Disclaimer: Anything recognizable belongs to Janet Evanovich, and the rest is mine. I'm grateful she lets us play.

Warning: Dark fic. Adult language, adult content, violence, smut. This is written for mature audiences only.

Chapter 6

Hector's POV

I pull into the attached garage of my home, a two-story brick structure with an A-line roof and ivy growing on the side of the chimney in Princeton. I imagine most of my co-workers think I live in a trash can or a survival bunker, and I'm all too happy to encourage that misconception. This home is my sanctuary. It is painted in airy tones with medium wood trim and wood floors, but my favorite part is that the back half of the house has large sliding doors that open to the woods beyond.

I hang my keys on a hook near the door, place my gun and knives on a side table, and my shoes beside it before strolling into the adjacent kitchen.

"Hola, Hector," Jose says, looking up from dinner prep with a smile. He sets aside his mixing and greets me halfway with a kiss. Jose Lopez is my fiancé and the best thing to happen me but never would have without Estefania's influence.

"Hola, Jose," I respond, returning the kiss before pulling a beer out of the fridge and picking up a knife to assist with the chopping. Jose understands I need a moment to reacclimate to our home environment before we start talking about our days, and I appreciate his patience.

I toss a green salad, and Jose finishes preparing a spiced chicken breast with mango salsa, and we take our plates to the dining room table that overlooks the woods. I return to the kitchen to pour a glass of white wine for Jose and set it at his place. He raises the rim of his drink, and I tap it with the neck of my beer bottle with a small smile.

"Ranger's back," I say quietly after taking a small sip, and Jose's eyebrows shoot up as he slowly lowers his glass to the table. "I told him about what I have been doing to protect Estefania and Lester's involvement. He assured me that he intended to be committed to her, no matter what. I hope that's true," I say heavily. Jose reaches across the table and puts his hand over mine.

"I know you're worried, but keep the faith," he says gently. "The past eight months have been difficult, but from everything you've told me, Ranger loves Stephanie. He'll do the right thing."

I nod in agreement and take a bite of my salad. While I've kept my life with Jose and work life separate, I often speak candidly to him about the people I spend my day with. The only two people I trust as much as Jose are Ranger and mi Angelita, and Jose and I have no secrets from each other.

Jose begins telling me about his research and the difficulty he is having finding a new Teacher's Assistant to replace Monica. Jose is a third generation Mexican American who received his undergrad at Berkley, and his Master's and Ph.D. at Stanford before becoming a Professor of Latin Studies at Princeton. For all appearances, we are opposites, down to his slighter darker skin, taller, more slender build, and thick, dark hair that's always neatly styled, and preppy wardrobe, but we complement each other, and our relationship has given my life a sense of peace and contentment I never thought I would find.

Jose is academically brilliant but grew up relatively sheltered. I first met Jose on State Street. He was conducting field research on Puerto Rican and Guatemalan immigrants and how they are changing the city. Unfortunately, or fortunately, in my case, he came alone, unarmed, and found his car stolen within ten minutes of his arrival. I observed Jose unseen, and when I reached my car to leave, I found I couldn't. I introduced myself, gave him a ride home, and told him to call me if he went back so that I could offer my protection. I returned to State Street, persuaded the would-be car thieves to give me the vehicle, and left it outside Jose's apartment. He called me, insisted on a drink as a thank you, and we started dating that week. That was a little more than a year ago.

I help Jose clean-up after dinner, and we settle onto the couch to watch a documentary on Dreamers. I rest my head on Jose's shoulder as he puts his arm around me, and my mind drifts back to Estefania. I first met her about two and a half years ago when Ranger called me to install a security device at her apartment. It was a hopeless endeavor, and I returned several times before uninstalling it. My favorite was when her remote didn't work. We both ignored the bullet hole and pretended it was a manufacturer's defect. I still have the remote in my desk drawer.

After that, she kept finding reasons to bump into me. At first, I wondered if Estefania was tracking me, but then I realized I was subconsciously putting myself in a position to be found.

I moved to America from Guatemala when I was eleven years old and mi hermana, Rosalina, was nine. My parents saved every penny they had to send us to Tia Maria. Our farewell at the airport was the last I ever saw them. They were killed by rebels near the end of the Guatemalan Civil War three months later.

Tia Maria was in her late sixties when we came to live with her in Trenton. She did her best to care for us, but I quickly assumed the responsibilities of the man of the household, and it was clear I needed to provide additional income to support Rosalina and myself. I dropped out of high school at the beginning of eleventh grade to work at an electronics store, but when my Tia Maria found out, she was furious. We reached a compromise, and I tested out with my GED and enrolled in a community college the next month.

While no longer being tied to the rigid schedule of a high school student freed up my time for employment and college classes, it also meant I saw Rosalina less. She struggled more with the loss of mama and papa than I did, especially as a teenager, and she compensated by developing a strong circle of friends. I didn't realize the nature of her friendships until I caught her climbing in through the window one night, high as a kite.

I started to follow Rosalina, and I soon realized she was heavily involved in a local Dominican gang and dating the leader's brother, Diego. In exchange for sex, he gave her drugs, alcohol, and a reputation. I remained on the periphery of the gang, but privately, I tried to pressure Rosalina to change her ways.

Things came to a head a Tuesday night in May. Rosalina's school called saying she complained of being ill, and when I went to pick her up, she had already left. I looked for hours, but I couldn't find her. By sunset, I started walking the streets I knew Diego's gang claimed as their territory. At midnight my Tia Maria called me frantic that she thought someone was trying to break into the house. I raced home. Even then, I had begun to develop proficiency with knives, and I carefully patrolled around my home.

When I reached the end of the narrow side yard to turn towards the backdoor, I stumbled as I tripped over an unexpected form. Turning back, I knelt in cold horror at the body of my little sister. I called 911 immediately, but I knew it was too late. The autopsy later determined the cause of death was due to excessive blood loss from a poorly executed abortion, and that there were cocaine and alcohol in her system. We concluded she passed out trying to sneak into the house. Mi Tia Maria took the loss as a personal failing to a promise she made to her sister, and she died of heart disease six months later.

When she died, my sole purpose in life became revenge against Diego, and I vowed to destroy everything he held valued. I joined a rival Latino gang, and I soon earned a name with my knife work and sophisticated electronics skills. I created several devices that enabled us to steal cars faster as well as monitor our borders more efficiently, and I rose in prominence quickly. Slowly, we began to take over the Dominican territory, and I knew a turf war was imminent. I organized a deal with a larger gang that, if they supported us against the Dominicans, we would merge our territory with theirs as long as our leaders retained their positions.

None of us wanted to draw too much attention from the TPD, and we planned our strike carefully. Winter can make people hole up and become predictable. We used this to our advantage, and when Diego, his brother Mateo, and three other key members of the gang were gathered one January night at a garage, we surrounded the facility and overwhelmed their defenses in seconds. I walked inside, and with the amount of hate I had built up inside for Diego over the past year, I had no reservations about killing him. The experience gave me an emotional high, and I used my knives to send a message that follows me to this day. Diego's death was slow and merciless, and his cries fed into my sense of power. The leader of my gang, Manuel, executed Mateo once I finished with Diego. We gave the rest of the Dominican gang an option. Join us or join Mateo and Diego. There was no more bloodshed that day, and a period of relative peace ensued on the streets afterward.

It wasn't until I returned to my now empty home and stood in my sister's bedroom did the full weight of what I had done come to rest on my heart, and the pain was excruciating. I thought revenge would take away the pain of Rosalina and Tia Maria's deaths, but instead, I felt nothing but remorse. That remorse was debilitating to the point that I couldn't mourn the deaths of Rosalina or Tia Maria, and the only way I found myself surviving was to close off my emotions entirely.

I gave myself the teardrop tattoo as a symbolic reminder of the tears I was unable to shed, the person I had become, and the person I didn't want to be. It also served to increase my reputation within my gang and rival gangs to the point I became nearly untouchable, and I withdrew further into my studies and work in computers and electronics.

It was around that time Rangeman hung their shingle in Trenton and started shaking things up. Ranger came into town with a splash, and guys that once considered themselves unrivaled and the courts at their leisure suddenly found themselves in jail. I listened to the rumblings as the gangs began to discuss eliminating Ranger and his men in black. I had no desire to be drawn into a gang war.

Further, while I knew I was gay, the members of my gang did not. I suspected that should my sexuality become public; life would be much harder for me. There were already rumors surrounding my supposed celibacy, and I knew it was only a matter of time before my killing of Diego became history and that I would need to prove myself again. I decided to take a chance.

I met Ranger on the eve of a multi-gang consortium. He met me alone at a playground near Mercer Lake, an area outside both of our jurisdictions, as it were. I could tell immediately he was a good man, and I suspected he knew more about me than he let on. He explained his desire to keep violence to a minimum, and that he would be willing to scale back the tactics his teams used if the gangs were willing to respect him and his men and keep their rivalries away from civilians. Then, he offered me a job as the Head of Information Security at Rangeman. The two conditions were that I arrange for him to have a table at the meeting between the gang leaders the next day and that I go to counseling.

I expected the first condition, but the second one took me by complete surprise, and I am not a man often surprised. Ranger told me that he understood both killing and loss and that he was concerned I was going through it alone. He stated that he didn't judge me and if in the same situation, he would likely do the same thing. Ranger further said that by taking Diego's life, I secured a period of peace between the gangs that probably saved dozens of lives. Ranger then told me he was proud of me, and I knew I would follow the man to the ends of the earth.

The meeting was successful, Rangeman thrived, I was able to secure a new role as a liaison and peacekeeper between the gangs and Rangeman, and I enjoyed my new job in Information Security. I went to counseling once a month as required, but because I didn't want to be there, it wasn't very productive. Then I met Mi Angelita.

I understand and speak English much better than I let on, and because I'm an introvert by nature, I'm fine letting people assume I only Habla Español. I didn't fool Estefania, and she eventually bargained that she would keep my secret if I would teach her Spanish. Being feared by people was my norm so that the idea this spitfire of a woman would dare to make a deal with me was ridiculous, and I couldn't help but agree. We regularly met at least once a week after that and became each other's confidants. Estefania never pried, but slowly over time, she gleaned the entire story from me. Like with Ranger, I never felt judged, and more importantly, I never felt as though I disappointed her. (Speak Spanish)

Mi Angelita noticed when I became withdrawn as Spring approached. She went out of her way to check in on me and encourage me. It was the twentieth anniversary of Rosalina's death, and I began to feel the loss in a way I hadn't since before I killed Diego. My thoughts were becoming increasingly dark, and I started to plan my suicide. I still don't know how Estefania figured it out, but on the date of Rosalina's death, she came to Rangeman, picked me up, and drove me to the cemetery. There, she placed a dozen pink roses on Rosalina's grave, knelt in silent prayer, and turned to hug me.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Hector," she said as tears rimmed her eyes, and I broke. I cried for the first time in almost thirty years, leaning into her small frame with racking sobs. A lifetime of pain and loss poured out of me. I mourned my parents and my shortened childhood. I mourned mi Hermana and the baby she carried to heaven with her. I mourned mi Tia and her broken heart. I even grieved the man I killed, and the innocence I lost that day. Mi Angelita held me as I sunk to my knees in the wet grass and her unconditional love and acceptance gave me the courage that I needed to be amongst the living again.

I began going to counseling once a week, and I finally understood Ranger's first words to me. I rationalized and accepted Diego's death and my integral role in it, and I no longer felt the paralyzing blame.

It was around that time I began to hear rumblings from newer gang initiates that they wanted to make a name by taking down Ranger and Ranger's woman, as the streets know Estefania. The rumors grew the most among the younger generation that wanted to rise in ranks but didn't respect the balance of power. I began to rove the streets more, hoping my physical presence would inspire the same reproach it once did. The teenagers were disrespectful towards me and dismissed the current leadership as being old and out of touch. The snowball was quickly becoming an avalanche.

I had no desire to kill anyone again, but I now understood that sometimes to do so is the best choice I can make. If faced with a decision between Ranger or mi Angelita's lives or standing by and watching them die, it was a choice I could easily make and sleep well over. I respected the fragility of life, and from that position of strength, I knew I could do the right thing.

Walking one evening, I happened across a meeting between the newest gang initiates. I snuck into the shadows, and what I heard chilled me. The consensus was that whoever killed Ranger and Estefania would be the one who would lead them into the future. I notified Rangeman to increase their security and kept a steady presence on the streets gaining intelligence.

Most of the boys proved to be hot heads with big mouths who were quickly reined in by their leadership, but one wouldn't let go of the idea. I placed a tracker on Isaac's vehicle and worked day and night to monitor his movements. I earned my second teardrop the night I pulled him off of Estefania's fire escape. I killed him quickly but replicated the artistic brutality of my knives on his person before dumping the body at the upstarts' original meeting location. There have been no threats to Ranger's or Mi Angelia's lives since by the gangs, and using the tools I learned from Ranger, Estefania, counseling, and time, I was able to accept what I had done and move forward quickly. Ranger knew, of course, what my second teardrop meant, and that was the first time he thanked me. Today was the second.

It was at this point in my life, feeling confident and assured, that I met Jose. I know he is the love of my life, and I know I wouldn't have this joy without Ranger or mi Angelita's influence on it.

Jose and I began dating a month before Ranger's departure, and we moved into together after three months of dating. It was the most impulsive thing I've ever done, and I haven't had even a second of regret. We are renting this house with an option to buy. Estefania is the only person from Rangeman who knows where I live, but she has never been here. I wired the house to be remotely monitored by Rangeman, but only if an alarm is triggered or I push a panic button. Otherwise, it exists invisibly within the system.

Mi Angelita is also the only person who has met Jose, but I'm not sure she knows it. It was a month before the Farro disaster. I knew she was depressed Ranger was gone, and I think she suspected that Morelli was cheating on her, but she hadn't found the courage yet to confront him. I invited her to have a drink with me at a bar in Lawrenceville. When she asked why Lawrenceville, I said it was because I liked having a beer without knowing everyone in town is getting an update about it like the Burg. She laughed and agreed. The real reason was that the bar was the halfway point for Jose and me after work.

One thing that makes Jose and I work is that he doesn't pressure me. He understands that my life has many stressors and that I often retreat into silence to deal with them. He valued that by meeting Estafania, even indirectly, I was inviting him into my life. Jose respects me, and that evening was when we decided to move in together.

I was offsite when the Farro takedown happened, and by the time I heard what had happened and made it to the hospital, Estefania was unconscious, and the doctors were treating her. I waited in the Emergency Room all night, sitting off to the side. Lester joined me off and on, giving me updates on her condition. Of the Core Team, Lester is the only one I get along with aside from Ranger. I think Tank is an asshole who chooses to treat people like things instead of human beings. The only reason I'm still working for Rangeman after the past ten months of his leadership is out of loyalty to Ranger and Estefania. Bobby and I have very little cause to interact, and he strikes me as someone who chooses the path of least resistance, even if it isn't the right thing to do.

I stayed in my Rangeman apartment after Estefania returned back to Haywood, and I asked Lester to notify me when she woke up. He did, but it was also to tell me she left. I could hear the confusion and exhaustion in his voice, and my instincts told me there was something else going on. I monitored her movements in my office, and my concern rose when her trackers started going all over town. When the one belonging to Rex remained stationary at a residential address, I took a chance and went to see her.

The pain in her eyes is something that keeps me awake at night. It's still there, only now she sometimes masks it with rage, sadness, and emptiness. I knew then that she needed me, and when she is ready to process everything, I will be there for her as she was for me.

I also remembered how dark my life became before I was ready to move on, and I desperately want to keep Estefania away from that level of despair. That's why I made her promise not to attempt to kill herself. I'm not sure that I have succeeded. Sure, she isn't dead, but she has worked damn hard at dampening her essential spark.

I attempted to encourage mi Angelita into counseling several times, but in each instance, I was met with a furious backlash. I've become afraid to pressure her more lest she cut me out of her life as she has everyone else. As far as I know, I'm the only person she has regular contact with, and that puts me in a unique position to help her. I'm not sure I can survive losing Estefania as I lost mi Hermana, and so I backed off. I'm not always sure I'm doing the right thing, and she has been a constant worry.

Lester has proven an unexpected ally, and I'm not sure Estefania would be as physically intact as she is without him. When I received the notification that someone tripped the sensor for Estefania's door, I arrived at the apartment within minutes. I was livid Lester was attempting to violate her privacy, and I was even more concerned she would think I had something to do with it. I didn't have a lot of time to get Lester offsite before Estefania was due to arrive home, but the look on my face convinced him to go along with me.

I drove us to an abandoned gas station, expecting a bunch of yelling, demanding, and power plays. Instead, Lester turned to me with his hands at his sides, shoulders drooped, and said, "How is she, Hector? Is she safe? Is she recovering? Please, tell me." The despondency in his voice caused me to reconsider the role he might have played in her feeling that Rangeman betrayed her, but I wasn't willing to trust him yet.

"Estefania is safe. I am taking care of her," I replied steely. "Keep your distance. She doesn't trust you or anyone at Rangeman."

Lester sat a long minute silently. "Okay, Hector. You're in charge, and I won't tell anyone where Beautiful lives," he said before turning to look at me with an expression of concern. "I don't know what happened to make Stephanie mistrust us, but I'm glad she has you. If I can do anything, and I mean anything, to help, I'm at your service."

I didn't take Lester up on his offer immediately, but as the weeks turned to months and Estefania's behavior became increasingly risky and erratic, I knew I was in over my head. Lester had kept his word, and I decided to trust him.

I had been sleeping more often at my Rangeman apartment to be nearer to mi Angelia in case something happened at night. Lester and I worked out a schedule for monitoring her movements so that I could have more downtime, something my mental health and relationship with Jose needed. I didn't know Estefania was stealing Rangeman files until after her first gunshot wound.

I became concerned when she hadn't moved from her apartment in two days, and I found her mostly drunk with twenty stitches on her bicep. I stayed with mi Angelita until she was sober, and I got her to tell me the name of the skip. I did a search on him at Rangeman and discovered he was wanted for armed robbery and was a repeat violent offender, not the type of FTA Estefania was usually assigned. I confronted Lester about it, demanding to know why Rangeman was no longer picking up these skips. He was as surprised as I, and immediately went to the bonds office to get to the bottom of it.

It turns out Vinnie, with Tank's blessing, instructed Connie to turn a blind eye to the files Estefania picks up. In his eyes, finder's keepers, and since Estefania charges less than Rangeman does per skip, it's better for Vinnie's bottom line. Connie expressed concern, but she refused to disobey Vinnie's orders. Instead, Lester convinced her to let him know when Estefania picks up a file that might otherwise belong to Rangeman. I became more proactive about finding out what mi Angelita was doing on a day to day basis, and between the two of us, we have been able to provide additional security without Estefania's knowledge. If she did suspect anything, Lester used his Rangeman duties as an excuse.

I shift my gaze out the back windows. My favorite place in my home is the stone patio with a firepit built into the far corner. The trees surround me there, and the stars shine a little brighter. It's quiet, and I feel like I can breathe. I was sitting on the bench outside a couple of days after the Sanchez incident. It was the first time I had been home since, and I needed to quietly unwind. Jose sat beside me, his arm around my shoulders much like tonight, and I knew I was home. After all the crap in my life, I had found a man who loved me for me, the good with the bad, and was willing to sit with me through it all. I tilted my head towards him and said, "Marry me?"

I took Jose by surprise, but his face told me his answer before his words could. We purchased rings for each other the next day, and we wear the bands on our right hands with the intention of waiting until our wedding to shift it to the left. I often wear mine on a chain around my neck while I'm working to keep my private life private. Jose's family and friends are thrilled for us, but I'm not ready to share my good news yet. Estefania and Ranger are the two people I want to stand with me, but they aren't yet ready to do so.

I want to feel more relieved than I do that Ranger has returned, but the last eight months have tempered my optimism. Even before Farro, Estefania has never talked much about her feelings, but I know she's been hurt by Ranger's past barriers towards a relationship. I've seen that the revolving door of her bedroom has taken a toll on her emotionally and hurt her self-esteem. Yet, through it all, Estefania still listens and responds to Ranger more than any other person. While she has never explicitly stated it, I know she loves Ranger. For lack of a better option, I've settled for preserving mi Angelita's life in a holding pattern until Ranger's return. I know in my heart this is a crucial time for Estefania, and I hope she chooses to soften her heart. However, if she does and Ranger is careless towards her again, I'm afraid for mi Angelia. I don't want to bury another hermana. (Sister.)

I feel a kiss on my temple, and it begins to draw me out of my contemplation. I blink several times, and I realize the TV is dark. I missed the entire show. "Corazón, ¿estás ahí?" Jose says gently but with a hint of laughter. (Sweetheart, are you there?)

I sigh and turn to look at my lover with a thin smile. "Besame," I respond, my eyes boring into mahogany ones, and he pulls me into a warm embrace, his lips locked on mine. I press against him, leaning into the moment and pushing my memories and worries away. As Jose said, I will keep the faith. We stand, never breaking the kiss, and lead each other to the bedroom. (Kiss me.)

A/N: YOU GUYS ARE SO AMAZING! Chapter five of Warrior had the highest single day readership AND single day comments of any chapter in any story that I have posted. I was giddy all day seeing those incredible messages, and I am absolutely humbled by everyone who stated my writing had touched them in some way. You brought tears of gratitude to my eyes several times. So, of course, I want to share the love with this bonus chapter! I hope you fell in love with Hector a little more reading this because he is definitely one of my favorite parts of this story.

Moving forward, Misty23y has been an incredible resource to me ironing out my constantly changing outline. Your comments inspire me (so keep posting them!), and then my imagination takes over as I write. She helps me go back and make sure there are enough supported POVs and that the details are straight in previous chapters to justify my latest great idea. I'm so glad I discovered this community and have the privilege to write with her as my wing-woman. Thanks, Babe!