Navigating Nine Chapter 09
Disclaimer: The characters are Janet's. The plot is too, mostly. Except for the parts that aren't.
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I was sitting against the wall next to the door when Ranger and Tank came up the stairs. I smiled as the door opened and Tank's massive form stepped through, followed by Ranger's somewhat lighter frame. It never ceased to amaze me how much Tank could dwarf anything. Ranger was a big guy, they all were, way bigger than Rangers normally were. It always made the back of my mind wonder if they weren't fibbing about which part of the military they started in.
"Babe," Ranger said, stepping around Tank as I stood up from my position on the floor. "Are you okay?"
I nodded. "Peachy keen. Someone else isn't, though, judging from those pics."
"You called the cops yet?" Tank asked. I frowned.
"Should I have? I thought you might want first look at it, since it came after I spent time at Troll Bro."
The name change got me a slight eyebrow lift from Ranger and the hint of a smile from Tank. "Good thinking," the big guy said.
"You can go inside," Ranger's voice was carefully neutral.
"That's okay," I said with just a little too much perkiness. "Y'all go ahead. I have some calls to make out here or some junk."
They both gave me a funny look, but let it go and disappeared inside. I settled back down to the floor to play Snake on my cell phone. However I did move across the hallway so I could sort of catch an occasional glimpse of what was happening through the partially open door. I saw them exchange an ESP look over the flowers and the mess of photos on the counter, then I decided to give my attention back to the game at hand.
The sound of a throat being discreetly cleared brought me out of my LCD hypnosis. I blinked up at Ranger as my brain resumed normal function, coming slowly out of its pixel-induced coma. Looking at him wasn't the brightest idea, since it sent me spinning from one distracted state of mind to another. He was in the requisite black SWAT-inspired gear, including the painted on t-shirt that I had an inescapable urge to slide my hands under. Just to see if they'd fit, you understand…
"Que?" I asked.
He looked at me for a moment, then offered me his hand. I let myself be hauled up before I launched into the speech that had been itching in the back of my throat since he and Tank had arrived. I rocked back on my feet and looked up at him, letting all my irritation and frustration show on my face.
"I told you I didn't want to go to TriBro. I knew something like this would happen, Ranger. Something like this always happens," I said tightly. "I'm so sick of being stalker bait! I can't do this again! It's been six weeks, six freaking weeks!" my voice was strained as I fought the hysteria rising up from deep inside. A note of fear crept in as I realized I wasn't acting that part- it was real. Ranger just looked blank.
"I can't handle this," I whispered, my eyes locking with his as my voice broke and the tears started spilling out of my eyes. "Not so soon. It's going too fast…"
I did the only thing I could think of to stop myself from turning around, running to the stairwell and throwing myself over the banister. I threw myself on Ranger instead, ignoring the wonky feeling of hugging Kevlar and assorted weaponry.
"Don't cry, Babe." His voice was barely above a whisper as his arms closed around me.
"I'm not crying," I sniffled against his shoulder. "I got something in my eye. Maybe it's allergies."
His lips touched my temple. "Didn't know you had allergies."
"Oh yeah, awful. Hay fever and everything," I said, regaining some of my composure as the fact of his presence seemed to calm me. It was hard to stay panicked when Batman was on the scene.
"Daddy wants a divorce," I said conversationally as Tank walked out of the apartment, closing the door behind him. "Ellen hates me and she's mad about the Abruzzi thing and he's probably going to divorce her."
"He tell you that?" Ranger asked, letting me step away and looking down at me. I shrugged and glanced at Tank.
"Hey, Tank."
"Moonbeam," he said with a smirk. I wrinkled my nose at him.
"Just because you're bigger than me doesn't mean you can bully me." I gave him a haughty look and turned my attention back to Ranger. "He didn't actually say it in so many words, but he had that look. And his voice was off, too."
"You going to be okay?" Tank asked, surprising me.
"About the stalker or the divorce? The divorce is okay, I think. The stalker though, I'm not okay about the stalker. Let's not talk about the stalker. I need Valium before we do that."
"We need to call the police," Ranger said. I stared at him.
"What for?"
"The photos."
"Oh, yeah. The photos…" I sighed and looked down at my cell phone. I stuck out my bottom lip and gave in to my inner child. "I don't wanna."
"Cute," Tank rumbled.
"Babe," Ranger sighed.
"Calling," I said, still sulking. It was Clyde Cone. Tell them it was Clyde Cone… I paused, looking at Ranger and Tank as the phone dialed the police number. They wouldn't believe me, I realized. Not really. They'd want proof. I needed to prove Clyde was the mastermind… Telling them wasn't going to do any good. But at least they would—I opened my mouth to say something, and the dispatcher picked up.
"Trenton Police Department—"
By the time the cops finally got there, got the evidence, got the statements, and left the day was pretty much over with. Unfortunately, as soon as the last uniform disappeared, the Cuban Inquisition hit, plus it had its evil henchman Scippio Afrikanus with it.
"You left TriBro at noon?" Ranger asked.
"I got everything you wanted," I said defensively. "Plus I got kicked out by Bart. What did you want me to do? Throw him through a window?"
"You didn't check in when you left," Tank put in. I stared at him.
"What does it matter where I'm at? You guys don't check in with me," I pointed out.
"We aren't the ones who attract psychos."
"Sure you do, it's just that yours are ex girlfriends and you made them that way."
Tank's eyes narrowed, but I had him. His ex girlfriend Shaniqua was seriously obsessed. I didn't get women like that. Sure Tank was Tank but stalking him didn't seem like a bright idea to win him back. It sounded more like a bright idea to win yourself a one-way ticket to Yemen.
"You need to let someone know of your whereabouts." Ranger's expression was stony.
"Mean you don't have a GPS thingy on my Jeep?"
"It's not one of ours," he said simply. Well, that was a relief. Too bad I didn't believe it was that simple.
"You had one on the CR-V." Ranger did his silent commando look. "See, I knew you did." Well, it had either been in the CR-V or the ugly Coach purse or the old cell phone. The CR-V had gotten blown up by Dumdum the Teletubby of Doom and the other two items had been upgraded in the last couple weeks.
"Babe."
"Don't babe me, Higgins."
"Christ," Tank muttered. "If you two get any cuter I'm gonna have to shoot one of you." I laughed and patted his arm reassuringly, but before I could make a come back my cell phone went off.
I stepped away from the boys, leaving them to confer about whatever it was they conferred about as I answered. "Val?"
"Stephanie, what happened this afternoon? Grandma called me and said that Mom's ironing everything in sight and she's been hitting the whiskey."
"Grandma or Ellen?"
"Mom, not Grandma, sorry. What's going on?"
I took a deep breath, sorting out which details to give and what to withhold. "Ellen's just really, really pissed off at me over Abruzzi's guys kidnapping you and—"
"But you saved me, too!"
"Thanks Val. Anyway, she's mad and she's mad about you moving in with Jack and she's blaming it on me."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh. She went off on me at noon and Dad walked in and heard her. He didn't handle it well. I guess they haven't been on speaking terms lately anyway."
"Shit." Val said the word almost reverently as she must have started seeing the beginnings of the unpleasant larger picture.
"Pretty much. They had one hell of a fight. So it figures that she'd be trying to iron the house. Maybe you should take Grandma out. I'd be worried she might get ironed too."
"Steph, thanks. I'm sorry, I don't know why she's blaming you for Jack and I—" Val sighed. "I'm going to go talk to her now. Want to meet up for lunch tomorrow?"
"Sounds good to me. Dragonfly Café at noon?"
"It's a date. Bye!"
"Bye, Val." And we disconnected. See, an amicable, perfectly easy farewell. I looked at Ranger to see if he'd happened to hear or catch on to this novel concept, but he and Tank had their heads together, discussing gods knew what. So much for that idea.
They turned as I stepped back into conversation range. "Hey guys, I'm going to head for the manor, do you want me to snag some edibles on the way?" It was as close as I ever came to offering to cook.
"No, we have a redecorating appointment," Tank shrugged.
I smiled. Oh, yippee, that meant I got the manor all to my lonesome until sometime after midnight. No thanks. "Well, in that case, I think I'll head to mom's," I said, stepping in to give Ranger a quick hug. "Try not to get shot, you two."
Tank grinned. "Where's the fun in that?"
"You are one weird puppy, Tank."
Mom's house was modern, designer, and at least partially solar-powered. She was a big believer in solar power both for utility and spirituality. Solar power, girl power, crystal power. That kind of summed her up.
I had to wonder what would happen when word leaked that Rhianna Ravenstar, high priestess, guru, spiritualist, and whatever else she was this week, was handfasting to a staid, suited accountant. He was Methodist. He was from Massachusetts. He went to Dartmouth. He was a successful accountant in an accounting firm.
Not that the New Age crowd is close-minded, but full members of the "establishment" aren't exactly always welcomed, unless of course they've had a spiritual awakening. Derek didn't look spiritually awakened to me. In fact, other than he had a decent body, all his hair, and very pretty blue eyes, I didn't actually see why Mom was so into him.
Maybe it was menopause. Her hormones were overruling her common sense.
I made sure Mom's car was in the garage and Derek's was gone, but I still rang the door bell before I went in. I didn't mind seeing my mom naked, but in case Derek had taken to doing rituals sky clad too, I didn't want to see that.
I heard movement and the door was opened, revealing my mother dressed in a flowing white robe, her hair loose and held in place only by a gleaming silver circlet. She was carrying a bowl of something that was billowing smoke and it took a moment for the pungent odor of burning sage to overwhelm me.
"Moonbeam," she said smiling. "Come in sweetheart, you're just in time to help with the cleaning. Go upstairs and get changed."
I sighed and resigned myself to my fate, dutifully trudging up the stairs to change. "I have your old set of robes laid out in your room!" Mom called after me.
I wandered into the room which had only been designated mine after mom visited the apartment, and sure enough there was a flowing white dress lying on the bed for me. Not for the first time I wondered what it might have been like to have a mom who said the word cleaning and meant "washing the dishes" or "vacuuming."
The next hour or so was spent walking three times around each room downstairs, carefully laying out crystals in any area that was too neglected to catch any lingering negative energies. Mom insisted negative energy collected in the corners of a room like dust bunnies. For the most part I just followed her around and concentrated on the visualization of harmonious, peaceful atmospheres.
When it was finished, we changed out of the ritual clothes, tucking them back in their reserved drawers, and collapsed in the kitchen over raspberry lemonade and salads while mom put some veggie burgers in the stove to cook. Derek was at a meeting in NYC and wouldn't be back for a couple days, so it was just the two of us.
"How did you know I was coming?" I asked finally.
"I didn't," Mom shrugged. "But I knew you'd be needing to talk to me about some sort of relationship troubles. Actually a lot of them. I read my Tarot cards last night."
"Maybe you should read mine." I picked an almond out of my salad and examined it. "Dad's getting a divorce."
Mom let out a derisive snort, as she tended to do when my father was brought up. "It's a miracle it lasted this long. Your father isn't exactly a wonderful husband, and that woman… I always wondered if he was drunk when they got married…"
"Mom!" I protested weakly. "Ellen's awful, but she's not coyote."
"That wasn't what I meant."
"Oh. Well… I don't know why he married her. He says he loves her, just not the way… " I frowned, trying to remember his exact words. "Just not some way or other. I guess not the work through it way."
Mom smirked. "Well, that would follow, considering this is Frank we're talking about."
"Mom."
"Well, I'm not going to lie to you, sweetie. Your father is a self-centered, egocentric, charming bastard." She said it as coolly as other people would say there was a breeze. It was not a judgment, simply it was the way he was.
"He said he was sorry for not being there when I was younger," I offered.
"You just want another Jeep if that one gets blown up," Mom retorted, her green eyes piercing mine, seeing through me as if I was a book she'd already read.
I considered arguing but disregarded the impulse as useless. "He's trying." Her lips thinned, but she didn't respond. Mom was not the kind to forgive the past.
"Are you spending the night?" she asked instead.
I took a bite of my salad and thought about it. I didn't like being in the manor by myself- it felt too cold without the guys around. "If you don't mind."
"Sweetheart, you are always welcome here. You know that." Mom smiled, her green eyes showing a rare spark of conventional maternal warmth. "We should go see a movie together. We haven't done that in years."
It was after midnight when my cell phone woke me up from a sound sleep. I rolled to the edge of the bed and flopped my hand around on the nightstand until I found the thing.
"'Sup?" I asked around a yawn.
"Babe, where are you?"
"Hey, Ranger," I said, snuggling back under the duvet. "How was the redecorating job? Tank throw anyone through a window?"
"No, no windows broke tonight. Where are you?"
"Mom's. We went and saw a movie. Colin Farrell was in it. I love his voice."
"Didn't mean to wake you," he said after a moment of silence.
"Yeah, it's okay." I yawned again. "I just didn't want to go back to the manor. It's too big and echo-y when you guys aren't there. And I didn't want the stalker following me anyway," I added because it sounded good.
"You still haven't said if you found anything at TriBro."
I smiled in the dark. Here was the opportune moment… "Oh, tons of stuff. Singh was calling around looking for a Howie who worked at a McDonalds. Singh got sent to Vegas a few times. I think we need to find the McDonalds Howie. Then maybe if that doesn't work, see if he made in contacts in Vegas he could run away to."
"Good work, Babe."
I opened my mouth do add the information about Clyde and realized the phone had disconnected. I stared at the screen in wonder for a moment. Foiled again. I resisted the urge to hurl the piece of plastic at the wall, and instead I maturely dropped it onto the floor and flipped onto my stomach to get back to dreaming about Indiana Jones.
The next time I woke up I realized there was someone in the room with me. A large hand covered my mouth, effectively silencing the scream of fright as a heavy weight settled onto the bed. I could smell sweat, burned wood, and underlying it all the faint coppery scent of blood.
My sleep-fogged brain desperately tried to sort out whether or not I was dreaming. My nightmares the last six weeks had been horrifyingly real in their sensory details… I could feel my heart hammering against my ribcage, feel my throat closing up with fear. My worst nightmares had always been the ones where I couldn't scream…
The man's hand dropped away from my hand and I tried to scream, tried to get up and run but I couldn't. The covers were too heavy, they held me to the bed like a steel net. I was frozen, unable to scream as his calloused hand slid over my shoulder and caressed my throat. He traced the line of my collar bone right, then left, and then the hand was back at my throat, this time more firmly as he began to squeeze.
"Web Masters know what tangled webs we weave," he said in a raw, painfully hoarse voice that cracked on each syllable. "A handful of moonbeams and six rhymes, all it takes to come undone…"
"No," I whispered, trying to move my head out of his grasp as black stars began dancing at edge of my vision.
"Undone. Don't you want your web undone?"
"No…" No, let go, someone stop this…
"You'd prefer a stairway, then…"
My eyes flew open to stare up at my attacker, but he was gone. My throat felt sore as though I'd been sleeping with my mouth open or something. The covers were their normal weight… I was almost relaxed when the hair on the back of my neck stood up, sending a chill down my spine. Someone was in the room with me…
The panic almost froze me again, but I forced myself to look at the doorway. There, silhouetted against the dim nightlights in the hall was a tall, muscular form I could thankfully recognize.
"Ranger, what are you doing here?" I asked, my voice husky. I rubbed my throat as I waited for his reply.
He didn't say anything, simply straightened and stepped into the room. I had a bare moment of warning that I was still too slow to take before the covers were thrown off and I was being yanked out of bed and unceremoniously dumped on my feet.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed as his hands bit into my arms. I blinked, trying to figure out what was going on. Was this another nightmare?
"Sleeping?" I tried.
"Don't, Stephanie. Moonbeam. Whatever the hell your name is."
"Ranger? What's wrong?" I frowned, shaking my head, trying to add things together and not coming up with the right answers. Maybe this wasn't who I thought it was.
"You know what's going on. You run out on me, go home to your mother… Dios¿Qué pensabas?"
My eyes were stinging with tears. This wasn't a dream or it would have been over by now. "You were on a job, Ranger!" I said, trying to get mad. Anger would mean I didn't feel stung and hurt and scared…
"What was I supposed to do? Go home to the empty manor and think about pictures of dead bodies? I wanted my mom, so sue me. I'm not tough, I never said I was."
Some of the tension started to drain out of him, but the anger was already building inside of me. "Babe, I—"
"Oh, shut up!" I hissed. "You wanted me to be mad at you and staying here to spite you or to whine to mommy or to prove I was a silly little girl. What, is it what your ex-wife did? Well, screw her, and screw you. Get the hell away from me, I need to go see my mommy. Congratulations, you got what you came for."
I shrugged my shoulders, trying to dislodge his hands, but they weren't moving. "Ranger, let go. Ranger, Ric, Carlos, whatever the hell your name is," I hurled his phrase back at him.
"Christ…"
"I don't want to hear it. I've heard enough. Stop talking and let me go…"
"No," he said, his voice low and determined.
I swallowed hard, suddenly worried. "No?"
"I'm sorry. I panicked. I thought you decided you wanted to leave…"
Was this one of those Men are from Mars moments? I decided it definitely had to be when he pulled me closer and enveloped me in a tight hug.
The downside of dating a guy built like Ranger was that when he wanted you moved, you just got moved. I had discovered this over the weeks of living with several of them. If I was in the way I was just sort of picked up and placed in a less inconvenient spot. I considered my usual retaliation of a swift kick to the shin, but I was pretty sure he wouldn't even notice since I wasn't wearing shoes.
I submitted to the hug and mentally tried to calculate how big a box was needed to ship a Ranger to Namibia. They probably had monkeys there. He'd feel right at home.
"Please, come home," he said his breath sliding over my neck and sending a wake-up call to my hormones.
"Later. Maybe. If you swear never to do anything this stupid again, and that I can spend the night with my mom if I want without you doing something this stupid, and that you are smarter than to think something that stupid again."
"How about if I admit I'm just an idiot and I'll try not to show it too much?"
I fought back a smile, and narrowed my eyes. "I'm not going to move out of the manor without talking to you about it," I said, pushing on his chest until he gave me room to look up at him.
"I am going to complain to mom when you do something stupid. I am not going to spend the night somewhere else just because you piss me off. I might make you spend the night on a couch if you piss me off. Are those acceptable terms?"
The corners of his lips turned upwards. "I agree to the terms."
"Good. Do we need to wake your lawyer up to have him go over it?"
"I think I can handle going over it on my own. It might take a few tries though… all night even…" his hands moved to my waist, and lower, sliding over my hips to pull them against him. His teeth gleamed as he smiled, reminding me of the Big Bad Wolf. "I think it's time I took you home."
"Please tell me that wasn't a baseball reference."