A/N: Includes dialogue prompts from the Janet Evanovich Fan Fiction Facebook Group January 2022 Writing Challenge.
Dialogue prompts: I'm like 75% sure this won't explode on us.
"Keys, wallet, license, blow torch. OK, I'm ready."
Chapter Six
Stephanie's alarm went off at four-thirty, and she fumbled around until she knocked it onto the floor, where it continued to screech like a banshee. She stumbled out of bed, still tangled in the sheets, and felt around on the floor until she found it. Stephanie forced her bleary eyes open and managed to shut it off before the sound actually pierced her brain.
Stephanie blinked a few times, trying to remember why she would have set her alarm for zero dark thirty, and then she groaned. She was doing some dubious interior decorating job with Ranger, the possible psycho. Starvation and eviction weren't looking all that bad at the moment and she considered crawling back into bed and pulling the covers over her head, but she staggered into the bathroom and flung herself in the shower instead. Exactly no one sane was up at this hour, and Stephanie got a good seven minutes of hot water. She let the warm spray beat down on her until her eyes finally opened.
Stephanie pulled a towel off the rack and dried off. Her hair was a damp, tangled mess that bore a striking resemblance to a bird's nest. She gave it a shake to style it and figured that was good enough. She briefly considered swiping on a coat or two of mascara, but the odds she'd end up looking like a raccoon were high, so Stephanie brushed her teeth, swiped on some cherry-flavored lip gloss, and she was done. Stephanie rooted around until she found her jeans from yesterday and pulled them on. In honor of her new job, and her not so bright future, she dug out a clean sweatshirt. The cuffs were frayed, but it was well worn and soft. A hold over from her college days.
The soft rhythmic squeaking told her Rex was running on his wheel when she came into the kitchen. When she flipped on the light, he stopped and blinked a couple of times, confused by the sudden interruption. A moment passed, and he started running again on his hamster wheel to nowhere, his feet a pink blur. Stephanie realized it was pathetic to be envious of a hamster, but she was. Rex didn't have a lot of worries, except maybe whether his food dish was empty. He spent his days eating, napping, and going for a stroll. Right now, that sounded pretty good to Stephanie.
She checked the clock and gave a sigh. Not enough time to make coffee. When she caught her first skip, she was going to splurge and buy one of those coffee makers that started automatically. Whoever invented those things was right up there with Edison as far as she was concerned.
Stephanie stopped at the kitchen table. What did one take to an interior decorating job run by a mercenary that dressed in all black and was quite possibly crazy? She shuffled through the items in her bag.
"Keys, wallet, license, blow torch." OK, I'm ready." Stephanie gave a sarcastic roll of her eyes. "Later Rex."
Ranger was waiting in the parking lot when she swung out the door. He was driving a shiny black Cadillac Escalade with blacked-out windows. The exhaust curled out from the tail pipe, hanging in the pre-dawn air like a sinister warning. She vaguely wondered if all his cars were high-end and black. His aversion to color was bordering on weird, but then again, maybe he wore colorful Hawaiian print shirts in his down time. She knew nothing about the man except he was a good kisser and didn't know crap about food. Well, OK, she knew one or two other things about him, like the way he knew just how to touch her, and how his voice dropped to a silky purr when he was close. And how she was never, ever doing that again, she reminded herself.
Stephanie thought for the second time she should just crawl back into bed and pretend like none of this ever happened. If she could just rewind to New Year's Eve, she'd pretend a lot of things never happened, like the spectacularly bad date with Harold and the spectacularly good sex with Ranger. He was in her blood. She tossed and turned in an achy, sweaty mess half the night. B.O.B had taken the edge off, but not nearly enough. Stephanie thought it was entirely possible the man had ruined her life, and after Dickie and that tasty pastry fiasco that was saying something. OK, maybe that was being a tad dramatic. Maybe he had just ruined her for all other men.
Stephanie slid into the passenger seat beside Ranger. The glow of the dashboard illuminated his perfect features, and her heart gave a vicious lurch and she tried to ignore the buzz of awareness that snaked between them. Three men took up the back seat. Her gaze swung around and she did a double take. All three were wearing black SWAT pants and black shirts. All were heavily muscled. Not an ounce of fat among them, and none of them looked like interior decorators. One of them, however, looked like Ranger's doppelgänger. Their eyes caught, and he grinned at her. He had short hair, and the eyes were a little different, lighter, warmer maybe. He had an openness to him that probably fooled a lot of people into thinking he wasn't a threat. Stephanie knew better.
"Les Santos." He introduced himself as she stared at him with her mouth hanging open and no sound coming out.
He motioned to the guy on his right. "Bobby Brown. He's also the team's doctor."
Stephanie wondered why the team doctor would be needed, but decided it was too early to dwell on it.
Santos motioned to the guy on his left with the shaved head. "Tank."
It was easy to see where he'd come by that nickname.
"I'm Stephanie." Tank and Bobby said hello.
She turned back around, wondering what she'd gotten herself into, and contemplating the wisdom of jumping out and running for cover. One of the things in the vehicle was not the same as the others. All three men and Ranger looked like ex-special forces, trained and lethal.
She buckled herself into the seat and glanced at Ranger. "So, that is the interior decorating team?"
With a flash of perfect teeth, Ranger smiled in the predawn darkness and cruised out of the lot. He handed her a cup of coffee and she was grateful as the caffeine made its way through her body, waking her up. She noticed it was made just the way she liked it, and she was curious what else he had noticed about her and filed away. He didn't seem to miss much.
"I've got a jacket and a vest for you in the back."
"A vest?" Stephanie's voice trailed off, a bad feeling sinking in the pit of her stomach.
"Kevlar."
"You know I'm not a fan of getting shot at, right?"
"Just a precaution," Ranger said. "Probably no one will get shot."
Probably? Stephanie spewed coffee all over the dashboard and almost choked. She would have sworn Ranger was smiling. He handed her a napkin, and she gave him her best Burg death glare, which was entirely wasted in the dark.
Where are we going?" She finally asked.
"Office building on Sloane."
Stephanie rolled her eyes. Well, that certainly cleared it up. Apparently, the one thing Ranger wasn't good at was talking. Sloane Street ran parallel to the worst street in the city, Stark Street. Stark was filled with drugs, gangs, hookers and pimps and lined with burned-out, abandoned buildings and businesses. Gentrification had started a couple of blocks south of Sloane and had been slowly inching its way towards Stark Street, one building at a time. Sloane was smack in the middle. One end of Sloane was lawless, the other was a mix that was tipping into respectable territory with the occasional dealer or hooker venturing in. An eclectic mix of businesses, warehouses converted to apartments, and office buildings, creeping closer to Stark Street by the day.
Lost in their own private thoughts, no one said much as they drove towards the city center. Ranger was in the zone, no doubt thinking about ways to take over third world countries or maybe he was just thinking about lunch. He was entirely unreadable. Stephanie let out a little sigh and looked out the window, watching the shadowy landscape speed by in a blur, sipping her perfectly made coffee, wondering how she'd gotten herself into this. Oh, that's right: starvation, looming eviction, and moving in with her parents had been great motivators to throw caution to the wind.
Ranger hooked a right and drove three blocks up Sloane and parked. He nodded at the multi-story brown brick building across the street, two doors down. "That's our building. We're going to the third floor."
The windows were boarded up and covered in graffiti, trash littered the doorways, and the surrounding area was bare, packed earth. Not even grass survived in this part of Trenton. Everything about the building was depressing and screamed neglect.
Stephanie could see where one board had been pried loose. "Does this clean-up include people or just stuff?"
Ranger's shoulder tilted up, which Stephanie assumed meant he didn't know.
"What about rats? Do you think there are rats in there?"
Ranger just grinned.
"This is legal, right?"
"Been hired by the owner," Ranger said. Stephanie noticed he skipped the legal part of her question.
Ranger angled from behind the wheel, walked to the rear of the SUV, and opened the hatch. He handed Stephanie a Kevlar vest and a windbreaker that had Security printed on the back of it in big block letters.
Ranger passed her a pair of latex gloves and a mask. "Here. Put these on. Don't pick up anything off the floor with your hands, use the shovels or brooms. There are used needles everywhere, so be careful. Have you been vaccinated for Hepatitis A and B?"
Stephanie shook her head no.
"OK, Bobby will get you started when we get back to RangeMan. It's a series of three shots." Ranger tacked on as an afterthought, like maybe he thought she wouldn't be around for all of them.
Stephanie watched as everyone strapped on their vest and buckled on utility belts and holstered guns. She pulled the vest over her head, surprised by its weight, and fiddled with the straps; painfully aware she was out of her element.
Santos went to hand her a gun and Ranger stopped him.
"No, not until she's been trained." Ranger barked. "I don't need anyone getting shot by friendly fire."
Santos gave her a look that said sorry and went back to gearing up, and Stephanie threw Ranger a dirty look, thinking shooting him in his arrogant ass might be worth the hassle.
Ranger gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, and Stephanie figured that was Ranger's equivalent of screaming 'why me'. She contemplated pointing out keeping all those emotions and thoughts bottled up wasn't good for him, but what did she care. One of these days, he was going to blow and it wouldn't be pretty, but she didn't plan to be around long enough to see it.
Ranger reached behind him, under his shirt, and pulled out a stun gun.
"Here, take this." His voice was gruff.
He reached out, pulled up her sweatshirt and Stephanie watched in stunned silence, paralyzed, unable to move away or take the stun gun from him. Heat swirled through her as his fingers brushed across her skin, lingering just a little too long. He shoved the stun gun under her waistband. It was warm with his body heat and caused goosebumps to rise on her skin. His fingers had been even warmer, sliding across her belly, in a whisper light stroke. Stephanie bit down on her bottom lip.
"How's that?" His eyes locked with hers, and his fingers still rested against her bare belly.
"Fine." Stephanie sounded high-pitched and strangled.
He draped her shirt over the gun, tugging it back in place. The way he was looking at her confused her. He seemed softer, and his gaze held a fair amount of heat, but all too quickly the look turned to irritation and she felt liked she'd been slapped. The man was possibly certifiable. One minute he looked at her like she was lunch, the next he looked like he wanted to throw himself off the nearest building just to get away from her.
He eyed the vest and she would have sworn he was trying not to roll his eyes when he grabbed the Velcro straps and pulled them tight. Stephanie gave a little squeak and her breath left her in a whoosh.
"I can't breathe." She snapped.
"Then it's almost tight enough." Ranger quipped. "Come on. Let's go. Stay behind me." He was suddenly all business.
"I better not get into trouble for this," she said to Ranger. "I'm going to be really bummed if I get arrested."
Santos grinned. "Man, you don't like to get shot. You don't like to get arrested. You don't know how to have fun at all."
Stephanie couldn't help but smile back. His enthusiasm was infectious. She wondered if Santos was related to Ranger. Now that he was out of the SUV, she could see he was a little taller than Ranger, and had the same drool worthy body. He seemed mostly normal and clearly had gotten all the charm and good manners.
They crossed the street and fanned out. Stephanie did her best to stay behind Ranger and keep up with him. He was in the zone, focused and moving fast with stealth and precision.
Ranger pried the loose plywood off, and they entered the building. He clicked on his Maglite, illuminating the interior of the first floor, and swung the beam around the dingy interior. More graffiti and a couple of vacant rooms, which may have been offices at some point, came into view. Tank and Bobby fanned out and cleared the rooms, while Ranger and Santos continued upstairs.
Stephanie trailed behind Ranger, and they made a quick stop on the second floor. The space had never been finished and exposed framing dotted the floor. A quick sweep showed nothing but abandoned lumber and the red glow of half a dozen pairs of rat eyes. An involuntary shiver went through Stephanie, and she clasped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.
"Man, I fucking hate rats." Les whispered. "Those things look as big as house cats."
Stephanie thought he underestimated their size as they squeaked and scurried away.
Santos did a quick check of the area. "This floor is clear."
Tank and Bobby joined them, and they made their way up the last flight of stairs. The tension built with each step as Stephanie wondered what they would find on the third floor. Ranger indicated that was their target. So far, things had been a lot calmer than she anticipated, but by the way everyone pulled out their guns, she expected that to change.
Ranger led the way, flashlight in one hand, gun in the other. They stopped at the top of the stairs and Stephanie looked around. The third floor was a combination of finished and unfinished space. Two areas were enclosed, and looked like they had been planned as apartments or offices. The door to one side had plywood propped against it, and the other had an actual door.
Tank and Bobby headed towards the doorway covered by plywood.
Ranger's lips were close to the shell of her ear, and his warm breath brushed Stephanie's neck. "Stay over there until we breach." Ranger pointed to an area left of the door near a broken window that led to a rusted-out fire escape.
Stephanie nodded and did what she was told.
Ranger put his boot to the door, and it crashed open, banging against the wall with a crack. Ranger was first in followed by Santos, and chaos erupted all around them, as Ranger shouted "security."
Stephanie peeked around the corner. Half-naked people were scrambling off mattresses laying on the floor, shrieking and swearing. Ranger and Santos filed through the room, cuffing people, lining them up against the living room wall. Six people in all.
One man was berserk, waving his arms to avoid getting cuffed. "You can't do this, you fuckers," he was yelling and pulled out a knife, waving it around. He jabbed at Ranger and Stephanie stifled a scream. Ranger sidestepped the blade and caught the guy's arm, twisting his wrist, until the guy yelped and dropped the knife. Ranger kicked the knife away with casual ease. Like things like this happened all the time. Ranger didn't seem all that disturbed by the event and cuffed him and shoved him down against the wall. Unease slithered through Stephanie. Maybe she wasn't cut out for this kind of work, because she was a hundred percent sure she would have either been stabbed or fainted.
Two stained and ripped mattresses were pushed against one wall, and the room was devoid of any other furniture. The floor was littered with pizza boxes, empty liquor bottles, beer cans, trash, and drug paraphernalia. The entire place was just filth and clutter. The air was stale with the odors of urine, cheap weed, unwashed bodies, and something nastier that Stephanie didn't want to think about.
Two women and four men sat cuffed along the wall. Most were strung out and didn't even know what was happening.
Stephanie stood in the doorway. "What's going to happen to them?"
Ranger looked over at her. "Bobby will check them out. We will get them something to eat, and if they don't have any outstanding warrants, we will drop them off at the meth clinic or homeless shelter. Or wherever they want." He gave a shrug. "That's all we can do."
At least Stephanie knew why they had brought a doctor. It made her feel a little better.
Tank returned from the SUV with a cardboard box filled with disposable gloves, trash bags, and a sharps container for needles, along with a couple of industrial push brooms.
"This is the deal," Ranger said to Stephanie. "We strip the building of everything not nailed down. Tomorrow the owner will bring someone in to clean and start renovation."
"What's to stop them from returning?" Stephanie motioned with her head to the row of people cuffed along the wall.
Ranger just stared at her.
"Right," she said. "Stupid question."
"We discourage it." Santos told Stephanie and threw Ranger an indecipherable look.
Santos, master of the understatement. Stephanie barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"Be careful, babe. You don't want to get stuck with a dirty needle."
Stephanie's lip curled back. That might be the least of her worries. If the testosterone contact high didn't get her, scabies or flesh-eating bacteria were also high on the list of potential dangers, assuming she didn't suffocate from holding her breath or choke on her own vomit. Stephanie squelched a gag and pulled the mask on, suddenly grateful for the addition.
Ranger helped Bobby herd the bedraggled occupants into the hall and down the stairs, and Stephanie got to work helping Tank and Santos fill the first garbage bags. Tank grabbed one mattress and hauled it out into the hall and down the stairs. Stephanie didn't even want to contemplate the stains on that petri dish.
"I'll put these in the hall." Stephanie told Santos and grabbed two bags of trash.
She pulled her mask down and wiped the light sheen of sweat from her brow. A scraping noise behind her startled her, and she swung around just in time to take a punch to the face. Stephanie went down on one knee, disoriented. Some guy had been on the fire escape, and he yanked her up by the hair of her head.
Stephanie's eyes were tearing, and she had snot running down her face, and it took a second to realize the man that had his arm anchored around her body was holding a grenade.
"Les!" Stephanie practically screamed.
Somehow, Les seemed easier than Santos to shriek in a moment of pure panic. Her heart was racing, and she thought it was entirely possible her knees were going to buckle. Her scalp was on fire, and she wondered if she was going to have a bald spot. Not that it would matter if he blew them both up.
Les rounded the corner and stopped short. She didn't even see it, but he'd pulled out his gun and was pointing it at the guy, stalking slowly towards them.
"Come on, man, you don't want to do this. Just let the woman go. We've got no beef with you."
Stephanie thought Les seemed entirely too calm about the situation. Talking normal like this was an everyday occurrence and some strung-out junkie wasn't holding a grenade. Maybe Les didn't fully appreciate the situation, she told herself. Stephanie wasn't even sure whether she had wet her pants, so maybe Les had missed the whole grenade part of the equation. Her whole body buzzed like an army of fire ants was marching across her skin, but she forced herself to warn Les.
"Les, he has a ggggrenade." She stammered through numb lips. Her body was shaking and her teeth were clattering together.
"I know, but he doesn't want to use it. Do you?" Les prodded the man for an answer.
Les spoke into his comms. "Be advised we have a live ordinance on three and a hostage. Clear the building."
"Get out!" The man screamed. "You can't take my stuff."
The man pulled the pin out of the grenade, and Stephanie watched with wild eyes as it clattered to the floor. Stephanie whimpered.
"Look at me, Steph." Les ordered. "You're going to be just fine. Stay with me on this, OK."
Stephanie was just staring straight ahead, and couldn't seem to focus or form any words around the lump in her throat. Terror had stolen her voice. The man's arm tightened around her, and his foul breath tickled her cheek.
"Say it." Les demanded, jolting Stephanie out of her stupor.
"Yes." Stephanie forced out, her mouth like cotton.
"I'm like 75% sure this won't explode on us. It's probably just a dud." Les reassured her.
Stephanie's eyes snapped to his, but he was laser focused on the man holding her. Seventy-five percent. Was he nuts? Maybe the more appropriate question should be if she was crazy for being here in the first place.
The man behind her was getting more agitated with each passing minute. "Shut up, shut up, shut up. Get out." He screamed.
This was it. Stephanie was going to die. Blown to smithereens by some junkie with a grenade.
Les put his gun in its holster and held out his hands. "Ok, just give me the girl and we'll go."
"You're lying." The man was rocking side to side.
Stephanie thought his grip on reality was slipping right along with his finger on the lever.
"No man, I put my gun away. I just need the girl." Les kept talking to him in a calm voice, like they were discussing the weather. "I can't leave without her."
The man shook the grenade at Les.
"Just go." Stephanie told Les, her voice surprisingly calm. "Get out of here."
Les' eyes cut to her. "Sorry beautiful. I can't do that." He gave her a reassuring smile. "You and I are going to walk out of here together."
Stephanie thought the odds on that were approaching zero.
"I'm gonna let this go." The man wailed.
"You don't want to do that." Les reasoned.
Stephanie thought trying to reason with a guy that was shaking, panting, and desperate for his next fix was admirable, but unlikely to be successful.
"If you let me go. Les over there will get your stash for you." Stephanie told the man.
He brought the grenade up and banged it against his head. "Really?" He sing-songed.
"Promise." Stephanie confirmed.
"No, no, no," the man whispered. It was clear the demons were winning.
The man's grip on her loosened, and he shoved Stephanie forward, hard. The sudden movement propelled Stephanie forwards and caused her to lose her balance and stumble, but she managed to stay on her feet. He threw the grenade and Stephanie watched in suspended horror as it clattered to the floor and bounced a couple of times in front of Les. Her mouth formed an O to scream, but nothing came out.
She collided with Les. He was broad and solid, like hitting a brick wall. Les' arms reflexively wrapped around her, and he rolled and yanked her with him out of the hall and into the room. He shoved her down on the floor with a bone rattling thud. Her breath whooshed out of her, and she grunted at the brutal impact. He came down on top of her, and his big, heavy body covered hers. Les' arms wrapped around her head, and his weight held her immobile. The only thing Stephanie could hear was her own heart hammering in her ears as she waited for them to die.
A second ticked by and then another. Stephanie struggled to breathe. There was blessed silence as time was suspended. Maybe Les was right, and the grenade had been a dummy. Stephanie wriggled and tried to move Les off of her. His body pressed her against the floor harder, his gun digging into her hip.
"Stay down." Les shouted next to her head and Stephanie went slack against him.
An ear-splitting boom broke the silence and Stephanie was hit with the concussive wave from the blast that felt like a sledge hammer slamming into her and then everything went black.
.
A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing!