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 23
Tank's POV
I shake myself out of my stupor as I tried to determine if the banging sound I heard was in my head or from somewhere else. Door. It's the door.
I grab my 9mm from the side table and hold it loosely in my hand as I stride to the door wearing only my black Adidas track pants. I quickly move through my darkened home and peak through the edge of a front-facing side window, sigh heavily and place my weapon in the small of my back as I yank the front door open.
"Tankie!" Lula croons, brushing past me. "What happened? You look terrible!" She places her hands on my forearms before placing one on my chest, batting her eyes at me with mock concern.
Lula is wearing a bright red bandage dress with matching hair and heels, the look finished with gold eyeshadow, lips and chunky jewelry. It's blinding, but she might also be the distraction I need right now. And the way Lula spreads gossip…
"Hi, Baby," I sigh, looking aggrieved before leaning down to give her a kiss. "Would you mind making this a stay in date? You're right; I've had a terrible day. I need my woman to take care of me."
Lula's eyes flash in annoyance for a moment, and I know she was hoping to be seen hanging on my arm around town. At first, I thought that Lula wasn't interested in me, per se, but in my perceived lifestyle. She gets reputation and gifts from me; I have my itches scratched on demand. However, this thing we have between us has turned into my longest lasting relationship, and I've become fond of the bitch. I like her brand of crazy. She's a freak who's not afraid to show it, and I get to reap the benefits. Lula may be a 'ho, but she's my 'ho.
"I'll make it up to you, Baby," I say. "You look too gorgeous not to show off." I leer at her with unabashed interest, my hands moving to her ample backside, and she huffs before looking mollified.
I step back to allow her to pass and settle back down on the couch, turning the TV to mute as Lula settles on her knees between my legs. "That's it, Sugar," I groan as she pulls my dick out. "Daddy needs some attention."
"What's going on, Tankie?" Lula asks before spitting on the head of my cock and pumping her fist up and down. The woman gives head like a pro she is. Worth every penny, had I been paying, and in this case, I'll be able to not only get a blow job for free, but I'll be able to put her mouth to work again later.
"It's Stephanie," I start heavily, looking put out. "She is poisoning Ranger's mind against me. I hate to get between a man and his woman, but he doesn't know what she's like anymore."
"Fucking bitch," Lula affirms.
"It's Ranger's lack of loyalty that bothers me the most. I never thought I'd have to go into business against my brother, but he chose his 'ho," I state. Most women require me to put my hands on their heads to force their mouths to take my entire length. Not Lula. I rest my head back as she continues to work.
"I don't see how I have a choice, though it pains me to know Trenton and my men are going to be left with Stephanie's shoot first ask questions later approach to security. Ranger doesn't know and won't listen to how fucked up in the head that bitch is. I think we need to spread the word," I state, groaning as Lula sucks my balls.
"Then we just have to tell everyone," Lula immediately responds. "It's a fucking public service announcement."
"Baby, you've been so good to me this year. I'll never doubt your loyalty. Maybe if I could just talk to her, reason with her, but I don't think it's a good idea if I go by the Bonds Office right now," I shrug, trailing off.
"Steph's been in hiding the past couple of days, but she does that. Don't worry. I can always flush out a roach. A little light and they scatter," Lula croons. "I'll always take care of my Tankie because you'll always take care of me. Now, cum for me and release some of that tension."
I shoot my wad into the back of Lula's fat mouth and smile. Ranger took the most important thing from me, and tit for tat is only fair.
Cal's POV
"Hey, man!" Hal exclaims, greeting Binky and I at the Trenton airport baggage claim with a complicated fist bump. "How was Boston?"
"Alright," I smile, "But Jersey's better."
We're halfway back to Rangeman in a black Ford Explorer before Binky can't contain himself anymore. "We heard that Bomber's back. Is that true?" he asks hopefully.
"I don't know, man," Hal says somberly. "Three is secured to all personnel except the Core Team, and a medical temp Bobby brought in. Rumor has it that Bombshell was hurt trying to bring in a skip and is convalescing."
"Fuck, what happened?" I exclaim, and I listen in shock as Hal tells me about the impromptu takedown duty patrol did with Lester. Bomber's lucky she had a panic button on her, and I'm astonished she pushed it after what I saw secretly covering her six before Binky and I were forced out of town. I'm also surprised but relieved that Rangeman came to help her. More than Ranger's speech at the change of command or the contracts the attorney gave us, it tells me maybe things are changing for the better. God, I hope so. Rangeman under Tank sucked.
"This didn't come from me, but the scuttlebutt is that Tank arranged for Bombshell to be there that night. I'm not sure how, but it was after that incident that Ranger forced Tank out of the company. It sucks Bombshell got hurt, but I'm so glad that Tank's gone. Everything is so much better now, and even more so now that you two are back. All instructions and policies are reverted to how things were before Tank took over, and now there's a line of guys waiting to move back into the building. Don't worry; I made sure you're taken care of. Ranger retired from his government service, and now we don't have to worry about him leaving and everything going to shit again at a moment's notice," Hal enthusiastically says, his smile contagious. "I never thought I'd say this again, but I'm glad I work at Rangeman."
We park in the garage, throw our military-style duffle bags over our shoulders, and take the stairs two at a time to four. We pass Bomber Duty outside the stairwell on three, and Zip gives me a nod of acknowledgment and a faint smile as we go by. If things really are going back to the way they were, there will be more guys volunteering than watches to be filled.
Hal stops in front of two rooms, side by side, and hands us each a key fob. "Come up to five when you're ready. Welcome home," he says before striding down the hall.
Sometimes seeing is believing. I don't know how Ella did it, but the apartment is already absent of any traces of Tank's decorating policies. A tray with water, energy bars, and fruit is resting on the kitchen counter. A quick peek in the fridge shows it's stocked with all the things I used to frequently order, including a six-pack of Budweiser. I walk into the bedroom immediately relieved to see no sign of that grey piece of sandpaper Tank passed off like a blanket. In its place is a plush comforter set in navy blue, and I'm touched Ella remembered my favorite color. A fresh towel set is hanging in the bathroom.
I begin to unpack my bags, quickly stowing my gear. When I open my backpack, I pull out a framed photo of my family and proudly display it on my dresser. I make short order of settling in before returning to the kitchen. I'm about to bite into an apple when there's a knock on the door.
"Welcome home, Cal," Ella says warmly, stepping inside and embracing me in a grandmotherly hug when I release the door. "It's so good to see you."
"You too, Ella," I respond. "Thanks for preparing the old apartment for me. Everything looks great."
"You're welcome, and let me know if there's anything else you need. There's been a move-in allowance allocated to everyone, and I'm sure you'll know just what you want to do with that after a few days," Ella beams before departing again.
On five, the mood I'm instantly greeted with is like night and day as compared to my rapid departure several months ago. Binky steps beside me as I stand near the stairwell, taking everything in.
"Damn. I never thought it could be like this again," Binky mutters in astonishment. We see personal photos, cartoons, and unique calendars tacked to cubicle walls. I crane my neck, and I see multiple guys in the breakroom eating food that looks fit for human consumption. Most incredibly, there are occasional bouts of laughter.
We take a step forward, and Woody steps out from the area where the monitors are clustered together. "Hey, Cal, Binky! Welcome back!" he exclaims, pulling us both into a brief man hug. "Glad to see you survived the frozen north." At the sound of his greeting, the rest of the team begins to emerge, and soon Binky and I have been shuffled among everyone. And while all of this was happening, no one got yelled at for not working or being too loud or was threatened with extra PT.
"I'm glad you're back in Trenton," Lester says, coming out of his office and shaking our hands. "Ranger wants to have a word, and then I'll leave you to spend the rest of the day getting settled."
I nervously follow Lester towards Ranger's office, pausing outside of eyeshot to make sure my uniform is in order. When Binky and I enter, we unconsciously march in step, our posture a little straighter, and we stop side by side at attention in front of Ranger's desk.
"At ease," Ranger says immediately, moving to stand directly in front of us before offering each of us his hand. After shaking it, the man I look up to more than my father gives me the shock of my life by saying, "I owe you a debt of gratitude I can never repay. It takes a great deal of courage to stand up for what is right despite rank or familiarity and you did, protecting this company and everyone who works for it. Thank you, and I'm humbled and proud to have you back in Trenton."
"Just doing our job, Sir," I respond, too stunned to form anything better.
"You did more than that, and in addition to the terms we discussed yesterday, I'm promoting you both. Lester has the details of your new positions," Ranger states, and my eyes open slightly as I work to keep my expression professional.
"Thank you, Sir," Binky says.
Ranger gives the nod, and, miraculously containing my whoop of excitement, we step back into the hallway.
"Congratulations," Lester says, stopping in front of two of the larger cubicles in the corner. "Here are your new workspaces."
Binky and I exchange grins. It is good to be back.
Stephanie's POV
My body's physical needs wake me a little before six. Ranger, while being careful not to put any pressure on my still sore body, has his arm draped and thoroughly entangled around me. I'm just about to attempt to disentangle myself from the warm and rock hard embrace when I hear him say, "Good morning, Babe."
"Morning, Ranger. Can you please help me up? I need the restroom." Ranger gets out of bed just before Alex walks in from Bobby's office to detach the IV line. I accept Ranger's assistance walking to the bathroom, but I lean on him as little as possible. I breathe a deep sigh of relief when I close the door securely behind me, absolutely relishing in being alone for the first time since Sanchez. I take care of business quickly, not wanting anyone to interrupt my peace and possibly compromising it in the future. When I emerge, Ranger is standing right there to help me back to the bed, but I proudly walk, okay limp, the entire way
"Do you want to go back to sleep? It's still early yet," Ranger asks once I'm settled.
"No, I'm up. Besides, either Bobby or Alex will be in here in a few minutes to poke and prod me again," I reply, rolling my eyes.
As if on cue, I hear a knock on the door, watching as Bobby enters the room with Alex. "How are you feeling this morning?" Bobby asks.
"Better. Still stiff, but I feel rested," I say easily.
"That's good," Bobby replies as he takes my vitals. "Your temperature is still normal, 98.5, your blood pressure is stable, and your heart rate is trending normal. I think you are finally out of the woods. We are going to keep the port in your hand so that we can deliver the antibiotics through the saline lock, but I'll discontinue the fluids in order to provide you more mobility. However, I'll expect you to work at staying hydrated orally. Your body needs extra fluids as a part of your recovery. I'm also going to wean you off the heavier pain killers, which will have you feeling less dizzy and more alert. You still need to take it easy, but I want you out of bed today. You need to be in a chair and walking around every two hours. If you are tired, you can take a nap, but we need to get you back to a normal routine."
"That sounds doable," I answer.
"Are you hungry? I can have Ella bring you your breakfast now. It's likely your stomach is still tender given all the medication we've given you, but I suggest that you have something full of protein to get your body moving again, possibly an omelet with ham, cheese and veggies, toast and fruit. How does that sound to you?" Bobby suggests.
With the description of breakfast, my stomach growls. "I guess that means that I'm okay with that menu," I reply, and I see Ranger's lips twitch from the corner of my eyes. Bobby and Alex leave the room, and Ranger helps me sit at a small table in the corner of the room.
"Do you want a pillow?" he asks thoughtfully. It feels good to change positions and move my stiff limbs.
"No, I'm good." I pause before asking what I want to know. "Now that I'm ordered to be up, can I start reviewing the background checks? I'm feeling a lot better than I did on Wednesday. Frankly, I'm starting to go stir crazy, and I'm trying to be a good patient. I can't stare at these four walls any longer, Ranger."
I watch Ranger's internal dialogue take place in his eyes. I've learned that if I want to read Ranger, I need to focus on his eyes. He finally sighs, then responds, "There is a big part of me that wants to protect you, protect you from getting hurt, from getting worn down, from getting angry, but I know that you are a strong woman, and you need to be part of this. Babe, I want to be here with you when you look at the research, and if I have to step out, Hector will be present instead. I'm planning on spending most of my day beside you doing my work from my laptop, but I want to, no, I need to be here if you have any problems. You are not one hundred percent, and I'd hate to see you relapse on my watch."
Part of me still wants to fight with him on principle. I don't need a babysitter. I am strong; I am capable. But the other side of me is thrilled that Ranger wants to be with me still, even with everything I have done. So, I decide to say, "Thank you, Ranger."
"I know that if there is anything to be found, Babe, that you are the only one who will and who can find it. I believe in you, Stephanie, and I love you." Ranger says these words with so much confidence it makes my heart skip a beat.
There's a knock on the door to save us from the mushy moment, as Ella announces herself, bring in our breakfast. I smell the food, suddenly feeling famished. As Ella is unloading her cart, she's playing mother hen.
"Stephanie, I gave you some aqua blue and lilac throw pillows, towels, and blankets in your apartment on four. Most of the men want drab colors like navy blue, grey, white, or black, so being able to buy color is fun. I can order you some clothes if you need, just tell me what you'd like, or if you want, I can come back after lunch, and we can shop together online. I know some sites where I can get really good deals on good quality clothing. Plus, I'm a member of every coupon site there is," Ella says.
I feel a little overwhelmed that Ella is going out of her way for me but giving me choices while understanding my need to be independent. I'm also glad that she's willing to help me shop just as much as she's willing to shop for me. It makes my decision easier.
"Ella, I'd love to shop online with you this afternoon. Whenever you're ready, come on down. I'm not going anywhere," I say with more enthusiasm than I've felt in a long time.
Ella turns and leaves, while Ranger and I dig in. I eat more of this meal than I have any other meal but still leave a quarter of it behind. Baby step, Steph, baby steps.
After breakfast, Alex returns without my asking to help me shower and dress. I'm still not comfortable with Ranger helping me yet, but I feel like I've known Alex for years. I'm no longer shy about sharing my bathroom space with Alex. She respects my privacy while keeping me safe, and her continual stream of lighthearted banter makes me smile. I find that I can be more honest with her than I can be to anyone else. I confess to her that my pain is greater than I'm telling Ranger, but not to the extent that it was two days ago. Alex doesn't judge but gets me some Motrin and advises me to ice the knee because it's still swollen. I think the fact that Alex just met me is making it easier to trust her, for she has never hurt me before. Our friendship is a clean slate.
Back in the bed with the ice pack in place, Hector brings me a laptop and shows me where all the background reports, evidence gathered, legal documents, and miscellaneous files are stored. It's more than I expected, and I'm humbled and appreciative of everyone's faith in me. And then I get to work.
Several hours, two walks around the room, and lunch later, I'm continuing to work but with far less optimism and my mood has soured. Twenty-four hours. Twenty-four hours until I'll be released from this room I silently repeat as a grim mantra. It's midday on Friday, and as further confirmation that I must be feeling better, the confinement of Medical, no matter how much for my own good it is, is beginning to get under my skin. If it weren't for the port in my hand to deliver the medication and how much my sudden disappearance would worry everyone who's worked so hard to help me the last couple of days, I would be feeling a lot less inclined to stick around.
I set my lips firmly and return to studying the reports on the laptop Hector provided me, more grateful than ever for the useful distraction. I've been reading document after document for the past three hours, and… nothing. Tank, Farro, Vinnie, Lula. Not a flicker of my old spidey sense.
I glance up as Ranger enters the room and approaches Hector. Ranger stepped out a couple of hours ago to go to his office, but I've made no effort at conversation with either man. They do the silent conversation thing the men in black are so good at, and Hector departs, a long look at me first, and I sigh.
I know Ranger ordered these background reports to make sure no proverbial stone is unturned, and perhaps there really is only dirt and worms to be found in these papers. Ranger described the evidence the Rangeman legal team uncovered against Tank in addition to the evidence Connie turned over yesterday. We have enough to pursue criminal charges against all three of them, and well, Farro is dead. I saw to that.
What are we looking for that we don't either already know or is useful to ensure the arrest of Tank, Vinnie, and Lula once the charges are filed? We have the evidence necessary. At this point, things are more or less a waiting game until the criminal justice trigger is pulled.
I let out a huff of air and lean back against the pillows, staring at the edge where the walls meet the ceiling and let my mind wander. The background reports are thorough and sometimes border on too much information. Family history, tax records, criminal background, deeds for vehicles and property, employment history, known aliases, and credit scores, among other things, are all easily compiled. What makes for a breakthrough report instead of a basic report is looking at that basic information and figuring out under which stone to dig deeper.
There are few things Grandma Mazur and my mom agree on, but one of them is the Sound of Music. They adore that movie, and I've watched it every Easter for my entire life. Most people would be surprised to know I have it completely memorized and am able to sing every song note for note. I close my eyes against the brightness of the overhead lighting, and Fraulein Maria's voice begins to play through my frustrated brain. "Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start."
The beginning. Everything started with Farro. After Farro, everything in my life fell apart pretty quickly. I had my falling out with Rangeman and then Tank began conspiring with Vinnie to ensure I was given skips above my paygrade. Somewhere along the way, Lula got in on the action with everyone profiting from my pain. From what I've heard, it was sometime after Farro that Tank began his Rangeman dictatorship.
I sit up and return to Farro's background report. I hate the use the term trailer trash, but this man fits every stereotype. He grew up in a mobile home park near Shreveport, Louisiana. His parents died of a drug overdose when Farro was in high school, and he dropped out after that. Looking at his criminal record, most offenses are drug-related, at least until he hit his 30s. After that, it seemed he was less inclined towards petty drugs and began drumming up violent offender charges. So, what brought him to New Jersey?
I've found that people do most things for money, love, safety, or a combination of all of the above. Sometimes it's greed, but sometimes it's charity; pursuing love or running from a broken heart; finding safety or throwing it all away. The actions are simple, but the reasoning is not. In Farro's case, his now widowed wife is from Trenton. Not wanting to linger on that painful subject, I switch over to Tank's report, going back to the beginning.
He was born in Louisiana, son to a Creole woman and African American father, who was also in the service. He has a couple of sisters, one of which has a restraining order against her ex-husband, who used to beat her and attempted to rape their daughter. Grew up in Shreveport. Parents died of a drug overdose. Moved to Miami to finish high school. Damn. I found a rock to overturn.
So I dig. Farro and Tank lived in different neighborhoods, but they attended the same middle school and high school, Farro a year ahead of Tank. But those schools are large, and there's nothing to link them. I take a step back and begin to look at the parents. In the 70s and 80s, white and black neighborhoods in Louisiana didn't overlap much. Brown vs. The Board of Education may have desegregated the schools but not the communities. I can't find a connection beyond geography, and certainly nothing that ties these two unlikely men together. In frustration, I resume my previous thinking position.
Inspecting every millimeter of the ceiling joint, my mind again wanders to the unexpected, and I'm gripped by a flashback that plays in technicolor before my unfocused eyes that occurred about two months after the Farro incident.
I still feel pretty raw about everything, but Hector had been subtly trying to convince me that perhaps things weren't exactly what I thought. I knew exactly what I had heard, but I also knew there was a history between Tank, Lester, Bobby, and me. Earlier that morning I picked up a file from Connie and after reading the charges, I heard that little voice I kept trying to squelch that said Ranger would never want me to go after this FTA on my own. I had gotten pretty used to ignoring that voice by that time, but after my second unsuccessful attempt to nab Darius Parker, I decided to extend an olive branch to my former friends at Rangeman.
Parker was accused of brutally beating a boy who was looking into the bedroom window of his sixteen-year-old daughter. Darius is no slump. He's 6'3", 240 pounds, former college linebacker for one of the big college teams. When I realized I was coming up against a brick wall in catching this guy, the little voice that said to ask for help got louder. I never considered asking Lula to by my partner. When I came back to tracing skips full time four weeks prior, Lula had assumed she would be riding shotgun. When I declined and proceeded to work solo, and after only an introductory training session from Hector, my success rate had skyrocketed. It was eye-opening to see how ineffective Lula was until I was free of the excess weight. Lula tried to girlfriend-guilt me into pairing up with her again, but I knew that was money speaking, not love, and I'd given her enough of my money.
So, I spent the next twenty-four hours mustering every ounce of courage I possessed and drove to Rangeman, entering the underground garage for the first time since 'that day.' I take the stairs nervously to five, my blank face locked in place, where I hope to see Lester. But he's out on the job, so I am forced to talk to Tank. I don't know why, but since Farro, Tank makes my hairs stand up, and my skin crawl.
"Stephanie, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Tank asks in the put-on voice of a gentleman.
I push away my flight instinct, and respond, "Hi, Tank. I'm wondering if someone could help me with a skip. I'd give Rangeman fifty percent of the capture fee."
Tank leans back in this chair, his fingers forming a steeple under his chin while I continue to stand rigidly in front of him. His eyes bore into me as the seconds tick past.
"Who are you going after?" Tank finally asks.
"Darius Parker," I respond quickly.
"What did he do?" Tank inquires.
"He beat a kid within an inch of his life for being a Peeping Tom," I say a little colder than I intended.
"Who was he peeping on?" Tank presses, dragging out the interrogation with overly specific questions.
"Parker's daughter," I state.
Tank narrows his eyes before mumbling something about how sometimes the best justice is the one delivered by your own hands. "I can't say I blame the man," I hear clearly as he lapses back into forced silence. As I awkwardly stand there with growing trepidation, Tank picks up a file on his desk and begins looking it over. "Do you know what I was reviewing before you came over today?" Tank says after nearly a minute of agonizing silence.
I set my jaw and force my hands from curling into fists at my sides, completely irritated by this demonstration.
"This is the expected Q1 income and expenditures report for Rangeman Trenton, and I must say, some things in here are frankly enlightening," Tank continues, and my stomach twists. "Initial reports showed business down but expenses increasing, especially for entertainment. Yet, accounting sent this revision to me saying expenses are below expectations. I must tell you, friend to friend, how relieved I am. With entertainment costs increasing by a little more than three million dollars over three years and business slowing down, I was afraid I'd be turning over a floundering company to Ranger when he returns. That would break my heart. Rangeman is his life, legacy really." Tank pauses, and his face morphs from one of aggrieved pain to relief to professional detachment again.
"I appreciate the difficulty you've found yourself in, and I'm glad you stopped by today," Tanks states in the original gentlemen's tone. "It has been my burden these past few months to meticulously go through Rangeman's instructions and policies and rewrite them to align with a stricter fiscal policy. As such, this company no longer offers support services for contractors." Tank pauses, looking chagrined. "Unless you plan on going through the Rangeman hiring process, my hands are tied."
Tank then rises to his full height, towering over me, and I stand there willing my feet to take me away from this place again but not wanting to look cowed. He steps closer to me, and I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up. "I understand that in the past, personal and professional lines have been blurred, and I think we both agree that ultimately hurt everyone in the end. Vinnie, not Rangeman, hired you to do this job, Little Girl. There are good reasons why Bounty Hunting is considered a man's job. From a professional to a contractor, I encourage you to take my advice and leave this job to the men you are asking to do it for you at a discount rate."
Tank places a meaty hand on my shoulder, and I consciously prevent myself from flinching at the touch. "I'm glad you stopped by today, Little Girl. I know you gave up your apartment, and Ranger would want you to know seven is available to your use. He likes it when you keep his bed warm. I'll be sure to keep you informed when Ranger makes his checkpoints, so you know when he'll be back. For a Jersey Girl, you've always had a classy side, and I'm sure you'll want to give him a," Tank stops a second, and I make the mistake of meeting his dark eyes, glittering with a flash of malice, "romantic homecoming."
I immediately regret coming here and talking to Tank. At Tank's last words, my feet take flight of their own accord, and I roar out of the Rangeman garage with my olive branch left smoldering in the smog of my tailpipe behind me.
I feel rejected and hurt like I did 'that day,' but also like that day, no tears come. I think it's because I'm also relieved. I was never comfortable with the money Ranger spent on my behalf, and now I know why. I'm the entertainment that is ruining Rangeman. No matter how I feel about everything else, I would never want to be responsible for damaging Ranger's life's work. I also have the confirmation I needed that my response to the guys after Farro was correct. They are not my friends, and, except for Hector, I am now alone. Tank's attitude today just affirms that the only reason why they were nice to me is that I was the Boss' toy. Well, never again will I be back here if I'm not welcomed.
A couple of days later Hector found me drunk, nursing stitches from a gunshot wound on my arm, and with several bruises all over my body. But in the end, I got my skip, and I made another contribution to the money I am saving to pay back Ranger.
I don't notice the tears silently streaming down my cheeks as I keep staring straight ahead until I hear Ranger's voice, "Babe, look at me. You're okay, you're fine. No one will hurt you. Babe, please look at me."
I glance at Ranger, pulling myself out of my memories, and I know my worldview has shifted.
"Tank was involved with Farro. That bastard set me up," I say furiously, quickly wiping my face dry with the back of my hand. Ranger rocks back on his heels in shock, before, looking intently in Ranger's eyes, I see whatever love Ranger still had in his heart for his former best friend die.
A/N: This was a difficult chapter to write and one that went through more revisions than any other. Misty23y more than earned co-author credits on Steph's POV. She also listened to quite a bit of brainstorming and back and forth plot ideas as I figured out what I felt needed to happen to make sure my storylines came together the way I envisioned. Meylons corresponded with me several times to make sure I'm moving Steph's responses to medical care forward realistically. Thank you, guys!
I appreciate all the comments my last chapter received. I'm thrilled so many of you are still engaged with this story despite my erratic update pace. And yes, I am having a wonderful trip – thank you!