Disclaimer: This is a Stephanie Plum FanFiction Story. All recognizable characters belong to the fabulous Janet Evanovich. I am just borrowing her amazing characters for a while.
Warning: Adult language, violence.
A/N: This is a song fanfic inspired by The Fighter from Keith Urban and Carrie Underwood. Give it a listen. My first song fanfic ever, in response to a reader request by baileygirl12. Thank you baileygirl12 for your support of myself and other writers. You're truly the best.
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Let Me
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The coppery scent of blood invaded my nostrils and the metallic tang fouled my tongue. I spit on the pavement, trying to dislodge the horror of the night, but the taste and the memory remained. Blue and red flashing lights reflected off the nearby buildings, creating an eerie, strobing glow in the predawn hours as Morelli yelled and waved his arms, pacing back and forth in front of me.
I couldn't hear him over the ringing in my ears, but I didn't need to. It was just a slight variation of a familiar refrain. I was stupid and reckless. A walking disaster. Unfit to be a mother and unworthy to be a wife, as if having lasagna on the table promptly at six required piety.
Morelli stepped directly in front of me and, for a second, my eyes flickered away from my target to him.
"Stephanie!" He mouthed, leaning down, obscuring my field of vision. "I can't do this anymore."
He ran an agitated hand through his hair, waiting for a response. I stared straight ahead and didn't bother acknowledging him. That made two of us. I couldn't do this anymore, either. Disgusted, he threw a hand in the air and stalked away. I didn't blame him, not really. Scared, hurt, and angry, Morelli had every right to be those things, and I had every right not to give a shit. He cared, I cared, and together we were toxic. We brought out the worst in each other. I pushed his buttons, and he jabbed at mine. Morelli was a good man, just not for me.
Twenty minutes ago, I would have gotten mad, eaten a pint of ice cream, ignored his texts for a week while obsessing over what he was doing, or more accurately who he was doing, and then I would have crawled back begging him to forgive me, for being me. But that was twenty minutes ago, and I wasn't the same girl anymore.
I pulled the rough wool blanket tighter to ward off the icy chill that had nothing to do with the weather and ignored the dried blood caking my hands and staining my fingernails. My eyes remained locked with the man across from me. Carlos Manoso, otherwise known as Ranger, sat on a gurney staring back with his dark hair, dark eyes, and dark life. Everything about him alternately thrilled and terrified me.
Whether meeting him that day in the diner was the best day of my life or the worst, I wasn't sure. The jury was still out on that one. The only certain thing was meeting him had changed me in not-so-subtle ways. Some good, some not.
An oxygen mask covered his mouth and nose. The puffs of condensation assured me he was alive and breathing while the paramedics worked to triage the bullet hole in his shoulder. A through and through in the meaty upper part. Not life-threatening, but I could tell by the tension in his jaw and the slight sheen of sweat on his brow it was painful, yet he sat statue still, eyes on mine, his face betraying nothing.
Memories of another time and another place of Ranger on a gurney flickered through my mind. This wasn't the first time I'd seen Ranger shot, but I desperately hoped it was the last. He had calmly walked into a room with an armed psycho fully prepared to die to save me and his daughter. Tied to a chair, I'd been helpless, unable to do anything to save him. I realized at that moment; I was in love with him.
Scrog had unloaded his magazine, and Ranger's body had jerked with each impact. The deafening roar of the gunshots, alarmed shouting, and terrified screams were branded in my memory, and then came the silence and the blood. So much blood.
Struggling, screaming, and crying, I couldn't get to him. I thought he was dead. The man whose life was dark as night was the brightest light in mine. If he died, the light left with him. Pale and bleeding, the glistening stain spread across my floor as his life ebbed out of him with each beat of his heart, and all I could do was watch.
Sometimes late at night, my own screams echo in my head and my mind replays every horrifying detail. Lying on the gurney with his eyes closed and unmoving, I prayed that god would let him live, because I didn't believe in a cruel god, I believed in a merciful one. Ranger might not think so, but there was one thing I knew for sure. Ranger was a good man, and the world needed him. I needed him.
I vowed I would never be that helpless again, and tonight I hadn't. I'd saved Ranger and lost myself, but I was OK with that. It was a trade-off I would make a hundred times over because I'd never stop loving him. His love might have conditions, but mine didn't. I would always be in his corner and I would always fight for him.
A paramedic stepped between us, obscuring my line of sight as they prepared to load him into the ambulance. Ignoring the sting of my own gunshot graze, I got up and walked off. Past the EMTs, past a yelling Morelli, past the passel of RangeMan uniforms. I ducked under the crime scene tape, slid into my current POS, and drove off, knowing the world was different now.
Muscle memory took over as scenes from the night flashed like technicolor flares behind my eyelids as I drove through the night. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't blot it out.
It had been a regular day. Skips, garbage, Terry Gilman, Lula, and familial disappointment. All the things I'd simply come to expect from my life, even though part of me believed I deserved better. In the back of a vacant strip mall, Lula and I pawed through a beat-up panel van, looking for a treasure. Mooner had recently discovered some orphan appliances and was selling them at a pop-up sale. He was offering them at a deep discount, the kind you get when they accidentally fall off a truck, and part of me thought if I had a working toaster, Morelli would think I was more domestic. I was forking over the cash for my brand new toaster when Mooner sprung his special brand of cryptic wisdom on me. The kind that comes from a few too many bong hits, but sometimes has a grain of truth.
"Supposed to be a rad moon tonight."
I smiled and nodded. I'd read something about a lunar eclipse. "The super flower blood moon eclipse."
"Yeah, way cool. Me and Dougie are gonna have a party tonight if you want to bring snacks."
"Tempting, but I'll pass."
I wasn't sure his friends had totally forgiven me for ruining the Star Trek party. I tried not to roll my eyes or focus on how pathetic my life was. Not even the stoners wanted my company unless I brought food.
"Thanks for the toaster," I said and tucked it under my arm as Lula haggled over the price of a blender.
"Too bad the bat is gonna get his wings clipped."
At first, I tried to dismiss it as the ramblings of a pothead stoner, but my spidey sense was jumping up and down yelling from the bleachers. Then it started doing the wave, and with each pass, my stomach pitched and the base of my spine tingled.
"What do you mean, the bat is going to get clipped? Are you talking about Ranger?" Icy fear clawed along my throat, and I pushed it down.
"Yeah, batman." Mooner confirmed and then spaced off into la-la land.
"Clipped how?"
Mooner looked over at me, confused. I grabbed the front of his hoodie and gave him a hard shake. "Think."
"That's like a lot of pressure." Mooner whined, and I shook him harder, rattling his teeth with a clack.
Mooner squinted his eyes and rubbed the side of his head. "Oh yeah, I remember. You know that dude Ramos?"
"Yes," I hissed and gritted my teeth to keep from shaking him again.
"The young one." Mooner relayed.
"Uh huh," I confirmed with a little more force than was necessary.
"He hired a couple of Slayers to cap his ass." Mooner shook his head like an eager puppy, looking for a treat for not peeing on the carpet.
"How do you know this?"
Mooner's brows furrowed together. "Overheard them." It sounded far too much like a question.
"They were here?"
Mooner nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, sold them a toaster oven."
"Where?"
Mooner stared at me with a blank expression.
"Where are they going to cap batman?" The vein in my head ticked at an alarming rate and I thought I was dangerously close to a stroke, or a homicide charge. Either was possible.
Mooner rubbed his forehead. "The abandoned warehouse on Stark. The white one with all the broken windows."
"Yes." I elongated the word.
"Not that one."
I sighed and my shoulders slumped forward. "Which one?"
"Which one what?" Mooner seemed lost, like his brain had automatically reset after forty words and too many syllables.
"Which warehouse?" I practically screamed and shook him again for good measure.
"Oh, right. The red brick one down the street." Mooner bobbed his head, smiling.
"When?"
Mooner's shoulder tilted up and he looked around as the shadows grew long and the sun dipped below the horizon.
"Dunno. Now I guess."
My heart stopped beating and lodged in my throat as I stared at Mooner, feet rooted to the spot, head spinning. Ranger couldn't die. He didn't get to leave me. This was nothing, just the paranoid rantings of a pothead. The tingle at the base of my spine throbbed and called me a liar. A split second later, I made my decision. I'd rather be wrong and look stupid than do nothing. I'd had plenty of practice at looking stupid, and one more time wouldn't make much of a difference one way or the other.
I jumped into my POS and roared out the lot, gravel spraying, blue smoke pouring out of the tailpipe, and Lula waving and yelling in the rearview mirror.
I grabbed my phone and dialed Ranger, praying I'd hear that deep, rich voice that reminded me of a purr. Babe, he would say, and we would have an entire conversation with that one world.
But Ranger's voice didn't greet me. Silence did. I looked down, and my piece of crap phone was dead.
"Dammit," I half-sobbed and half-yelled as I smacked my hand on the wheel.
Tears threatened to spill over as I whipped onto Stark Street and gunned the engine, leaving a cloud of blue smoke in my wake.
I stomped on the brakes, slid and bumped to a stop, and threw the car in park. Shouldering the door open, I spilled out of the car and fell down on one knee, ripping my best pair of jeans before I stumbled to my feet and bolted towards the warehouse. The car door ajar, I left the POS running. I didn't care if someone stole it. I had one goal, and that was to get to Ranger. Abject terror spurred me forward, clawing at my insides, afraid I wouldn't make it to him in time. I wondered if this was how he felt when I was dangling from the bridge, or the other thousand times he had saved me. I vowed to get better at my job, and not put him through this again if god would let him live.
A flock of pigeons scattered as I raced through the warehouse, instinctively knowing where Ranger was even though I couldn't see him, bargaining with god as I went. If he would save Ranger, I'd be a better Catholic. A better daughter and a better friend. I skidded around the corner and the world around me faded, leaving nothing but the scene in front of me. Everything happened in slow motion.
Ranger had one Slayer cuffed and on his knees, and was securing a second. Weapon drawn, coming up behind him, was Felix Salazar. One of Ramos' hitmen. I didn't think I just acted. With strength I didn't realize I possessed, I launched myself at Ranger, tackling him with vicious force just as Felix fired. The bullet grazed my arm and hit Ranger's shoulder. We hit the floor with a bone-jarring thud and Ranger's head smacked the concrete with a sickening crunch. I scrambled to grab one of the guns Ranger had taken off the Slayers.
My fingers brushed the cold metal, and I rolled and fired without a second's hesitation, hitting Felix at close range as he loomed over me and pulled the trigger. The heat of his bullet whizzed past my cheek, and Felix's head exploded like an egg in a microwave. The unexpected warmth of blood sprayed across my face and the acrid stench of cordite stung my nose. I ignored all of that and the bile rising up my throat and crawled towards Ranger on my hands and knees across the filthy floor. Blood stained his shirt and pooled beneath him.
"Ranger!" I yelled.
His eyes remained stubbornly closed, and I ran my hands over his body looking for injury as the two Slayers ran for all they were worth.
"Jesus Ranger, you do not get to die."
I fumbled in his pockets and pulled out his cell phone and, with trembling fingers, dialed 911.
"911, what's your emergency?"
I placed the phone on the floor by his unnaturally still body and relayed my location and status before I hung up and called RangeMan. Ranger's blood poured through my fingers, and I yanked off my shirt, wadded it up, and pressed it to the wound.
Precious seconds ticked by before his eyes fluttered open. Ranger tried to sit up, and I pushed him back down. His eyes closed in pain as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He had a lump forming where his head had smacked the concrete, and a tinge of guilt skittered over me.
"Stay still," I ordered.
He pulled a couple of long breaths in through his nose and opened his eyes, assessing me. His eyebrow quirked up. "You OK, babe?"
"No, you scared the shit out of me." Tears and snot mingled with blood dripped onto the concrete floor, and my whole body shook uncontrollably. "If you die, I'll kill you."
Ranger's lip tipped up. "Understood."
A half-sob, half-laugh broke from my lips. Ranger was OK. Relief coursed through my body like a raging river, robbing me of my strength. Ranger's eyes flickered over to Felix.
"Ramos, set you up." I croaked and cleared my throat. "The Slayers were a distraction to get you here and ambush you."
"How did you know?" Ranger used his good arm to reach up and palpate the lump on his head. The blood from his gunshot wound was slowing, but I kept the wadded-up shirt pressed to his shoulder.
"Mooner."
Ranger pushed up on his elbows, and he threw me a questioning look, before leveraging himself into a sitting position.
I pursed my lips, trying to figure out how to explain that one. "It's a long story," I answered.
There would be plenty of time to fill him in after he went to the hospital and I was sure he wasn't going to die of a brain bleed.
"You took out Felix Salazar." A statement, tinged with a fair amount of disbelief and awe.
"He was going to kill you." I stammered, and reached out and brushed my fingers over the lump just above his temple. "I'm sorry about your head."
"Proud of you, babe."
His hand snaked out and pushed the hair away from my face, and I pretended not to notice his trembling fingers. I rested my forehead against his, and his hand slipped around and cupped the back of my neck.
The distant wail of the siren grew closer and then police and EMTs swarmed the scene. That's how I'd ended up sitting in the back of an ambulance watching the EMTs wheel Ranger out on a gurney for the second time in my life.
With no memory of how I got here, I realized I was idling in my parking lot. I didn't want to walk into that apartment. I didn't want to field calls from my mother, and I didn't want to fight with Morelli. So, I did what all sane adults do. I ran away.
I started driving and kept driving until I hit the ocean, and couldn't drive anymore. I pulled a dirty t-shirt out of the laundry basket of clothes bound for my mother's and washed up in a gas station bathroom. It didn't seem to matter how many times I scrubbed my hands, the blood under my nails didn't budge. With one last exasperated sigh, I shut off the water and avoided looking in the mirror on the way out. I didn't want to see the haunted, vacant eyes that would stare back at me. Killing a man wasn't a burden I had ever wanted, but when the choice was to kill or let Ranger die, there hadn't been a choice. I would pull that trigger every single time.
Wrapped in a blanket sitting on the beach, I watched the grey light of dawn break the horizon. Cloudy and dull, the day reflected my mood. Seagulls squawked overhead and sandpipers ran along the beach as the sun climbed higher.
A pair of black-clad cargo pants came into view and Ranger took a seat beside me, resting his arms on his knees, and gazed out across the water.
I didn't look over, I just stared at the vast ocean in front of me, absorbing how inconsequential my life was, and listened to the soothing waves as they crashed to shore. "Shouldn't you be in the hospital?"
"I'm right where I'm supposed to be."
A half-smile played around the corners of my mouth but died.
"You risked your life to save mine." It was a statement, not a question. "I never wanted that. I want you safe."
I held up my hand. "Don't start OK. I'm not up for a lecture about what I should or shouldn't do. What I should or shouldn't feel. How I'm a screw-up and a disappointment. How I'm reckless. You're the most important person in my life, and I wasn't going to let you die. So just get over it. I'm not sorry."
Ranger took my hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the delicate skin of my wrist. "I was going to say thank you."
"Oh."
He smiled against the tender skin and pressed another soft kiss to the pulse point.
"Do you remember the last time you asked me to the beach?"
I nodded. "Yeah. I said we should come to the beach, lay in the sand, and hold hands."
"And what did I say?"
"You said we couldn't go to the beach."
"I offered you flowers, a kitten, or ice cream, but I didn't give you the one thing that you wanted. My time. I regret that."
My shoulder tilted up. "But you gave me a kiss"
Ranger gave a soft snort.
"It was a nice kiss," I offered.
"It was, but it wasn't near enough."
I nodded and silence settled between us as Ranger and I gazed out across the ocean and the seagulls circled and cried overhead, and the waves pounded against the shore in a steady, lulling rhythm.
"I have a lot of regrets in life, but you know what the biggest one is?" Ranger asked.
"No."
"It's sending you back to Morelli the morning after we made love."
Ranger ran a hand through his hair, and I got stuck on the part where he said made love. Not sex made love.
"So why did you?" I asked through numb lips as the blood buzzed in my ears, instinctively knowing this conversation was about to change everything. Whether it was for the better remained to be seen.
"I didn't think I could give you what you wanted, what you needed. You deserved more, and you still do."
I huffed out an irritated sigh. "I'm exhausted of everyone else deciding what I need."
"You're right. Everyone else in your life did what I did. I chose for you. I sent you back to Morelli and told you to repair your relationship because I thought it was the best thing. I told you not to trust your instincts or your heart. That Morelli was the right man for you. I wasn't any better than your mother."
His thumb rubbed lazy circles on the back of my hand. I couldn't argue with that, so I didn't.
"You realized it wouldn't work. Yet we told you to change. Your relationship issues with Morelli were your fault. We told you to be less, not to be yourself. All you needed to do was just try harder, and be smaller. Then I sat back and judged your make-up, break-up cycle. I told you it was an unhealthy pattern, like I'd even recognize what healthy looked like." He shook his head in disgust. "A pattern I pushed you into."
"It's not your fault. That cycle started long before I ever met you."
I wasn't sure how to tell him none of that mattered anymore or how deep it had cut, so I stayed silent and watched two seagulls fight over a dead horseshoe crab.
"I thought I was protecting you. If I kept you at arm's length, you wouldn't get hurt because of me. But you did anyway. Orin, Vlatko, Scrog, they all came after you because they saw what I didn't. Or at least what I didn't want to admit. You are important to me. You already own all the best pieces, including my heart."
My hand raised in a stop gesture. I couldn't do this, not today, not anymore. "I get it. There are all kinds of love and really, I'm good with just the condom these days."
Ranger sighed. "Well, I'm not. How about a ring and no condom?"
I gave an incredulous snort. "How hard did you hit your head?"
A humorless smile graced his face. "I deserved that. I'm not saying kids or anything like that. Certainly, not right away. That's something we can figure out together. I'm saying let's stop dancing around what we both already know."
"And what's that?"
"That you love me."
My eyebrows rose dangerously high on my forehead.
"And I love you."
I shook my head, panic seeping in around the edges. "I'm not very good at relationships."
I wouldn't deny I loved him. We both knew it and had for a long time. Neither of us acted on it because Ranger's life didn't lend itself to relationships. There had never been space in his life for me.
"You're not very good at a relationship with Morelli. There is a difference. He hurt you. He made you doubt yourself, but I am not Morelli. I see who you are, and I don't want you to change."
"What if I screw something up?"
Ranger's shoulder tilted up. "Then we fix it."
"What if I run?"
"Then I follow you to the ends of the earth."
A lone tear popped out and ran down my cheek, and his knuckles brushed it away.
"I promise to never make you cry."
I gave a watery laugh. "You can't promise me that."
"Just let me love you."
"I'm scared."
"Then come here and let me hold you tighter."
I scooted closer and Ranger wrapped his powerful arms around me and pulled me close.
"I'm never going to let you fall, take you for granted, or fight over the last piece of toast."
"But I can't cook."
"Do you care if I have two knives and a gun?"
"No."
"I don't care if you can cook, or your family is nuttier than a bunch of fruitcakes."
I snorted. I couldn't argue that point.
Ranger kissed the side of my head. "I never wanted you to take a life for me. I didn't want you to have that burden."
"It was never a question."
"I know, and that's when I realized how stupid it was to pretend we didn't have something we did. You almost got shot trying to save me, and to be clear, I'm not sure I could have lived with that, so let's not do that one again.
I smiled, but didn't answer. I could only promise that if he stopped doing dangerous stuff, and that wasn't an option. We would both have to learn to accept it.
"Love makes you crazy." I half teased; half confessed.
He scrubbed a hand down his face. "It does if you do it right, I guess."
The truth shimmered between us. There was nothing we wouldn't do for each other. Ranger had killed to keep me safe, and now I'd done the same. It didn't get any more real than that.
"Look, Steph. I don't want to waste any more time tiptoeing around and playing games. You say you're not any good at relationships, yet we've been in one for years. We click."
There was some truth to that statement. "It's a big leap between sleeping over once in a while and being in a relationship."
I had stayed with Ranger for a brief time, and he was surprisingly easy to live with as long as you understood his energy would always dominate his space. The question was, could he make room for me?
As if he read my thoughts, Ranger replied. "You already have half my closet." His shoulder nudged mine.
I gave an inelegant snort, the universal sign of skepticism.
"It's going to take some time to convince you. I've made some jackass moves and said some terminally stupid shit. You have to learn to trust me. I'm just asking for a chance. Let me show you."
"Why me?"
Ranger's shoulder tilted up and he scrunched up his nose and stared out into the distance. "It'll sound sappy."
"Try me."
"You walked into that diner and it was like a punch to the solar plexus. I just knew, and it scared the shit out of me."
"Knew what?"
"I was born to love you."
I smiled. "You really just said that?"
"I did."
"I think that may be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me."
Ranger stood up and held out his hand to me. "What do you say? Want to get out of here? We can grab a hotel room, take a shower, and go from there."
"Would that shower be together?"
"Yes," Ranger practically growled the answer.
I put my hand in his and he hauled me to my feet, pulling me flush against his him. "One request."
"What's that?" I was pretty sure I would have promised him the world.
"Let me be the fighter, otherwise a heart attack will take me long before a bullet."
"Deal," I replied, and sealed it with a kiss.
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A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing!