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 10
Stephanie's POV
Bang! Bang! Bang! I hit the door with the side of my closed fist. I'm about to try again when the door is ripped open in front of me.
"Who are you?" gruffly asks the six foot one, two hundred and fifteen pounds of unkempt, pushing fifty Caucasian male.
"Mr. Eric Farro?" I question, my hand over my cuffs and taser.
"What's it to you?" he answers, narrowing his eyes.
"Bond enforcement. You missed your court date. I'm here to help you reschedule," I say professionally.
"A little girl like you is going to take me in?" Farro says incredulously before laughing. He placed his hand on the knob and began pushing the door closed.
I quickly pull out the taser and catch him on his forearm. He gives out a high-pitched squeal and falls to his knees twitching. Seeing big assholes reduced to a quivering mess by a "little girl like me" never ceases to be amusing. I take a position behind Farro and place his left wrist in the cuffs. I move to secure the second wrist when Farro regains some of his strength and pushes me back hard enough that I land with an unceremonious thump on my ass.
He doesn't have all of his coordination back but manages to roll on top of me so that I am effectively pinned down by his weight. I begin to squirm underneath the dead weight of his body in an attempt to break free or at least be able to reach my stun gun again.
"You're turning me on, little girl," Farro says into my ear with a dark chuckle before licking the side of my face. I swallow bile against his stale beer breath as he begins to grind against me. I gag against my vomit when I feel his erection pressing roughly against my leg. Farro jerks an arm to coarsely grab my right breast. He plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek as I turn my head violently away. "I bet a classy girl like you prefers a little romance first," he leers.
"Get the fuck off me," I say, increasing my attempts to find a way to break free.
"Oh, so the bitch likes to play hard to get," he sneers before punching my temple. I see stars, and my vision narrows as my heart rate increases. It's not the first time that an FTA is attacking me, and I immediately tell myself to focus. I recover faster than Farro expects, and I use the opportunity of his raised torso and fists to roll to the side. I don't get far, but it's enough for me to free my arms.
I reach for my stun gun again as Farro rises to his knees and pulls a handgun off of a side table and aims it at me. I freeze as I stare at the barrel, inches away from my face, pointed directly between my eyeballs. "On your knees, bitch," Farro commands, his voice hard.
I slowly move into position as commanded, keeping my hands where he can see them. I'm barely breathing as I wonder if this is it. The world drops away from around me, and the only thing that exists is Farro and myself. When I'm almost fully upright, a seizure from the aftereffects of the taser on Farro's arm causes him to tremble and drop the gun. I lunge for it immediately, my heart pounding in my ears.
I grab it a half second before him, and we fight for control with his hand covering mine over the trigger. He begins to push the handgun so that it's pointed at me, but the angle of my wrist makes the motion awkward, and his large fingers are struggling to gain space to control the trigger. Farro is off-balance as he tries to wrestle the gun from me, and I use the opportunity to launch myself upward from the balls of my feet and through my legs.
I keep my finger on the trigger of the handgun, but Farro holds his hand over mine. As I push Farro backward, he leverages the control he has over my shooting hand to twist me over him, and I feel a bone in my wrist snap. I cry out in pain, and my fingers reflexively curl inward.
Time seems to stand still. The gun recoils in my hand and sends a jolt through my body. The BANG reverberates in my ears. I feel the drops of blood sticking to my skin. Farro falls, and I do nothing.
"You killed me, bitch, all because you wouldn't spread your legs like a good girl. Do you see that picture on the fridge? That's my wife, Stella, and my daughter, Amber. Are you going to tell them you're the reason I'm dead? That you stood there and did nothing as you watched me die?" he coughs and spits up blood. "Or are you going to slither away knowing you're a killer who destroyed a family?" he says, lacing as much venom as he can in his fading words.
"You're. A. Murderer," Farro says, his last words seeping my heart like his blood into the carpet. "Live with that."
I stand there in frozen shock, as I have the past three hundred and eleven nights. Then, something new happens. I feel a lightness, and I'm floating, weightless, lifting like a helium balloon, until I reach the ceiling. I look below and see Farro and myself, each debating the other's morality.
Did I die? I watch myself dash into the bathroom, and I connect myself to the movement. No, I'm alive.
But are you? I hear a voice whisper, and my eyes widen in contemplation.
I see Tank and Lester enter the room followed by Eddie. TPD enters and begins securing the scene. The ME arrives, confirms Farro is dead before loading the sheet-clad body onto a stretcher. Soon, they take the last photograph, the cops tuck the last notepad away, and everyone leaves. I float above it all, and no one notices me.
I want to see if I gained the ability to fly, so I mentally focus on a pushing motion. I'm thrilled by the sense of soaring, but the small apartment is confining. I aim towards the window, stunned when I bounce back off the glass. I change course to the door, but I can't go through it, and my hand dissolves around the knob. I'm trapped.
What do I do now? I wonder.
What do you want to do? I hear the voice whisper again, and I look around for the source.
What can I do? I respond, lazily floating above the stain left by Farro's blood. Is this my purgatory? Is this where I find my moral redemption? Am I damned here because of the life I took? I think with growing agitation.
Or are you damning yourself? Comes the whisper.
My entire encounter with Farro plays over and over in my mind, the events happening vividly as my imagination brings the forms to life in the apartment. At first, all I feel is the horror and shock, but then I begin to see things differently.
Why should it be a choice between me spreading my legs and Farro's life? I have the right to say no. My body is my own, and I don't owe sex to anyone because they demand it. The thoughts sound obvious, but many things, beginning with Morelli at age six and then sixteen, most of my college dating experiences and through Dickie indicate I haven't lived feeling as though my body or sexuality is respected. No one should be upset with me if I don't want to have a sexual encounter with them. I knew that on the surface, but I didn't understand it.
Am I the reason Farro is dead? Sure, my finger was over the trigger. But his hand was over mine, and he was the one who introduced the weapon into the situation. My brain freezes on the image of him pointing the barrel between my eyes. He would have killed me without a second thought, and I'm sure he wouldn't have rendered aid afterward. I feel his hand pulling against mine as he flipped me over his body. Farro killed Farro.
He set out to kill my spirit when he couldn't kill me, and here I am-Trapped.
Are you? The voice whispers again.
I still and look around the empty room. Do I have a choice whether or not I live a half-life stuck in this memory or not? If I want to leave, what do I need to understand? Then the epiphany hits me so hard I begin to tremble. It's not my fault. I have the right to say no, and my life is worth valuing. I have the right to want to live.
Then live. The words float around my body, swirling like a tornado of light, and I feel myself being sucked through time and space before finding home again. I sit up straight with a gasp. My heart is pounding, and I pat myself all over.
I'm me, and I'm alive.
"Babe?" I hear from beside me. "Are you okay?"
Ranger! I turn and launch myself at him, sitting on his lap with my ankles crossed around his waist and my arms entwined around his neck. "You're here," I whispered, beginning to cry.
"Shhh, Babe, yes, I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere," he soothes, rubbing my back.
The realizations from my dream cling to my heart like the frail roots of a fresh spring wildflower desperately seeking sunlight and water. "It's not my fault," I sob quietly.
"No, Babe, it's not your fault," Ranger responds confidently, and the roots find new depth.
"He didn't die because I said no to sex. I have the right to say no," I continue with a quivering voice, needing his affirmation.
Ranger holds me closer to him. "You always have the right to say no," he immediately responds.
The flower grows, and the closed buds twist, urgently seeking the sun. "My life is worth valuing. I have the right to want to live, and I am worth loving. I am good," I say with desperate hope.
"Oh Babe," Ranger sighs, placing his cheek against mine. I feel his tears mingle with mine. "Yes, yes, and yes. You are an amazing person. I love you."
In a burst, the flower blooms with delicate petals that unfold themselves as the same light that swept me from the room falls over it and seeps into the ground.
I cling to Ranger as I sob, needing and wanting his touch. I allow myself to feel the extreme fear and sadness of that day for the first time, secure in the knowledge that Ranger won't let me go, won't let me fall, and won't judge me. In acknowledging the emotions I've worked desperately hard to ignore, I recognize that something deep within my heart begins to heal. I want to heal. I want to live.
I feel a dip on the futon beside me, and I whip my head over. I'm surprised to see the person beside me, faintly illuminated from a light crack around the bathroom door. "Hector," I say with a voice ragged from crying, pausing to cough. "You're still here, too."
Hector places a comforting hand on my back, and I know he is telling me always. I twist off Ranger's lap and turn to face him, taking his hand in mine. "I'm sorry, Hector. I didn't understand what you kept trying to tell me, and God knows I've pushed you away enough times that there is no reason for you to be here now," I sniffle. "I'm glad you stayed. Thank you for being my friend."
"Te amo, Angelita," Hector says gently before kissing my forehead and enveloping me in a hug.
"What time is it?" I ask, suppressing a yawn as we pull apart.
"0400," Ranger says from behind me, and I lean against him. "Back to sleep?"
"Yes, sounds good," I say affirmatively, as Hector stands and returns to makeshift bedroll he created on the floor near the entrance. That must be incredibly uncomfortable, and it visualizes all the sacrifices he's made on my behalf these past few months.
Ranger wraps me in his arms, and I push back against him, feeling safer than I have in months. And, also for the first time since Farro's death, I do fall asleep after waking from a dream.
When I wake again, I feel more rested, but I have an underlying sense of exhaustion. I take a deep breath, cough, and open my eyes to the smell of coffee. "Good morning, Babe," Ranger says, easily releasing me as I move to sit up. I stretch my body, stiff from being still for so long. Hector is pouring a cup from the drip machine, and I stand to turn on the kitchen light. My leg hitches as I realize my knee is sore the morning after. I limp into the bathroom to relieve myself, and I desperately want a shower to wash yesterday away.
I step out, unused to having company of any sort, to gather some clothes and invite anyone else to use the restroom first. "Uh, hey guys," I started awkwardly. "Want a turn?" I ask, tilting my head to the bathroom. Hector pushes a cup of coffee my way across the counter, while Ranger nods once and steps inside. I walk into the fridge, pull out the box of pizza, and pick up my half-eaten slice from yesterday.
Hector narrows his eyes at me. "Have you eaten anything else since yesterday, Estefania?" he asks suspiciously. I shrug, coughing again. He looks back into the fridge and sighs as he sees a jar of olives in the door, alone and unafraid.
I finish the slice and swallow the coffee in a long gulp before refilling the cup with lukewarm water from the faucet. I refresh Rex's water and add a couple of bits of hamster kibble from a bag in the cupboard. "I think the hamster eats better than you," Hector chides. My first instinct is to ignore him as I always do, but I stop.
"Thanks for caring," I say, looking down at Rex, my fingers wrapped around the counter ledge. "I'm beginning to see things in a new way, and I want my life to be better."
Hector stands beside me and places his hand next to mine. "You don't know how much I've wanted to hear you say that," he says thickly. I rest my head on his shoulder as we both absorb the magnitude of changes last night's revelations wrought.
I stand up straight again as the bathroom door opens, and Ranger walks out looking as perfect as ever. I think the five o'clock shadow might even increase his sexy ruggedness. I pour him a cup of coffee and set it next to the open pizza box, snagging a second slice. Ranger picks up one and joins me. Things have changed.
I finish, rinse off my hands, and limp back to the futon. I feel Ranger's eyes follow me the entire distance. He sits beside me a second later.
"How are you doing, Babe?" he asks kindly but with a hint of concern.
I sit quietly, considering my answer. "Okay," I finally say. "I see that my life needs to change. It's difficult for me to trust anyone, but I'm choosing to trust you and Hector. I'm nervous about what's going to happen when we leave my home today, and the uncertainty is making me anxious. I think I feel a little lost," I say honestly, fidgeting with my nails.
Ranger wraps an arm around my shoulders. "I'm here for you. We can do this together," Ranger says gently. I swallow down the lump that forms in my throat and nod my understanding.
"I know things have been difficult between you and Tank, Lester, and Bobby, and that has kept you away from Rangeman. I've spoken at length with Lester, and he wants me to let you know how sorry he is, and that he would like an opportunity to tell you that himself. I believe he is genuine. Bobby cares, but for being someone who takes care of patients, he sometimes forgets the person in favor of the clinical puzzle. However, he wants to do the right thing. Tank," Ranger stops, shaking his head. "Tank isn't the person I thought he was."
I stand to get an ice pack from the freezer and sit down again next to Ranger, coughing as I do, and place it over my knee. I suspect I wrenched it when I fell last night, and my boots certainly didn't help. "Why are you telling me this, and what are you going to do about Tank?" I eventually ask.
Ranger helps adjust a pillow behind my back and pulls my leg onto his lap. "I don't want to leave you alone, and I have to go back to Rangeman today. I'm going to force Tank out of the company this afternoon by buying him out. His management of the company, aside from creating a company culture that is in opposition to my most important beliefs, violates several laws. I'm not even sure this will be enough to save Rangeman, but it's a start. I'll also be offering a settlement to all employees affected by Tank's actions with a generous severance package if they decide to seek employment elsewhere by the end of the week. Even more importantly, as far as I'm concerned, I've discovered that Tank paid Vinnie to ensure you were given FTA files outside of your ability, and he also paid him a kicker if you got hurt. I'm angrier than I can say about this betrayal. I'm telling you this in confidence, because I trust you, and because I'm asking you to come with me to Rangeman today," Range says solemnly.
I stare fixedly at the wall as I absorb this information. I haven't done myself any favors the past several months, and I chose to take files from the Rangeman stack. However, that Tank and Vinnie were manipulating me to take the files, hoping I would get hurt, hardens my heart against them.
"How much does it cost to buy Tank out?" I ask, searching Ranger's face.
He sighs. "Around fifteen and a half million, give or take a couple hundred thousand. I have it, but it will take considerable downsizing on my part. Doing the right thing is worth it, however," Ranger says resignedly, and I see the stress in the fine lines around his eyes.
I glance over and see that at some point Hector began listening to our conversation from the breakfast bar. I make an easy decision and start to pull myself off of the futon. I gimp my way to the closet, pull out the hamper and ease myself onto the floor. "Babe?" Ranger says, standing and watching me with a quizzical look.
I cough into my arm, pull out the wall panel, and open the safe. I snag a duffle bag and place it in my lap before putting a few hundred stacks of hundred-dollar bills inside. I upgraded the safe myself a couple of months ago, and now there are two hidden in the wall. I push the bag towards Ranger before accepting his outreached hand and standing.
"All I've done this past year is survive and bounty hunting. I've been better at bounty hunting than taking care of myself. Of the four hundred and twenty or so FTA's I've captured, around thirty were bonds over a half million dollars, and another hundred were more than two hundred thousand. I've lived like a pauper on purpose the past couple of years, wanting to save enough money to pay you back. That's three and a half million dollars. It's yours," I say, looking down and pointing to the bag.
"Babe, I can't take your money," Ranger starts, and I cut him off.
"I've taken yours when I needed it. You can, and you will. Consider me a silent partner if that makes it easier," I retort vehemently. I give a small squeak of surprise when Ranger wraps me in a hug so tight it forces the air out of my lungs and picks me up so that my feet are dangling.
"Thank you, Babe," he says into my ear, kissing the side of my hair on the curly side and gently setting me back onto my feet.
"Alright then," I say, uncomfortable with so much affection. I wipe my palms on my thighs and sigh in resignation. "I'll go with you to Rangeman, but I have some conditions. I am willing to talk to Lester and Bobby, closed door. I will not talk to Tank, and you or Hector will be with me at all times. I don't want to be on five, and I don't want to be swarmed by a bunch of people," I state, my blank face slipping into place. I stop and look away, pursing my lips.
It's okay, Steph, I coach myself. Trust and don't close yourself off.
My shoulders droop. "I know something has to change in my life, but I don't know how to start, and I don't want to be alone," I mumble.
"I'm proud of you, Babe," Ranger says softly, placing a hand gently on my bicep. I look up in surprise. "Thank you for agreeing to come to Rangeman with me. Hector or I will stay with you. I don't want to push you too hard, but I do have some ideas on how we can help you. Maybe we can talk about that a little later?" he says, his tone leaving the question open-ended.
"Okay," I agree, moving to the kitchen to pick out some clothes for the day. I stifle a groan as I try to squat to pull out a dark turquoise, v-neck shirt and pair of loose-fitting black trousers. I don't want anything tight around my knee today. Hector intercepts my efforts and pulls the garments out for me.
I turn around and take my razor out of the kitchen drawer behind me, and Hector chuckles under his breath. "Would it be alright if I took a look at your knee before you shower?" Ranger asks. I pass my stack to Hector, who places it in the restroom as I sit beside Ranger.
"That's fine. I need to take the bandages off anyway," I agree, pulling up my pants leg and ripping off the bandages.
The knee is black and blue and swollen. It's red around the edges of the cut. "I think it's infected, Babe," Ranger says, glancing at me with concern. "A medical professional needs to examine and treat this. Is Bobby okay, or would you like to go to a clinic?" he queries, looking at me more closely. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"
"I'll talk to Bobby today and then decide," I answer, hedging, coughing. "It's just a cold that won't go away. I saw a doctor a few weeks ago." Ranger doesn't push.
I take a long shower and allow the water to wash away the past twenty-four hours. Tears spring to my eyes, and I let them blend into the shower stream. I'm proud of you, Babe. I haven't felt proud of myself in, well, I can't remember. I'm here for you. We can do this together.
I'm beginning to feel an old, familiar spark inside that wants to be ignited into a flame, but I'm struggling to clear away the debris and allow the fire to thrive. My demons love the darkness, and that darkness isn't going to retreat easily. I feel a desperation for change swell up inside me, and I beat my first against the wall.
You don't have to be alone. I love you.
Hector and Ranger have always been there for me, no matter how terrible I've been. Maybe I can abandon my defenses and truly trust and lean on them while I learn a new way to be strong. Maybe I can learn to love myself again. More than anything, I want to feel love again.
I finish my shower with a sniffle and dress, standing in my panties while I let my wound air dry. I opt for less make-up than usual but still apply several coats of waterproof mascara. I finish dressing and pull the first aid kit out of the closet before sitting down. Ranger is sitting beside me to assist the next second.
"Are you ready, Babe?" he asks, closing up the kit.
"Not yet," I reply, moving with an uneven gait to the kitchen and pulling my knives and weapons out of the drawer as well as a few more I've hidden in various cabinets. I choose my armament for the day and return any unneeded items to their nooks and crannies. "Now I'm ready," I state, jacket on and steel-toed boots laced.
A/N: In honor of the first day of spring, which always brings me a lot of joy, I was inspired to post this bonus chapter. I've had a very busy week on top of fighting a chest cold, and I apologize for my delay in responding to your comments. I've set aside some time before the week's end to do so. Please know that each and every note left by you, whether it's to leave a kind word of appreciation, a highlight of what stood out to you, or ideas for the future, and everything in between, is impactful and important to me. For example, I spent a week about a month ago retooling a storyline to make sure it was as strong as it could be based on inspiration from your reviews. Let me hear from you!
Misty23y is a great beta. She conquered fifteen pages on one night on top of her own writing! Way to go, Babe!