously. "Do we understand?"

The men taped to the chairs only stared at Ranger.

"I said do you understand?!" Ranger repeated with more venom in his tone.

Hasty nods met his words this time and Ranger gestured with an ever so slight tilt of his head to the two men that had crept up behind them, signalling he was satisfied enough for them to remove the tape.

Dual screams rent the air, but were quickly cut off when Lester and Cal each gave their hostage a firm knock to the back of the head. One of them was crying, probably due to the amount of facian hair that was now sticking to the length of tape in Lester's hand.

"Who hired you to kidnap us?" Ranger asked, almost politely, Steph thought.

"N-no one," the one on the right stammered, his companion still sobbing in pain.

Ranger didn't hesitate to drive a fist into the kid's stomach.

"Who hired you to kidnap my wife and me?" he repeated once he'd straightened. Some of his manners had slipped, an edge creeping into his tone.

Now they were both crying. Ranger hated when they cried. His opinion was that if you couldn't handle the consequences of your actions like a man, don't do it in the first place. It was a virtue he'd instilled in his children as well. If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen, so to say. He started gearing up his fist for another blow.

"N-no," Righty stutted, red rimmed eyes wide. "We didn't kidnap you! I swear! We didn't do it! Please don't hit me!"

Ranger got right up in his face, a deadly expression contorting his own as he whispered menacingly, "You're gonna wanna talk fast."

Mr. Righty nodded frantically, swallowing hard while his friend on the left appeared to lose control of his bladder.

"Well," he started, his gaze darting around the room. "Barj and I were just sitting in the living room, having a breakfast beer when these four guys burst in dragging two unconscious bodies and a tool box down to the basement." He paused, visibly swallowing again before continuing, encouraged, no doubt, by the impassive expression on Ranger's face and the presence of two more angry men behind them. "When they came out they dumped a case of beer and a baggy of pot on the table in front of us and laid out how it was gonna be."

"And how was that?" Lester asked, dissatisfied with the lack of descriptions.

"Well, they'd provide the stuff if we'd keep the couple locked up with maybe the occasional bathroom break."

Ranger thought about rolling his eyes. He know the stoners couldn't have been responsible for getting the drop on them. They were literally just the babysitters. Careful babysitters, but babysitters all the same.

"Why?" Ranger demanded.

"Humans need to go to the toilet every day," the man who was probably called Barj replied, having recovered somewhat from his fear induced accident. "We're not like sloths, you know. Once a week just isn't enough."

"Why were you keeping us in the basement?" Ranger attempted to clarify.

Unfortunately, though, the men were still high as a kite, and unable to infer exactly what it was that Ranger wanted to know. "Because that's where you were chained," Barj blinked slowly. For this stupidity a solid blow was delivered to each of their solar plexuses, winding them.

"Who were the men?" Ranger demanded before they'd managed to get their breath back. "Names!"

Righty sounded like he was attempting to cough up a lung. "No…" he gasped and Ranger was preparing his fist for another blow when he finally managed to regain his breath. "No idea," he wheezed. "But they were definitely Indian."

"Middle Eastern," Barj countered.

"Egyptian?" Righty tried, less confidently.

"Explain," Tank demanded, stepping forward beside his former boss. A lot had changed over the ears and this was the evidence of one of those changes. No longer was Tank content to sit (or stand, as the case may be) and wait. At one time Tank would have been the type to stare unwavering into his target's eyes until they confessed of their own free will. No matter how long it took. His record as eighteen hours. No bathroom breaks. No speaking. Just sitting. And staring.

Ranger was taken aback, not only that he'd been interrupted, but by who. It was a very singular occurrence.

"They were, like, really tanned," Barj explained. "Like, I was born tanned kinda tanned."

"With turbans," Righty added.

Casting his mind back a couple of days to the morning he and his wife were attacked and kidnapped, Ranger tried to recall if there had been anyone matching that description in the bakery or the parking lot before they'd been knocked out. He was fairly certain there hadn't been, but cut his eyes to Steph to see her opinion.

A concentrated expression and a small shake of the head was the reply to his silent question. Either these people were lying or there was more to the story. Remarkably, Ranger was inclined to believe the two potheads. From his past experiences, he knew that making up a cover story while high was extremely difficult. Seeing the truth differently though, was extremely easy.

"Have you seen the men since?" Ranger asked, a lot calmer than he had been before. He'd come to the conclusion that no amount of beating was going to make them change their song.

"They drop by every now and then," Barj said, sounding thoughtful. Ranger got the sense that if he'd had is hands free, he'd be scratching his head.

"How often is every now and then?" Tank demanded, stepping forward once more. He, at least, was losing patience. This was definitely not the cool, calm and collected Tank they used to know. It made Ranger wonder what had happened in his absence to cause such a gear shift.

"Ianno," Barj shrugged.

"Once a day?" Righty asked, like he was afraid of giving an incorrect answer. It as a smart fear to have. Ranger had stabbed men for getting the eye colour wrong in a description before. For their said, Ranger hoped he was right.

Before anyone could say or do anything else, Bear was on high alert. A noise outside had caught his attention. He pulled his gun from his holster and crept out into the hall while all eyes in the rom followed. No one made a sound, listening carefully for what had called Bear out of the room.

After just a few moments the front door opened and closed, followed by a male voice that Ranger would have placed in late sixties, calling out.

"Okay," he said. "I think I've come up with a deal that we'll all be happy with."

"Have you just?" came Bear's quiet growl.

"Who-?!" the older male sounded startled. Ranger didn't really blame him. Even though he'd just met Bear less than an hour ago, he got the sense that he could be menacing as fuck without even trying. As was the Rangeman tradition. Being confronted with such a presence when you weren't expecting it had the potential to be a pants soiling situation.

"Come with me, old man," Bear intoned. "I'm very interested in this deal."

A moment later a man with grey, balding hair, liver spots and sagging skin entered the room, a gun pressed firmly to the middle of his back. There was sweat beading on his extensive forehead as his eyes darted around the kitchen, taking in the group of men and one woman waiting for him there.

"Oh no," he uttered, his frightened eyes catching on Ranger and hardening into a scowl. "You," he seethed.

"Yes me," Ranger replied easily, pulling out the last chair for Bear to attach their latest guest to. "Forgive me for not recognising you in return."

"Don't worry," the man sneered. "We've never met. Officially."

*o*

"This is ridiculous," I said for probably the sixth hundredth time in the last five minutes. I was standing at the bottom of the stairs, trying to delay my inevitable ascent with one last argument. "We've apologised, like, a billion times! We didn't mean to hit your knew! In fact, we wouldn't have if you'd just stayed out of it! Steve and I wrestle all the time. It's normal."

"And what right do you have to send us to our rooms anyway?" Steve added, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're not our parent. You're not even our official babysitter."

I crossed my arms over my chest to match my brother. Giving the illusion of a united front, even though five minutes ago we were literally in fisticuffs. It never ceased to amaze me how Steve and I could fight like cats and dogs, but the moment an outsider made a move against either of us we could put all our differences aside and face our foes together. If nothing else, the last few days had solidified that knowledge in my mind.

"We're too old for babysitters," I pointed out. Which was true. Just last Friday night I had been allowed to stay at home alone for the entire evening. Granted, that evening had ended in unlicensed driving, underage drinking and our parents getting kidnapped. But still. Mom and Dad trusted us to stay home without a responsible adult to supervise.

Hal, who was leaning heavily against the first floor hall wall, one hand holding an ice pack to his injured knee, let out a slow breath. "If keeping you two separate prevents anyone else from getting hurt before the others return with your parents, then that's what we're going to do."

A derisive snort left Steve's throat and he plonked himself down into a seated position on the third stair. "Make me," he challenged, tugging me down to sit beside him. "Make both of us."

I smirked, suppressing a laugh. I couldn't help it. The thought of Hal even attempting to haul either one of us up the stairs to our bedrooms gave me the giggles. He'd barely managed the hobbler out of the living room. His knee was obviously painful from where one of us had accidentally hit it during our scuffle in the living room. That had been the cause of his scream. That was the reason he'd collapsed to the floor. And as a result, that was the reason I'd forfeit the fight. Even though I was close to winning.

At least that's what I was going to tell anyone who asked. I'd given up out of concern for the man, not because my loss was inevitable.

Hal had explained, while Steve was retrieving ice from the kitchen that he'd undergone a knee reconstruction almost a year ago and while he had healed well, every now and then, a sharp jab to the right place could leave him writhing in pain, like we'd just witnessed. It was a weakness that the other men liked to make fun of, and if I'm honest, I can't really blame them. I'd given Steve a heap of curry when he'd broken his ankle and had to hop around on crutches for eight weeks. Everyone loves a hop-along joke.

To my utter shock, while I was still smirking over Steve's one upmanship, Hal hobbled away from the wall so that he stood directly in front of us. He glared first at Steve, then at me, and in the next moment I found myself hoisted over his shoulder. I might have struggled to get down if I weren't so impressed by his show of strength and determination. Apparently he was pushing through the pain to prove a point. I had to respect him for that.

"Fight back, Reggie!" Steve called, hurrying up the stairs as Hal lumbered down the upper hallway. Steve must have been taken aback by Hal's actions as well. "One good knock to the knee and you're free!"

I knew he was right. Hal had already revealed his weakness to us. But for some reason I couldn't quite bring myself to do it to him.

"Reggie, come on!" Steve was sighing at me. I could see him making frustrated gestures at me if I lifted my head. "What kind of warrior are you?" But I noticed that he wasn't doing anything to stop Hal.

Any ideas on who that mystery old man is?