Chapter 36
No Profit. Not my characters.
Carol and Kim If not for the two of you, I seriously doubt that I ever would have written another word past the last chapter of this story. I had big time prison block. J Thanks for all that you do. I'd have to write a whole chapter just to enumerate the many ways you've both enhanced my life.
Bless you Carol, for taking the time to do this beta for me in the midst of your busy life and before leaving for your trip. Hope you're having a wonderful time!
Readers you are the best! Thanks for your patience during my research and always sticking with me. I value your loyalty and support more than I can say.
I did research this. I hope the prison part is true to life. I am by no means an authority on any of this. So please forgive any oversights or inconsistencies.
Joe's POV
After months of planning and preparation, it wasn't until I entered the dimly lit halls of Trenton State Prison that it truly hit me.
My freedom was gone.
I'd become another number in the infinite sea of lost souls occupying that building. Liberty was something I'd always taken for granted. Had the other inmates as well? Did any of them regret their actions that had led to the incarceration of their minds, bodies, hearts and souls—some for the rest of their natural lives?
Amidst the horrific smells of antiseptic, human waste and desperation, I could feel the dying hope of those surrounding me. I heard the hard-soled shoes of the guards at my sides clacking in rhythmic patterns as we made our way toward my uncertain future.
This insane urge to run gripped me. I could fight them off and make my escape. Find Stephanie and make our getaway pretending this whole thing had never happened.
But when they opened the door at the end of the hall, I knew it was too late. There was no turning back.
My fate had been sealed.
Steph's POV
Ranger went to put the key into the lock to the fifth floor apartment door of Rangeman, and it swung open easily to reveal a stunned Kate, looking as if she'd been caught in the act. Dressed in a skimpy, black, silky, low-cut nightgown and matching short robe, her outfit left little to the imagination.
What was she up to parading round Rangeman like some grade-B movie actress looking for a one-night stand?
She had Rex's cage in one hand and a firm hold on Bob's leash in the other.
The big, red-orange blur jumped like an endorphin-enhanced, body builder, practically doing jumping jacks at the sight of me.
"I was just making sure they were both here when you arrived," Meg explained, blushing furiously.
Ranger's mouth tipped up at the corners. His eyes were obviously preoccupied with the blatantly, meant-to-be-enticing view.
"You can let go of the leash. I have him," I coldly informed Kate—I mean Meg. Damn it! She dropped it, focusing her dazzlingly provocative smile on Ranger.
"Uh—you made it back fast," she observed somewhat embarrassedly.
"Yeah, I arrived there just when the suits did," he said, not daring to mention Morelli's name. If he had, I'd have lost it.
"He's on his way to the prison?" Meg asked stupidly.
"Yeah, he's probably already there."
Ranger glanced at me, concern still evident in his eyes. He'd helped me gather my things, making sure I'd made a hasty exit from the safe house that now held so many both beautifully happy and devastatingly sad moments for me.
Meg gave me a look that was filled with what I'd always hated most from anyone—pity! "I'm really sorry, Stephanie. I know how difficult this must be."
I wanted to shout she had no fucking idea how shitty this was, and she never WOULD know, because Joe was MINE! Swiping at my curls instead, I bent down to hold Bob as closely as possible. Smelling Meg's scent all over his fur, I held my breath.
Bob seemed agitated and started his whiny cry, looking past Ranger and Meg. No doubt he was expecting his master to be standing in the doorway next, just waiting for his favorite canine slobber-filled greeting.
No Joe.
Bob cried louder.
I knew exactly how he felt.
"You must've been all packed?" Meg said, again trying to break the ice. But the solid cold mass left inside of me was all that was holding me together. My whole being felt like it had been frozen in time—awaiting Joe's return.
"There are a few more things there. I'll have Ella pick them up tomorrow. I thought it was best to get Stephanie settled as soon as possible," Ranger explained.
Why did I feel so much like I was the odd man out? I had as much right to be there as she did!
Protectively, I reached for Rex's cage. Meg handed it over without a word. I needed my family around me. It did nothing to warm my heart when I noticed Bob licking Meg's hand, while I looked for signs of life from Rex—whom wisely stayed asleep in his soup can. Sometimes I wished I could be a hamster.
Somehow I had to find a way to be gracious, but so far I wasn't even close to feeling it.
Forcing myself to make the effort, I looked directly into her eyes.
As I did, I saw the telltale bruises on her neck and face. Joe's reassuring voice sounded in my head, penetrating my fierce need to be heartless and unyielding toward her. That and the fact she had suffered horribly, while trying to protect me, made me feel like the world's most ungrateful bitch.
That being the case, it all meant nothing, because I could barely open my mouth to enunciate the words I knew Morelli would have expected out of me. I wanted to make him proud. I promised him I'd try. Rolling my eyes mentally, I kicked my staunch, immature rebellion to the curb.
"Thank you for keeping Bob and Rex here," I said stiffly. "That was kind of you."
"Not a problem," she responded succinctly.
Well, it wasn't like we were going to be kissing and hugging BFF's anytime soon!
"Uh, I suppose I'll be seeing you. Are you right next door?" I asked, deciding it was good to know which direction to avoid.
Meg and Ranger shared a look. I deduced plenty from that look. My mouth dropped open, but no sound escaped.
"Meg and I are on the seventh floor," Ranger explained quietly, looking decidedly uncomfortable.
Jeez, I wonder why?
"I see."
And boy did I!
"Well, we should be getting back to bed—I mean—it's late, and you need some rest," Meg stammered.
I figured it was late all right, and they wanted to get to bed, but obviously not to sleep. I felt jealousy constricting my throat. Not because Ranger was with her, but because I wanted Joe to be with me so badly.
Did he know about Meg and Ranger? Why wouldn't he have told me? Damn it! Awkward didn't begin to cover the feelings now forming between the three of us.
Ranger slid his hand into Meg's as if he'd been doing it for years. Gazing into her eyes, his face softened. "Let's let Stephanie get settled. We can talk more in the morning. Breakfast is at ten, since it's such a late night. I hope you'll join us upstairs, or if you prefer, I can have Ella serve you here?"
This was it—my most defining, grown-up, moment yet. Would I choose blessed solitude, or make the extremely tricky effort to play nice in this most bizarre situation?
"I'll see you both at ten." I could hear Joe's voice, "Atta girl! I'm proud of you, Cupcake."
I felt like a phony, because all I wanted to do was stay in this secluded apartment with my one and a half family members.
They nodded, waving silently before taking their leave. As the door slammed shut, I gave way to the few tears I had left. Not bothering to change my clothing, I pilfered through my suitcase, grasping one of Joe's recently worn t-shirts in my hands and holding it up to my nose so I could inhale the scent of him. Hugging it to my face, I plopped on the bed and fell into an exhausted sleep with Bob cuddled contentedly beside me.
Joe's POV
Walking into the prison mess hall that first morning was surreal. Before the double metal doors opened, there was a
loud drone of conversation, some clattering of plates and silverware and even the loud sound of raunchy laughter. But the moment those doors swung wide, admitting me with a prison guard on either side, the entire room froze into dead silence.
I was on display like a circus freak—the two-headed crooked cop! And God, did I ever get the looks. They sent shivers up my back, and it took a lot to rattle me. Eyes sliced through me in all directions. Some filled with curiosity, some with overt hate, others with obvious disgust. All had some sort of judgmental cast to them. I could see that this was going to be loads of fun.
The guards elbowed their way through the half standing/half sitting eclectic group of outcasts. Of course, the only available seat was all the way in the back of the room. I felt like I did when we were late to Mass, and all the pews except those in the very front were taken. The whole congregation got in a nice gawking moment when you made your way embarrassingly down the aisle.
Shoulders back, my eyes remained hardened and unfocused, letting them all know I didn't give a shit which of them was staring or what the hell they thought of me.
Sitting down, I saw the Merry Men seated at the far end of the same table. Their searing glares were no less intimidating than the rest.
Funny.
As many times as I'd seen the three of them, I'd never really given thought to how fucking menacing they really were.
Hector, with his gang member tattoos, was just plain frightening. His daunting expression gave nothing away, and that single teardrop etched in ink by his eye stated 'I've KILLED in cold blood' loud and clear. His shoulders were broad, but his body was wiry and solid.
His eyes were coal black, and I knew if he'd still been on the wrong side of the law, it would've been a total nightmare to security experts everywhere. The man could get through anything locked or hidden away with very little trouble.
At the precinct, we jokingly referred to him as Stealth Man. His services there were invaluable. He'd helped us get a half-melted safe open once, and had even gotten through a locked suitcase wired to blow on the moment of entrance with a ticking bomb thundering inside. I'd seen his expertise firsthand when I'd reluctantly had to call in those favors from Manoso. Asking him for anything then—owed or not—was like swallowing bitter quinine, because I'd known what he'd taken from me without a second thought.
Cal was a force to be reckoned with too. He had the body of a prehistoric, man- eating monster. His forehead was marked with an indelible skull on fire. He didn't need it to intimidate anybody; no one would so much as dare approach him. No doubt he'd merely growl, pick them up in his hands and turn them into mincemeat.
And then there was Tank, who was deceptively silent and seemingly dumb. But underneath his steely eyes, he didn't miss a thing. His unexpected wisdom and surprisingly well thought out reasoning was in startling contrast to his looks. On the surface he looked like he could be a Teddy bear, but rile him, and the big Grizzly came out ready to gnarl and bite his way right through you.
While eating my lumpy, grainy, and totally unappealing mush, accompanied by cold toast that tasted like cardboard, I sorely wished for anything else—even some of Stephanie's even contaminated, peanut butter. Forcing down the swamp-water-weak-as-hell coffee, I wondered how soon I'd have a confrontation.
No need to worry. Before the thought had been totally formed in my brain, it was on me.
He approached slowly, the jagged scar zigzagging down his face. His bleak eyes speared me as he made his way to my chair. I could see the guards posted at the door reaching for their weapons.
Shit
I stood ready for action. I recognized this punk. His gang name was Nitro. I'd arrested him the night of Steph's Slayer attack. If it hadn't been for Sally Sweet, this lowlife and the others would have killed her, after first bringing her to her knees in agonizing humiliation, terror and pain. At the time, it'd been little solace to me to push him into the prison wagon with the rest of his diabolically, evil pals.
"You nothing, but a stinking, rancid bacon. Yousa a fucking hypocrite!"
Wow, nothing new there. Getting insulted and called names was part of my daily routine. I never even broke a sweat over it anymore.
I'd studied every one of the files of the prisoners in my cellblock. There were eight men I'd personally arrested for murder, attempted murder and other sinister crimes, and I expected to be confronted by every one of them.
One down—seven to go.
"Youz all high and mighty putting them bracelets on us. When you d' skank out there cheating your own bros, taking cake like some block baller. You ain't nothing but a frontin', perpetratin' thug youself! Making like some Big Dilly—you better watch your back side, Pig, because snitches like you—there be a long line waiting jus' happy to bust' a cap or shank your ass. You be history in nothing flat wit yor pretty face."
Shoved chairs clattered to the floor, hitting the tile with banging resonance.
Nitro made his move by grabbing the collar of my steel grey prison shirt. He pulled back his toughened fist ready to smack me one. Before his fist hit my face, Tank had him in one hand, dangling him off the floor like a flopping puppet. Cal and Hector were lined up in front of him, their backs to me.
"Touch him and your days are numbered. He's all mine!" Cal informed Nitro threateningly. "I got a score to settle. You understand? Don't you fret none. Me and these boys—we got him. He won't be bothering you or anybody else."
"Put me down, you fugly thug! Guards!" Nitro cried out, not looking nearly as brave now. Furiously squirming in Tank's grip, he added, "What you got that tops his cartin' me and my homies to the slammer?"
The guards knew that there were times to stay out of things and this was one of them. They hung back letting the drama play out. Lots of people could end up dead, including them, if they so much as drew a gun or even a club. That room was filled with total losers with nothing left to lose. Many of them were already serving a life sentence for murder.
Cal was quick on his feet with a reply. "He arrested my baby sista for attempted murder. Shit, she was just defending herself against her baby's daddy! He had a blade to her throat. She managed to shoot him in the gut! He nearly bled out. This bacon fucker brutally manhandled her, and she was pregnant at the time! My nephew was inside her belly when he throwed her to the ground before cuffing her! Lucky for him that baby lived, or he'd be swimming in the river with cement flippers. His bones are mine to pick! Ain't no one who messes with my sis! You got that!"
"Jeez, yeah gangsta! Why didn't you say so. Blood trumps all in the hood. I ain't no fool. Scum like him needs to suffa big time. Long as he pays, I'm chillin'."
Tank set him down, glaring at him warningly.
He backed up like a scared rodent, scurrying toward his seat.
The guards kept their eyes on the scene, which I knew wasn't finished playing out. Threats like Cal's had to be followed through, or no one would respect him or his authority.
He turned his wrath on me.
Oh boy!
"You watch your ass! If you so much as sneeze wrong, I'll be making you wish you was dead. And you be calling for yo mama to protect yo sorry skin."
His fist made contact with my good eye, the one that hadn't gotten blackened and bruised at Pino's. It could've been a lot worse.
That was the first hour of my first day. I could hardly wait for the afternoon and the other seven goons who had my name high on their to-do lists.
Step's POV
Breakfast was a meal I could skip right? I felt like I wanted to throw up. My dreams had been filled to the gills with Joe—and not all good images. In some of them, he'd been writhing in pain, calling out for me. Blood had been everywhere. I'd tried to touch him, but every time I did, iron bars had appeared out of nowhere, separating us completely.
After tossing and turning, I'd given up the idea of sleeping by six-thirty. Bob needed to go out, and I couldn't take him. Meg or Ranger must've made arrangements apparently, because at seven sharp a new Merry Man I didn't recognize was at the door ready to take Bob for his morning run.
It sucked not being allowed any fresh air myself. I could really use some.
The thought brought instant guilt. I could hardly complain—even silently—not when I remembered Joe, Cal, Tank and Hector would be lucky to get a walk in the prison yard daily.
The whole thing seemed like one of the nightmares I'd had.
And yet it was all too real.
Knowing I had to eat, I showered, dressed in baggy sweats and threw my hair back into a ponytail. What if a little Morelli was already residing inside of me? I had to make sure he or she was properly nourished, no matter how unappetizing the idea of eating was to me.
I knocked on the seventh floor apartment, bracing myself for Ranger and his little woman.
God, the universe had a wild sense of humor. The woman who'd tried to poach Joe was with the man who'd poached me for years. Sometimes Fate bit you in the butt in the strangest ways.
Breathe Stephanie. She makes Batman happy. She'd also made Joe take a second look—and a third and fourth one too. And he'd kissed her—more than once. Multiple flashes snapped through my brain of her naked body underneath Joe, then Ranger, and then Joes again. How in the hell was I expected to forget she was my worst enemy? Thankfully my conscience took over, and I realized she and I were pretty much in the same boat; only she'd never slept with Joe. I, however, had slept with Ranger—multiple times.
So which one of us was worse?
Shit!
When the hell was someone going to open the damned door?
It opened suddenly, as if I'd yelled my thoughts out loud.
"Morning Stephanie."
Thankfully, Ranger was completely dressed. I'd dreaded the thought of finding him shirtless or in a silky, black robe. It would've been way too weird.
"Good morning."
I looked around, as we walked into the kitchen. No sign of his mistress in sight.
As if reading my mind, he cleared his throat before speaking. "Meg's sleeping. I didn't want to disturb her. She's still recovering from her attack."
"Yeah, she looked downright crippled last night, prancing around in that skimpy night gown." It was out, before I could put a hand in front of my mouth to stop it.
Ranger took a deep, cleansing breath. I took one too, pushing my shoulders back for his reaction.
"I realize this situation is strange for all of us."
"Do you?"
"Of course, B—Stephanie! Do you think I'm insensitive to your feelings?"
"Since when have you ever been sensitive to anything?"
"Can you keep your voice down? As I said—"
"Yes, your precious concubine is sleeping. I know!" I whispered back through gritted teeth.
"She isn't my concubine, nor is she merely my mistress," he informed me, reading my jagged, nasty thoughts.
I glared at him accusingly "Really? Then what is she Ranger? You seem pretty dead sure of what she isn't. Tell me exactly what is she to you?"
"I don't owe you an explanation. You chose Morelli. I made peace with it."
"Did you? This isn't a rebound relationship?"
"No." He offered nothing more in his usual, aggravatingly cloak and dagger method.
"Can you define how she fits into your life? I knew where my place always was— practically nowhere." Hands on my hips, I asked the million-dollar question.
"Where is hers?"
He gave me a tired look. "You really want to know how I feel?"
"Yeah, I want to know."
"Why? Are you jealous?" he asked sardonically, raising a brow.
"No. But I am mighty curious."
"Shocking—you?" he teased lightly.
"I want you to be happy. I feel badly for hurting you. Are you happy? Does she do that for you?"
His eyes softened. I knew already without him uttering a single word.
"Yes, she makes me very happy. She always did. I was in love with her then, but never wanted to admit it."
"So why are you now?"
It hurt a little. I mean I loved Joe with every ounce of my heart, but all those times I'd never been good enough to be more than just a sex toy for Ranger—always being relegated to a mere fucking buddy and nothing more. Now suddenly, out of the blue, he was deeply in love. It'd been Meg long before I came along.
All that time I'd wasted, fooling myself into thinking he could ever be the man for me.
It stung.
I'd nearly lost Joe over my freaking stupidity.
Ranger's lack of honesty toward me—and to himself—could've ruined my life.
"You love her."
"I do."
"In the put-a-ring-on-her-finger kind of way?" My voice hitched a bit.
"I never meant to hurt you either, but I see that I did. And I know it cost you and Morelli a lot of lost time."
"It did. More than you know. I hurt him. He forgave me, but what if he hadn't Ranger? Where would I be now?"
"Why does it matter?
"It matters, because I was just a big game to you. You lost the competition. In the end, was that what it was really about? You were always trying to steal me from Joe. You never wanted anything more than sex from me. You never really loved me did you, because you never stopped loving Meg."
"I didn't lie—about anything. It wasn't that I didn't love you. I did, but you were his long before I ever came into the picture. Maybe it would've been different if I'd met you first."
"No, it wouldn't have. You could never give me what I needed. You met her first too. You and I were never destined to be anything more than—"
"Than what?" he asked, his mouth turned down grimly.
"I'm not even sure anymore."
"It's all irrelevant now."
"How so?" I felt angry, sad and confused. What would Ranger and I have when this was over?
I'd move back to whatever life I had left if Joe didn't come home. Ranger would move on with his life full of Meg. If I was blessed and Joe came back to me, we'd work together. Ranger might still cross our path in the line of duty; otherwise, I doubted we'd see much of each other.
"You're happy with Morelli, and I'm finding happiness, largely due to you," he confessed quietly.
"Me? What did I do?"
"You made me see I deserved more in my life than any empty sense of noble bullshit. She wants a family. She is one hundred percent committed to me. There's no division in her feelings. With you Stephanie—I knew it would always be Morelli."
Ranger's eyes revealed long-felt annoyance, even as his lips turned up slightly at the corners. "You and he fit. It's that simple and nauseatingly true."
"We do," I agreed, remembering the feel of Joe's body fitting perfectly against mine again as we'd danced the evening before. Ranger was absolutely right.
"So we're good?"
"We are always going to be friends. I'll never stop being there for you."
"And I'll always be grateful forever to you for helping Morelli and me."
Maybe there would be a way for us to remain friends.
The idea brought me relief, because I did love Ranger. He'd been such a huge part of my life for years, and I couldn't imagine us losing the best part of our friendship. Joe understood it in some weird way. As a result, maybe the three of us would be able to form a strange but necessary camaraderie that could work.
"And Meg?"
"I'll try. I know she got hurt trying to protect me."
Make that the four of us. God! The idea of including Meg in my life made our continued association suddenly seem nearly impossible.
"She's the reason you and Joe had that time together at the safe house. It was all Meg."
"Joe thought so."
"He was right. She wanted to make it up to you both. And it was her idea to take on that damned stalker by impersonating you. She wanted to smoke him out, sparing you and Morelli any more worry. If he hadn't snuck in that night, our plan would've worked, and you'd be at home right now. She is in your corner Stephanie, if you'd just give her a chance."
"I said I'd try."
"Thank you."
I nodded.
He shook his head, squeezing my hand. "We'll get this right yet."
"Morning."
The object of our words stood in the doorway looking unbelievably gorgeous. It wasn't hard to see why Ranger had fallen so hard. If she was only as beautiful on the inside, I might understand the love he felt for her.
"Morning Meg," I offered reluctantly, letting go of a little of my malice toward her.
"Sorry, I guess I was more tired than I realized. I hope you two didn't wait for me?" she questioned, noticing we hadn't touched any food yet.
"No. We were just chatting a bit."
Ranger got up to pull out the chair to the right of his for her. His hands lingered on her shoulders for a moment, causing her to smile up at him sweetly. I could see the love for him in her eyes. She wasn't a threat to me. I wasn't a threat to her. Maybe someday ages from now, there was a slight chance we'd find some way to get along.
There was an even better chance we never would.
"So how did you sleep, Stephanie?" she asked, obviously loving her role of hostess.
"Not well."
"Oh. Uh—do you need more blankets or pillows or—?"
"No. The apartment is fine."
She looked at Ranger. "Any word on how it's going for Joe?"
"No. And I don't expect to hear much from here on out, until I visit Tank again."
"I hope they're all home soon." She said it sincerely, gazing in my direction sympathetically.
"Yes. Soon," I echoed. What the hell else was there to say?
Joe's POV
It was my third day at the New Jersey State Penitentiary, and I wasn't sure I'd ever get used to the smell of the place. Oh I'd been treated to a brief whiff of it once before when I'd attended the academy. They'd wanted us to see the hideous bunker where we'd be sending the criminals we arrested to repent for their mistakes. We'd all shared disgusted looks, trying not to gag. Later that day, we'd christened it Trenton Purgatory or TP for short.
The hope was that we rookies would be very careful to ensure we had proper evidence before apprehending anyone and sending them to a punishment that could only be described as living in the bowels of sensory deprivation hell.
Everything was mortar grey—the walls, the floor and especially the mood. All the sights and sounds became monotone and colorless in that cut off from civilization environment. Hundreds of men talking sounded like a loud buzzing drone unless someone became agitated. Then it felt as though you'd entered an insane asylum, and nearly everyone there belonged in straight-jackets and white padded cells.
Even the convicts were all dressed in morbid, dead grey. The truest description was akin to living inside a tombstone—a place where the handwriting wasn't 'may he rest in peace' but instead 'no rest for the wicked'.
It felt as though we were forever encapsulated within solid cement, and every chance of truly living had vanished, so you merely settled hopelessly into the graveyard that had suddenly become your life. The worms of insanity infiltrated your brain once you gave up every vestige of freedom or choice you'd ever had from birth as a God-given right.
If that wasn't bad enough, the combination of stagnating odors penetrating the air was enough to take away your appetite forever and then some. It was the pooled, pungent stench of over-loaded male testosterone, excessively fowl BO, urine drying on the rims of the cell toilets, body excrements being deposited in those toilets hourly, rancid underwear and things I didn't even want to know or think about filling the grossly, choking thick air.
What I wouldn't have given to be outside walking in the park with Stephanie, holding hands with her and watching Bob jump after butterflies, something he'd always loved doing. Steph and I would laugh at his antics and treat ourselves to an ice cream cone or a hotdog like so many times. We'd just breathe in the air and enjoy spring.
The only time I allowed thoughts of her was at our nine o'clock, pre-determined, mind messaging rendezvous, and then again after hours of twisting and turning on the uncomfortably hard, lumpy mattress. Once I'd finally fall asleep, I'd enter into a world of hodge-podge, nonsensical dreams. That was a sore disappointment, because all I wanted was to dream of my future with Stephanie.
Due to that deficiency, I'd treat myself to a few moments again when I awakened each morning. Thinking of her was the only respite I had from the dour, dark reality of my life.
During the day, I dealt with the most sordid assortment of nefarious, notorious and lowlife criminal beings ever imaginable. Caged and trapped unwillingly and discontentedly in one place, the slightest disturbance set them off into murdering, raging lunatics. Most pairs of eyes that stared into mine were soulless, lost, black holes that no longer reflected anything but depression, anger and sad resignation.
I'd yet to run into Blutto, having heard through the prison rumor mill he'd been in the infirmary for a terrible bout with gout. I was anxious to get the show on the road and was pretty damned sure he was a big key in the mystery of what had been transpiring within those prison walls.
We'd been herded out to the yard for our ten minutes of air when as luck would have it; the day was cloudy and overcast. Jeez, apparently even the sun wanted us to suffer.
Hector stayed behind, intending to get a good look through Blutto's cell. Due to his enormous size, he actually was the only single-cell occupant. He simply wasn't able to sleep on the bunk beds without tipping them over. Instead, a double-sized, single cot had been placed in his space. We figured there weren't many places he could hide anything, but it was worth a look. Maybe we'd get lucky.
I'd only had one chance to talk to the Merry Men when we'd been assigned to clean the wardens' offices together.
Cal had told me he was sorry he'd had to hit me so hard, saying his 'Cage Your Rage' (CYR for short) classes had really been helping him to express his anger in more constructive ways. The Merry Men had all been occupying some of their time taking full advantage of the myriad of self-improvement programs offered to prisoners to boost their self-esteem and encourage education.
Tank had chosen a class to improve his interpersonal socializing skills, called 'Thinking for Change?'—fondly called T4C by the inmates.
And last but not least, Hector, who'd struggled for a while with trying to master English, was happily enrolled in English 101, although I hadn't noticed from his still very broken attempt at the language where he'd garnered a lot as of yet.
I tried not to take offense when Cal had suggested I attend the CYR classes. Apparently, he'd remembered me waving my arms and getting upset a few times when Stephanie's cars had blown up or caught fire. I'd explained to him that while I appreciated his offer, I was Italian. It was a part of my heritage to wave my arms. However, I went on to tell him I'd long since come to terms with Stephanie's choice of employment. I'd not yelled at her in a very long time, nor did I intend to ever again.
He gave me a huge hug, which almost made me want to clock him in the nose. Maybe I should rethink those CYR classes?
Hector, while I appreciated his protectiveness, was making me slightly uncomfortable at times. I kept catching him half-smiling at me a little too appreciatively. Knowing he was gay was a bit unsettling. He knew Stephanie and I were a couple, right? Maybe I was just imagining his interest.
Shit!
Obviously, I'd already been behind bars too long. I was starting to hallucinate!
I'd been eyeing everyone in the prison yard. It seemed as though the gray skies had all of us in a subdued mood. I was glad because my mind was obviously NOT focusing on the game plan at hand.
Jesus, I missed Stephanie!
Enough!
I had to stop allowing her into my mind. But she was there in every cell of my body—my one true addiction. I could go without watching sports, drinking beer, or even walking in fresh air. I could survive all that.
But I'd never survive a life without her.
We were herded back inside, and as I made my way down the corridor, I felt a hand jerking me into a hallway. It was Hector.
"I have tings to show you."
Oh God—It wasn't my imagination. I'd have to let him down gently.
"Look Hector, I know you're a really nice guy and all, but I only play with one wo-"
"Lookie what Blutto has!"
He showed me pictures on a digital camera. What I saw made my mouth fall open in horrified shock.
HOLY SHIT!
Ranger's POV
I'd tried everything I could to make Stephanie as comfortable as possible. But a sad, faraway look was evident in her eyes, and I knew she wasn't herself. She barely ate anything, and other than a half-hearted smile now and then, she'd become too damned quiet. I almost wanted to say something to piss her off, just to get some life back into her.
But I was a man.
She needed a woman to talk to. Other than Ella, there was only Meg, and the last woman in the world Stephanie would want to speak to was her. But there wasn't any choice. If Tank was around, he might try to cheer her up by entertaining her with pictures and stories of his crazy cats. The other guys did their best, but they exchanged looks with me when her back was turned. They were every bit as concerned as I was.
"Boss, you got to do something. She looks like she's going to waste away," Lester nagged.
I had no idea of how to fix this whole mess, short of pulling the plug on the entire operation, and I was sorely tempted. The idea of Meg being put in one more minute of danger was totally repulsive to me.
Sighing in frustration, I acknowledged, "I know Lester, okay?"
"Beautiful is burying herself in the files. She hardly comes out to visit, and she isn't even smiling anymore. I was sure she'd been crying when I picked up Bob to take him out yesterday."
"I know, okay? I know," I shot back agitatedly. "I'll ask Meg to go talk to her. Maybe she can reach her from a woman's point of view."
When I approached her about it later, she protested.
"No. Carlos, that is one of the worst ideas you've ever had!"
"Then tell me what in the hell to do?"
"Does anyone around her have any idea of what is going on?"
"Eddie. No one else."
"Call him then."
"I think she needs a woman to confide in."
"Well, believe me—I am the last woman she'd open up to—ever!" Meg argued, shaking her head as though she thought I was the most clueless idiot on earth.
"We can't tell Lula or Connie or even that old high school friend of hers—Mary Lou. They like to gossip too much. And her mother would drive her crazy with questions and is too high on the Burg buzzing zone. Besides, I had Steph call them all to say she was out of town visiting a college friend."
I looked at her appealingly. "There's no one we can trust enough for her to confide in. You're the only one who really understands what she's going through and who knows everything."
"Okay, fine! I'll see what I can do. But if I come back covered in tar and feathers, you'll clean me up, won't you?" she joked feebly.
"I'll do better than that," I promised, kissing her intensely by way of thanks.
Meg's POV
Knocking on the door to Stephanie's apartment, I squared my shoulders and took a deep self-consoling breath. So she hated me. It wasn't the worst thing.
Then why the hell did the idea of it bother me so much?
She opened the door, and I took in her wan, drawn face. It was almost as if she were grieving.
She hadn't given up had she?
"Hi Stephanie, I just—uh—can I come in?"
She looked me over warily. "Why? What do you want?"
"Well, to be honest. I'm going a little stir crazy. I mean there's nothing to do, and the testosterone in this place gets a little stifling."
"And you thought you'd get an estrogen fix by coming to see me?"
She wasn't exactly welcoming me with open arms.
I offered a sincere smile. "Please? I thought you might be feeling a little closed in too."
"Okay," she agreed finally, stepping back to allow my entrance.
Rex was running like mad on his wheel, and Bob rose half-heartedly to greet me. Depression was obviously contagious.
"How is the research going?"
"Well—uh—" She swiped an errant curl off her forehead. There was a smudge of ink on her face. "It's a lot of tedious cross-checking, and so far nothing has jumped out at me."
Files were spread all over the tables. She had an almost full pot of coffee on the burner. From the pungent smell, it'd been sitting there for hours. She'd skipped lunch with us and had obviously gone to the break room. I saw a barely bitten into sandwich sitting by the computer.
"I have nothing to do until I go back to the house on Slater. Can I help you at all?"
"Uh—I—think I have it under control. I am going alphabetically first. If I don't find anything that way, I'll separate it by things in common neighborhoods, relationships to other prisoners in Trenton State and at other prisons across the state. It's just going to take a lot more time than I'd realized."
She signed deeply. Sadness was evident in her posture and her eyes.
"Stephanie, I know I'm not a friend—exactly. But I'd like you to know I want to do everything in my power to get you and Joe through this."
Her eyes filled a little at the mention of his name.
"I've been having the most horrible dreams about him."
"You have?"
Her back stiffened instantly, and I could see her quickly regretting her slip of confidence.
"I am no longer a threat to you. I want nothing more than for you and Joe to be happy together, Stephanie. No two people belong together more. He loves you like crazy."
Her eyes softened involuntarily at my words. "I love him like crazy too."
"I know, and those dreams must be awful."
"They are." She seemed relieved to finally get her feelings out—even to me. "He's alone and bleeding. There are always big iron bars between us. I can't touch or help him."
"Nightmares are the worst," I commiserated.
"Are you having any over that asshole who attacked you in my apartment?"
Something in common. Now we were getting somewhere.
"Yes a few. He was like evil incarnate. Did you have them after the parking lot assault?"
She nodded silently. "I'm sorry you had to go through it too."
"It's my job. And I'd like to say I'm used to it. But you never really get used to maniacal violence."
"Tell me about it." She bit her lip. "Would you like some coffee or a soda?"
"Yes, a soda would be nice."
She fixed us both one, and we sat down in the living room area.
"His eyes stayed with me for the longest time," Stephanie reflected softly. "It felt like I'd seen them before when I gazed into them. They were dark grey and so damned haunting."
"He must've worn contacts. The guy who attacked me in your apartment had brown eyes."
"Oh man! Who the hell is he?" Her voice rose in total frustration. "I feel like I should know something more about him, but I just can't remember."
"He was very upset I wasn't you."
"Which means, he's only added you to his agenda, because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. He really wants me."
"It's more like I was in the right place, and he came at the wrong time. Damn! I really wanted to get that bastard, so you'd have less to worry about while Joe was gone."
Stephanie looked sad for a moment before taking on a stubborn glow. "I want to hate you, Meg. I really do. You caused me a lot of anxiety over Joe, and I didn't want to ever forgive you for it."
"I understand."
"Good. I still feel that way. But I promised Joe and Ranger I'd try. So this is me trying."
"I appreciate it."
"Okay well you can go tell Ranger I'm fine. I need to get back to work. I have to find a way to bring Joe home sooner."
"I meant it when I offered to help you."
"I don't need anything now. If I do, I'll let you know."
"Fair enough. Will you be joining us upstairs for dinner? He's worried about you."
"Okay, tell him, I'll be there."
"Good. See you then." As I started to turn the knob on the door, I heard her footsteps approaching me. I turned expectantly.
"Be good to him," Stephanie warned in an easy tone. "He's a good man. And he loves you."
"I will. You have no reason to worry. I love him too."
Joe's POV
I felt like someone had sucker punched me in the gut.
Running my hands through my hair, I forced myself to take a second look at the unthinkable. Blutto's salacious, disgusting stash was an assortment of pictures I'd never expected to come across.
Hector had hit the jackpot. But it wasn't anything to be happy about. He'd inspected Blutto's new bed. The metal posts at the head and foot were hollow but capped by removable lids. The pictures Hector snapped were of photos Blutto had kept hidden for his sick and twisted personal enjoyment no doubt.
Of Stephanie.
He'd obviously chosen her as his latest crazy obsession. I could see by the front page headline of a newspaper, lying on the kitchen table in one of the photos that it may have begun shortly after he'd been captured. Which meant he'd had an accomplice doing his dirty work; hiding the cameras in her apartment. From the assortment of pictures, it was clearly over quite a long span of time. I deduced this by the fact some were of Stephanie, in her newly redecorated home. At some point the hidden cameras had to have been removed or wouldn't they have been detected by Ranger's men when security was installed?
Shit—shit—shit!
Stephanie was on a prisoner's mind all right, and not just any prisoner. He was the most diabolically, deranged man residing in the walls of this hellhole, and he was salivating over my beautiful Stephanie! He had the connections to hurt her from thousands of miles away.
But what turned my acid filled stomach inside out was a picture of her within the circle of Slayers I'd never seen before. Her eyes had been filled with dread and fear, her face bruised and bleeding, and her clothing mangled and torn.
How in the hell had he gotten that? Was he in cahoots with a gang? I should've sent Stephanie far away from Trenton. I should never have left her alone.
In my head, I knew she wasn't alone, but my heart lurched in pain regardless. My arms ached to hold her in my protective loving embrace. Nothing could ever hurt her. I'd die if anything did. It wouldn't matter if I was in that prison cell or free to roam the world—I'd be dead inside.
Other pictures were of her in all states of undress. Stephanie would be mortified if she knew this lunatic had been watching her, invading her privacy that way. The cameras must've been hidden everywhere. There were shots of her in the shower with a towel. One of her arms above her head, as she lay casually, across her bed stark naked; another as she made coffee in nothing but her underwear, and still another of her curled up on the couch in a skimpy see-through nightgown. They seemed never ending. The bastard had taken away all shreds of her privacy and dignity.
The rage I felt was like nothing I'd ever experienced.
How dare he help himself to something so sacred? He'd never lay a finger on her. I'd kill him with my bare hands before I'd let that happen.
She was safe for now at Rangeman, and I had to believe he'd protect her. As soon as I could, I'd get word to Manoso to make certain she was never alone, under any circumstances, until this was over.
Looking up at Hector, I sensed he was a livid as I was. His flaring nostrils and his breathing quickened while he watched me absorb the seriousness of the threats against the woman I loved more than life.
My mission was now defined. My worst fears had been realized. Stephanie was in dire jeopardy. My gut told me it wasn't just Blutto who had her in his sights.
Those Slayer gang pictures had brought back the horror of what she'd almost endured that night. What if the stalker was a gang member paid by Blutto to terrorize her? What if she was on someone's hit list? Worse yet—what if it was more than one person without any connection to each other. How in the hell would I be able to ensure her safety then?
"We have to protect her, Hector."
"Si, we will, Jose'. Cost no matter!" he vowed loyally.
I nodded absently, wondering sadly if I'd ever be able to kiss her, touch her—or ever see her again?