This chapter did not go where I intended for it go. [Glares pointedly at the characters]

Chapter 39

That evening I was sat at my kitchen table with a pen and a scrap of paper I'd found in the junk drawer, trying to organise my life, which was not as easy or as cheap as you'd think it might be. Without the ready access I'd been awarded to Rangeman's extensive resources while I'd been with Ranger, I had to figure out how my background searches would be conducted, and what information I could gain access to legally. Connie provided me with as much information as she could when she put together the files, but I'd grown accustomed to the beautiful programs Rangeman had that could probably tell me what colour pyjamas a person wore to bed on the night before their seventh birthday if I put in the right search parameters. I knew I could find a decent amount of information from googling alone, but it just wasn't the same. There were some vital little nuggets that were out of reach. The kind of nuggets that would often lead to a capture. The problem was, those programs and the licenses that went along with them, were expensive. The cost ongoing. And that wasn't the only cost I was facing at the moment.

In order to keep my promise to Brandon, and myself, I needed to figure out my training program, and any way I looked at it, money I currently didn't have was flying out of my account. Gym memberships. Class fees. Hell, even gun range rental. I needed to find a way to fulfill my requirements while not emptying out my pockets. And it was proving a logistical nightmare.

I was just thinking that I needed some guidance to figure this all out when my phone rang on the table beside me. I didn't both checking the caller ID, eager for the distraction it provided from this fresh circle of hell I'd found myself in.

"Hello?"

"Hey Steph," Tank greeted on the other end. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

The tension that had been mounting in my shoulders and neck for the last hour eased a little at the sound of his voice. "Tank," I enthused, leaning back from the table as I realised how fortuitous the timing of his call was. I needed help, and Tank had the kind of knowledge that I needed. It was almost like I had conjured this call with my subconscious. "Just the man I need to talk to."

"Uh oh," he uttered. "What'd I do?"

Feeling even more at ease with is apparent joking, I couldn't help but smile. "It's not what you have done," I explained. "It's what you have the potential to do."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I laughed at the suspicion creeping into his tone, imagining his eyes narrowing. "It means I have a problem and I'm hoping you can help me solve it," I said.

A slight humming sound travelled down the line as he contemplated the pros and cons of becoming involved in one of my problems. I can't say I blamed him for being cautious. In the past, my problems had lead to literal disasters which included but were not limited to injuries, garbage coating my body, and explosions of various sizes. He was right to think critically about the possibilities. "What kind of problem are we talking about?" he finally asked.

"I need some advice figuring out my training regime and stuff now that I'm home," I said. "I'd love your opinion on the matter."

"Just mine?" he questioned.

I smiled, picturing Tank standing in front of Lester and Bobby, trying to angle for a chance to hang out with me but not them. Tank and I didn't hang out often, but every so often it was nice to connect with him on a different level than he allowed when the other guys were there. "Well," I said slowly. "Lester's and Bobby's input probably wouldn't hurt. You all bring different strengths to the table."

I expected Tank to protest the involvement of our friends in this matter, knowing how easily Lester in particular managed to step on his last nerve, but instead he steered the conversation in a different direction. "Have you eaten?"

For some reason, I made eye contact with the refrigerator in the corner before replying, like I was consulting the appliance on my food consumptions habits. "Not yet."

"See you in twenty."

*o*

Exactly twenty minutes later there was a knock on my door and I opened it to find not just Tank, but Lester and Bobby too, the latter of whom was hugging a box to his chest. I'd likely been right about the fact that Tank had been with Bobby and Lester when he called.

"Surprise!" Lester announced, pushing past Tank to enter the apartment. "We brought food!"

"We?" Bobby questioned pointedly, following Lester's lead and sidling past the big man.

"Bobby brought food," Tank informed me, finally crossing the threshold.

"Excuse you," Lester protested, ducking his head back around the corner from where he'd disappeared. "Who ran into the supermarket to grab instant rice cups?"

Tank raised an eyebrow. "I did," he pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest in a clear invitation for Lester to challenge him.

Lester, it seemed, was in a challenging mood, because he posed another question to the man who could probably crush his skill between his thumb and forefinger. "And who drove your sorry asses here?"

"You did," Tank conceded.

"That's right!" Lester praised, poking the bear a little more with his mockery. "Therefore, WE brought food." He neither finished his statement with 'so there' nor poked out his tongue, but the sentiment was clear in the twinkling of his eyes. He was in a jovial mood which, unfortunately for Tank, tended to manifest in immature and contrary behaviour when in this kind of relaced and informal setting among friends.

Tank shook his head as he started toward the kitchen where Bobby and Lester were already banging around the cupboards. "Not killing him will be the death of me," he muttered under his breath, hooking an arm over my shoulder as he passed and dragging me along with him. "It's a miracle he's survived this long."

I let out a quiet laugh, but I wasn't entirely certain how much Tank's words came from a place of joking and how much was genuine disdain for the man right now. Most of the time, the two could get along fine, putting their differences aside and focusing on the task at hand, but every now and then Tank was just done with his shit. It made me worry for Lester's safety. Dog knows he's not very good at realising when he's pushed one too many buttons.

"Play nice," I murmured as we reached the kitchen. "He's like an over excited puppy. If you scare him he may pee himself, and I don't want to have to deal with that in my apartment."

"Who's peeing themselves?" Bobby asked, looking up from the table where he had slid my pile of papers to the side and was unloading various containers.

"Unimportant," I said vaguely, ducking out from under the weight of Tank's arm to inspect the array of dishes Bobby had brought with him. "What's all this?" I asked, picking up on eof the containers to get a closer look at the hand written label on top and almost dropping it immediately when I discovered it was freezing cold.

"Leftovers," Bobby explained, plucking the container from my grasp and placing it next to the others on the table. "Whenever I cook a dish, I portion out the leftovers and freeze them for easy meals in the future. They've been building up a bit the last few months, so when Tank suggested we grab food and have dinner with you, I thought I'd save us all some money and calories and grab a few meals from the freezer."

It was definitely not what I'd expected when Tank had implied they'd be around with dinner. Usually if we were hanging out and eating together we got take out: pizza, subs etc. I knew theoretically that these men fed themselves on a regular basis and leaned toward healthier options, but I had yet to see the proof of such things. Until now. The fact still remained, though, that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't picture any one of them slaving over a hot stove.

Lester, having finished rummaging in my cupboard for proper plates, joined the rest of us at the table, elbowing in between me and Tank. I was hoping I imagined the low rumbling growl that emitted from the big man's general direction.

"Seems like too much food for four people to eat," Lester said, reaching for one of the containers and receiving a slap on the hand from Tank.

"I brought options," Bobby said with a shrug. "And whatever we don't eat tonight I'll leave here for Steph. It's always good to have something in the freezer for those days when you don't feel like cooking."

Lester pouted. "You never offered Tank or me your leftovers before," he said, killing it with the sad puppy dog eyes. Was it any wonder so many women fell for him? Those sorrowful green eyes could move entire countries to war in an effort to make him happy again.

Tank, I noticed, was less impressed by Lester's display. "That's because you're big enough and ugly enough to make your own food and freeze it," he snapped, crossing his arms back over his chest. Looks like tonight is going to be one hell of a bumpy ride if these two were already at odds with each other.

"Are you saying Steph's not big enough to cook for herself?" Lester countered, turning to face off against Tank's formidable stature. My spidey senses were telling me I had to do something about this before they started an all out brawl in my kitchen.

"No," Tank gritted out, leaning forward and straightening his spine just a touch to extend his already massive height. "I'm saying that you're being a-"

That was the final straw. As much as the guys all bantered back and forth constantly, it was clear that whatever was going on here ran much deeper and whatever was about to leave Tank's lips would be damaging to their friendship. I didn't want that to happen, so I slid between the two men, placing a hand on each of their chests and applying pressure, sending a silent message for them to take a step back. "Oooookay," I said loudly, cutting off Tank's words. I think it's time you both took a break. Lester, you stay here and help Bobby with the food. Tank, can I see you in the living room?"

The pair glared at each other over my head for several more tense seconds, during which I was afraid I'd end up stuck in the middle of a physical altercation in the blink of an eye, but then Tank turned on his heel with military precision and marched out of the room. I felt Lester's chest expand under my hand as he inhaled and glanced over just as he was opening his mouth, probably to make some smartass comment.

"Don't," I warned, and remarkably, he snapped his mouth shut. I made eye contact with Bobby to make sure he had everything under control in here and followed Tank into the living room.

He was at the far end of the room, staring out the window with his fingers laced together on top of his head when I entered. This was unusual posture for Tank and didn't help the seed of worry that had started when he'd muttered to me about killing Lester. He was definitely out of sorts if it was leaking out of him visibly. As I approached, he dropped his hands to his sides, tucking them into his pockets, and turned to face me, blank mask in place.

"Is everything okay with you?" I asked quietly, grossly aware of how easily sound travelled in this apartment. The best place to have a private conversation was in the bathroom with the water running, but I didn't think that would send a good signal to the other guys.

"Fine," Tank stated definitively.

I wasn't about to let him get away with that kind of answer, so I crossed my arms over my chest and perched on the arm of the couch, watching him intently. Waiting. After a couple of minutes, he let out a sigh and shook his head. "How is it that your silence is so much more powerful than anyone else's?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Because it's so rare an occurrence," I told him with a shrug. There was no point in denying I was a motor mouth, they'd all known within five minutes of meeting me. "Now spill," I added. "What's going on?"

Tank's face twitched, but not like he was fighting a smile. I hated when he did that. I hated when the guys hid their emotions from me. I hated that I couldn't do the same back to them at times. "Lester's being obnoxious," he said.

He wasn't wrong. But I had a feeling that wasn't the root of the problem. "Lester's always obnoxious," I pointed out. "Try again."

He didn't even hesitate this time. He must have anticipated that I'd see right through his excuse and been formulating a new response the second the first left his lips. "With Ranger off in Cali doing his own thing I'm in charge of the Trenton office and I'm just not built for sitting behind a desk all day."

"Fair point," I conceded. Tank struggled every time Ranger had to go into the wind. He didn't like the paperwork and business meetings side of Rangeman, preferring to be out on the streets nabbing bad guys. He liked to feel the wind on his scalp as he ran down back alleyways. And what made it worse, with no definite date that Ranger would be back to take over the reins again, the tasks turned to torture. Being in the office all day was Tank's personal form of hell. "Maybe you should look into hiring an office manager to handle the day to day stuff so that you get more a chance to get out of the building," I suggested. "What else?"

Tank's blank face cracked a little as his left eyebrow kicked up in surprise. "Nothing," he tried to tell me. "That's it." But he couldn't fool me. I wasn't born yesterday, and I'd spent enough time around the guys to know when they're hiding something.

I shook my head, disappointed. "Don't lie to me, Tank," I warned. "I invented Denial Land. I can smell it a mile away. What else is bothering you?"

With a huff, Tank lowered himself onto the sofa cushion closest to where I was perched. "It's Ranger," he sighed, avoiding eye contact when I turned toward him by leaning his head all the way back to look at the ceiling. "But I don't want to talk about it with you because I know you've got your own problems with Ranger right now."

"Don't be stupid." I nudged his knee with my leg. "If it's causing you to act out like this you obviously need to talk about it. I'm here, we're already talking, just tell me what the problem is."

He rolled his head to look at me, eyes narrowed like he was assessing my mental state. Honestly, I wasn't thrilled to be talking about Ranger, but I wasn't going to brush off Tank's obvious anguish and let him lash out at our friends because of it. He was hurting and I needed to be the same kind of supportive friend he had been for me when my world was falling apart around me. "He broke the Rangers creed," Tank said after several agonisingly silent moments.

"Ranger has a creed?" I asked, confusion drawing my brows together as I swivelled some more, draping my feet over his thighs.

"Not Ranger," he said, shaking his head. "The Army Rangers. When we joined we adopted the Ranger's Creed, and he's broken it. And I'm really not okay with it."

"How'd he break it?"

"Never shall I fail my comrades," he quoted. "He failed you months ago when he made the stupid decision to cut you off from your support network. And I thought I'd dealt with my anger on the matter at the time, until you told us the rest of the story yesterday. Now all I can think about is how much I want to rip his head from his shoulders and stuff it up his ass."

"Well that's a visual I never want to think about again," I muttered, frowning. "Have you talked to Bobby and Lester about it?"

His left brow cocked up again, this time in a more dubious way, like the eyebrow equivalent of a scoff. I envied how many expressions he could make with just a single eyebrow. "No," he said firmly.

"Maybe you should."

Here's how the strategy meeting for this chapter obvious went (via video chat, of course, because social distancing rules):

Me: Hey guys, here's my plan for this chapter: [Holds up a suggestion card that just says "sort out Steph's training"]
Steph: [mildly interested nodding] Good plan
Bobby: [with his head in the freezer] Hmm? What?
Lester: I kinda wanna get a puppy, but I don't think Ella would let me keep it in the apartment...
Tank: I am angry.
Me: [focusing on Steph because she's clearly the only one paying attention] Cool, so what you're going to do is you're going to try and figure it out on your own, but it's gonna be SUUUPER expensive, but then Tank calls and you'll ask him and the guys for help
Tank: No. No guys. Only Tank
Steph: Tank seems angry
Me: Yes, he does. Now when they arrive with food you'll tell them about what you need to get done and-
Steph: Tank what's wrong?
Bobby: I have a bunch of leftovers here that we can eat.
Lester: I like food! Wanna watch me do a cartwheel?
Me: [sigh] Whatever [picks up a pen and starts taking notes]