Disclaimer: I do not own or possess any copyrights in relation to this story, nor am I being compensated in any way … unless you count warm fuzzies from reviews. Sadly my bank does not accept those as currency.
Fair warning: There will be violence, mature language, and sex in this story, so read at your own risk ... be prepared for MA/NC-17 content.
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Chapter 28
Blinding rage.
Helpless fear.
Ram wasn't sure how he made it back upstairs to their room, Steph's small purse clutched in his large fist. He remembered clearing the bathroom and finding the other door … a door that led to a staff hallway that had an exit to the outside less than 10 feet away.
She was gone before he even thought to check on her.
His emotions were threatening to choke him, rising up in his throat and clawing to be free, but he shoved them back down before he lost control. Again. He glanced at the fist sized hole in the wall for a second before trying to force his brain into action.
Hector had confirmed what he had already known; Steph didn't have any of her trackers with her. Her cell phone was in her purse and her gun was in the room. The speed and silence of her abduction told him that her gun wouldn't have helped anyway.
Fuck. I will kill them.
Pacing the room, he looked at his watch again. Whoever Hector sent to pick him up wouldn't be here for another hour at least. Spinning around, he caught sight of the file laden table and was striding towards it before he had even really contemplated what he was going to do until they arrived.
Whoever has Steph is in this pile.
They had been determined to find the guy before, but Ram was discovering just how much more motivated he was with clear cold rage running through his body. Looking at the smallest list, he considered a few things they hadn't looked for and then got to work.
An hour and a half later, he heard the knock on the door. Gun in hand he cautiously checked the peephole and eyed the man standing on the other side. Glancing back at the files, he hurriedly tossed everything but a laptop into the banker boxes sitting next to the table and carried them into the bedroom, his collarbone twanging angrily.
Opening the door and closing it behind him, he stepped out of the room with the smaller bag he had packed and nodded to the man waiting in the hall.
"That it?"
Ram took a second to push the rage and grief down again before answering. "No, but someone is going to have to come and get the rest. I want to get back to Trenton now."
"Alright man, no problem. Nothing new on Bomber?"
Dialing the phone, he spared a glare. "Hector. You saw the latest? You know anything I don't?" Ram walked, frowning, to the elevator. Both men dodged the numerous drunks who were slowly heading towards their rooms. "No, I didn't, can you … thanks. My phone is on; call me if you hear anything."
Answering the nonverbal question from his companion, Ram shook his head. "Nothing."
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Tank looked up as Lester walked into his office. "Hey."
"What the fuck is going on? Does that fuck have her?" Lester looked over at Bobby and saw the same fear he knew was on his own face.
"We don't know. Ram said they were at a New Years thing and they both went to the restroom. She never came back out; they took her out through another exit."
Bobby picked up the narrative. "Hector says she doesn't have any trackers on. Ram is on his way to Haywood."
The sharp ring of a telephone was cut off almost immediately as Tank's large hand slammed down to pick it up.
"Yeah?" Large shoulders tensed in anticipation slumped suddenly as it fizzled away. "Yeah, send Manuel. Thanks man."
Hanging up the phone, he rubbed his face. "Ram didn't take all of the files and shit with him, asked us to send someone who was already cleared to pick it up. Whose idea was it to send Rube to pick him up?"
Lester frowned. "Mine, why? He was on the list to cover Ram's house in the morning, so I knew he'd be sober tonight."
"Huh." Tank shook his head a little. "Nothing, just he's on the short list that Ram and Steph have worked up."
"Who else is on it?" Bobby asked.
"Hector didn't say," Tank admitted.
Dialing Hector's cell, Lester watched Tank carefully. He looked so fucking tired. His skin was almost ashy instead of the deep black it normally was. And he was nowhere near as sharp as he needed to be if they were going to get Beautiful back in one piece.
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Michelle Vicks looked at the unconscious woman in the back of the van, handcuffed to a ring on the floor and scoffed quietly. She saw no reason at all that this woman was so important. Green had told them after they had her that she was supposed to be in danger, but she certainly hadn't seen any sign of that over the last day or two. She had seen her shopping and going to a spa and practically having sex in public, but nothing that screamed danger at all. Typical spoiled brat in her opinion.
This was ridiculous.
She had hoped that by joining the CIA instead of the FBI or Homeland Security that her skills wouldn't be used in such mundane ways. Since the CIA was supposed to be prohibited from operating inside the borders of the United States, she had seen her undercover work as something a lot more glamorous. Instead, she had ended up in a lot of scut jobs. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, her cover was usually a maid!
Now this. Initially the idea of working in the States had appeal, it was sure to be more dangerous since it was illegal, something to pit her skills against. Instead she had ended up in Atlantic City pretending to be a bored housewife married to Peter Green.
Joy.
Flipping her long blonde hair, she glared at the back of Green's head where he was sitting in the passenger seat talking quietly to Jane who was driving them to the safe house. Hearing a soft snore, she huffed. The fourth member of their little band, Kyle Sanders, was fast asleep, head resting against the side of the van.
I need a new job.
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Frowning as he recognized the vibration on his hip as a notification that there was a new recording to review, the man now known as Benny looked around. He had gone out with a bunch of guys to celebrate New Year's and the bar was full of Rangeman employees. Who would be in the office tonight?
Looking closer, he realized that there wasn't a single member of the management team with them tonight. Tapping one finger against his cell phone in thought, he wondered if something had happened or if the recorder was picking something else up. It had occurred a couple of times; cleaning people or telephones ringing in the middle of the night would kick the chip off and send a worthless recording.
But tonight?
Glancing at his watch as he drained his beer, still joking and smiling with his coworkers, he decided to check it out. It was late anyway and he wasn't really in the mood for dealing with some drunken bitch that would probably be a lousy fuck anyway.
Clapping Deke on the shoulder, he waved to the rest of the boys and walked out with Bones. Bumping fists with him as they separated, he ambled towards his truck.
I can't wait until this is over.
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Ram was running through the information that they had almost obsessively. He had ignored all of the leading questions that Rube had asked until the man had finally gone silent. His phone was clutched in one large hand as he tried to think, to make sense of this.
He knew that Haywood was winding up, that people were being called in to help with the search, but they would be on a skeleton crew because of the holiday. Hector was reviewing all of the GPS movements for the last 12 hours, hoping to see something unusual. Ram had just shaken his head when Hector admitted that he had put trackers on as many private vehicles as he could over the last week or so. Ram agreed with him that they should keep that to themselves. Unless they found something anyway.
Please let him find something. God Steph, I'm sorry, I should have … I should have done something. I promised to protect you, to keep you safe. Be ok, please be ok.
"Haywood, right?" Rube asked quietly as the sign for their exit came up.
"Where else?"
"Didn't know if you'd want to stop at your house," he replied.
Ram came to attention slowly. He didn't talk about his house with anyone and the way he said that… "What do you know about my house?"
Rube shot him a glance out of the corner of his eye before looking back at the road. "Lester, Cal, and Bones have been taking turns staying there. Making sure that nothing happens to it, like Bomber's apartment."
"Huh." Ram thought that over a little. Maybe he wouldn't beat Lester as badly as he had planned once his collarbone was healed. "So how'd you hear about it though?"
A shrug. "There's a schedule. Since they could get called out, there's backup. I'm one of them."
"That's … thanks."
"Hey, we all love Bomber. And some of us feel pretty shitty for the way we've been treating you … figured we owed you some time."
"What was up with that anyway? I mean I expected some heat for what happened, but …"
Rube's sigh was loud in the SUV. "I don't even know really. I mean you'd think we were a bunch of women the way gossip was flying. Looking back it's fuckin embarrassing."
"Yeah, I know Lester was stirring the shit pretty hard."
"Him and Junior, yeah," Rube agreed.
Ram frowned, lines appearing on his forehead as he stared out into the darkness. "Junior? He have a thing for Steph?"
"Probably. Who doesn't? He wasn't saying anything different than a lot of us though," Rube admitted. "I'm sorry."
"I appreciate the apology man, so will Steph."
"She knows what was going on?"
"She figured it out, yeah."
"Fuck."
"Yep."
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Pulling up to the safe house, Vicks was pleased that her dosage had been just about perfect. The woman was just starting to stir. Following Green and Sanders into the bedroom, she curled her lip in distaste for the next part of the job.
Exchanging a look with Jane, they ushered the men out and started to strip the woman. Between the two of them, they managed to remove all jewelry and conduct a search for any other tracking devices before redressing her in some flannel pajamas. The groans and facial expressions were becoming more frequent, so it wouldn't be long before she came to.
Jane looked at the other agent and internally growled at the repulsed expression on her face while forcing a smile to her own face. There was no reason for her to be so rough with Miss Plum.
"Hey Michelle, why don't you head to bed? I know you were on all day. You've got to be tired. I can handle things here," she offered.
Vicks looked up. "Really? You sure?" She had been looking forward to pushing the woman's buttons a little, but she was pretty tired. And it's not like she wouldn't be around for awhile. Seeing Jane's nod, she nodded. "Thanks. See you tomorrow, good luck with Sleeping Beauty," she finished snidely.
Jane Coogan locked the door behind her and dropped down into the armchair in the corner of the room, smothering a yawn. At least from the noises, the woman wouldn't be out much longer and she could explain what was going on.
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"It's about time," Brian Johns snapped as he heard Peter Green's voice.
"We're at the safe house."
"Good. Is she conscious? Do you need anything?"
"It went smoothly. She's coming around now. The women will explain what's going on since they're less threatening."
"Tell them to be careful, she's combat trained," Johns warned.
"She's still handcuffed, it will be fine."
"Did you go to the alternate safe house?"
The voice on the other end of the phone was starting to show some annoyance at the second guessing and double checking.
"Yes sir. We'll start doing a weekly check-in from this point on unless there is a problem … per our orders."
Responding to the warning tone in that sentence, Johns forced himself to drop it. They were professionals, everything was fine.
"I'll talk to you on Sunday then. Good job."
Hanging up the phone after the curt response, Brian Johns sank down on his couch and groaned. How did this even happen? What the hell had he been thinking?
The response that Metcalf had sent him after Brian had requested that Metcalf reconsider had pissed him off. The man was convinced that he was seeing things because of what happened in Colombia. He wasn't.
He knew that if the woman went back to her hometown that she was going to be in danger. The information he had gathered indicated that she would be returning on January 2, which didn't leave him any time at all to get Metcalf to change his mind. He had briefly considered notifying Ramsey quietly, but the man may not do anything and just make it harder for them to pull her out later, so he had shelved that idea.
It hadn't been difficult to find the codes in Jackson's computer. Not that he had thought it would be. Jackson wasn't lazy exactly, but he wasn't as security conscious as he should be either. The email that Metcalf had sent him had been easy to print out while Jackson was in the can.
Reading it had made him burn. Metcalf clearly felt that this was some kind of test or something. Well he wasn't going to put a woman's life in danger because they wanted to play games. His reservations for making the call and using the codes had been obliterated in a haze of anger and indignation.
Now that he was calmer and the point of no return had been passed a few times over, Brian found himself nervous. He was definitely going to get fired if his vague plan to cover this up didn't work. Grabbing a notebook and pen he started mapping out decision trees … just in case.
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Stephanie groaned, closing her eyes tightly against the headache that was threatening to make her sick. Seriously, how much did she have to drink last night? Bringing her hand to her forehead automatically, she caught her breath when she realized that she was handcuffed.
What the hell?
Taking a deep breath, still not completely alert, but pushing closer to it, she froze when the smells in the room were completely different than they should have been. Instead of the lingering traces of perfume and cologne, of hotel cleansers and stale air that indicated a mostly closed system she could smell fabric softener and … was that paint?
Did we go back to Trenton?
Wait. Handcuffs.
Exasperated with her inability to work out what was happening, she tried to open one eye and cried out as the knives stabbed her brain. Holy Mother of God. Tears slid down one side of her face as she tried to catch her breath through the pain. Ow ow ow.
A rustle of fabric nearby broke into her internal chanting. Who is there? Why aren't they saying anything? What the fuck is going on? Where am I? Oh god, does Benny have me? Fuck, where is Ram? Is he ok?
"My name is Jane," a woman's voice said softly. "You're safe."
Stephanie formulated a response, politely appropriate to the situation. What actually came out was much different. "What the fuck is going on? Why am I handcuffed?" She had more to say, but her voice suddenly trailed off as the pain in her throat became clear. She felt like she hadn't had water in weeks. How long have I been here?
Shifting her arms again, she was even more alarmed when she realized that she wasn't wearing the gown she remembered having on the last time she was conscious. Forcing her eyes to cooperate, she peeled one open and tried to endure the initial pain the light brought. It'll get better, just wait.
A fuzzy outline of a dark haired person sitting across the room became clear as she fought past the pain. She was in a bedroom. In clothing that wasn't hers. With a stranger. Who was at least female, but still. Handcuffed. Apparently drugged, because there was no way a couple of glasses of champagne brought on this bad of a hangover.
"You're in a CIA safe house," she heard the woman say. She kept talking, but Stephanie was stuck on that first sentence.
"Wait, I'm what? I'm WHAT?" The volume and shrill tone of voice caused her pain in various ways, but she couldn't help it. "What the hell? WHY?"
"That's not important right now."
"How the hell can you say that's not important?" In her outrage, Stephanie didn't even realize she had opened both eyes and was sitting up on the bed.
Blue eyes blinked in a plain face. A familiar face. Stephanie wrinkled her forehead trying to remember where she had seen her before.
"It's classified. You're safe though and you will be released as soon as we get the orders, I promise."
"Well if you promise, then of course that's ok. Oh wait, no, it isn't. You can't kidnap me and then not tell me why! I don't give a shit if it's classified, because obviously I need to know!"
Growling at the blank face she was given, her memory kicked in. "You were watching me. At the hotel, while I was shopping."
A nod.
Ok, calm down. Betty Boop obviously isn't going to give you any more information. Classified, CIA, safe house … sonofabitch. Ranger. He's a dead man. What's next, he really sends me to a third world country?
Taking stock of her surroundings, she saw that she was in a middle sized bedroom. It was definitely sparse. Other than the bed that she was on and the armchair the other woman was sitting in, the only other furniture in the room was a small dresser. All of the furniture was wood and looked really sturdy. A set of accordion doors indicated a closet, which meant that she probably had an en suite bathroom through the door that didn't have serious looking deadbolts installed on it. There was a single window, but looking closer, in addition to the grate installed on this side of the frame the glass seemed wavy. Bulletproof glass. They're not taking any chances are they?
"I want these handcuffs off," she demanded. She was pretty sure the woman was telling the truth and she didn't feel threatened … exactly. Uncomfortable, angry, and confused yes. Threatened no.
The woman didn't move, but a flicker of an expression passed over her face too fast for Stephanie to interpret. "When you've calmed down, I'd be happy to remove them."
A death glare didn't get her anything other than a barely imperceptible settling back into the armchair. Bitch.
"How long will I be here? Did you tell anyone? Ram? Did you hurt him?" The questions were machine gunning out the faster her brain began to spin, panic now overtaking her as she wondered what happened to Ram.
"You were removed without incident. Your … friend … wasn't involved and should be fine. We aren't permitted to contact anyone else, but I'm sure the appropriate parties have been notified. The time is dependent on outside factors that I have no knowledge of. Longer than a week."
Exhaustion suddenly swamped Stephanie. Hitching breaths started deep in her chest as her aches and pains came back to her and the emotional impact of her situation started to make itself known. Remembering how she felt when Ram was shot, her body vibrated with horror at how he must be feeling.
Slumping back on the bed, she stared at the ceiling and ignored the tears that were tracing a path over her temples and sliding into her hair. She didn't make a sound, other than the hitching breaths that she was still trying to control as her chest attempted to tear itself apart in sympathy. He has to be going nuts. Unless they told Rangeman that they took me. They would tell them, right? She said the parties had been notified, so maybe he knows. Or will know. Still …
The woman suddenly appeared in her peripheral vision, standing next to the bed, but Stephanie didn't react. Feeling warm hands adjust her wrists and the snick of handcuffs being removed, a sob broke out.
"I'm sorry this is difficult for you Miss Plum. I've left you some bottles of water; I know that you must be thirsty. It's a side effect of the drug. As a safety measure there will be someone outside your door for tonight so if you have any problems or need anything, just let Kyle know. You have a television and some books in here, but I'm afraid other than meals you'll need to stay in your room."
Turning away and facing the wall, Stephanie ignored her and buried her face in the pillow. Telling herself that she was just giving the woman, Jane, time to leave the room before she started to explore and find a way out of the house, Stephanie slid into sleep.
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Motherfucking sonofabitch. The CIA must have picked her up. Goddamnit. Fuck my luck. All I needed was two more days and I'd have had her.
This isn't going to go over well.
Coding an emergency message to Pickens, his lips tightened as he remembered that he was on the list as the inside guy. With Stephanie gone, they were going to push that angle hard and he wasn't sure that his cover would hold up under that kind of scrutiny.
Wondering if it was almost time to leave town, the man that Stephanie had nicknamed Benny scowled in frustration. They were blaming him for taking her. I wish. He made a mental note to stay in the company of others as much as possible for awhile so that he slipped a few rungs in suspicion. It might even be worthwhile to find a few things that would make them consider one of the other guys on the list.
Adding a suggestion to his message that the CIA connection should be pushed, he hoped it had the effect he wanted. With any luck it would turn the attention from him and force the CIA to acknowledge that they had her. There might even be enough information that he could locate and take her.
It would be fucking hilarious if he took her from the safe house and they were still blamed for her disappearance.
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A storm of emotional energy almost visibly whirling around him, Ram stalked through Haywood until he got to Tank's office. He gave the door a single perfunctory knock before he opened the door and walked in. Tank was seated at his desk and Lester and Bobby were sitting on the couch with laptops in their laps, all three of them now looking in his direction.
"Anything new?"
Tank sighed heavily. "No, nothing."
Ram nodded and then glared balefully at the three of them. He had thought hard about how to go about this on the way here. He just had to keep his temper.
"This is fucking bullshit. There have been so many half truths, secrets, and entirely too damn many fingers in the pot since this shit started. I suggest we all go down to Hector's conference room and start from the beginning. It doesn't do us any good to investigate if we're not aware of all of the information," he said with a strained patience that was evident. He wanted to yell, needed to yell, but he forced it down and away.
Having already decided that they should never have gone along with keeping it secret in the first place, Ram received subdued nods in return. As he walked back downstairs, he noticed for the first time how many Rangeman employees were there. Spotting a few that were on the list, his brows drew together. How sure were they that there was only one guy?
It's time to get to the bottom of this shit. Stay strong sweetheart.
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Next up – Stephanie has a plan
