Round Robin

Chapter 24 (Babefan2019)

STEPHANIE

I couldn't stop the sob that escaped from my chest when I heard his voice and felt his arms engulf me.

"Carlos." I sighed on an exhale. At this second, I didn't have the strength for anything more.

I felt something slip over my head, and the smell of Bulgari's intoxicating aroma engulfed me. The scent was Carlos. The fabric was warm and soft, and I realized it was the shirt he had just been wearing.

"Are you okay?" he asked, gently holding me to him.

"Some superficial cuts and bruises, but I'll live," I said, burrowing into his bare chest. After the last few hours of Hell, I had just endured, the relief of being safe in his arms was a bit overwhelming.

He stilled completely and I lifted my head off his chest to listen. Mickey was down, but I didn't think he was out. "We need to get out of here. I threw scalding hot water on him, but I don't know if he had a weapon or anything."

"My team is reporting in," he said, pointing toward his ear. It was too dark to see, but I assumed he must have some kind of communication device. He would be able to hear even if I couldn't. "Santos and Ramos just swept through the house and found no sign of Bolan. Where did you leave him?" he asked.

"In the kitchen. He was trying to get friendly, but I told him I needed to eat first. I nuked some water for Ramen and threw it at him when I took it out of the microwave. I was aiming for his face, but I ended up getting him in the crotch."

I could see the twitch of his lips in the pale light from the moon. "Proud of you, Babe. Takes guts to fight back and do whatever you have to do to survive a psycho like Bolan."

I felt a shiver of revulsion course through my body, remembering his hands on my body. "Let's not talk about that now," I said. "Your guys said they didn't find him? Then he's out there somewhere."

"I'm right behind you, sweetheart," Bolan said. "Throw your weapon to the ground, Manoso."

I fought the urge to scream and felt Carlos's arms tighten around me before he released me long enough to drop his handgun on the ground.

"Now, I believe you have something that belongs to me," Bolan said.

"You're sadly mistaken. Stephanie belongs to no one but herself," Carlos replied, never loosening his hold on me and moving slightly to put his body between me and Bolan.

I appreciated the fact that he was trying to protect me, but there was no way I was going to let Carlos sacrifice himself for me. His arms tightened as I tried to move away. "Please," I said, knowing he'd understand what I was asking. Slowly, his arms loosened, and he held them out to his sides where Bolan could see them. This allowed me to face Bolan while Carlos still had my back. I knew he would follow my lead and was gratified by his trust in me.

Bolan was holding a wicked-looking knife in front of him. I didn't remember seeing a gun in the kitchen, but I knew he must have one somewhere. I thought I might have a chance if he had only taken the time to grab the knife when he came after me. He would have to get in close to use it, and I figured our odds were better in that scenario. Neither one of us could outrun a bullet.

"You're walking pretty well for a guy who just had his nuts boiled," I said, giving him a slow once over. He didn't need to know I was shaking in my boots. At least I would have been if I were wearing any.

"Yeah, you're going to pay for that one, Babe." The 'Babe' was said with a lot of sarcasm. "Or maybe, I'll make Manoso pay for what you did. You seem to be quite fond of each other. How does it feel to know you will be responsible for another person's pain and suffering? Another person's death? Morelli's death was your fault. Amanda's death was your fault. You might as well have pulled the trigger or wielded the knife yourself. What would your family think of that, huh Steph? What would the neighbors think?"

"You're not going to make me responsible for what you did, Mickey. You're going away for a long, long time for their murders. I am the one who is going to make sure you pay for what you did, though. But tell me, why did you kill Amanda? What did she ever do to you?"

"She was 'not Stephanie'," he said, as if that made it all clear.

"No, she was Amanda," I said.

"She tried to fool me. She was in cahoots with Manoso. She tricked me into thinking it was you walking down the street. I went to pick you up after work. I saw you walking down the street. But when we got to the cabin, her eyes were brown. It wasn't you. She was trying to distract me. To keep me away from you," he explained. "When I realized what she'd done, I had to show the world what would happen to anyone who tried to keep me from you. Just like Morelli. Although, I realized after I pulled the trigger that I had killed Morelli too quickly. So, I took my time with 'not Stephanie'."

I felt the bile rising in my throat, thinking of how poor Amanda must have suffered at the hands of this monster. No way was I letting him hurt anyone else because of his twisted obsession with me. I moved in front of Carlos, keeping my hand on him to hold him back. I carefully shifted that hand down toward his utility belt. Another time, I would have taken my time exploring the warm, silky-smooth skin over the rock-hard muscles of his abdomen, but tonight my fingertips were on a mission to find a way to defend us. Plan B was to keep him talking long enough for one of Carlos's team to find us.

"How many others have you hurt because of your twisted obsession?" I asked, not really wanting to know the answer. Please, God, don't let there be others I prayed.

"Only those who tried to stand in my way," he replied. "You're mine, Stephanie. Don't you see that? We were meant to be together forever. Of course, I'll have to punish you for what you did in the kitchen. That was very naughty of you. But I know how you can prove to me you're sorry. Show me that you're still worthy of my love. You can kill Manoso."

I was fighting hard to contain the terror coursing through me and focus on what I was feeling on the utility belt. Handcuffs, flashlight, empty holster, canister. Pepper spray. I eased the pepper spray from the holder on his belt. I've carried pepper spray for years. But even with all the times, I've walked home from the salon alone and after dark, I've never had to use it. My mind was blank, unable to picture how it worked. Point and spray, but I needed to make sure it was pointed at Bolan and not at us. I shifted the canister around in my hand trying to grip it properly, focused on not dropping it. I felt the little flap that covered the top. I slid my thumb under the safety and onto the trigger.

"I don't want your love and I'm not killing anyone. Ever. For you or for anyone else." I wasn't sure if he was close enough for the spray to have maximum impact, but I didn't want to be any closer to the knife in his hand. He was already injured from the boiling water, so I decided to take a chance and swung my hand around, directed the canister at his face, and jammed my thumb down.

He dropped the knife as he screamed and clawed at his face. I dropped the canister, not wanting to spray Carlos as I turned to run. In an instant, Carlos had Bolan face down on the ground with a knee planted between his shoulder blade and one of his arms twisted behind his back. The expression on Carlos's face would turn most men to stone, right after they'd wet themselves. No, not Carlos. This was Ranger.

Lester Santos came forward from the shadows. He pulled a small box from one of the many pockets in his cargo pants and dug out a small foil packet. Within seconds he had me wrapped in a first-aid blanket. "Good job, Beautiful," he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and moving me away from where Bolan lay. "Ranger knew we had Bolan in our crosshairs, so he let you take the lead to get him to talk. None of us expected you to take him out by yourself. That was ballsy. You're quite the badass, you know that? Now, let's get you out of here."

"Were you recording his confession? He admitted to everything. Won't I need to speak with the police?" I asked as we started to move away. I was exhausted and in pain, but I knew I would have to give a statement at some point. I just assumed they'd want to speak to me tonight.

"You don't need to worry about that. We need to make sure you're okay. Do you need to go to the hospital?" he asked. Since none of my cuts were deep enough to require stitches, I inferred that he was asking if I needed to have a rape kit completed.

"No, I'm okay. I don't need to go to the hospital," I replied. "I'll just wait for the police and then I want to go home."

"There won't be any police, Steph. Ranger is going to make sure Bolan can never hurt you or anyone else ever again," Lester said softly leading me over to where two other Rangemen were standing. Ram and Manny I told myself.

"I can't let him do that," I exclaimed. "I can't have Carlos killing someone for me. I won't be responsible for another person's death."

"You're not responsible for any of them. Bolan is. And he brought Hell's fury down on himself when he hurt you," Lester said.

I shrugged Lester's arm off me, turned, and moved back toward Carlos. "Please, don't do this. I'll never forgive myself if you do," I said. "You have to trust that the system will do what it's supposed to do. The Morelli and the Young families deserve the chance to be able to face the man who killed Joe and Amanda and get some closure."

"Get her out of here, Santos," Ranger growled from his position atop Bolan.

Lester reached for me, and I knocked his hand away. "No. I'm not leaving. If you want to kill Bolan, you're going to have to do it in front of me. If I hadn't called you looking for help, you wouldn't be here."

"If you hadn't called me, you'd be dead," he responded.

"Possibly, okay probably, but your conscience would be clear," I said.

This got a bark of laughter from him. "Trust me, Babe, I'll have no trouble sleeping after I send this bastard to Hell. I've got enough black marks on my soul that one more won't matter."

"But I'll have trouble sleeping," I replied quietly. "I couldn't live with myself knowing I was responsible for anyone's death. I'm a hairdresser who makes jams and jellies for fun. I've never seen a dead body that hadn't been embalmed, made up, dressed up, and placed in a casket. I can't even stand to look at roadkill. Please, Carlos, please hand him over to the police. Don't let me be the reason you get another black mark."

The moment he capitulated was obvious. The tension in his back eased and his chin dropped down toward his bare chest. He pulled the handcuffs from his utility belt and used them to secure Bolan's hands behind his back. Bolan screamed in pain when Carlos yanked him to his feet. His shoulder was dislocated from when his arm was twisted up behind his back. His eyes were swollen to red, watery slits, and tears, snot, and drool were dripping from his chin.

"I knew you loved me," Bolan rasped.

I moved carefully toward him. Now that the adrenaline was burning off, I could feel every bruise, every cut, every indignity inflicted on me by the psychopath in front of me. I tried not to limp, but each step I made in my bare feet was painful. No one attempted to stop me when I brought my knee up as hard as I could into his parboiled gonads.

"Love that, you son of a bitch," I said.