Chapter19
"Babe, you won't be doing skips until Bobby and Malika say you are physically ready. You are progressing nicely, but not yet cleared. Remember, the doctors felt it could take eight months or more before you were ready."
"But, my back feels fine," Malika emphasized core strength development to help with the injured back. While in Systema, Malika was adamant about proper posture, also protecting Steph's back. What Steph hadn't mentioned to Malika was the occasional twinge that lasted anywhere from a few seconds to a few hours to be a problem. She had endured worse. "Ranger, I miss the chase, finding the FTAs and getting them back into the system. Not all are dangerous. Some have mental or physical issues not being addressed."
"So, you are a social worker now?" he asked with one eyebrow raised.
Stephanie didn't answer right away. "Maybe I am an advocate. Somebody has to be taking the lead in getting people to help."
"According to Rangeman policy and the contract you signed months ago, you always work with a partner."
"Isn't my probationary period over?"
"I'm not talking about probation. It is a Rangeman policy. Nobody goes for an FTA alone. No exceptions. Even I go with backup."
"Fine, I'll take Lula. I'm sure Mooner or Dougie would enjoy having her there as well."
"Your contract is with Rangeman, not Vinnie. Mooner and Dougie are Vinnie's clients."
"I don't want to be a paper pusher. I need to get out and do something physical."
"I can think of a lot of physical," Ranger said with a smile.
"Outside, Ranger," Steph huffed back, restraining rolling her eyes for emphasis.
"Would the roof work for you? I'd have to disable some cameras…"
"You know darn well what I mean. I want to get back to skip chasing." Crossed arms over her chest replaced the huff.
"Only if your medical support approves," Ranger surrendered the final word to Bobby and Malika.
Bobby, Malika, and Ranger agreed to Stephanie's request allowing her to do one ultra-low bond capture with an experienced partner to determine if she was physically and mentally ready. Her sly-ways were known, so her partner had to be familiar with her tricks. Her Rangeman team member would critique the apprehension.
If she failed, she would be cut from any skip chasing until retrained.
Tank handed her an FTA file. When Stephanie saw the name, she smiled, "This is not a Rangeman file."
"No, I called Connie for something simple. I'm giving you one warning, do it by the Rangeman book, not the Plum book."
"What does that mean?"
"You were trained last Fall in our procedures. Use them," he ordered and turned away.
Malachi Jefferson was a middle-aged man with a brain injury who lived with his daughter, Nashika. Malachi was docile but forgetful. He had a habit of forgetting to pay for his purchases at the local convenience or liquor store.
Nashika was more concerned about her pharmaceuticals than caring for her father. She had her "I love my father" story down pat to fool the social workers into allowing her to care for dear old dad while using his social security disability check to keep herself in heroin.
Stephanie and Lester pulled up to the run-down row home. The warped wood steps and peeling paint indicated this house had not had maintenance for years. The overhead gutter had pulled loose and hung over the porch. "I see Nashika still isn't into DIY," Stephanie remarked.
Turning back to Lester, Stephanie said, "This will be easy. Malachi is always ready to go for a ride, especially if I suggest a visit to a fast-food drive-thru."
"We are not a food delivery service," Les mumbled, wondering if it would count as a demerit. He decided to let it pass. Lester asked, "So, are you telling me you want to take the lead?"
In a hurry to get back to FTA work, Steph answered without thinking, "Sure, why not. I've been here before."
"Remember, you are being graded on how you do. Are you sure you want to lead straight out?"
"We'll be in and out in no time."
"You think she's home?" Les asked, beginning the critique.
Using her chin to point to a car in front of Nashika's home, "That old Hyundai is hers. Unless the tires are flat or there's a big oil spill underneath, she's home."
"What about Malachai?"
"He doesn't drive and barely walks. Nashika is his transportation."
So far, Lester had minimal concerns about Stephanie's thinking. "How are we going to proceed?" As he spoke, he noted another Rangeman vehicle pulled up several cars down. Stephanie hadn't looked into any rearview mirror. So much for being aware of her surroundings. One demerit.
"You take the back. I'll go to the front door," Stephanie ordered.
"Beautiful, the fence is 6' high. While I'd have no trouble getting over, there's a guard dog sign on the fence, and several deep-voiced animals barking from behind. Didn't you notice?"
"I guess you will come with me then. When Nashika opens the door, I'll explain why I'm here and ask if she wants to accompany Malachai." Another demerit.
"What if she slams the door in your face?"
"She's never done that before, but I'll have my foot on the jam preventing closure."
"...and if she is armed?" Lester asked.
"Nashika has never been known to carry a weapon."
"Beautiful, there is always a first time, especially in this neighborhood."
Stephanie replied, "If she's armed, I pull my spray and give her a shot. Once she is disabled, I use my stun gun to take her down." All that was missing from Steph's response was her sticking out her tongue.
"What if there are others in the house?"
Suddenly Stephanie looked at several other cars that may or may not have business with Nashika. "Do you think we need backup?"
"You are lead on this Steph. It is your decision."
"I dunno. What do you think? I guess it wouldn't hurt to call in back up." Indecision. Another demerit.
"We already have a backup. You failed to notice." Another demerit.
"OK, you and I will approach the front door. I will explain we are here for Malachai. If she resists, we enter."
Les and Stepanie approached the door, but Les noticed Stephanie had not contacted those in the backup. Another demerit. Instead, Les gave Cal and his partner a "stand by" hand signal. As they approached the front door, each stood on either side in case bullets came through, which happened here in Valley Gardens, just outside of the Burg. Nashika did not come to the door. It was a big burly guy who could give Tank a run in height, but was far more flabby, "What ya wan?"
"I'm Stephanie from Rangeman to see Nashinka. Malachai missed his court date, and I'm here to take him in to be rescheduled."
"Fuck off," the man said as he started to close the door.
Stephanie paused. Another demerit. Her Burg manners wouldn't let her enter without being invited. At least her foot was inside the door. Les didn't hesitate. In an instant, he was inside and in the burly man's face. "Bond enforcement. Where are Nashika and Malachai?"
In an instant, the man pulled a knife from his side sheath, but Les was prepared. Knocking the knife aside, Les delivered a blow to the man's solar plexus, stunning the giant. A quick kick to the knee sent the man down, face down, and Lester kneeled on the guy's neck as he used flexi cuffs to secure the arms. Then speaking into his microphone, he said, "GO!"
In an instant, Cal and Manny were through the door. Manny came to Les' assistant as they secured the wiggling and cursing man's feet. Stephanie was still outside. She had yet to enter Demerit #6.
"You coming in?" Les snarled to Stephanie.
Somewhat shaken, Stephanie came in and stood still. She was lost.
"Well, what's the next step, leader?"
Suddenly thinking, Stephanie answered, "One watches the back, one stays here with the cuffed. The third helps me search the house."
Steph and Cal found Nashika's bedroom door closed and sounds emanating from within, indicating Nashika was otherwise engaged in her business as a prostitute. "We could wait," Steph whispered.
"I don't have the time." With that, Cal forcefully opened the door and announced, "Nashika, we are here to take your father down to reset his court date. You plan on coming?"
"What the fuck!" screamed the man, who didn't appreciate the coitus interruptus. "Get out," Nashika cried.
"Your presence isn't necessary. We can take Malachai ourselves," Cal replied without emotion as he stepped back and closed the door.
"Are you coming with me?" Steph asked Cal. Demerit 7.
He only nodded and pointed back to the room. Almost immediately, the door swung open. The naked John was coming out with a handgun, "What the fuck, bitch?"
Cal was to the side, relieved the man of the gun, spun him around, and said, "Pump it back up and finish the job. This doesn't concern you." Giving the man a push, Cal then closed the door. Stephanie stood with her mouth open in surprise.
"Go get Malachai, Bomber," Cal urged.
Steph found Malachai in a filthy bedroom, wearing only pajama pants, watching television.
"Malachai, you want to go for a ride to Cluck in a Bucket?"
"Hell, yes. I gots to get out of here."
"Put on a shirt and shoes, and we'll be on our way."
Malachai's appearance deteriorated as he got out into the sunlight. He hadn't shaved in weeks. His grey curly beard was dirty, as was the rest of him. His mouth reeked, his eyes were yellow, and a bandage on his arm was dirty and smelly. Promising Malachai meal, they went purchased chicken nuggets, which he could chew with his few remaining teeth, collards, mashed potatoes, and a soft drink. Les grumbled the whole time about not being a catering service.
Robin Russel was at the intake desk at TPD. Noting Malachai's degraded condition since his last visit two months ago, she immediately called the EMTs "Good thing you brought him in, Steph. That arm doesn't look or smell good," Robin whispered.
On the way back to Rangeman, Stephanie asked Les how she did.
"Beautiful, granted your FTA was meek and mild, you were not mentally prepared to deal with the secondaries. You made a slew of rookie mistakes, seven actually, in procedures and observations. You were not aware of your surroundings, failed to survey the property, failed to instruct your back up team. Were you going to stand there and let the door slam in your face?"
"He said she wasn't available."
"No," he said, "Fuck you. So you would have turned around and left?"
"Probably," she said quietly as she dipped her head.
"Why?"
"Nashinka was busy."
Les shook his head, "Were you expecting to be invited in for tea and biscuits? You are a wuss. Granted, a lovely, well-mannered wuss, but your lack of aggression is what your FTAs have learned is your weakness. They know you will hesitate to allow them time to fight or escape."
"But, I usually get them, eventually," Steph said defensively.
"Your indecisions put you and your partner at risk. No wonder you were barely hanging on financially. If you put your bounty earnings against time wasted in repeated attempts, destroyed clothing, destroyed cars, and medical bills which Rangeman paid, not you, it is no wonder you never got ahead. I wonder how you stayed afloat. Last Fall, you came to us and began training, taking your job seriously. You were doing well. But today, you are right back to the pitiful Bombshell Bounty Hunter."
"Are you saying I should quit Rangeman?"
"No, I'm saying you need to get your head in the game and upgrade your training. Until then, you are not doing skip chasing."
She sat and crossed her arms over her chest, but said nothing.
As they pulled into the Rangeman underground parking, Les turned off the truck. "Beautiful, I know you are out of practice, but there were some things that yelled rookie. You should be long past that. Why did you carry your purse to the front door? Were you going to apply lipstick? You failed to help me secure Tiny Tim. Did you forget your stun gun? Once upstairs, you left your flank exposed from Nashika's upset client. Cal had to cover you."
"That was his job."
"Good thing you remembered to call backup or else you would be dead," he mumbled.
Stephanie swung around in her seat to argue with Les when her back went into spasm. She had gotten good at hiding the pain. Using Malika's breathing exercises to help calm the spasm, Stephanie slowly untwisted herself. Yes, Les was right. She was ill-prepared, too timid, leaving her team vulnerable. It was what got her in trouble before, and the mistakes returned. Before the Adirondacks, she was doing better. What was different now?
-0-
Malika liked working at the Our Lady of Lourdes health center, the approved off-base clinic for military members. She wasn't doing surgery, but post-surgery evaluations and treatments. However, if the need for minor surgery came through the door, she was ready. There was a speech therapist on staff who worked with Malika in protecting her developing voice. "You have a naturally low voice, work hard to keep it. Avoid straining when speaking, your vocal cords will appreciate it."
"It's sexier," Malika winked.
"I've seen your man. There's a whole lot of sexy in him," said the therapist, smiling.
"He works where there's an office filled with sexy men."
Darlene, the therapist's eye brightened, "Do they need a speech therapist?"
Malika looked at the twenty-something biracial woman with lovely dark brown eyes, long straight hair, and dimples. Her hobby was running marathons and sky diving. Yeah, there would be more than a few Rangemen interested in a date. "No, but dating isn't against the regulations. Pretty much all are reservists or out. Would that be a problem?"
"Not one bit. My brothers are still in."
"Then, my dear, I'm sure I can hook you up with a couple of dates," Malika promised. The guys at Rangeman had trouble getting dates with women in and around the Burg. Often their attempts were better far away from the backward Burg.
Malika stopped at a drug store near the clinic before heading back into Trenton. She was not in uniform as she didn't want her name tag seen by the civilian population. She was in scrubs. Exiting the store, she came face to face with Detective Joe Morelli. He was leaning against a car with his legs crossed at the ankle and arms over his chest.
"Well, if it isn't Charlie Burns or is it Melba Arcadia? Where's your uniform? I bet you being in the military was a lie. That would explain why you are hanging around Rangeman. It is a building of thugs, liars, and murderers. I bet you are playing nurse and spreading your legs with them."
She glared. She didn't know if he was drunk, on drugs, trying to be cute, or just an asshole. Most likely, the latter with alcohol or drugs for icing.
He continued, "You aren't quite that skinny runt now. You are developing some fine attributes, though your chest could use a few more pounds."
Score big-time for sexual harassment, she thought as she turned towards her car. Malika was in a quandary. If she fought Morelli, the police would be called and reports taken. What name would she use? How could she remain anonymous? As expected, Morelli reached out to grab her. She quickly moved her body to the side. He caught only air. Being chemically impaired, he fell onto his knee. She never pushed him.
"What the hell?" He swung his arm back in an attempt to grab her again but found only air. "Hey, come here, bitch," he screamed. "What makes you so unique, you cocktease! I'll get you. Keep watching your rearview mirror, the cop behind you could be me."
She was driving away before he fully regained his feet. Did she dare file a harassment charge? The more her real name was in the public record, the higher the chance Arkady would find her. With an enranged Morelli, Steph's apartment was no longer safe. She had money now. It was time to move to another apartment.
Malika stormed into Shorty's an hour later, having changed from her scrubs into dark jeans and white buttondown shirt. She debated putting on boots or flats but decided on dark joggers. It would be a decision that would save her life in a few hours.
She couldn't find parking near Shorty's but did find one in the next block. The neighborhood was questionable, so Malika screwed down her "don't fuck with me face. Her stride was definitive. The usual eye twinkle was missing. She opened the door to Shorty's with a significant pull, two men coming out saw her aggressive expression and stepped aside.
"Uh oh, someone is pissed," Stephanie said.
When she got to the table and sat, she avoided Bobby's kiss. He was stunned. Turning to Stephanie, she vented, "What did you see in that "Bolvan glluppy?"
"YA polagayu, vy ne imeyete v vidu menya," (I assume you are not referring to me) Ranger asked.
Malika glared at Ranger, equal to or exceeding his own patented look. After all, she outranked him.
Stephanie was lost, "What a Bolivian guppy?"
Tank chuckled as did Ranger and Malika. "Bolvan gllupyy" is a stupid jackass," Ranger replied.
"She must be referring to Joe," Steph nodded. Turning to Malika, "What did he do?"
"He is a feral swine who excels in sexual harassment. There is no way I'd ever consider dating him. His ego is probably larger than this...," she stopped and looked down.
Stephanie was smiling, "Don't stop now. I can't wait to hear what the Russian word for male appendage is."
"It's the same as English but with a Russian twang," Malika answered. "He called me Charlie Burns and Melba Arcadia. I understand Charlie for Cheryl, but Melba Arcadia is an attempt at my real name. How the Sam Hill did he learn that?" Shaking her head for a moment, she continued,
"I need to find someplace safer, maybe on base. I also need a new name again. Hell, I wonder if I'd qualify for WITSEC?"
Bobby didn't say a thing. He hadn't seen her riled up before.
"What did Joe do other than mess up your name or names?" Ranger asked quietly, trying to diffuse her anger.
"Aside from ambushing me outside Walgreens in Mercerville, he tried to grab me. You know that didn't work. Then he asked if I was whoring my way around Rangeman. He also warned me the next time a cop pulls me over, it will be him."
"Was he drunk?" Tank asked.
"He was impaired. His eyes were bloodshot. Beyond that, I can't say.
"I'd report the SOB, but what name do I use? Melba Arcadia?" She shook her head in dismay. "I didn't touch him or say anything, not even a rude hand gesture though I'm sorry I didn't make a gesture right up his amudak."
"Does that mean what I think it means?" Stephanie asked.
Ranger nodded.
"Oh geez," Stephanie huffed.
"He's not your problem, Stephanie. He's a big boy now," Malika responded.
"He seems to be getting worse since last October," Stephanie mumbled.
Ranger took her hand, "Your father showed Joe Juniak his evidence file. Morelli's was suspended for thirty days while you were away."
"I'm glad I didn't know. No doubt, in the Burg's eyes, I am responsible for his suspension," she said with sagged shoulders and a dropped head.
Malika jumped in forcefully, "Stop that now! Joe and only Joe is responsible for his actions, just as your mother is responsible for her drinking. You are responsible for yourself and have been for years. When are you going to take responsibili only for what you do?" Malika lowered her voice and quietly said, "You need a better psychologist. You are regressing to when we first met."
Stephanie's head snapped up, and her eyes opened wide in surprise. This was the first time Malika had vocally shown her hard edge. Everyone present reeled from the explosion.
Malika continued, "Joe is a self-centered bastard caring only for HIS needs. He is and has been obsessed with you since…ah, times past." She didn't want to go into Stephanie's history with Joe pubically. "If he were all hot to trot to find a wife and start a family, he would be in a relationship now. Instead, he's still trolling the streets, looking for someone to dominate and abuse." Malika stopped and drank half a glass of water before continuing. Extended talking was still tricky. "I suspect getting suspended bruised his over-inflated ego. Instead of learning from it, he has lost his decency facade and now is a true predator."
The quiet around the table indicated the others were considering what Malika had said. While Stephanie had no contact with Joe, the Rangemen who had encountered him these past few months had not said anything to her. Joe's rails against Rangeman was getting worse. He had been cautioned by his superiors several times to shelve his opinions.
To break the conversation's seriousness, Lester, ever the jester, said, "How about Micky Santos?"
Malika's water glass was halfway to her mouth when she stopped, "What? Who is Micky Santos?"
"You said you needed a new name. How about Micky Santos."
Bobby stiffened.
"Wasn't there a Mafioso by that name?" Malika asked. "I was thinking Jane Doe, Mary Smith, Sue Bell..."
"Sue Bell? Sounds like a cow," Hal chuckled.
Malika laughed a full-body laugh to release the tension of the Morelli encounter and discussion. "Yeah, it does. Mooooo! I need a short common name, Beth, Jill, Grace, Lyn. Even Sue is acceptable with a different ending."
"I like Grace. It fits you," Stephanie smiled.
Malika tried it out, "Grace. I've always liked the name. OK, what about a surname? Keep it simple. Ball, Smith, Dodd, Jones...
Bobby turned and said quietly, "How about Mrs. Robert Brown?"
Malika didn't quite catch what he said, "Robin Brown?" She repeated. She was confused.
"No, Mrs. Robert Brown?" He said a bit louder.
There was a hush at the table. Did Bobby just propose to Malika?
Never taking her eyes off Bobby's, Malika raised an eyebrow as if you ask, "What do you mean?" The sincerity and embarrassment showed equally. "You want me to marry you?"
"Do you find that offensive?" he asked with a little fear in his eyes.
"Not at all, just the opposite."
"Well?" Bobby asked cautiously.
She tried to speak several times, but nothing came out. Finally, she said, "You've turned me speechless again." Reaching over, she kissed his cheek, whispering, "I'll take that under serious consideration. It sounds promising, but we need to talk more."
Bobby smiled and returned her cheek kiss.
"Well?" Lester asked, echoing Bobby's question.
Malika turned back to the people at the table, "I'm leaning heavily towards Grace, but I'm not against Micky as a nickname. It's cute."
"I was referring to Mrs. Robert Brown," Les said.
"I'm taking it under advisement, Les," Malika answered as she wrapped her around Bobby's and leaned into him.
"I'd hang out for a better proposal," Steph laughed. "That was a bit weak."
"Not if you are trying to erase the past and making it easier for brain challenged predatory Trenton Detective to pronounce."
"Is there a past to erase?" Hal asked.
"Too much," she said, shaking her head. "The saying that which doesn't kill us makes us stronger only goes so far. It also gives us nightmares."
Heads nodded in agreement up and down the table.
"I get the feeling you and Bobby knew each other before Albany. Did you meet in a medical facility somewhere?" Hal asked.
Ranger, Tank, and Bobby looked at her, wondering what she would say.
She hesitated, "I'm somewhat fuzzy on the meeting as it was years ago and I wasn't my best. I was a flight surgeon on a medical transport out of Bagram. A group kidnapped me and took me to a band of nomads in Turkmenistan. The leader's wife was quite ill. After she got better, I thought I'd be released and even tried to escape." Malika stopped and sipped her water. "My step-father arranged for the kidnapping. He wanted me to marry into his tribe. Unfortunately, the tribe member who claimed me against the leader and mullah's wishes was a Taliban fighter."
"Oh fuck," Hal said.
"The tribal elder took my uniform and burned it before many others saw it. From then on, I was a captured Russian Army medic. Ene was a psychopath who had a particular hatred of women and anything American. Being Russian spared my head, but I was treated worse than a prisoner. Seven months later, near death, the Rangers found me. Ranger, Tank, and Bobby were part of the team."
Hal muttered a quiet "Shit."
"Where is your step-father now," Stephanie asked.
"That's what worries me. My attackers in Albany spoke Russian. My current stalker could be someone who works for him. Arkady has been part of the Bravata, Russian Mob, since his release from prison. Then again, the Trenton stalker could be Morelli."
"Who taught you Systema," Stephanie asked.
"Ivan was my father's aide. He knew about Arkady's temper. Suspecting I'd need to protect myself, he taught me from age five. One night in Paris, Arkady came home drunk...again and began beating my mother. When my mother lost consciousness, he came into my bedroom to rape me. I escaped using a bit of Systema. Arkady went to prison for ten years. Mama, Ivan, and I moved to New York City. Mama and Ivan married. It turned out Ivan was my true bio-father, not Arkady. Unfortunately, Ivan and Mama died when I was in college, so I went into the Air Force. Arkady made his move in Afghanistan. Fast forward to Albany."
Everyone was quiet for a while. There was a lot of information to process.
"I need to become invisible to him. I hoped living here would hide my trail. That's why I'm serious about changing my name and perhaps leaving the Air Force. I may have to run again." She said the last part with sadness in her eyes.
"What if you are married?" Bobby asked.
"The marriage and name change might be enough to stop him, but my security isn't a sound reason for marriage."
Stephanie zapped back to Joe: "Cupcake, I'll take care of you."
She completely understood Malika's hesitation. Marriage wasn't a guarantee of safety.
Ranger's mind went in the other direction. If he gave Babe his name through marriage, would it put her in greater danger? But then, Stephanie Plum already had her enemies.
Malika continued, "I'm also worried about how Arkady is finding me? Is it the Russian Mob? Sometimes I think he has connections within our government, including the Pentagon."
"What was your mother's name?" Stephanie asked.
"Katherine Bianca. She was a composer and concert pianist from New York City. Katherine is my middle name."
"What about Grace Katherine Brown?" Stephanie asked.
Lester butted in, "I still like Micky for a nickname."
"So will it be Grace Brown to be called Micky?" Bobby asked.
She thought a while and sighed, "I thought changing my name to just two names would be tough. You want me to adopt four?"
Bobby simply answered, "Yes."
"Micky isn't much different than Malika. Would I be dissuading Arkady by that change?"
"So, you want to be called Micky by your closest friends, and Grace own elsewhere," Tank asked.
She hated thinking of early retirement. If she leaves without a pension, changes her name, wouldn't that help her hide? It was too soon to think that far, let's deal with the present. "Grace is better than the translation for Malika. It means queen." Looking at Lester, she wrinkled her brow and said, "Don't even think about the name Queenie."
Lester looked like someone had beaten him to the candy box. Instead, he responded, "That wasn't much of a proposal, Bobby. You are not known for your flamboyancy, but even by Brown standards, that was pretty flat."
Bobby smiled, "She wanted a new name, one easier to pronounce, and we've been discussing a more permanent relationship. So I took the initiative."
Malika turned to Lester, "I still haven't said yes, Les. However, if you need a spectacle proposal, then work on your own."
"But Micky dear," he oozed with all his playboy charm, "Bobby beat me to it."
Micky laughed, "Lester. You snooze, you lose."
Grabbing his heart in a mock faint, Lester purred, "You mean there's still a chance?"
"Sorry, the ticket has been sold." Malika enjoyed bantering with Lester.
"Are you serious?" Stephanie asked, jumping back into the discussion.
"Serious about what? Marrying Lester?" she winked.
"The name Micky. The guys at Rangeman have trouble with Malika. Then there's that asshole who shall not be named who started this conversation."
Hall popped in, "I like Micky."
"I prefer Malika," Tank said.
Malika smiled. "Sir, I would be honored if you continued to call me Malika, but not in public, where others can hear."
As they completed their meal, everyone stood. Bobby asked the new Micky, "Where did you park?"
Remembering what neighborhood she was in, she appreciated his concern. "There was nothing in this block, so I'm down one."
"I'll walk you to your car and then follow you back to your apartment."
"Where will we discuss this name change?" She winked, kissed his cheek, and moved off. Bobby went to follow, but Lester grabbed his arm, "Hey man, I didn't mean to condemn the lukewarm proposal. I just thought you'd come up with something more colorful, ring in hand."
"And what would fit your definition of colorful?" Bobby asked with a touch of annoyance but also humor.
Rocking back on his heels, Lester thought, "Perhaps a horse-drawn carriage or troika pulled by big black steeds, skywriting a proposal, or a romantic dinner, tuxedo, and down on your knee with a giant diamond ring."
Hal wasn't going to be left out, "Maybe a hot hair balloon ride, multiple dozen long stem red roses, and sea-side stroll," Hal added.
Ranger even butted in, "At least a romantic dinner. Shorty's doesn't quite cut it."
Stephane threw her arms around Bobby, "She's not a hearts and flowers gal, but you could up your act a bit."
"You have me confused with Ranger. Can you see Malika, err, Micky going for a big production?" Bobby asked.
"Yes," Ranger replied. "Her step-father was a diplomat. Her mother was a concert pianist, and her father, a Russian Army Colonel. She has lived in Moscow, Rome, Paris, not Dog Hollar, Kentucky. She is a lady. She needs more than pizza and beer in a tough bar."
Stephanie gasped. That was precisely all she ever got from Joe. There were never any chocolate hearts, flowers, dates, romantic outings. Yes, Ranger had been plying her with meals, but occasionally very fancy restaurants. He had taken her to the ocean several different times; Point Plesant and Miami, even DisneyWorld.
"Maybe you should buy her something more personal like sexy negligee and plan an all-nighter in a motel," Lester suggested.
Ranger smacked Les' head, "Real classy, asshole."
Meanwhile, Micky had reached Shorty's front door. Tank was right behind her. "I think you and Bobby would make a great couple."
She turned, "Thank you, Tank. At first, I wasn't sure it wasn't survivor's admiration. Our relationship has moved far beyond doctor-patient. We genuinely share so much in common; music, theater, books, long walks in the woods. We love and care deeply about each other. I trust him, which is hard for me. I'm still afraid and think I need to run again. But I know it would destroy me, and I suspect him. I haven't buried all my ghosts."
Tank huffed, "Who has?"
She stood on her tippy toes while pulling his shoulder down to her level. Kissing his cheek, she said, "Thank you for being such as a good friend." She turned and went out the door. The late summer weather was unstable. A storm was moving in. Without warning, a lightning bolt struck the pole just a few yards away from Micky. The rapid change in air temperature was explosive, propelling her down the sidewalk.
Ivan taught her to remain loose, so she hit the ground and rolled, displacing the force through her body. But her mind crashed back to the night in Paris nearly 30 years before. Mentioning Arkady has brought it to the forefront. Suddenly she was back in the Paris apartment, running down the stairs and into the night just as lightning struck nearby. Malika was once again the nearly naked ten-year-old girl crouched down with her face in her hands whimpering over and over, "Dyadya mne pomogayet" (Uncle help me).
Tank was quickly out the door where he found Micky still crouched down and whimpering like a child. Pickering her up to her feet and held her close listening to her pleas. "Bad't spokoyny." (Be calm little one). Tank quickly lifted her into his arms and carried her back inside. The electricity was off, the bar was dim, lighted only by emergency lights. "Medic," Tank boomed as he set her down in a chair.
Bobby and the others had already rushed to the front room. Pulling out his penlight from one of his side pockets, he began a medical evaluation. She was shaking, confused, whimpering, but gradually changing to controlled breathing.
Looking up at Tank, she whispered, "Spasibo." (Thank you).
Others were also quickly on the scene. Stephanie came rushing up, "Are you OK?"
"Thor's lightning bolts say stay and have another beer," she uttered through chattering teeth.
"You sure?" Stephanie asked. Malika probably shouldn't be drinking right now.
"Personally. I think a shot of vodka would be better," Malika forced through her clenched teeth. Otherwise, her jaw would be clattering.
"No," Bobby said, "Not until I check you out."
Shaking her head no, Malika began, "Doctor, I was not struck by lightning. I am breathing almost normally, and my heart rate is coming down. My eyesight in fine in this dark bar though my hearing is still buzzing. I am not nauseous, only wet from the rain. No part of my body or clothing is smoking, no burns. I was just blown down the sidewalk by the explosive force of the lightning bolt. It has happened before. Maybe I have metal in my ass and attract lightning."
"Doctor quit self-diagnosing. Your singed shirt and crisp hair may indicate a strike. You know as well as anyone the damage takes a while to manifest. A more thorough exam is required."
"You just want an excuse to get me naked," she winked as the adrenaline excess had begun to fade.
"If I wasn't such a compassionate doctor, that alone would have cost you a CAT scan and an MRI. You may have a proximal burn, not a strike. For sure, I need to check your eardrums and hearing. "
"What did you say?" she sassed back.
Hal appeared with a bar towel filled with ice. "For you."
Micky smiled, "Thank you. Too bad you didn't bring the vodka too."
Before Hal could respond, Bobby said, "Please, Micky, let's forgo the vodka and get you checked out."
She smiled, this was the first time she heard her nickname, and she liked it. "Are we going to McGuire-Dix?"
"St. Francis."
"Nope. No way I'm going into the Trenton-hell hospital unless I'm hemorrhaging or unconscious."
"How about Rangeman. Let me do a preliminary eval, and together we will desire if you need further attention. Please, Micky."
She looked at Stephanie and shrugged. Stephanie returned the shrug. When a guy says please, wha...
Once in the Rangeman clinic, she sat on the exam table. The raised eyebrow was her only communication. Whether she was feeling snarky, playful, or pissed off, he couldn't tell. He'd better get better at reading her facial expressions; after all, he just proposed to her.
Bobby was in doctor mode, "I'll need to check you for possible strike locations." Reaching under the table to the drawer, he pulled out a sheet. "I'll step out."
Malika was going to sass back something about why he wasn't helping her undress but understood his professionalism. She slid off the table, but he did hold her arm until he knew she was steady. When assured, he turned and left. Her pants were damp. Her shirt was wet and had scorch spots up around the neck. Damn. She scooted back onto the table, wrapping the sheet from front to back. "OK, I'm...indecent." There was still a bit of playfulness.
"I want to start with your scalp. Lie down, face down. After carefully parting her hair and examining the scalp, Bobby proclaimed, "I do not see any scalp discolor. Your hair is burned. You'll need to visit a stylist to have it evened out. You have proximal burns, not a strike pattern, to your upper back." Continuing the exam, he checked her eyes and ears and did the basic neurological and a hearing evaluation. "So far, I'm not finding anything. Your eardrums are intact."
She could have said, "Told ya," but held her tongue.
He first looked at her shoe soles for burn marks. Some of the treads were melted. "The current may have been stopped by your shoes. Good thing you weren't wearing flats. Let me look at your right foot again." Shaking his head, he said, "I see nothing. Do you feel any tingling?"
Time to break the professionalism, "I tingle every time you touch me."
For the first time, he broke a smile, "Smartass."
"What was that about my ass? Should I turn back over so you can look for the metal?" Leaving off the sheet, she said, "Is this better?"
Resetting the sheet over her body, "I'd like to wash the burned area."
OK, he wasn't yet in a playful mood. Bobby tucked towels about and started carefully washing the area with a cleaning solution.
"I didn't know Ranger and Tank spoke Russian," she said he sponged off the area.
"They did work in Russia some years back. Was it your first language?"
"My mother spoke English to me, Ardady and Ivan spoke Russian. Ivan also spoke French to me. I picked up the language where we lived."
"Are you afraid of lightning?" He remembered how upset she was when Tank carried her back into the bar. Bobby was sure she had been struck.
"No, not generally. This time it was too close. It goes back to that night in Paris. I ran out of the apartment to escape Arkady and out the front door just as lightning hit down the street. This time the lightning was a lot closer. Talking about Paris this evening, and then the lightning brought it all back."
"Do you think Arkady knew you were Ivan's child?" Bobby asked mainly to distract her.
"I don't think so. He didn't see me much while married to Mama. When he was home, I was to stay in my room. He wanted to send me to a private girls school in Switzerland, but Mama wanted me home with her. Looking back, I think he would have had me kidnapped in Switzerland."
"That had to be tough."
Micky sat up and swung her legs over the examining table. Neither Bobby or Micky noticed she was naked. "New York was a beautiful fresh start. Ivan immediately moved in on the pretense to protect us. I was thrilled, but even more so when I learned, he was my true bio-father. They married soon after."
"You miss them."
"More than you know. When we moved to New York, my heart blossomed," she said as her eyes got glassy, how she missed her mother and father. "I used to dream about marrying and having children, grandchildren for them. They deserved more happiness together."
"Do you think Arkady is still after you?" Bobby asked.
"Yes. Ruslan, the tribal leader in Turkmenistan, explained Arkady promised to send his children back to Turkmenistan. I suspect my so-called trip to a Swiss boarding school would have been a diversion to my final destination. Arkady arranged for me to marry into the tribe once I reached puberty. Ruslan had someone else in mind as my husband, but then Ene showed up. He had been a bully, and many in the tribe hoped he died fighting with the Taliban. He had several wives before, and all died. All the other women in the camp would say is he was very strict. I soon realized he was a sadistic sociopath. His younger brother was just as bad. As long as I'm of childbearing age or Arkady is alive, he will try to get me. It is the only explanation for Albany. Somebody needs to send him my medical records proving I am not his child, and I can't bear children thanks to Ene."
"You mentioned you were thinking about moving. Do you mean transferring or leaving the Air Force?"
She looked sheepish. "The Air Force has been good about hiding my identity, but Arkady must have his sources. Morelli calling me Melba Arcadia indicated he heard my name. But now, with you, I can't leave."
"Maybe we could leave together," he said quietly.
"No. You are an investor, a Core Team member, and a doctor. Your license is in New Jersey. I could not ask you to run with me." She began to stand, and Bobby held her if she became light-headed. Bobby wrapped his arms around her, suddenly realizing she was naked. "I'd better get you a wrap. You can't be walking around the halls like this."
Laughing, she said, "Hal would have a heart attack, and Lester would... I'd rather not think about that." Pulling on her wet blouse and pants, she tucked her bra and panties in her pockets. The wet white shirt left nothing up to one's imagination; her nipples and areola showed through the fabric. Bobby wrapped the sheet around her sarong style. "There, that's more modest." After tucking the cloth, he pulled her close for a long, deep kiss.
Micky pulled back, "I wouldn't mind carrying this further, but not here. Boundaries Dr. Brown, no sex in the clinic."
"My apartment is next door."
"As tantalizing as that is, I need to get dry clothes," she said.
"Then we will have to carry to continue this in your apartment hopeful future wife and Mrs. Robert Brown. Anyway, it is more private than in my apartment. Les would likely figure something was happening."
"Ah, Bobby, my car is still at Shorty's. I'll need it to get to work Monday."
"It's been rescued. That's not a neighborhood you want to leave a car for long. I'll take you home."
When they got to Bobby's vehicle, she unwrapped the sheet and placed it on the seat. "Leather protection."