Chance Encounters
Chapter 37
oOoOo
Manuel's POV
Working as a doorman at the nightclub gave me an interesting overview of the clientele. We had a lot of regulars, intermittent visitors and then there were the nervous first timers, singles, couples and sometimes small groups. The entrance was discreet and subtly lit, but clear enough to check out the comings and goings. We were particularly concerned with the street view and any potential troublemakers. Cowards mostly, who moved in groups, AKA hunting packs trying to single out the loners. Yeah, real brave. There were always two of us on the door and we often had three of four on the street, often in cars, watching the "traffic". We rotated our positions and we always had someone parked in the laneway.
Tonight, we saw them. The 'hunters' were easy to pick, and, with our comms units, we were quickly galvanised for action. We had a strategy. Mostly, they were young punk wannabes, often juiced up and full of bravado shit. Our team moved out from their vehicles, and, because it was a busy night, we had four on the outside. Of course, we also had security on the inside as well.
I noticed him crossing the street, walking alone, confident and relaxed. He was one of our regulars. From behind the cars parked on the street they suddenly surrounded him, taunting and trying to be intimidating. I smiled to myself. He stood still, unafraid, sizing up the odds of his adversaries. One to five. We were on standby. They were tanked up and a couple were swaying. One suddenly pulled out a baseball bat and was making a lot of noise. The usual derogatory diatribe spouted from his ugly maw, obviously the leader of this band of miscreants. He was trying to make an impression on his followers but was annoyed at not getting the anticipated fearful response. Racial slurs added to his provocative tactics but still no response. We knew what was coming.
"I think he's going to sort this lot out by himself. Standby."
I smiled. I liked watching him in action. They picked the wrong guy, that's for sure. It's not the first time.
Sure enough, as they closed in on him he did two things: throwing his knives at the two who were most tanked up, and taking out the baseball bat wielding punk with a few swift slick karate moves. He was a powerful street fighter, very savvy and strong. Two of the punks were on the ground screaming in agony bleeding from his swiftly flung ninja blades. The other two stood rooted to the spot, eyes wide in shock, probably waiting for instructions. That distinctive look of fight or flight crossed their visages. We recognised the hesitation and knew they were done for. Ineptly, they made a double attack from his right and left and he easily dropped them with strategic high kicks, landing nimbly on his feet like a big cat. He pointed the baseball bat at the leader, who was still on the ground, nursing a sore jaw, a dislocated shoulder and a damaged knee. His stance was strong, confident and open as he gave the idiot the universal "go on, come and get me" signal, with his empty hand. When the punk hesitated, he threw the bat hard against the ground so it cracked and splintered right in front of his wannabe attacker's face, deftly breaking the bat in two. Punk's face was full of fear. During the entire episode he never said a word. It was all over in less than five minutes.
As we watched, he had them all trussed up with zip ties, putting on rubber gloves before removing his ninja blades from the injured. Using a special disinfectant cloth, he wiped the blades clean and pocketed them, out of sight, standing over them with a look of disgust and revulsion. Each wore the evidence of one of his swift knives on their face or upper arm, a signature move. One of them gasped in shock and awe. "Dark Angel … Angel Oscuro."
With that, he left them sitting in the middle of the street, with their hands behind their backs, continuing on his way as if nothing had happened, tossing the rubber gloves in a trashcan. Since none of them was seriously injured, and least of all our visitor, my paramedic skills were not required. They muttered amongst themselves, whining miserably and cursing the idiot leader before getting up clumsily and disappearing down the street, limping from their various wounds. Five to one. Pretty good odds tonight, but they just picked the wrong man. Stupid fuckers.
As he walked by me, he winked and gave me an almost smile. I gave him a knuckle bump and grinned.
"Smooth, hermano. Real smooth."
He shrugged his shoulder modestly.
"First drink is on me."
He nodded as I sent the message inside. We look after our patrons, but I had an ulterior motive. He was special. I liked the way he moved, the look; his whole persona emanated dangerous, fierce, strong, powerful, lethal. I also found him very sexy and desirable, especially those intense eyes and that modest almost smile.
It wasn't the first time I had seen him. Sometimes I saw him when I was on perimeter duty, AKA street watch. The first time I saw him up close and personal, was here as a doorman, working frontline security, checking his ID as he came in. He raised a questioning single eyebrow at me and I did the same. Procedure, was my silent explanation. His eyes met mine, sincere yet intense. When I stamped his wrist, I felt a slight electric shock at our contact. By his expression, so did he. His hand lingered for a moment until he slowly removed it before he entered the club.
He always came alone, not always from the same direction and not always on the same night. Under the black light, it only showed this club's logo. Some guys cruise from bar to bar, or club to club, but not him. Now that I think about it, I never saw him leave with anyone. Sometimes he appeared, just like smoke. He had an air of mystery about him, or was it mystique? Yes, mystique. I found myself looking expectantly for him. We recognised him as the Dark Angel which I also found appealing, alluring even. He was a protector and a warrior. A man after my own heart. I can hope.
Coincidences happen, I'm sure. But this was getting kind of surreal. Working out in my local gym, I noticed a tattooed torso, tight and toned, lean yet muscular. With his back to me, he had just removed his tank top after doing pull-ups on the high bar, and I was mesmerised. He leapt up again with athletic ease. I recognised the design. A stylised phoenix, rising from the ashes, from within his low-slung shorts, merging to his strong shoulder blades with tribal markings which carried onto his strong upper arms. It took up most of his back. Black and bold. I was very taken with those Polynesian tribal markings, symmetrically repeated on either side of his spine. I watched as his back muscles rippled while doing intense pull ups. He was incredibly strong and powerful. He caught me watching in the mirror and winked at me with that almost there smile. Shit. It was him. Sprung. But, not to be put out, since I was aware of his predilection, I just raised my eyebrows and grinned. My heart was skipping a few tight beats but that smile settled me down.
As he jumped down, he grabbed a towel to dry his hands and that taut torso with the washboard abs. My eyes followed that towel as it slowly moved down his chest. He grinned, knowing he was teasing me. I liked what I saw, and he damned well knew it. But he was simultaneously taking in my physique. I am no slouch myself. I work hard at it too. Have to in my line of work, and also to protect myself from unwanted homophobic attention. Discretion becomes second nature.
I was taller and more muscular and, remarkably, I had similar tribal tattoos on my upper right arm and across my shoulder to my chest on the right side. His eyes travelled down my torso, my six pack, and up to my chest, with a heated gaze as he was rubbing the towel over his face to disguise his obvious approval. His eyes had widened ever so slightly when he saw my grin. He put his tank top back on and I must have pouted since I heard him chuckle. Okay. That's twice he's caught me now.
I returned my dumbbell weights back and moved over to the bench press. Before I was ready to start, he silently offered to spot for me. His proximity was reassuring but sending my hormones into a spin, that I really needed to concentrate on my breathing. I got back into my zone and it all went well from there. We swapped over and I spotted for him. When he finished, he knuckle bumped me and grabbed his sports bag from a locker, pulled on a zip up hoodie and left, looking over his shoulder with a lusty look before he rounded the corner and out of sight. I felt kind of bereft but also a part of me was buzzing. In that entire time, we had not spoken a word. But Madre Dios! His intense eyes said so much. Shortly after, I went home with a definite smile on my face. Maybe a cold shower too. Happy dreams tonight for me.
We often saw each other at the gym. Another surprise was seeing him at the computer and electronics store I frequent. As a sideline, I had delved into cyber technology and cyber security. It soon became a passion of mine. I had established a small business venture for cyber security and solutions. My major at college was forensic science but I discovered that working with the information technology in doing searches and investigations was more appealing. I envisioned working as a private investigator or a freelance operator, perhaps working for one of the alphabet agencies. We discovered that we had a lot in common here too as we arrived at the cashiers with much the same equipment. He looked curiously at my equipment, and looked at his own pile and grinned. We paid and bagged our purchases, and made our way to the exit door.
And then he spoke for the first time.
"Coffee? I know a safe place, where they make nice Cuban coffee." He smiled, a full smile.
"Sure. I like Cuban."
"Me too," he said teasingly with a sly wink, "makes me hungry, too."
Whoa! That was laced full of innuendo. Ay-yai-yai! He was openly flirting with me. I nodded and smiled back.
The Cuban Café was quite close by and he selected a seat against the back wall, so he was facing the door. Damnit. That's my favourite choice too. He looked at me and laughed at my expression. Did I say that out loud? Oh, fuck it. I sat beside him, just to feel safer, as in keeping my eye on the entrance as well. Okay. Maybe also to be closer to him, but the option of sitting opposite was also quite tempting. When the server arrived, we ordered our Café Cubano and a Cuban pulled pork sandwich. While we waited, he pulled his purchases out and grinned. We discussed our plans and found that our skills were very much the same both on the technical side and our general expertise. I suggested we combine our efforts and offered him a chance to see my operation and set up. He grinned at me again. Dios. I like when he does that. I hadn't intended on the double entendre but he liked it either way. I gave him my business card. He was impressed. CyberWolf. I was a hunter and I liked to track down my prey. He handed me his business card. DarkHunter, Oscuro Cazador. We both laughed at the hunter aspects and knuckle bumped each other. I grabbed my business card and wrote my personal phone number on the back. He did the same to his, with a wicked glint in his eye. Our sandwiches arrived and he cleared the table of his computer paraphernalia. We enjoyed our lunch and ordered some more coffee and churros. Conversation was easy but we kept it to a business level. Public places always require the greatest discretion. I paid for our lunch and, shaking hands, we parted ways with our purchases.
Consequently, our friendship grew stronger. At the gym we discovered another thing we had in common. We both liked martial arts as in boxing, karate, judo and kick boxing. We became regular sparring partners, with partner pad training and warm ups. He was a powerful opponent. Hector was built lean and strong, and he was very agile with a lot of stamina. Being close to him was invigorating and energising. We both embraced the physical and mental benefits of these martial arts disciplines. After our first session, I meditated with some yoga to debrief and centre myself, before entering the sauna. I admitted that I was considering Krav Maga as another skill set to add to my repertoire. He conceded that he too was interested in that discipline.
In the meantime, we would see each other at the night club. I was on inside security watch when I sensed he was there. I couldn't see him but I knew he was watching me. A scuffle broke out between two patrons. A jealous partner did not appreciate a rival's distraction and deliberate flirtations with his beau. I had been watching this trio and called it over the comms to the others inside. This was not an uncommon occurrence, but the jealous guy was becoming more belligerent. Besides, he had already been refused any more alcohol. His partner tried to subdue him but to no avail. When he became hysterical, yes, hysterical and aggressive, we had to intervene. He had been warned before. He took a lunge at me and I dodged his clumsy attack quite easily. I picked him up and escorted him to the door, his meek partner going with him, after he took the rival's phone number. Silly boy.
At closing time, the shift finished and we locked up checking all the security and assisting with the patrons who were leaving. Once they all cleared, I made my way to my SUV in the nearby parking lot, only to be accosted by the jealous guy, from behind. That bastard. He must have been following me, and waiting to ambush me. Before he could make full contact, from the shadows Hector took him on and decked him swiftly. He picked him up by the collar of his shirt and spoke in rapid Spanish to him, which I understood, of course, threatening to be less gentle if he ever tried that again. Watching the idiot leave, I put my hand on Hector's shoulder, "Gracias, Hermano."
"De nada," he replied. "I was watching him when he left, and then his boyfriend dumped him. That's when I saw his intentions. While he followed you, I followed him. And here we are."
He shrugged his shoulder so casually, it was kind of cute.
"Hop in," I suggested, which he did without hesitation. I smiled and squeezed his hand. His grip was firm and encouraging.
"Come to my place, tonight? Er, this morning? Or shall I drop you off at your vehicle?"
He smiled.
"Yes."
I gave him a look. Okay. Estupido. I asked him two questions. I was hoping I didn't read him wrongly.
"Your place." He grinned.
I was so happy and excited. It was the start of our relationship and it flourished from there. We were exclusive. I felt a solid connection to this wonderful, strong man and was deeply attracted to him. The feeling was mutual. Including the gym and the club, our encounters were discreet and professional, often meeting for coffee or dinner, under the guise of a business meeting. In public, this was a good ruse and enabled us to discuss common interests. In private, at my place, or his, our discussions were more intimate and passionate. Minimising any PDAs was a protective strategy we had both learned from experience. Being safe was of the most ultimate importance in protecting and honouring our relationship. We trusted each other implicitly.
We decided to join forces with our cyber security. Hector had devised some extensive search techniques, creating exclusive search engines for a variety of purposes, as in deep, invasive searches. He was a hacker of remarkable skill. He told me about a friend whom he had known since his youth, who was starting up a security business. I was instantly interested.
Hector explained their wild gang activities and how Carlos had saved him, before he was sent south to Miami to live with his abuela. Because of Carlos, he was able to move on after the traumatic death of his younger sister, a needless victim of gang rivalry. She just happened to be collateral damage. This explained the two teardrop tattoos he had on his upper cheek. I felt his loss. Redemption and revenge. Carlos had stopped him from going any further on a reckless murderous rampage which would have ended badly with a shorter existence. Taking out the two rival gang leaders was enough, earning him a formidable reputation. He was untouchable and feared. Carlos helped him channel his rage into martial arts, and the discipline that came with the training at the Dojo, helped immensely. If it wasn't for this Carlos guy, we would not be here together, I'm sure.
But, I was also becoming aware of a Stephanie who favoured a lot of his attention. Initially, I was hurt, thinking mi hermano, mi amante (my lover) might also bisexual. Not that I was emotional, but he picked up on my slight, well, maybe not as slight as I thought, change in attitude. And then there was a vixen as well. I was heartbroken. I really thought I had lost him. And who was this Shorty, or, heaven forbid, was it Shawty? I was afraid of losing him. My heart was breaking.
"Manuel, mi amor," he reassured. "It is not what you think," he said softly.
He proceeded to explain about this Stephanie, the Vixen, and how he was protecting her. He admired her bravery and gumption as a bounty hunter. She had some scary encounters, where she had been attacked, knifed and even shot at. I noticed he was also very proud of her. And Shorty? He owned a pizza place. He elaborated on their connection with young punks trying to harass and extort his newly established restaurant on more than one occasion and how he intervened. His rep as the Dark Angel was already established. I discovered a lot more about his close friends and how they decided to purchase four villas together in a new residential area.
In the week that followed he recommended me to his friend Carlos Mañoso, or Ranger, his street name. Must be an army connection, I reckoned. In my interview, I was impressed with his security company concept. He asked all the right questions and he had obviously done a lot of research into establishing this business, especially for military men. They were in the process of setting up a building and I was hired instantly. Hector and I were tasked with requisitioning all the computer and information technology and installing the network on multiple levels. It was interesting work and took up most of my working hours such that I had to withdraw from the security team at the nightclub. Hector and I would still go there, as patrons. It was nice to be on the inside, a different perspective.
From his phone, he showed me Stephanie. Dios! Those blue eyes! That smile. I could still be jealous of her, but he spoke of her with the utmost brotherly respect. When she had been stabbed and shot he was very shaken. In fact, he was frantic and just dropped everything to be with her when she rang. He looked after her and spent more time with her. By then I knew not to be jealous. I was concerned for him as well as for her. He had told me of her passion for food and sweet desserts that would torment any man within earshot, as she ate and enjoyed each mouthful. I found this hard to believe. He grinned at me. I know that look … just you wait. The Vixen was a siren, he joked with a wicked grin.
And, so it was that I got to meet the Vixen, AKA Stephanie Plum, bounty hunter and beloved sister of mi amor. I helped by cooking meals for him, and for her. Madre Dios! He was so right. She had both of us affected as she ate with great relish. I was instantly enamoured with her, and not just because she liked my cooking. She was joy and light. She was so natural and unaffected, despite some of the horrific things that had happened to her, both recently and in her past. She was strong and resilient. Stephanie was like the phoenix, a living example. I admired her courage. Somehow, through our friendly conversations, we were discussing our tattoos and I suggested she could cover those scars and make them into something beautiful and attractive. Hector and I had fun making selections with her.
Our dates were often a threesome with Stephanie, especially after her recovery and rehabilitation. Any fears I had of Hector suggesting a ménage à troi with Stephanie were quickly dispelled. We enjoyed her company and having dinner out together was exciting. She had a genuine yet feisty demeanour and I found her very disarming. I could see why Hector was so fond of her. I felt that fondness and protective urge too. Never did we treat her like a weak and defenceless female. She held her own. We respected her too much to demean her in that way.
Working fulltime for Rangeman was interesting. It allowed me to incorporate my physical and mental skills. Skip chasing was like a continuation of my CyberWolf business, where I freelanced as a private investigator and sometimes assisted with background searches for a Bond Enforcement Agency. Working with a partner in hunting down these bail dodgers was different. Sometimes we had to be rough and manhandle the miscreants as they resented our intrusion when we captured them. The benefits were great and there was variety as we rotated shifts with monitors, searches, skip chasing, installations and private security. Ranger had a great vision. Requirements also included gun range time, gym time and regular health and fitness tests. That Hector worked there was a bonus, but none of them was aware of our relationship. Need to know, they did not need to know. However, I think Ranger was becoming aware, but his present distraction with a certain Vixen, distracted him.
The Miami branch of Rangeman needed some installations assistance and Ranger dispatched me there to oversee the IT set up. I missed Hector since it was the first time we were apart. But between facetime, texting, and sexting, we kept each other buoyed. Upon my return there was a sudden Code Three for a Stephanie watch, which had us all on alert. Information, via Hector and Shorty, that threats had been made to her life, serious threats, from a former TPD policeman and that Benito Ramirez dude. He was a loose cannon and had escaped the system somehow. What motherfucking idiot would bail someone like Ramirez? It was incomprehensible. Maybe Hector and I should pay him a "friendly" visit him and remind him of his civic responsibilities. Because of him, he enabled Ramirez to plot and almost exact his revenge on Stephanie. Ranger obtained the paperwork for them, as we discovered they had both missed their court appearances.
It was while we were at Stephanie and Hector's place, the Den, that all hell broke loose. Stephanie was shot! Hector was on Lester's team, hunting the perp who shot her. I was with Tank's pursuit team, partnered with Zip, following the dark blue SUV. Ramirez. Woody and Vince called the coordinates and we soon had him marshalled at the intersection of Comstock and Stark. He only had one escape route and he hauled ass down the laneway and then ran into oncoming traffic, a large semi. Roadkill. A fitting end to a vicious murderous psycho. Although, we all felt a bit cheated at not being able to inflict some vengeance ourselves. As Ranger said, we kept our hands clean.
Stephanie was not seriously injured and we all breathed a sigh of relief. I'd hate to think how our lives would be eternally affected if she … No. Don't go there. She was our light. Her suggestion of sleeping over for a do-over was met with a resounding unanimous HOOAH!
It was then, that Hector grabbed me after taking a tour of Stephanie's villa with the theatre room, insisting that I spend the night with him, in his villa, in his room. Sleeping arrangements were made for everyone, and between the four villas, the Rangeman guys, including Ella and Luis, were easily accommodated. That night, he asked me to move in with him, permanently. I was overjoyed and we celebrated in the best way. I'm still grinning like a Cheshire cat.
I reflected on how my life and direction had changed for the better since meeting Hector, and Stephanie too. Fate is amazing, and I firmly believe that perhaps we don't meet people by accident; they are meant to cross our paths for a reason. I am so grateful that Hector and I crossed paths.
oOoOo
TBC
A little insight into the encounters of Manuel and Hector and Stephanie.
And … a nice long chapter to boot.
