Chance Encounters

Chapter 34

oOoOo

Stephanie's POV

It was only last month when my life changed forever, significantly into a different direction, all because of a chance encounter. I've had a few of those sorts of encounters in my life, more than most people did. In that time, I have had quite a few unexpected adventures, and more threats and experiences than all my years in college combined. Well, since my arrival back in, or rather, near Trenton. Contrary to what my mother would say, I was not a magnet for disaster, just that things happened. You know, they say "shit happens", and I can honestly say, I have already had a lot of shit to deal with and I had overcome those and put them behind me. Moving forward. But this last month was probably the most dynamic of all.

In my line of work, I have encountered the sorts of people who carry weapons. Pffft. Par for the course in the daily life of a bond enforcement agent. Okay, I have been threatened, handcuffed, cut with a knife, stabbed and shot at. I have a few scars that prove those experiences but I live to tell the tale. I am a survivor after all.

I did not appreciate being shot in the ass, but, in self-defence, I shot him. So, I emptied my gun of the five remaining bullets and all of them went through his heart, from the inside of my purse. It wasn't planned or deliberate, but when a guy breaks in to your apartment, threatens you, stabs you and then shoots you in the ass, it's a do or die situation. Adrenaline just takes over. He was not one of my FTAs nor was he on my horizon as a threat. It was not the first time that I had been shot at, but the first time I that was actually shot. Shooting someone does not sit well with me, and shooting someone dead was most disconcerting.

Anyway, my point is, being shot in the ass totally sucks. I was limited in what I could do. I couldn't drive for more than a month, well, maybe it was just a week. But I was going absolutely stir crazy and was getting fed up having to be on my tummy all the time. Sitting was not an option at first. Luckily, we are born with two cheeks, so sometimes I could sit on one cheek … nothing half-assed about that! Being shot in the ass is not life threatening, thankfully. I was able to sit after some time, but not comfortably. I had to use a special blow up pillow. I know for sure what the saying "a pain in the ass" means both literally and physically. Using crutches was made difficult with my chest scar, and was recommended to use a walking stick until the stitches were out.

As a result of my encounter with Jimmie Alpha, he caused me two injuries in one incident. He tried to stab me in the heart, but I was able to fend him off with a good karate kick. From my college days, I had learned some cool defensive moves. But that little bastard still stabbed me, on the right side, fortunately not a deep penetrating stab, more a deep-ish slice because of that kick. And, fortunately for me, there was no major damage, especially not to bones, arteries or vital organs. Yikes. Too many possibilities. The shot in the ass was also shallow because he was still off-balance after I kicked him again, so the trajectory was low, and once again I was fortunate that it missed all the vital organs in that region and avoided any hip or spinal damage. So, I am a lucky girl, really lucky. Twice. I know.

At the time, I had no recollection of being scared, I was more feeling angry and affronted at his audacity. And, then with all the bullshit diatribe that spilled from his mouth about his precious golden goose, aka Ramirez, I was somewhat bewildered. That freak attacked me and carved me with his knife and Alpha was blaming me. I was pissed off, so, being scared wasn't even on my radar. But when he came at me with his knife I was up and ready to confront and defend. Shifty little bugger still got, me but that's pointless now that he's dead, and I'm still alive.

The neighbours must have called the police, hearing the gun shots, because I don't remember that, and Hector … maybe I did call Hector. He was by my side in no time placing a towel on my chest wound like a compress. And a cushion on my ass which he didn't see at first until he tried to sit me up. I think he went pale for a bit, but he quickly fetched another towel for that.

The police and the paramedics were in for a shock when they saw Alpha dead and me bleeding profusely from the chest and my ass. The knife had fallen out as I lunged for my purse with my gun. The break and enter was obvious and his weapons made it conclusive that I had shot him in self-defence, remarkably as it was. With all the blood and bad memories of that scary episode, I replaced that couch pretty quickly. No death cooties in my house. Nope. And a new rug on the floor. Yes. I very quickly disposed of the bad blood cooties, into the dumpster, with the help of some friends. And a new set of towels and nice new cushions, too.

Hector stayed with me all the way in the ambulance. He kept talking to me, mostly in Spanish, holding my hand, kissing my hand and stroking my face. Even though I couldn't understand the words, I felt reassured and absorbed the strength given by his support and emotions, strong emotions. Having that nice green pain pen to suck on helped too, but his eyes were so intense and loving as he spoke softly. I was only in hospital for a couple of days, after extensive x-rays and tests and stitches of course.

In my recovery, he kept me grounded, as in centred, driving me to any follow up appointments and physiotherapy sessions. Being limited was so constraining and he was aware of me feeling the walls closing in and feeling slightly on the edge of sanity. He talked me through the shooting and the attack. He was amazed at my shooting accuracy from the inside of my purse. He smiled and kept shaking his head. He kept repeating, "No training, si?" to which I nodded and shook my head. "Five times, all through his heart!" "Es extraordinario!" And then he'd grin and ruffle my hair.

To take my mind off things, he took me for a drive to a park, for a short walk near a beautiful tree-lined lake, but that required a lot of effort, especially the first few times. The day he drove me to the beach at Point Pleasant was a happy day. We sat in the car, eating ice creams and watching the waves crash on the shore. I had the window open and feeling the salty air was invigorating. Some evenings we watched a game or a movie, sharing a pizza or some pasta. Sometimes, while I was sleeping, the fridge fairy had been. There was always some recovery Ben and Jerry's ice cream in the freezer, sweet things to munch on as well as salad and fruit. I would wake up to the smell of fresh coffee, knowing he'd been in on his way to work.

Because of my wounds, I had to take time off work, of course, and that unsympathetic fuckwit cousin of mine, Vinnie, could only bleat and whine pathetically on the phone about losing money. At least Connie did send me flowers. He complained that he had to do the skip chasing himself. Not my problem. He was pissed at me because Alpha wasn't even a skip. Remind me to ask … why am I working for him? I got the distinct impression that Hector may have paid him a visit, especially when I had three receipts from that eventful day before he broke into my apartment. He took them in for Connie to write out my cheques, and that was when Vinnie came out apparently and started whining again. He had never met Hector before. From Connie's account, he just about pissed himself when Hector demanded, "Your office. Now." Vinnie went very pale. Hector was only inside a short time, and she heard a scream, before Hector calmly emerged and left with the cheques and a wink. Connie was very impressed with my guardian angel, mi Hermano. Sigh.

My friends from the TPD were great too. As a result of my sharp shooting, they didn't tease me about being shot in the ass. They were so impressed. "Legendary," was what Eddie said. They had a whole new respect for me. Between Eddie, Carl and Hector, they removed the offending furniture for me.

It was because of my lack of training until that episode, and partly as a distraction, that Hector decided to take me to the gun range for regular practice. Once I was fit enough, he started showing me self-defence moves and strategies that I could best use and how to use knives as an alternative weapon. We started slowly, as much as the physiotherapist permitted, and he recommended safe actions and manouvres that Hector could incorporate in my sessions.

He was my saviour in my recovery, keeping me company when he could and cooking for me or bringing me meals, around his work schedule. His friend cooked an especially nice meal. It was divine. He blushed, yes, Hector blushed, when I observed the new fragrance, a very nice manly fragrance on him. I could still smell his cologne but this one was new. Okay. I had noticed a whiff of it before on more than a few occasions, but today it was stronger and fresher. And, he looked really mellow! Oh, mi hermano!

I smiled mischievously at him, and he stopped serving our lunch.

"What?"

"Somebody got lucky!" and I hugged him. Oh yes, a lovely masculine fragrance.

Between blushing and dropping the spoon, he gave me a look of disbelief. I grinned smugly.

"I am so happy for you, mi hermano. I hope he deserves you," I said softly.

While we ate the delicious spicy chicken and yellow rice, we were both quiet. Well, quiet for me, as I hummed and moaned appreciatively. I wasn't going to question him or try to pry any information from him. Hector is a very private man. I respected him too much.

"Mmm. This is so divine. I love the spiciness, so delicious. He's a great cook."

Hector smiled and nodded in agreement as he collected our plates when we both finished. He returned with a special dessert. In tall narrow glasses, it was cold but looked like a coffee latte, with the frothy white topping and a couple of chocolate covered espresso beans. I admired it before taking the long parfait spoon and digging in.

"Omigod! That is totally sinful! Mmm …" I moaned with each mouthful. Perfect after that tasty spicy chicken and rice. It was light and frothy and the right amount of sweetness. Coffee and dessert in one.

"It's a Cuban latte dessert. He says it's called Café Con Leche Custard. He made it especially for you. I told him how much you love your dessert and he wanted to surprise you."

"How does he know? You told him about me?"

"Si. His name is Manuel. He is very strong, and handsome," he smiled coyly. "and he is very special to me, Chica."

I hugged him and beamed at him. Then I put the dessert dishes in the sink. Smiling, I rinsed the plates and placed them in the dishwasher. I carefully handwashed those tall dessert glasses, just in case.

"Maybe I should marry him. A man who can cook and make such a divine dessert is a keeper," I teased.

With a growl he grabbed me and tickled me until I called "Uncle!".

"He's mine, Chiquita. All mine. And I do not plan on sharing him. We are exclusive."

The following week, when my physio therapist gave the nod, I resumed work as a BEA. Hector came with me, and under the ruse of perusing the FTA files, he watched Vinnie very closely. Before Vinnie could start on a rant that was brewing, Hector lifted his head up and gave him a piercing, intimidating look. Vinnie grimaced and backed down quickly, swallowing his words before he could utter any profanities. "Er, um … glad you're back, Plum." He spun around very quickly and ducked into his office locking the door.

Connie grinned broadly. She loved seeing Vinnie squirm. After Connie and I chatted briefly, she admitted she was so pleased to have me back. Vinnie had been a massive pain in the ass. Hector and I left together with my skips du jour. He was my partner for the first week back, but we only worked part days, not always mornings since our skips operated in different time zones. He didn't want me to overdo it. We successfully nabbed our skips and it did feel good to be back.

The following week, after another successful day of captures, a shiny black SUV was in my parking lot. I was very curious, especially when Hector suddenly sat up a bit taller and smiled. He stepped out of our vehicle and opened the door for me. At the same time a very handsome, tall and muscular Latino man emerged from his vehicle, carrying a shopping bag full of groceries, and a huge smile.

Omigod. They were so cute together as I watched the silent conversation between them. Their smiles said it all as they bumped shoulders but kept physical contact to a minimum. Hector introduced us. He was charming and kissed my hand.

Manuel cooked a luscious meal for us. The two of them were starting work with a security company which was setting up in Trenton. Hector and Manuel both had expertise in IT and were tasked with setting up the necessary electronics, networking systems, and the preliminary security for the new building.

We often shared a meal together, sometimes at my apartment and sometimes at a diner. We'd order a couple of pizzas or subs and shoot the breeze. It was on one of these occasions after we finished eating, when Manuel was admiring some of Hector's ink.

"You know, Chica, have you considered making your scars into a work of art? Tattoos can be meaningful," he said quietly, as he gently stroked Hector's teardrop tattoos, "or just beautiful and decorative, and delicate."

Hector was sitting back enjoying his tender touches.

"Si. That is a good idea. You don't have to hide your scars, but decorate them and wear them with pride. You are a survivor, Chiquita."

Hector already had his laptop on the coffee table and we Googled ideas. Once I saw the delicate forms for women, I was intrigued. I made a short list of options. I had never been into tattoos before, but I kind of liked the idea. Ha! My mother would totally freak out! Well, she's not going to see them anyway. Who cares what she thinks! Not me.

"Besides, if you're the Vixen, you have an image to uphold. A couple of discreet and subtle tats would enhance your persona," Manuel added encouragingly. "Besides, I think tattoos are very sexy," he almost purred as he said this aloud, looking intently at Hector.

The look of reverence on his face was so sweet. They were so good together. The more I saw of Manuel, the more I liked the man. He was good for mi hermano.

"I really like the small blue butterflies, with the tiny black patterns. Not too big. I can have a cluster of them here, on my chest scar. Flying and fluttering, maybe."

"Oh yes. Beautiful blue like your eyes. That is so symbolic. Look. It says the blue butterfly is a symbol of Spirit surviving through a transformation and change. That sounds so perfectly you, Steph. From what Hector tells me, you have survived and transformed into a strong spirited woman. And you always wanted to fly. It also says they are a symbol of Joy and Happiness. That is ideal for you." Manuel was excited as he read the information.

"Okay. But, will you go with me, please?"

"Deal. I know somebody trustworthy. You can get all three done. Jesse might even give you a discount."

"But you also need a vixen somewhere. Oh, yes. Something sexy, yet delicate. We will choose one. Do you trust us?"

With that, Manuel and Hector eagerly searched the pages of designs and finally found something they both agreed on.

I agreed, sort of nervous and excited at the same time. Maybe the butterflies should be on my stomach. I rolled my eyes. Hm. Just above my bra line. That said, the next morning I endured the pin pricks and had my arm done with the black rose buds with the thorns and the dewy bloody tears. Jesse had her own stylised designs and had done a quick freehand drawing which I instantly loved. It was a bit more unique. For the blue butterflies, which Manuel had chosen, she suggested how she could incorporate the word SPIRIT into their flight patterns. I really liked her ideas and we all agreed with a smile.

Manuel promised to make me a dessert of my choice for tonight. While Jesse worked her magic, the two of them distracted me with dessert ideas. Hector had him guessing what my favourite dessert might be. They made me laugh, but I had to keep still. As a diversion they told me stories of some of their captures with skips.

Jesse was very efficient. I really liked the stylised writing font she had chosen for SPIRIT. It was neatly blended in amongst the butterflies as they flew away, getting smaller, with little swirls of their flight movements. She was very artistic. Though Jesse was curious and concerned about my scars, she knew enough to recognise knife wounds from bullet wounds, but didn't outright ask.

Funnily enough, she did glare at my two companions, firmly stating, "I hope you two are protecting her."

When Hector mentioned a teardrop tattoo for me, she gave it some thought and her face lit up.

"I have the perfect solution for you. Not on your face, but on your finger, near the knuckle. You know, when you make the crying motion with your index finger bent, I can put a beautiful delicate tear drop there."

I instantly liked that idea and it was done in no time. It looked so real. Manuel showed a photo of the vixen tattoo image they liked but wanted a bit more cuteness and sexiness about it. She drew a few ideas and they agreed, especially with the long-lashed blue eyes and the tail wrapped around coyly. It wasn't too big but it was really nice, cute and sexy for sure. I rolled over after removing my shorts. I had worn a lacy pair of boy shorts. She was able to work with that.

"I'm adding something extra, Steph," she said from behind me with a smile.

"Oh, yeah! That is so perfect."

Manuel admired her work and held the additional design on her sketch up for me to see. Oh yes. VIXEN was written in the coiled bushy tail of the little vixen.

Jesse covered my new art work, giving me instructions for care and hygiene, looking pointedly at Hector, since he knew the drill. I paid and we left. Hector took me home and gave me some pain killers.

"Tiramisu!"

Manuel finally guessed. He quickly searched for a recipe on his cell phone and checked the ingredients he would need, and went shopping. That night I moaned my way through the most decadent tiramisu ever. Hector laughed at Manuel's stricken expression. He looked rather uncomfortable as he reacted to my moans of delight and ecstasy. Oops. Poor Manuel. I giggled.

"This is the most sinfully decadent tiramisu, ever!"

I saw a lot of Hector and Manuel together and enjoyed their company. But then Manuel had to go to Miami for a few weeks. Hector kept in touch, of course.

And so, it was only last month when my life changed forever, significantly into a different direction, all because of a chance encounter.

oOoOo

TBC

A few relevant and necessary flashbacks for our Stephanie.

The backstory will become more apparent in the next chapter with another Stephanie POV in Chapter 35.

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