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 17
Stephanie's POV
I close my eyes as Ranger, Lester, and Bobby depart. The gratitude I feel at their support is as unexpected as it is welcome, but it is a bit much to have so many people focused on me at once. This is especially true in an environment and situation I'm not especially fond of, but I know this is the best place for me right now. More than anything else, I feel worn down. I'm tired, but not only physically, mentally and emotionally as well. It's like I am a bungee cord that has been stretched to capacity, and I either put slack into the line or snap. My newfound support system is helping me to relieve some of the tension, and deep down, I know they are saving me in the process.
Alex begins doing her vitals check, and I open my eyes from my light dozing as she does. "Hello, Steph. I didn't mean to wake you. How you are feeling?" she says.
"Tired, stiff, and I still have a dull headache, but my chest feels lighter," I say with a shrug.
"That's to be expected. A lot is being thrown at your body right now, and I think you're doing great in the circumstances. Keep resting, and eat when you can," Alex says with a gentle smile before dimming the lights again and walking back to Bobby's office.
I know Alex meant to be reassuring, but her words are terrifying. I was focused on getting through until Saturday, and then I was supposed to be released to daily check-ups. I suddenly realize that even when I'm set free from this room, I just don't have the energy to live by myself in my apartment right now and still manage to take care of and feed myself. I'm certainly not going skip-tracing any time soon. I have enough money saved where I don't need to work for a while, but working is what kept my mental demons at bay. Well, sort of; I can see know that I've really been locked in battle with them the past year, and the demons were winning. What am I going to do with myself with nothing but time to think? I set my lips in a thin line as I stare at the corner of the ceiling.
"Estefania," Hector says quietly. I shift my head to look at him. "Would you like to watch the meeting? I set up cameras to live stream it across all the Rangeman branches."
I nod my head yes and pat the bed beside me. I think something that surprised me the most about the last twenty-four hours is that something deep inside me has gone from wanting no one to touch me to finding reassurance in it from a few trusted people. It's as though that by allowing these few trusted people to help me, the reward is that I can draw strength, courage, and rest from the connection, and it gives me unexpected peace.
Hector sits beside me with the tablet opened to a video screen, and I rest my head on his shoulder. It's a familial moment, and I take a breath to savor the sibling-like love we have for one another pass between us. Love, I repeat to myself. When I chose to push my panic button in defense of myself, I was effectively choosing to love myself more than the pain. In doing so, I am beginning to experience the exchange of love again starting from the purest place inside my heart. I'm living, and my vision is blurred by unshed tears.
I twist at my torso and awkwardly place my arm around Hector's chest. He drops the tablet onto his lap and returns the embrace. "Angelita?" he murmurs.
"Te amo," I say quietly.
Hector's arms tighten slightly around my body. "Te amo, Angelita," he says in response. I let out a long sigh of satisfaction as the words warm me through and through, pulling away to rest against the back of the bed once again, Hector's shoulder as my pillow.
He props the tablet up and angles it so I can see. The ceremony is riveting. I have minimal military experience outside of Rangeman, patriotic parades, and baseball games, but the bearing everyone has leaves me a little breathless with pride. As Ranger begins to speak, I feel the spark of hope I felt at his return be fanned into a bonfire. His commanding sincerity inspires me to follow him, and I believe that he will make things right. Even if I never act as a bounty hunter again, I will gladly use any talent I have to support Ranger just as he selflessly supports me.
I feel my phone buzz beside me, and I pick it up to see a text from Ranger: Yo.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes and rapidly punch out: Great speech. Doing fine. Keep being Batman. I hit send and nervously wait for his response.
I'm only a man.
My eyes widen at the unexpected response. Ranger is being candid with me, and it reminds me that I'm not the only person who has changed this past year.
I reply: A damn fine man, in every way.
My phone buzzes. Babe. I'm about to blacken the screen when a second message appears. I love you.
I close the messages app as I swallow against the swell of happiness. Ranger loves me. He has said it several times, but for some reason, seeing it in black and white makes the feeling more real. Things are going to be better. Glancing at the notification bubble, I see that there are three voice mail messages. The first is from Hector, left after I pushed my panic button. The second is from my mom, wondering if I am coming to dinner this week. Mom hasn't learned how to use a cell phone yet, and I'm certainly not going to be the one to teach her, but she does have an email account. I send a quick message letting her know that I wouldn't be able to make it tonight but planned on coming by soon.
I'll never be close to my mother, and I don't think she always did a very good job of raising me. However, that after I firmly put a line in the sand about her conduct towards me and meddling in my life, she has done nothing but respect those boundaries has caused my esteem towards her to rise. It's kept me coming back this past year, and I'm a little sad to miss this week's pot roast.
The third voice mail is from an unknown caller, left sometime around two am. I push play and hold the phone up to my ear.
"Little Girl, I see you," the voice begins with an eerie calm. "I know where you are, laid up, pretending to be hurt in Bobby's exam room. More importantly, I know who you are. You're a manipulative, conniving bitch who rolled into our lives and played the poor, pitiful me card to perfection. You batted your big, blue eyes at everyone, making them fall for your inept but persistent routine. You wrapped everyone around your finger, getting them to spend countless hours and dollars to accomplish your bidding. You're good, Little Girl, but you don't fool me," he says, and my mind is scrambling to overcome the fear rising up despite my pushing against it.
"Ranger rolls back into town, and even after a year, he spends the entire day on you. How are you? What happened to you? How can we help you? Why didn't we do more to help you?" the voice continues, and in a moment that takes my breath away, I realize it's Tank. The tone is filled with such coldness and drenched with layers of hostility and fury that I couldn't recognize it at first.
"Did you know we made a video reenacting the crime scene between Farro and you? I kept a copy," he continues with a lasciviousness that makes my stomach clench. "It turns me on, imagining that sloppy bastard on top of you. Did he call you by my nickname? Did he, when he grabbed your breasts and ground his pink prick against you? Is that when he called you Little Girl, or did he breathe it into your ear when he sloppily kissed your face?" I feel my grounding in my surroundings fade away as he speaks, and I'm frozen in the memories he crudely narrates.
"I understand men like Farro. It's why I'm so good at my job. I know that everyone is going to try to convince you that you are the victim, but I've watched you this past year, and I know that you know the truth. You know you're a whore. You lure men with your tits, you shake your ass to get them to do what you want, and then maybe you fuck them, and maybe you don't," Tank spews furiously.
"But you don't respect men. You think you can use sex to manipulate us with no consequences. Dress however you want, act however you want, and then walk away. That's not it works, and Farro called you on it. I'm calling you on it. And I think you've called yourself on it, fucking your way through half of Trenton this past year.
"You know what they are saying about you, right? You've developed a reputation as quite the little submissive. Do you enjoy being beaten? Does hearing me tell you about how other men talk about you taking it up the ass turn you on? Does being treated like you deserve, like the bitch you are, make you cum?" Tank questions me and my motives with such certain contempt, and I see the nights I'd rather forget come to the forefront of my mind.
"You know it doesn't matter, right? You can't turn back time. You killed Farro, all because, Little Girl, you decided not to let a man have what you dangled in front of him. How good a fuck can you really be to be worth this much trouble?" It's less how Tank is speaking than what he is saying, and he is articulating my greatest fears and insecurities.
"I see you, and I know who you are. You are no warrior. You are a Little Girl who got burned playing with the big boys. I don't care what you do with the rest of your miserable, pathetic life, but it's time you stayed the fuck out of mine. Leave Rangeman, leave Trenton. If you don't, you'll be the one who kills everyone you love, one random accident at a time. Give me back my life, and I'll keep out of yours," Tank demands before ending the call.
I slowly lower the phone to the mattress beside me but don't loosen my grip around it. I feel surreal, as though I'm somehow leaving my body again, like my dream. My breath is coming in short rapid bursts as I slowly turn my head towards Hector. He's standing beside the bed with one knee on the edge of the mattress and leaning towards me. With detached interest, I see his lips moving, but I don't hear the words over the ringing that immediately began sounding in my ears at the end of Tank's message.
"I'm going to throw up," I mumble, clutching my arms around my midsection and looking down. A blue bag is thrust in front of me, and I grip it with two hands, my body giving way to the stress until nothing is left. I don't want this. I want to think. I want to process this and move forward. I just have to make sense of everything.
I want to agree with Ranger, Hector, Lester, and Bobby, but I also agree with Tank. But the two worldviews are nearly magnetic in their opposition to the other, and I feel like I'm being pulled in two directions.
The bag is removed from my hands, and I pull my good knee up to my chest, resting my chin on it as I wrap my arms over my ears and lace my fingers behind my head.
What's right? What's wrong? Why don't I know anymore? I want to be strong. I want to push aside what Tank said, but I can't. I can't because I don't know which direction my moral compass faces. But I need to. I want to live.
I feel the tingle that shoots through my spine before there is a dip in the mattress beside me. Two hands are placed over mine and my heart races. What will happen if Ranger listens to Tank's message? Will Ranger agree with Tank? Will he finally see what I've been afraid he would this entire week? The bitch who causes more trouble than she's worth? Will he maintain his party line, that I'm imperfect but good? Will Ranger go after Tank, and if he does, is Tank's blood on my hands? With that, I know two things.
1. I will not find the answers hiding.
2. No matter what it costs me, no one else will die because of me.
I lift my eyes to Ranger's, and he gives me a small nod of encouragement. My breath is coming in short, rapid bursts as I find my bravery to face him. Truth. I need the truth. I sit up straight but keep my hands over my ears. I hate this ringing, and the overlap of any external sounds makes it worse and last longer. Ranger places a hand on my shoulder and the other over my heart. With exaggerated movements, he shows me that he is breathing in and out slowly. I nod, yes, slightly, my eyes locked on his, and mimic his actions. I don't feel pressured, and I let this connection be my shelter in the storm. I can't find the truth if I'm too upset to focus.
Ranger glances up behind me, and I use the slight break in our connection to massage my ears and look around the room. Hector is standing in the corner of the room, my cell phone in his hand. His expression is blank, but his eyes are murderous. Lester is standing next to Hector with his hand on his shoulder. I turn to my other side, and Bobby and Alex are standing, seemingly ready to do something, but I don't know what.
I lower my hands and shake my head a couple of times to clear the cobwebs. "Babe?" I hear though it sounds as though the word is far away. Ranger leans back slightly and resting one hand on my foot and the other at his side. I shift my eyes to Ranger before looking back at Hector.
"Did you listen?" I ask, knowing the answer.
"Si," Hector replies, taking a step towards me.
"Is it true? Is there a video?" I question firmly.
"No lo sé," Hector says, shrugging stiffly. (I don't know.)
"Did anyone else listen?" I press with the same intensity.
"No," Hector states flatly.
"Play it, on speaker," I order.
"Estefania," Hector warns.
"Do it!" I bark, hating the hint of hysteria I hear.
"No," Hector responds, not remotely intimidated by me.
"Lester, Bobby, and I will listen in the next room, and then we may be able to answer your questions," Ranger bargains, giving my foot a squeeze.
"Agreed," I state, pressing my lips into a thin line before holding out my thumb to unlock the home screen. I'm not surprised Hector doesn't relinquish his grip on the phone as I do so. When he confirms the voicemail app is opened, he points to the message and gives the phone to Ranger.
Ranger quickly departs with Bobby and Lester, and Hector resumes a post beside me.
"Stephanie," Alex says gently. "I know you're upset, and having someone tell you to calm down when you're upset always makes me angrier, but," she says pointedly, her voice trailing off. "But the ICU is where you're headed if you don't. I don't know you well, but I think I've gotten to know you enough to know that's not someplace you want to be."
She's right. I take a moment to become more aware of my body. My muscles are tight, and my limbs are rigid. I cough deeply against the strain my forced breaths are giving my already debilitated lungs, doubling over as I do. Alex rubs my back, and I concentrate on her touch. "I'm going to increase the oxygen flow, and you can use this inhaler. Lean back against the pillow for me. Would you like a sip of water to clear your mouth?" Alex says. I nod yes and gratefully accept the glass she passes to me. When I pass it back, she hands me a washcloth, and I use it to clean my face.
I jump, dropping the damp square when I hear a crash and muffled voices coming from the next room. Hector is immediately sitting on the bed beside me and takes my hands.
"Mi Angelita, they aren't mad at you," he says seriously. "They're mad at Tank. I'm mad at Tank, but I'm not at all mad at you. Te amo, Estefania. Don't forget that."
I rest my head against the pillow and force my shoulders to drop, releasing my right hand from Hector's grip as I do. "Why shouldn't anyone be mad at me?" I say resignedly. "You don't know how many nights I've lain awake thinking exactly what Tank said. I, I can't tell you how many times I've thought that if I had just let Farro fuck me, then maybe he would have lived. It's not like I don't already know how to deal with that pain. I hurt, but I would hurt anyway, and his wife and daughter would still have him in his life. He'd still be alive to do better with his life. The way I've lived, I feel like, I feel like maybe Tank has managed to strip away the bullshit and see the ugly truth after all." I stop and take a shaky breath to steady my emotions again.
"Has someone hurt you before, Angelita?" Hector asks, sitting fully beside me and facing me. I nod my affirmation, struggling to say the word. "Will you tell me?" he presses with a quiet voice.
"Do you promise not to hurt anyone?" I ask. "Please. I can't have anyone else be hurt because of me. I can't." My eyes swim with tears.
"You have my word," Hector says seriously. I take his hand again, and Hector scoots closer so that we are face to face.
"Morelli, twice. Six in his garage and the Tasty-Pastry incident, well," I say in a near whisper, looking at Hector for understanding, acceptance, something. Hector gives me a look of encouragement, and I continue, hating the power these memories still have over me. "Date rape in college. Spiked drink," I continue quietly. "The worst was this last year," I say hesitantly, glancing at Hector again. "Do you remember when I asked you to drive me to the women's clinic a few months ago?" Hector's eyes widen. "I wasn't having bad cramps as I told you. One of my dates took it too far the night before. I, Tank is wrong, I don't like 'taking it up the ass,' as he put it. I didn't realize that was part of what people are saying about me," I trail off, horrified by the idea.
"The thing is, so much of what Tank said, well, I get it. I don't want to agree. I'm guessing you're going to tell me some variation of it's all bullshit. Don't. Save us both the argument," I say firmly.
Hector leans forward and gently places his hands around my face. "Angelita, listen to me. I have never bullshitted you. Ever. I've never given you any reason to doubt me, right?" Hector says passionately, his eyes boring into mine. "I know you're confused, and you have every reason to be. I know some of how you feel, and it took someone good in my life to help me figure out my rights and wrongs again. Tank is angry because he realized how much he lost yesterday, and he wants to hurt you. Don't let him," Hector says. I sense Ranger is nearby, but I keep my attention completely on Hector. "Lean on us. Trust us. Let us guide you until you can see the world more clearly again."
"I didn't sleep around because I wanted something from anyone, well, unless it was to apprehend an FTA. I did it because I hate how I feel," I whisper, a tear falling down my cheek.
"How do you feel?" Hector says, his English barely discernable.
"As though I'm responsible for so much evil. Impure. Unlovable. Like Tank said, not worth all this trouble," I reply with a trembling voice.
"Then choose now to listen to my voice instead of Tank's," Hector states. "I know you, Angelita. Right now, I might know you better than you know yourself. None of this crap, none of it, is your fault. Every person you've killed has been in self-defense, and if it comes down to someone living and someone dying, I'll pick you every time. You could walk through Trenton wearing nothing but a thong and pasties while carrying a sign that says 'Fuck Me,' and if you turn to your partner at any point as and say, 'Stop,' they stop, or it becomes an assault. No one has an ownership or a right over anyone else.
"What you choose to do in the bedroom is your choice. Lots of people have different preferences, and it's fine with a consenting, respectful partner. You aren't impure if you like something kinky, and you certainly aren't impure if someone violated your consent. But, Angelita, don't use your sexuality to punish yourself. You are a wonderful, good person, and you taught me to love again. Let me return that lesson to you. Love yourself, and you will begin to see things more clearly again. Helping a friend when they are in need isn't trouble, it's an honor. You will always be worth it," Hector finishes, his eyes pleading with me to accept what he is saying.
"Really?" I question, desperately wanting this to be the truth I cling to.
"Always," Hector pushes out.
"Really, Babe. No price," Ranger says, and he slides into my line of sight as Hector leans back, taking my hand once again.
"Yes, Beautiful, you are worth it," Lester affirms, stepping to the end of the bed.
"That's the truth, Bomber," Bobby says from my opposite side.
I take a slow look around the room as I consider their words. I have a choice I can make right now. Do I believe Tank and Farro, or do I believe the group of people who are surrounding me right now with their support and affirmation? I don't have to get it, and I don't need all the answers to make this choice. That's the point of trusting and leaning on another person. "Okay," I say with quiet determination despite the tears trailing their silent tracks.
"Babe, I know you have questions and that you want to talk about that message, but it can wait," Ranger says, placing a hand on my shoulder.
"Alright," I respond, stifling a yawn that turns into a cough. "Thank you," I say, looking at each person in turn, squeezing Hector's hand. He returns the unspoken gesture, before standing and leading Lester into Bobby's office, closing the door behind them.
"Stephanie, restroom?" Alex questions. I nod, and in now practiced movements, Alex and Ranger have me situated again in no time. Bobby steps in to do the 10 am vitals as Alex departs.
"Bomber, I need you to get some rest now. Can you do that for me?" Bobby says, dimming the lights. I nod my head, yes, knowing I wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer if I wanted to. I hear him open and close the door to his office.
"Come closer," I whisper, my throat raw from throwing up, to Ranger, and when he sits on the bed beside me, I capture him around his middle and pull him to me. Ranger props himself on his elbows, leaning over my body but not allowing the weight to rest on me, and places his head in the crook of my neck.
"Tell me again," I say softly into his ear.
"There's no price for what we do for each other, Babe. I love you," he replies into my neck, and his breath tickles my skin.
"Did you spend all of Monday on me, as Tank said? Was I that important to you even before you knew things had changed for me? That I've change?" I ask, not sure if he's going to respond.
"Yes, Babe. You were my motivation to keep going during my mission, and you are the best part of coming home," Ranger murmurs, his lips millimeters from my skin.
"Not right now, but since you have a better idea of how much I've changed since you left and you know more about my past, do you still find me attractive? I mean, do you still want me that way?" I ask hesitantly, feeling intensely insecure.
Ranger pulls himself up so that his deep brown eyes can pierce through me. "I will never want to be with another person as long as I live. You drive me crazy, in all the best ways. Yes, Querida, I want you," Ranger says huskily.
I return his gaze and tilt my head slightly to the side. "Then why don't you kiss me anymore? I see you want to, and then you stop. I know I've put up a lot of physical barriers, but I haven't been the same with you as everyone else. I honestly don't know how I feel half the time, so I get your hesitancy some, but I'm confused," I confess, my eyebrows furrowed together. "I guess I need to know if it's because you agree with Tank or not," I finish, my voice cracking.
Ranger's eyes widen slightly. "I couldn't disagree with Tank more. I haven't kissed you as much because I respect you, and I know you're in the middle of some difficult times. I don't want you to interpret anything I do as being excessively forward or as pressuring you. I will wait as long as it takes for you to be ready to take the next step with me. We can go through the message later, and I'll tell you all the ways it's wrong, but for right now, try to believe me. I love you, Babe," Ranger responds, his accented voice overlaid with absolute sincerity.
"I'm choosing to," I say, leaning up to gently kiss his cheek. His skin is still smooth from his morning shave, and I can smell the slight fragrance of his shaving cream. The simple contact, an action that many would consider chaste, feels like coming home.
"Babe," Ranger sighs as I rest back onto the pillow, stifling a yawn. Ranger brushes the piece of hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear tenderly.
"I have one more question," I say, chewing on my bottom lip and looking down at my hands before coughing. I sit up as I do, and Ranger rubs my back. I remain leaning forward as I catch my breath. "Do you think Tank means it? Is my family or Rangeman in danger? Who else might Tank be targeting? I feel so helpless laying here, and I don't even have my weapons. I'm not sure I could survive it if something happened to someone because of Tank's anger towards me, and maybe that's the point," I say mournfully, my eyes flooding with tears at the idea of another death.
Ranger turns his body so that I can lean against his chest, and I rest into the security of his muscular arms. "Lester is already working on answering or finding solutions to your questions. I wish I could tell you that everything will be fine, but I'm wise enough not to make promises I can't keep. What I can tell you is that I'll use every resource at my disposal to protect you, Rangeman, and your family and friends from Tank's wrath. No matter what happens, remember, it's not your fault, Babe," Ranger says, pausing to kiss the top of my head, and I sigh further against him.
"I know you feel like you aren't doing anything, but by doing your job of resting, healing, both physically and emotionally, and rebuilding your relationships with people, you are doing a lot more than you realize. You matter a great deal to the people in this building, and when you're doing better, they do better. Make healing your job, and I will work diligently on mine, keeping you in the loop along the way. I'm not keeping secrets or withholding information as a power play, and my only reason for doing so sometimes is to wait until you've rested a little more, such as going over any more questions from that message. Can you be alright with that, Babe?" Ranger says assuredly, and I feel a glimpse of the same inspiration I felt from his speech a couple of hours ago. If Ranger says he's got me, he's got me.
"Okay, I can live with that," I replied levelly. "I have one more last question."
"Babe," Ranger says, and I'm not sure if he's suppressing a laugh or trying not to roll his eyes. Maybe both.
I pull back slightly to look up at him. "Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?" I ask with quiet hope.
Ranger gives me a small smile that makes his eyes crinkle. "Of course, Babe. Hector or I will be here whenever you wake up. Hector can contact me if you need me for anything," he says before kissing my forehead and rolling over to lay beside me.
I rest my head on his shoulder and lace my fingers in between his rough ones, and in his arms, peace overtakes fear.
A/N: It's been a week since my last review, and I simply couldn't wait any longer to share this chapter with you. You guys really showed me the love this past weekend (so close to 500 – a very loft goal – WOW!), and I'm again so grateful for this amazing community of supportive readers and writers.
Dreamg714 asked me to clarify Steph's haircut in this story. Her hair is the same color and texture but is shorn on the right side with the back in a pixie cut and the left side piece is long enough to be swept behind her ear. I made a Pinterest account to share some inspiration photos.
Go to: pinterest dot com slash HermioneIncarnate and open the Warrior Stephanie Plum Haircut board. It's the only one, but I'll create more boards as I think of things or if you guys request another specific visual.
Another clarification: I have written through Chapter 19, and I expect to write through chapter 23 (Or so. Sometimes I think an idea will be short, and it turns into a chapter and vice versa.) before the epilogue.
Misty23y is my oh so patient beta. My outlines are works in progress, and she never tires of helping to redirect me. Melyons has proven to be way better than WebMD at correcting the medical portions of this story. Thanks, Babes!