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 7
Tank's POV
Beep, beep. Beep, beep. I roll over and shut off my 0400 alarm, striding confidently to my bathroom after a short stretch. I put on my PT gear of a t-shirt, utility pants, and boots before picking up my 50-pound pack and walking to my office. I grab a light breakfast and log into my computer, skimming my e-mail.
Being at the helm of Rangeman has been the best year of my life. I was born to lead, but I've never had the chance before now. I felt perpetually stuck as number two, and usually under Ranger. Being number one has given me the opportunity I needed to prove myself and push this company to the brink of greatness. The company was becoming soft under Ranger's leadership, and I blame Stephanie. When Ranger agreed to mentor her, I didn't say anything because she was so incompetent that I didn't think it would talk long for her to quit or be killed. Besides, while she's not my type, who am I to get in the way of a man's next fuck?
Then Ranger started diverting more Rangeman assets to help her. Protection details. Security. Cars and equipment. Men. Ranger spent more and more time assisting her, and that drew him away from his Rangeman responsibilities. Consequently, I picked up the shit work he didn't want to do or didn't have the time to do anymore. I was livid when I learned he created a line of accounting for Stephanie. I don't think any of the shit she pulls is entertaining.
I was concerned when Stephanie lost it in the ambulance after Farro, but part of me was relieved, because I thought she was getting closer to quitting. When she ghosted the morning after Farro, I knew that she overheard us, but I didn't care. Stephanie has no respect for any Rangeman lives or resources, which has been demonstrated time and again by her refusal to accept training and responsibility. It was time someone told her the hard truths.
When Stephanie emerged from whatever hole she crawled into, I was amused by her change in wardrobe and demeanor, and I saw straight through her immaturity. She's spent the last eight months acting like a typical rebellious teenager who's misunderstood and mad at the world.
Connie called me after Steph started stealing Rangeman files from the bonds office. I thought about intervening, but that's the same shit Ranger would pull only to divert time and assets to rescue her when she inevitably fucked it up. If Stephanie wants to play with the big dogs, then she better be able to take the bite. After all, she's the one who walked away from us, so Ranger doesn't have much high ground here. Further, when I noticed how much the atmosphere at Rangeman improved without Stephanie around anymore and with my new policies promoting good order and discipline, I gave Vinnie the encouragement he needed to keep Steph out of my way.
I persisted in attempting to track Stephanie for a couple of reasons. Most importantly, I wanted to know where she was in order to ensure no one from Rangeman was helping her. The other is that I knew Ranger was going to return from his mission with a hard-on about Stephanie, and to cover my ass, I wanted to show him I had tried. That the steady effort to plant trackers increased her paranoia to the point of blowing the damn thing up in front of Rangeman was the cherry on top.
I lean back in my chair and take a sip of my coffee. There's a silver lining to the new Stephanie. Ranger is so wrapped up in saving her, again, that he's already falling behind in running the company. I've proven my abilities and worth this past year, and I don't want to be number two anymore. Perhaps it's time I plant the seed that he needs to take his perpetual damsel in distress and move to Miami to be near Julie. It's time the heads of the other Rangeman branches deal with what I put up with.
My eyes fall on a picture I keep on my desk of Ranger, Lester, and I in full combat gear, about to deploy for a mission. It was taken about twelve years ago, before we left active duty, before New Jersey, and before Stephanie Plum. We were brothers at arms then, and I loved the rigors of that life. We are true warriors, our stripes earned by being the very best counterinsurgency operatives in the country. We are battle-hardened men with the medals to prove it. Stephanie is not a warrior; she's a Little Girl way out of her league.
I shoulder my pack and begin walking to the gym. It's time for me to greet the men of Rangeman, and continue to be their leader, training them to be a warrior like me.
Ranger's POV
I clear my breakfast plate on seven before taking the stairs down to the main conference room for the morning meeting. I've missed Ella's cooking. Field chow doesn't come close. Assembled in the conference room is the team, and everyone stands to greet me when I walk in.
"Good morning, Rangemen," I say with a slight smile, taking my spot at the head of the table. I notice several of the men, including Hal, Rodriguez, and Zip, smile as I greet them. When walking the hallways in the office yesterday, I noticed that people generally seemed short-tempered and unhappy. There weren't a lot of smiles, and no one stayed after hours in the breakroom or gym to hang out. I reviewed the list of who was staying in Rangeman apartments and was surprised to see several units are empty. Previously, there was a waiting list, and I was considering options to provide additional housing.
Yesterday I was so focused on determining what was happening with Stephanie that I assumed that the lack of joy I observed was due to everyone missing her. When Steph started working at Rangeman, I noticed an immediate boost in morale and productivity. After my conversation with Lester, I started to look at things with a more critical eye. The rest of my afternoon and evening was spent doing a turnover with Tank, and I plan on taking the reins back by the end of the week. I considered taking the helm of Rangeman back from Tank immediately, but if there are underlying issues in the management of Rangeman, it's better if I wait until I have greater situational awareness of those issues.
Once I officially resume leadership, many of the guys will expect things to be as they once were. If I don't have a good idea of what is wrong to fix it, I may quickly lose their goodwill. Change of command, as the military calls it, is a formal process that can make or break a unit. The new or returning Commanding Officer has only one chance to set their tone and expectations.
"Tank will continue to be in charge until the turnover is complete. I will notify you when that happens," I state, turning control of the meeting over to him. I notice the postures of nearly everyone in the room become rigid, and their faces blank.
"Some of you seem to think that because Ranger is back, you are no longer expected to adhere to working hours," Tank begins sternly, and I lean back in interest. "Nothing has changed. Mandatory PT for anyone not on duty begins at 0500. Those not present this morning owe me double time this evening," he barks before clicking to the first slide of a PowerPoint.
Rangeman doesn't have mandatory physical training. Some employees are expected to meet minimum fitness standards as stipulated in their employment contracts, and we provide equipment and training to help them achieve those standards. We also provide incentives and bonuses for meeting fitness goals and joining in group exercise opportunities. Further, if the workday is beginning earlier, who is manning the desks later in the day, or have our labor expenses increased with overtime? Additionally, there are some Rangemen who left the military due to disability. These team members provide support services and have modified physical standards. If mandatory, military-style physical training is occurring at Rangeman, especially if it isn't stipulated in the employment contracts and working hours amended for non-disabled employees, we are likely in violation of labor and employment laws as well as the American Disabilities Act. I make a mental note to speak with our lawyer.
The meeting breaks, and I ask Tank to meet me in my office to continue the turnover. "I'll be there in an hour or two, Ranger," Tank replies without explanation before walking away, and I raise an eyebrow in response. I decide to let the insubordination go, but my concern regarding his leadership of the company increases.
I go to the breakroom to get a bottle of water and an apple. I'm pleased that Ella is continuing to provide her usual offerings to the men. She is an integral part of the success of this company. Many of my employees grew accustomed to having the military provide them three square meals a day, and they cannot cook more than the basics themselves. I'm confident that many of them would eat fast food three times a day without her. There are others who don't own a personal vehicle, and shopping would be difficult and expensive for those individuals without Ella fulfilling order requests when she does the company shopping. That is a program Ella initiated with unanimous appreciation from my employees, especially those that live here. Ella and I worked together to develop a healthy menu that is manageable for her to prepare, palatable to the men, and reasonably cost-efficient. The food consumed and items purchased are taken out of the employee's living expenses allowance.
I walk upstairs to the workspace she manages with Luis, and I knock on the door of the company kitchen. "Come in, come in," Ella says, waving me forward with a smile, closing the door behind me. That's different. Ella always kept her door open before. She said many of the guys sometimes needed an Abuela-like person to talk to, and she considers the men her sons.
"Talk to me, Ella," I say with a sigh. "I know you know everything that happens around here. Why all the empty apartments? Why the empty breakroom? Why the long faces?"
Ella gestures to a small dinette table, and we both sit. "Carlos," she says sadly, patting the top of my hand, "I know Tank is one of your best friends, but he is not fit to lead this company. You only have one to return to because of Lester and the goodwill you've built." I raise my eyebrows and lean back in my seat.
"Tank has implemented mandatory and random housing inspections. He applies military standards to the maintenance of each of the rooms, and all contraband, which is a long list of items, is confiscated. My boys cannot relax in their homes anymore. I'm no longer allowed to purchase food for them after Tank discovered I was buying items now considered prohibited on the premises. He inspects my shopping as a form of further control over what enters the building. No one wants to live here anymore. I visited the guys a couple of times offsite. Several of them are renting apartments together in South Trenton. The cost for them to live in these rundown units is greater than the cost to live here. Many of the men are sleeping on air mattresses, and their diets are worse. Further, with the exercise hours Tank put in place, they have less time to sleep and unwind," she starts, and I'm astounded by Tank's overreach. I'm confident this invasion of privacy isn't legal, and I'm wondering how many laws Rangeman is currently in violation of thanks to Tank.
"I've heard rumors that many of the men are considering seeking employment elsewhere. The only reason you still have half your employees is that Lester convinced them to wait until you returned. Luis and I are still here because we couldn't abandon our boys. You need to act quickly to fix things, Carlos," Ella says in warning.
I'm beginning to wonder how well I know Tank after all, and my anger at his actions is growing by the minute. The conversation shifts to Ella showing me her current menus, which are more dietarily restrictive than before, and we take a tour of a vacant apartment. There, too, things are more spartan. Ella enjoys providing personal touches for the men, but this looks like barracks room down to the grey wool blanket on the bed. "This is what all the apartments, including the ones currently occupied, look like," she says. "No visible personal items are allowed."
"Tell me more about what Tank confiscates," I say heavily.
"Any food not provided by Rangeman or on the short list of acceptable items. The guys are no longer allowed to bring fast food, sweets of any kind, alcohol, you get the idea, into the building. Tank controls everything that happens around here. I ignored his bans at first, but then he started inspecting my purchases. As you know, I would take daily shopping orders from the men and leave the items in their apartments. What they eat is their responsibility, and you generously make healthy choices easier," Ella says with a shrug. "They are grown men who understand the physical standards you expect them to meet. Tank attempts to have his finger in every facet of their lives, and this is an oppressive place to live and work. He runs a tight ship, sure, but he seems to have forgotten we are civilians and people."
I shake my head in astonishment and begin to move towards the door when Ella says with concern, "How is our Stephanie, Carlos? I miss her terribly around here."
I turn and look at the small woman with the heart of a lion before me. "I sat with her for a couple of hours yesterday. We spoke a little, but I'm still getting to the bottom of things," I say evenly. "Do you know anything?"
"This is what I know," Ella starts. "Stephanie is all heart. She loves you, she loves the men at this company, and she would do anything for those she loves. Stephanie brought light into this building, and everyone was better for it. When she left, that was when things started to go downhill. I heard that she killed a man when he was trying to hurt her, and she's been alone since. I noticed Lester and Hector work extra hours, and they are both constantly worried, though they try to hide it. I think they are helping her. Tank began treating this place like a boot camp shortly afterward, saying that everyone was too lax and that they would be able to do their jobs better with his changes. Bobby keeps to himself. He makes sure everyone is good in body, but he overlooks their spirits.
"I also know that Stephanie changed your heart. I'm an old woman, and I've seen a lot of things. I know you love her. Be brave, Carlos, and bring our Stephanie home," Ella says gently, patting my arm before walking out of the apartment.
Ella's parting words hit my heart like an arrow, and they pierce me through and through. I walk with a somberly to Bobby's office. He greets me readily and begins going through the standard turnover paperwork, showing me physical testing results, those who are currently injured, inventory, and more. "How many personnel are currently seeking mental health care?" I ask.
Bobby shakes his head. "Tank cut that from the budget," he explains. "I protested, but he overruled me. I found a loophole in our insurance, and I sent a couple of guys out in town, but we no longer contract with providers on sight."
What? I clench my teeth as I'm beginning to struggle against my growing outrage.
Bobby notices. "Don't be mad at me, Ranger. I've done my job," he says, holding his hands up.
I stare at Bobby as I formulate my words. "That's true," I eventually say. "You took care of everything in your employment description, but as a member of the Core Team of this company, have you been a leader or a follower?" I state. Bobby stares back at me wordlessly, and I stand and exit his office.
I walk directly to Tank's office. He doesn't look up from his computer when I stand in front of him, and he continues the power play for a minute before choosing to give me his attention.
"Ranger?" he asks, glancing in my direction.
"My office. It's time to continue our turnover. Tell me about any changes you've implemented," I order.
"You aren't in charge of this branch yet, Ranger. I have a busy schedule, and I cleared my calendar for you yesterday. You chose to spend that time discussing Stephanie, and then you left the building, I presume getting laid, for the rest of the afternoon. If that's your priority, so be it, but my priority is Rangeman," Tank replies with an edge of arrogance, never taking his eyes off of his computer monitor or phone.
"You forget yourself, Tank," I say in a quiet but severe tone, firing my warning shot.
"No, you do," Tank snaps looking directly at me for a long second before busying himself again. "When was the last time you saw your daughter?" he redirects with a tone of pseudo-concern. "The answers to your questions are in Rangeman instructions and manuals, saved in the share drive library. Why don't you take Stephanie and a computer, fly down to Miami, reconnect with Julie, and come back for turnover after you've caught up on the paperwork? Frankly, I don't have time to dish out cookies and milk for story time."
There's no way this conversation is going to proceed productively, and I leave Tank's office. I stop in the center of five, scan the room for Lester, and pull him into my office, securing the door behind me. "Be brutally honest," I order. "It stays between you and me. Tell me about what's been going on around here."
"You're going to need to take a seat," Lester says, a flash of fire in his eyes. "We're going to be here a while." Two hours later, Lester has painted a grim picture. Tank has transformed company culture under the misplaced notion that the more militaristic we do things, the better we will be. Classically military training is almost always exclusively used in boot camp or other intense training environments where the goal is to reprogram the individual before they join the force at large. That type of invasive and oppressive atmosphere rarely used long-term. Successful units maintain good order and discipline, but they are also collaborative and keep a pulse on the overall morale and welfare of people.
"Damn it," I exclaim, slamming my fist onto the desk. "Everything that's gone on is against my core values, and I thought all of the founding members shared those core values. We set out to build a security company, but we wanted the how to be the foundation of the way we conducted ourselves. We were to treat all employees with dignity and respect, honoring their inclination towards militaristic tendencies but understanding that they and we are civilians. We wanted to attract the very best of the best, and we were only going to do that by providing an exceptional work environment, including housing, food, comprehensive health care, mental health care, high pay and retirement, superior training facilities, and more. We did that! As a result, we attracted clientele willing to pay for the high caliber of service we offered," I thunder, needing an outlet for the anger and frustration that's been building inside me since my return.
"Look at this," I say, pushing an earnings report towards Lester. "When I left, Trenton was the most profitable of the branches. Now, we are barely above the red. Clients are leaving and based on what I've gleaned; I'm guessing it has to do with poor customer service," I state, looking at Lester for confirmation.
"You're correct, Ranger. I've done a lot of field work to assure our clients, but they don't want to talk to number three. They want to talk to number one. Everyone understands you were away serving our country, and they were willing to work with Tank. However, Tank approaches client care with a Drill Instructor approach. He doesn't listen, and only tells the clients what he thinks they need because he's the expert. It's alienating and condescending," Lester says, unphased by my outburst.
"I have something else to tell you, but it isn't going to improve your mood," Lester says ominously, and I sit back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. "You know about the dozens of files that Steph stole from Vinnie, half of them resulting in her getting hurt," he says, his eyes fixed on me as though I were a bomb about to explode.
"Go on," I state through clenched teeth, having a good idea where this is going.
"I confronted Connie about it. She said she didn't like it, but the order came from Vinnie. Vinnie tried to tell me to fuck off, but when I dangled him against the wall by his throat with a knife pressed under his shriveled dick, he talked. Vinnie whined that Tank told him to let Stephanie take whatever files she wanted and that he could pocket the difference between Steph's fee and Rangeman's. My grip accidentally slipped, and poor Vinnie's balls were nicked on the edge of my knife," Lester smirked, but his eyes told me the story wasn't over.
"Vinnie confessed that Tank paid him under the table if Beautiful got hurt during a takedown. Vinnie said he didn't want to do it at first, but he owes money all over town, and if he had to choose between Steph's life and his, he picked his. Vinnie's short a ball now. Sweaty palms," Lester says, and I can't stop the growl that comes from deep within.
"I confronted Tank, but he made up some bullshit story about how he loves his Little Girl and would never want to see her hurt and what kind of person am I that I would imply such a thing about him. He insinuated that he had the power to marginalize my job at Rangeman. Tank said that as long as I got paid my salary and dividends from my shares in the company, he otherwise controlled what work I did or did not do. He threatened me, saying that he would not have disloyalty in the ranks, and I made the decision to shut up and work behind the scenes. I decided it was riskier to continue to confront Tank than to keep a handle on what was going on until you came home and the balance of power changed again. Basically, a long ball versus short ball game," Lester sighs, looking intensely frustrated.
"Let me give you an example. You know Cal and Binky were transferred to Boston, right?" Lester continues, and I nod my head once, my jaw clenched too tightly to form words. "Those two noticed Hector and I often went out doing independent ops, usually to mitigate whatever insanely risky thing Beautiful was up to. They decided to help us. Well, after Steph blew up the tracker on the lawn, Tank put out an All-Hands blast that since Stephanie clearly indicated she didn't want Rangeman's help, and that since she was willing to take extreme measures to keep us away, we were to respect her demands. He said that his loyalty and duty was to his Rangemen and that he was bound to protect 'the men.' As such, no one was to engage Stephanie until if and when she stopped using dangerous tactics and apologized for her actions with reparations. If anyone were caught using Rangeman resources contrary to his order, there would be a disciplinary hearing. He said he was sorry it came to that, but he was bound to protect us. There was an outcry at first, and Tank softened the original tone of the order by saying the Core Team would, of course, still be helping Beautiful if she needed it. I think we both know what bullshit that was," Lester says, rolling his eyes. I'm seeing red.
"Back to Cal and Binky. They started running into Hector and me too often to be a coincidence, but unfortunately, Tank noticed at the same time we did. They were so used to using their company vehicle while on patrol it didn't occur to them that Tank would be tracking their movements even after they punched off the clock. When Tank confronted them, Cal was defiant, stating that what he did on his free time was his business. Binky quickly backed Cal up. I got the paperwork through and snuck those two up to Boston before Tank could fire them. He was furious at me for undermining his authority and my clear lack of respect, and he took me to the mats every day for a week. I broke a couple of bones in the process, but better that than lose two good men," Lester finishes in resolved determination.
I stand and begin pacing the office, barely resisting the urge to turn my desk over in the process. I take several breaths to calm my raging beast to think more rationally. I can't wait until the end of the week to complete turnover. I hope I still have a company by the end of the week. I stop my pacing in front of Lester, and he stands in front of me. "Tank has to go," I say determinedly. "Now."
Lester nods grimly. "Yes, he does. How do you want to do this?"
"I'm meeting with Pete after lunch. I don't know how many employment, labor, privacy, and whatever else laws Rangeman is currently in violation of from Tank's policies, and the company will likely be paying a hefty fine as a consequence of his actions. I'm also going to have Pete draft the paperwork for me to buy out Tank's shares. Once that's ready, I'll present the contract to him. You and Bobby will be welcome to be a part of that meeting," I say resolutely, but I can hear the frustration and anger in my voice. "I'll officially take over as head of Rangeman sooner than planned, probably close of business tomorrow. I need to know from Pete first just how much legal trouble we are in so I can protect us."
Lester regards me seriously. "Do you have the money for that, Ranger?" he asks. "Our last company valuation was around $70 million. That means you have to raise around fifteen and a half million to buy Tank out."
"I'll put up my property and investment accounts as collateral," I respond, running a hand through my hair. "The employees of this company deserve better than they've gotten, and I'm going to make sure that they are taken care of." Lester clamps a hand on my shoulder.
"I've got your back. Anything you need," Lester says, and I know it's true. "I don't think Bobby will be a problem. He hasn't said anything, choosing to keep a low profile, but I don't think he likes everything that's been going on either. Bobby will never lead the charge, but he is willing to do the right thing when it's at less risk to himself."
I agree with Lester's assessment. Bobby and I have never been close friends, but we have always had a solid professional relationship. We met when he was embedded in my unit during my last two years on active duty. When Bobby heard that Tank, Lester, and I were leaving active duty to start a security company, he approached me about joining us. Bobby was well-prepared with his pitch, and he laid out several ways he could assist us using skills we didn't have. Bobby was able to make his initial investment with an inheritance he had received that was tucked away in the bank, and he became a 15% shareholder of Rangeman.
I hold 41% of the shares, and Tank and Lester each have 22%. Percentages were determined by how much each person was able to invest financially at start-up. With a majority shareholder vote, our by-laws state a member of the Core Team can force out with a majority vote of the other Core Team members of the company, but it requires the other Core Team members to buy that owner out, or the company can buy him out, and we would redistribute the shares accordingly. Given the current financial state of the company, it is better if I buy Tank out.
Lester and I walk together to the breakroom for lunch, and I'm heartened to see some of the bounce returning to Lester's step. We enjoy wraps and water together, and I make it a point to encourage passing Rangemen to come in an join us. Soon, conversation and people are filling the tables in the break room. I slip out quietly and drive to meet Pete at his office downtown.
Peter Thompson is a West Point alum who attended Harvard Law after meeting his minimum service obligation. He's a straight shooter and a valuable member of my team. "Hi Pete," I say, shaking his hand before sitting before his desk.
"Welcome back, Ranger," he says professionally. "Although, I'm not sure how happy you'll be with me when we finish the meeting," Pete continues in warning.
"So I've gathered," I respond. "Tell me straight. What kind of legal trouble is Rangeman in and how do I fix it?"
Pete begins laying out the various violations Rangeman has committed. "Based on our past dealings, I know you aren't going to want to sweep this under the rug," Pete says. "I propose paying the fines preemptively, and that will likely prevent a more invasive investigation by various government agencies. Then I recommend offering a settlement to each Trenton employee. You can have them sign a contract allowing them a severance if they want to move on or a bonus if you meet xyz future earnings in addition to the settlement amount. If they accept the settlement, the language will protect you from any future claims."
His proposal is more or less what I expected. It will take years for the company to recover from Tank's year of power, but it's better than losing Rangeman.
"Work with accounting and do it. I'm willing to move on this tomorrow," I press.
"Will do," Pete responds.
"There's one more thing," I prompt. "I'm going to force Tank out of the company. I need you to draw up the paperwork for me to buy him out. You can use my property and investment accounts as collateral while I secure the funding. I'd like that to go through before I propose the settlement. I believe that with Tank's departure, my employees will be more willing to settle rather than sue."
"I'm glad to hear it," Pete says seriously, putting his hands together. "I wish you the best, Ranger. I'll get right on this."
I sit in the driver's seat of the Cayenne and check the messages on my phone. Tank left two. The first wondered why I was late for his meeting, and my temper flares immediately. The second stated that he was a busy man and that his next available opening for me wouldn't be until tomorrow morning. There's a saying that absolute power corrupts absolutely, and I never expected to see it embodied by my number two.
I begin driving to the park to meet Stephanie. Based on what I've discovered of Tank's policies concerning Steph and his demeanor in general, her actions make a lot more sense to me, but I think she has incorrectly lumped Lester into things. I hope I can help her to see that not everyone is against her, but rather, there are still people who love her and care about her. My heart clenches as I pull into the parking lot, and I pray I find the right words to get through her barriers.
I observe Stephanie's car parked in the same spot as yesterday, and I see her staring forward with her hands clenched to the steering wheel. I park next to her, and she silently gets out of the vehicle and stands on the curb. "Babe," I say warmly, smiling at her. "I'm glad to see you." She looks at me searchingly before beginning a slow walk towards the bench.
Steph has dark circles under her eyes, and it's clear she didn't sleep well and probably hasn't in some time. She coughs several times as she walks, and, recalling the summary Bobby showed me, I wonder how healthy she is. I fight the urge to wrap her in my arms and instead amble beside her. "I'm glad to see you, too," Steph says quietly, looking ahead, and my heart soars.
When we reach the bench, Steph stops behind it and grips the wooden slats. "I know what you said yesterday, Ranger, but I don't get it. Why are you still trying to be my friend? Surely, you've had enough time to figure out how fucked up I am," she says dejectedly.
I close my eyes a second as I keep my emotions in check and place a hand beside hers without touching on the bench back. "Babe," I say passionately. "It doesn't matter to me what you've done, who you've slept with, who you've killed or hurt, or anything else. It matters to me who you are, and you are the best person I know."
Stephanie hangs her head, and while I don't think she is accepting what I am saying, she isn't rejecting me either. "Babe, will you sit with me?" I ask quietly, holding out my hand to her. Stephanie looks up at me with those expressive blue eyes that are the windows to her soul, and I see the conflict of hope versus despair. Hope wins, and she tentatively places her smaller hand in mine. I smile and give a gentle squeeze as I lead us to the front of the bench.
Patience is one of my strengths, and I am willing to wait for my Babe as long as it takes. I feel her fingers tighten around mine as she continues to consider my words.
"You said that you know that Tank, Lester, and Bobby said some things they might regret. What do you know?" Steph asks quietly.
I pause before replying. "I know my men said things that indicated they might not have been as concerned for your welfare as you believed. Will you tell me what you heard, Babe? I've realized over the past twenty-four hours that not everyone in my Core Team is who I thought they were, and I will believe whatever you tell me," I ask gently, and I feel Steph tense beside me immediately. "Please?" Steph becomes rigid beside me, but to my relief, she begins talking.
"After Farro, the last thing I remember is being in the ambulance, and I must have passed out. When I woke up again, I was alone in the exam room adjacent to Bobby's office. I heard Bobby, Lester, and Tank discussing my condition, and I listened quietly. After Bobby gave his status report, Lester," Steph starts, and her voice falters as she coughs and clears her throat.
"Lester said, and I'll never forget it, he said, 'Damn it! How can we keep Beautiful alive if she won't let us help her? Ranger is going to take us to the mats, hard when he finds out about this. I love that girl, but this shit's gone on long enough. I'm tired of constantly worrying that we won't be there on time the next time. It could have just as easily been Steph's body in the morgue as Farro's, and then we'd be busy trying to keep Ranger alive.' I could hear how angry and frustrated he was at me. Then Tank said he had 'accepted I was going to die,' and he had 'worked up several contingency plans to deal with you,'" Steph says, her tone mimicking the anger, frustration, and contempt she heard in their words.
"I know you've always offered up your company resources to me, but if it's difficult for me to accept your help when you're here, it's worse when you are gone. Tank is never welcoming or sincere. At best I can say he is indifferent towards me, and I know he thinks he's better than me. Bobby has always helped me when I'm hurt, but he cares very little about what is going on otherwise. But Lester, I always thought Lester genuinely liked me. When he said those things, I realized no one liked me and that they only helped me either because you threatened them or because I'm somehow a threat to you," Steph says with fervor, and she's clutching my hand fiercely.
"When Lester said that 'this shit's gone on long enough,' I knew I couldn't allow Rangeman to waste any more money on me. I am no one's liability or responsibility. I make my choices, and I face the consequences. I understand that I've done some terrible things, and I have no intention of tarnishing anyone else because of my failings," Steph says with heart-wrenching determination, and I have no doubt it's the same determination that Steph used to uproot her life the day after Farro.
Steph is trembling as she fights to remain stoic, and I hate that she feels she needs to hide from me. "Babe, will you let me place my arm around you?" I ask, desperately hoping she continues to let me in. I stop breathing as I wait for Stephanie to respond. Several seemingly endless seconds pass before she nods her head, yes, and I internalize my whoop of relief.
I slide closer towards her on the bench and warp my arm around her shoulders, and Steph rests her head in the soft spot of my neck. Goosebumps erupt as I breathe in her scent, and I rest my hand on my thigh closest to hers. I feel Steph exhale deeply and relax into me before placing her hand once again in mine. It's the closest to feeling home I've experienced since returning from my mission.
"Babe, I think you are correct in your assessments of Bobby and Tank, and I understand how you reached your conclusion regarding Lester. But Babe, would you be open to allowing me to explain what I think he meant?" I say, breaking the silence.
"Okay," Stephanie agrees, and it's another indication of her growing trust in me.
"I've known Lester my entire life. He's a joker, but he can also be a hot head, and what he said was poorly timed and worded. You don't see that side of him much, because he likes to keep up his ladies' man persona around you. Lester hates seeing you hurt, almost as much as me. Lester would volunteer his free time to train you, and I know he genuinely worries about you and if you've had enough training to do your job safely. Lester told me he wishes you would let him help you out in the field, and that was out of genuine concern for you. Lester wasn't upset that I would take him to the mats when you did get hurt; he was upset with himself that he failed to protect you. Lester and I, we enjoy working things out in the gym, and it's something we routinely do. He wasn't angry that you got hurt because he felt I would discipline him, though I know that's how it sounded. He was frustrated because he felt that he let you, me, and himself down by not being there for you," I explain.
"Why hasn't Lester told me any of this?" Steph says, and I can hear that she wants to believe me but is struggling to assimilate it with her experiences of the past several months. "I've seen him at least every other day. He is constantly trying to place trackers on me, follow me, get his hands on my files, interfere with my skips, and generally disrespecting every boundary I put into place," she continues, anger seeping through her words.
I consider my options and decide the best way forward is to continue to be completely honest. "Lester has spent this last year in a terrible position, and most of what you saw him do or say was a cover to protect you," I state, and Steph moves her head suddenly to stare at me incredulously.
"Lester's talent is in tracking and finding people. He discovered where you are currently living within a week of you moving in. Hector confronted him, but Lester kept your secret. Hector eventually provided Lester with access to your tracking data as a back-up should something happen to him. Lester planted trackers at Tank's insistence because you are right about Tank's motives being about selfish control. Lester needed to maintain his cover so that Tank wouldn't suspect that he knew more than he was letting on. Lester explained to me that he interfered with your captures with the explicit purpose of keeping you safe. Both he and Hector are worried about you, Babe, and they care for you very much," I say earnestly, my eyes never leaving hers. Steph's furrows her brow, and she presses her lips together tightly. I can almost see her brain processing what I'm sharing with her.
"But then why would Lester be concerned about letting you down, and why is Tank making contingency plans to deal with you, and why does Bobby agree? It doesn't make sense given the nature of us," Steph queries rapidly, gesturing between our bodies.
I give her hand a slight squeeze and curl the edge of my lips up in a contrite smile, "Because Babe, they know what I've been too afraid to admit. They know that if you had died that day, I would lose my reason to keep breathing," I confess.
"What?" Stephanie gasps, and I feel her stiffen in my arms. I know I'm on the brink of overwhelming her, and we are not at a point in our relationship for confessions of love. I pull her into a short hug and try to put as much peace as I can into it.
"Meet me here tomorrow?" I say into her hair, and I feel Steph nod yes. I stand, knowing she needs time to think about everything. "I'm a phone call away, day or night, Babe," I remind her with one last look before turning and walking away.
A/N: Thank you again. I am humbled by the response to Warrior. I was afraid the darkness of this story would turn off readers, which is why I wanted to be clear there is a light at the end of the tunnel and a purpose to the journey. I'm so glad you are going through it with me. I have responded to everyone who left a comment, and to those that I can't reply to directly, and to everyone who has favorited or followed this story, this muchas gracias is specifically for you. I hope you all continue to leave your thoughts and reactions for me to read. This is officially the longest chapter I have ever written, and, full disclosure for those prefer more even chapters, I am cognizant if it appears uneven, but when switching between POVs, I'm not always able to keep things completely even.
Misty23y is a wonderful beta, and she helps me through the writing process more than I can say. She recently posted a completed short story, The Call, and I binge read it in one sitting, thoroughly enjoying every word.
I posted the last chapter of To be Proud on Friday, and if you are feeling like you need a break from the heaviness of this story, let that be your antidote. It's an immediate strong Steph story whose character I found a joy to write.