Seven Up
Part One – Here and Now
Four
First on my list of things to do was to pick up the rest of the skips Vinnie had given me. They weren't worth much, but they wouldn't take me long either. I had an hour and a half before meeting Morelli for lunch and I estimated that it was just enough time to get these losers. I was right. When I brought the last one into the station, the desk sergeant had changed, and the new guy was manning the desk. He thought he would be a big man and give me a hard time while getting the receipt processed.
"What's a pretty girl like you doing this for?" he sneered. "Shouldn't you be at home cleaning something? Leave this to the big boys, darlin', before you get yourself hurt." I rolled my eyes.
"Just get me the receipt, Branskovic."
"Come on, baby. You don't wanna be doing this. Why don't you and me go for lunch and I'll show you some of my hand-to-hand technique." He was grinning lecherously at me. Bastard.
"You're married," I told him with flat eyes. "You have a kid that's a year old and another on the way. Even if you didn't, I wouldn't be interested. I don't have any compassion for adulterers and I've been doing this for a lot longer than you've been a cop. I know more ways to make you squeal in pain than you'll ever guess and I can do it all without leaving a mark. Now hand over the receipt and take the skip back to lock-up."
I'd seen a brief flash of fear cross his face before the anger took over. I knew the background on all the Trenton police. It was a habit of mine to know as much as I could about the people I'd be dealing with. But I'd scared the little bastard, and now he was going to take it out on me. And he didn't look like the most stable person. I sighed.
"I don't think so," he said. "I think instead I'll let the skip go and take you back to lock-up. Maybe we'll have our fun their, instead." He took the cuffs off the skip and told him to scram. The skip looked to me, unsure of what to do and much more afraid of what I could do to him than what this excuse for a cop could. I fixed the skip with a look meant to reinforce that feeling.
"You stay right there. Understood?" I ordered the skip. He nodded frantically, sitting right back down on the bench. I didn't have time for this shit.
"Before you try something this incredibly stupid," I told Branskovic, "you may want to check out who you're dealing with. Now I have an appointment in fifteen minutes, so process the skip and give me the receipt."
"I don't think so, darlin'," he sneered. Great. "You're gonna be late for your hair appointment. Why don't we see how you are after coolin' your heels in a cage for a few hours, huh?"
"Am I under arrest?" I asked him.
"Yep. Threatening a police officer," he said with a sick smile. "Now spread 'em. Need to pat you down. Make sure you don't have anything…dangerous." All I could do was sigh again. The charge wasn't strictly true, but it wasn't strictly false, either. I didn't want to make it worse by adding a resisting arrest charge to this thing, so I did as he said. He pushed me to the wall so that I was facing it with maybe two feet between me and the wall. My hands were slightly above me, supporting me as I leaned against it. My lawyer would straighten it all out as soon as I called him. Then he pushed the line just a little to far. Hell, he pushed the line over the cliff.
The bastard ran his hands all over the front of my breasts, getting a good handful and squeezing. He shoved himself up against my back so I could feel his erection through my jeans. I was almost paralyzed with shock. He was a police officer. An officer of the law. The police didn't do this sort of thing.
"We're gonna have fun," he said into my ear as he thrust his hips against me and drove a hand down my front, trying to force his way into my pants. "Lots and lots of fun, aren't we."
Almost paralyzed. And that had shaken the shock off of me. I spun left and used the momentum to put my elbow to his cheek and followed it by breaking his nose with my fist. Then I kicked down on the outside of his leg, aiming for his knee. He was lucky he'd been falling already or I'm pretty sure he would have had at least a dislocated knee, if not a broken bone. I grabbed my stun gun off of my utility belt and put him out before I cuffed him and made a few calls. Within three minutes the watch commander was there along with a few stragglers who'd seen him hurrying through the station and followed. Within five minutes the Chief of Police was there, too.
"Paul," I nodded to the Chief when he walked in. He nodded back and came over, assessing the situation. Tim, the Watch Commander was standing next to me, and he wasn't doing anything about the fact that one of the boys in blue was laying on the ground in cuffs, bruises already welling to his face.
"What the hell happened here?" he asked. I was calm, I was professional. I was probably even cold. I told him, not sparing any of the details. I didn't gloss over the verbal parry I'd made that had seemed to start this whole mess, and I didn't back down from what I'd done to him once he'd tried to force himself on me. Both the Chief and the Commander looked horrified. Branskovic's badge was suspended until the investigation was complete, and I got apologies from everyone.
"Sorry doesn't cut it," I told them. The Chief shut his eyes, envisioning a lawsuit and all of the trouble it would bring him.
"I'm not going to sue, Paul. But I want something," I told him. Both of them looked at me with guarded eyes.
"Don't worry," I scorned. "It's something you'll be willing to give. I want the patrol cars to run by SO every halfhour and make sure nothing looks out of place. I'm going to be out of town for the next month. While I'm gone, I want them to do it every twenty minutes. Take it or leave it."
They looked undecided. I graced them with a smile that wasn't meant to reassure.
"You should take it. It's completely legal. It's cheaper than a lawsuit and the expense will be much easier to spin."
"Fine," Paul finally spit. "Fine." I looked at him for a minute, wondering if he would have it out for me from then on. Having the Chief of Police pissed at you was generally a bad move. Especially when you sometimes skirted the line of the law.
"Paul," I said. "I wouldn't sue you either way. You need to know that before you agree. I'm pissed as hell that you hired this piece of shit and I want you to do this for SO. But him? He's nothing, and I got my piece of him already. I wouldn't bring down the department when so many of you are good cops. Now I need to know if you'll do it."
"It's on Sloane?" Tim confirmed. I nodded.
"Car goes by there about that often anyway," he said to the Chief. "We could tell them to be on the lookout for anything out of place." Paul nodded his head and I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Done," he said.
"You should be glad it was just me," I said off handedly. "Anybody else would probably already have served you with papers. After all, this area of the station is on camera 24/7, so they wouldn't even need to make a case." They gave me a considering look, but I was paying more attention to Branskovic. He was waking up, and he wasn't waking up calmly. The man was absolutely livid. He came out of it struggling and yelling about how he was going to get me. Then he realized that he was cuffed. Then he realized who was standing next to me. If looks could kill, he would have killed me three times over.
Paul processed the skip himself, shaking his head over the fact that the guy was just sitting there on the bench, waiting to be remembered. I had really put the fear of god into the guy.
"Shut up," Tim bellowed to Branskovic. He'd been whining and yelling about me and the situation as a whole. He shut up, but he kept glaring at me.
"Bastard just transferred here," Tim sighed.
"I know," I said, face and voice still frozen over. Again, Tim and the Chief looked at me, like I was suddenly a circle when they'd expected a square.
"I really am sorry about this, Steph," Tim told me. Paul nodded his agreement.
"Fine," I told them.
"So where ya going, Steph?" Paul finally asked to break the silence while the paperwork was still being filled out.
"Business trip," was all I said. Then the receipt was ready and I grabbed it. "Now I gotta run. See you when I get back." I nodded to them before shifting my gaze to Branskovic and giving him a look that would have frozen flame. Then I left. I had to meet Morelli.
Back in my car I started to shake. Flashbacks of hands much more violent running over me. And pain. And pain. I shook, and I tried to get myself under control. I started the car and rolled out of the parking lot shoving memories back down. By the time I got to Morelli's I was almost back to normal.
"Hey, Steph," he called from the door. I greeted him as I got out of the car. Morelli held the door for me as I went inside, and I was a little unsure of how to act. I followed him into the kitchen, where the scent of the pizza in the oven wafted up to greet my nose.
"So, ah, you wanna beer or something?" Morelli asked. Not really, I thought.
"Sure," I said, savoring the flavorful aroma Morelli motioned for me to take a seat and got the beer out of the fridge and the pizza from the oven. It was awkward, as we sat there eating and not really saying anything. It was awkward like I'd never imagined it could be.
"So what's up, Joe," I finally said in an attempt to break the ice. All he did for a while was look at me. He stopped eating – didn't put down his slice of pizza, didn't swallow, just froze and looked at me. Then all of a sudden he slammed back his chair to get up and yank open the fridge. After a second of rummaging he emerged with a beer in his hand which was promptly opened and swallowed in seconds.
"Joe," I asked. "What's wrong? What's the matter?" I was confused. Joe was acting strangely, and I didn't know why or what to do about it.
"How's your arm?" he demanded abruptly. He grabbed my fingers and pushed up the sleeve to see if there were bruises.
"Shit," he muttered when he saw it. It wasn't big, but there were definite bruises from where his fingers had been; it was just the pressure points where the tips of the fingers had dug into flesh.
"It's okay, Morelli," I told him, "so long as you don't do again."
"Fucking shit," he said under his breath.
"This isn't what's wrong, is it?" I asked, even more unsure as to what was going on. "Why did you want to have lunch? Just spit it out."
"Just spit it out? Jesus," he replied. "Spit it out. Okay. Fine. Do you think I'm turning into my father?" He looked straight at me as he said it, and his face was contorted into an expression that I could only interpret as internal torture. This was really eating him up.
"Your father? Why would you think that?"
"Come on, Stephanie. I need to know," he practically begged. "You've known me forever. You've lived with me. Tell me."
"You're nothing like your father, Joe. Has this been bothering you a lot lately?" I asked with a sudden flash of insight.
"Just tell me the truth, Steph. I know I was horrible to you, have been horrible to you, ever since I was FTA. Hell, ever since I met you. So don't try to sugarcoat it, just tell me."
"Yeah," I agreed. "You were pretty horrible to me. But I was pretty horrible to you, too. We were bad for each other, but that doesn't make you a drunken bum who abuses your wife and children."
"Just last night I hurt you. Your arm is bruised because I lost my temper, and you're telling me I won't abuse my wife?" he exclaimed.
"You didn't grab me to hurt me. That wasn't your intention. That makes a difference. If you lost your temper and smacked me, or kicked me, or purposely tried to hurt me, I'd be telling you different things right now. Instead, you grabbed me so I would pay attention, which you would do whether you'd lost your temper or not," I said. It was true. Joe was a very tactile person; he'd always touched me or held some part of me or leaned against me when he spoke to me. He was leaning in to listen to me, paying rapt attention with a look of agony on his face that, thankfully, was easing slightly. "What did happen because you lost it was that you didn't think about how tightly you were holding me. I didn't like it, and I don't want you to do it again, but I don't think that you're going to be a wife beater because of it. It's the first time in three years you've laid a hand on me that's bruised me. After all the things we've been through, I think it's safe to say that if you didn't hit me through any of that, you won't be slapping your wife around."
"God," he said as he slumped against his chair.
"You shouldn't let this eat at you, Joe," I told him. "But since you're thinking about it, and worrying about it, I think that that right there proves that you're not your father. He never would have thought twice about smacking some woman around."
He looked at me, digesting that for a few moments, before getting up and wandering out of the room. I figured he'd have to process all of that for a while, so while he was off I cleaned up the kitchen, washing the dishes and taking care of the leftover pizza. He came back in about twenty minutes later and sat down across from me.
"I want you to promise me two things," he said. "That you'll tell me if I ever start to fall into my father's habits, and that if I ever hit my wife or kids, you'll take them." I blinked, unsure what to say.
"I checked up on Starting Over. I haven't wanted to hear anything about you for the past few months, but I checked last night. I don't know how you managed to pull it off, but it's amazing, Stephanie. It's amazing. I want you to take them there. Promise me."
"If it'll make you feel better. But if I ever found out that you were doing anything close to that you know I'd come round and beat the crap out of you, right?" I said with a smile. He gave a quick laugh and a shaky smile.
"Good," he said. "Good." And that was pretty much the end of the visit. We sat and watched a few minutes of the game, and I left.
As I was driving away from Joe's, I thought again about what he'd said. It certainly wasn't what I'd been expecting. Though I don't know what I had been expecting. Putting the windows down to breathe in some of the cool spring air, I reaffirmed to myself that everything I'd told him was true. Joe is not his father, he's not a bad man. I, however, was not a good daughter. My eye was already twitching at the thought of seeing my mother.
Pulling up to the curb, I contemplated falling out of the car and breaking a bone to avoid the visit, but decided that probably I'd just scrape a knee and make the stay even worse. So I sucked it up and went in. Men have been given medals for less, I'm almost sure of it.
"Stephanie?" my mother called. "I want to see you in the kitchen." Great. I walked into the kitchen and leaned against the door frame.
"Can't stay long, Mom. Just wanted to stop by to let you know I'm heading out of town for a while on a job. I'll bring you back a souvenir."
My mother went on like I hadn't said a word. "What's this I hear about some fight at the police station? You know better than to fight with the nice police. And what about you having lunch with Joseph Morelli? Is that boy finally going to take you back after breaking his heart? I'll be happy when you've finally settled down with a nice husband and a few children. And you stop messing around with that nasty job of yours. And now this mess with those poor women from the ghetto? I can't imagine what you were thinking with all that nonsense."
"No, I bet you can't imagine," I stated, just as my father and grandmother walked into the kitchen arguing about the bathroom and the remote. Well, in for a penny, right? I'd taken enough over the past months. Hell, over the past years. She was derogatory, derisive, and demeaning to me, and I wasn't going to take it anymore. I didn't need her cake or her food or anything from her, so she could take this and shove it up her ass.
"Joe Morelli never meant that proposal. He said it to get rid of his mother and grandmother so he could fuck me, Ma. As soon as the door closed, he took it back. I don't give a rat's ass anymore if you believe me or not, but that's the truth. I had lunch with him because he's a friend, and we're not planning on being anything more than friends. Can you try to get it through your thick skull that that's what happened? I mean, Jesus, Ma, you take anybody's word over mine. What did I ever do to make you mistrust me so much? And furthermore, I don't want to settle down with a gaggle of kids biting my ankles. I'm not 'messing around with my job;' I'm damn good at it. And that nonsense, as you called it, is a not-for-profit organization to help abused women in New Jersey. It provides an important service to the women in the area, giving them a safe place to go if they ever feel that they need it. And if I ever hear you refer to it as nonsense ever again, I swear to god I'll spread it through out the city that Val was conceived out of wedlock."
Everyone stared at me in shock, unsure what to say or do.
"I'm leaving now. I'm going out of town on a job for a while. When we get back, we can discuss this further. Until then, goodbye," I said. I was turning to go when I heard my mother screeching at me.
"You – you heartless – you horrible child…"
"Don't," I warned, looking her right in the eye. Something in my face must have clued her in, because she stopped. I could swear I saw something like fear run across her features, but I didn't understand it. Why would my mother be afraid of me? Anger, now that I could understand from her, but not fear.
"We'll discuss this further when I get back from the job," I repeated. "And you missed the boat on the souvenirs." And with that, I walked out the door. By then it was late afternoon, early evening, and all I wanted was to go home and bury my head in the covers. I was upset about this situation with my mother, scared that Blackwell was loose, and emotionally drained from dealing with Branskovic, then Morelli, then my mother. Wouldn't it stop? Just give me a moment to catch my breath? Unfortunately, that wasn't in the cards for me just then.
As I got into my car my cell phone rang. The readout was a 911 from SO. Another emergency. My tires squealed as I pulled off the curb, all the while dialing Daniella. She answered immediately.
"Steph?" she asked frantically. I prayed she didn't lose it.
"I'm on my way now. What's wrong?"
"We got a new girl last night, only fourteen, so we had to call the police to let them know what was going on. Some dumb-ass at the station called the girl's parents, and now the father is here with a shotgun."
"My ETA is ten minutes. Is anyone hurt?" I asked, fearing the worst.
"No. We sealed off the lobby and I told everyone to go to the top floor conference room. I'm on my way there now to make sure everyone's accounted for," Daniella stated. She was calming down, didn't sound as panicked. That was good, the others would need her to be strong.
I let out a brief sigh of relief.
"Good job, Daniella. That's exactly right. Call me if someone's missing, and lock down the conference room until I call," I ordered.
"I will. Be careful," she said.
"Don't worry about me, take care of the others," I told her and hung up so I could call the police.
"Trenton, P.D., Branskovic." You've got to be fucking kidding me, I thought. They told me they were suspending his badge.
"There's an emergency at SO," I said. "Please put me through to the watch commander." There was a pause, and then he started to speak.
"This is that bitch from this morning, isn't it?" he asked. Great. "What's the matter? Somebody break a nail at that whorehouse everyone thinks is so great? I know better. I know you're just selling those sluts and trying to cut the pimp out of the picture. I…" I cut him off. I didn't have time to deal with him. I tried 911 next and told them that a man was in the lobby of SO with a shotgun, threatening damage if he didn't get his daughter back. She sympathized, but said that there was a fire at the mall and all units were over there trying to help people out and keep people from being trampled in a riot. She said nobody would be able to get out of there for the next forty-five minutes, but she'd send it out over the scanner. Perfect.
I was almost there, and I didn't have any options left. I called our security service.
"Tank?" I said when he answered. "I have a situation down at SO. I need backup."
"I just heard it over the scanner. We're on our way. Should be there in five minutes."
"Thanks," I said before I flipped the phone shut. I came careening to a stop in front of the hotel, throwing myself out of the car and kneeling next to it so I was protected by the car and the door. I took a minute to check my weapons and strap on a vest and some extras I had under the seat. I debated waiting on the RangeMan crew when my phone rang again. It was Daniella.
"Teresa's little boy is missing," she cried. "He's only six years old, and now he's…he's…oh, God, Stephanie…" Great. Now Daniella's hysterical, or nearly. I needed her to stay calm. She was in charge, and everybody looked to her for what to do. If she started to fall apart, everyone else would follow.
"Keep it together, Daniella," I said, voice harsh and commanding. "They need you. Keep Teresa and the others in that room. No matter what, do you understand? They need you to be in control right now. You can't fall apart. You'll have to wait until it's over to do that."
"You're right, you're right," she said. I could hear her sucking in deep breaths to try to calm herself down. "I'm sorry, I'll be okay. We'll be okay." I racked my brain for the boy's name.
"It's Marc, right?" I asked. She gave it the affirmative.
"Keep it together, Daniella," I warned one last time. "It'll be over soon." Yeah, I was ruthless with her, but I needed to be. If she couldn't stay together during an emergency, then I'd need to find somebody else to do the job. Just then, though, I wasn't thinking about replacements; I was in a zone where my whole focus was dealing with this situation. The callousness with which I'd treated Daniella had sprung from an aversion to the distraction her emotions had caused. I hung up and crawled to the side of the lobby entrance, peaking around the wall to see through the glass. There was, indeed, a man in there with a shotgun. With Marc. The man looked like he was yelling at Marc, and Marc was crying. I pulled my head back and called the 911 operator again.
"This is Stephanie Plum with SO again. I have new information; it's a hostage situation. The man has a little boy, name Marc Copastoni age six. I need the police here ASAP."
"I'll try, Ms. Plum," she said in a sincere voice. I didn't know if it was going to do any good. I looked back into the lobby and saw the man point his gun in Marc's direction, and decided I couldn't wait any longer. Oh so quietly and oh so gently I eased the front door open just wide enough for me to slip through. Neither of them noticed. Most of the room was lined with desk-like tables that had served as partitions for employees to work behind when it was a hotel. Then there were large planters spread decoratively throughout the room. I crept along the walls, behind these desks and plants, keeping out of sight. Finally, I made it to under the desk Marc was sitting on and waited until I heard the man pace away, ranting about how he had the right to do whatever he wanted with his daughter.
Then I moved. I sprang up, yanking Marc from the desk with a hand over his mouth so he wouldn't scream ,and ducked behind the desk to the right.
"It's me, Marc," I whispered into his ear. "It's Stephanie. You remember me, right? You're gonna be okay, baby. I'm sorry the bad man scared you, but you're gonna be okay. We just have to be really quiet, and you have to do exactly what I tell you, alright?" Marc nodded and I took my hand off of his mouth. He was a good boy. He didn't scream and he'd stopped crying, he just sat there and looked at me, waiting for me to tell him what to do.
I knew the exact moment the gunman realized Marc was no longer where he had been. The pacing and the ranting stopped and the lobby was deathly quiet, but only for a second.
"Where are you!" he roared. "Where do you think you're going? What do you think you're trying to do? You won't get away from me! You and that bitch girl of mine, neither of you will ever get away from me!" Marc's eyes widened, but he didn't cry out. I peeked around the corner, and the guy was bending over the desk on which Marc had been sitting, trying to look under it. Now or never. We crawled as quickly as we could to the desk nearest the door and waited for our next opportunity.
I saw the boys outside, looking like they were discussing what to do. At least they didn't try to call me. That would be an unmitigated disaster. The gunman was getting closer and closer to our hiding place; I had to think of something fast.
"When I say go," I whispered to Marc. "You run as fast as you can to the door. Don't look at anything but the door, and don't stop no matter what, alright? There are some men outside in black that you've seen before. Go to them and don't leave them until I come and get you, okay?" His eyes were bugged out he was so scared, but he nodded his head and looked ready. He was a good boy.
I listened and waited for the gunman. He was getting closer and closer and any second I knew he would be looking at our table. Then his palms smacked the top and I heard the gun slap flat down just to the left of my head. Perfect. I sprang up, slamming one hand on the barrel of the gun and yelling to Marc to go. I saw him sprinting out of the corner of my eye, but I couldn't spare him any more attention. With the hand not holding the gun down, I moved to punch him but I wasn't fast enough. He pulled me over the desk and I felt a pain in my thigh as it got dragged against something sharp. I pushed off the desk and tackled him, managing to get a few good swings in. The knife in his hand dropped and he went down like a sack of potatoes. I jumped on him, rolling him over and cuffing his hands behind his back. I also had the unfortunate occasion to smell his breath which was so thick with alcohol you could almost drink it. Not that you'd want to.
Ranger, Tank, and Lester burst into the room, guns drawn. Just then I heard the sirens. Good job, boys. The fun's all over. Better luck next time.
"Take care of this for me, would you?" I asked them, putting a toe in the side of the man passed out on my floor. The toe may have been more of a kick and it may have been his ribs more than his side, but nobody commented on it. I went out to get Marc who was sitting in the back of a Bronco with Bobby and looking slightly less scared than before. I told Bobby to scram and knelt down beside the open door, holding back a scream of agony from where the gunman had cut my thigh.
"Hey buddy," I said.
"Hi," he whispered.
"You did very well back there," I told him. "You did everything just right, Marc. You were a very big help to me."
"Thanks, Miss Stephanie," he said. "It was scary." Marc's lower lip was quivering, and I knew he close to tears. I scooped him and let him cry.
"I know, baby. I was scared, too."
Poor kid was only six years old. As I held him, I saw them lugging the man out of my lobby, so I walked back in with Marc so we could get him back to his mother. I put the pass codes into the security system to open one elevator, and left the rest of the lobby on lock-down. No need for everybody to be wandering through the building and invading the privacy of the women who lived there. Ranger slipped into the elevator with me just before the doors closed.
The ride up to the top floor was silent save for Marc's muffled cries. I rubbed his back to try to calm him and Ranger held out his arms to try to take him. Marc was six, so he was big to hold, and heavy, but he needed comfort right now and he knew and trusted me. Ranger he'd never seen before. And Ranger's a man. Almost everyone at SO is uneasy around men, and the children are no different. Marc and Teresa and their family had run from a very abusive father, and had just been terrorized by another man. I was pretty sure being held by another big man just then wouldn't calm him much.
"It's okay, I got it," I told Ranger. "Thanks." The elevator stopped, and I asked Ranger to stay by the elevator and wait for me. He agreed, and I locked the elevator so it wouldn't change floors.
Walking to the conference room door, I pressed the intercom button and told them that it was all clear, but the police were still around. The door flew open and Teresa burst out, quickly followed by Daniella. I handed Marc over and he and his mother were promptly surrounded by the other women and smothered in hugs and kisses. We have a very supportive community here. Daniella hugged me tightly and it surprised me.
"Thank God you're okay," she said to me. "I was so worried."
"About me?" I questioned, surprised. "You shouldn't waste your worry on me." It's not worth it to worry about me. She should have been more concerned about, I don't know, Marc and his mother. Herself, maybe, and making sure she was showing the women a strong front. She just ignored me and hugged me again before herding everyone back into the conference room. I followed and waited for everyone to sit down before letting them know what was going on.
"He's in police custody," I told them. "He won't be out of jail for a long time. I'll make sure nobody posts bond for him, and he won't get off too lightly for pulling that stunt with Marc. The police are still around, though, and the lobby is still sealed. You can go back to your rooms, but the building is secured and the lobby inaccessible for the next hour or two. Any questions?" There weren't any, so I continued.
"I'm going out of town for a while. Cannon's going to be in charge of emergency matters like this while I'm gone. Daniella, as always, is in charge of everything else. The rules are still the rules while I'm gone, and I expect everyone to follow them. That's all I have. I'm sorry this happened." As all the women filtered out, they stopped to say a quick thanks or give a small smile.
"You did a good job," I said to Daniella as everyone was leaving. "You kept everyone calm and contained during the crisis. Good job."
"No, I didn't. I panicked. I was panicking. Well, I was almost panicking. I had the beginnings of a panic going. If I hadn't been able to talk to you, I would have panicked. I don't know what I'll do if something happens while you're gone," she said. Rambled was more like it. All the nervous energy and adrenaline from the incident were coming out as she let herself come down from it.
"We got through this. You did a good job," I told her, willing to be easier about it all now that it was over. "Next time, you'll do a better job. And if something happens while I'm gone, you'll get through it without me. You'll hold it together because you'll have to. Because there are a lot of people here depending on you. You'll be fine." And if she wasn't, I'd find somebody to take her place. I needed somebody who could handle things like this, and if she couldn't, she'd be gone.
"I'm just a crutch for you," I said. "One you don't need." Daniella sucked in a big breath.
"Okay. Okay."
"You'll have to talk to the police tomorrow to tell them what happened before I got here. I think we can keep the others out of it. Now tell me what happened? How did that guy get here?"
"Kathy O'Malley, fourteen years old, 5'7", Caucasian, red hair. Arrived last night with multiple lacerations and severe trauma to her abdomen. Claims her father's been raping her since she was nine years old. He got her pregnant, and when he found out he attempted to beat it out of her. Medical findings support her claim. Evidence of a miscarriage and significant scarring in her vaginal area. Due to Kathy's age, we are required to notify social services. Unfortunately, it was late and social services was closed, so we had to call the police department."
Okay, I thought. So far, so good. Daniella continued.
"An officer by the name of Branskovic answered. I'm intending to file a complaint against him; he was very rude and demeaning to me, and kept making comments about how the girl belonged to her father anyway, and what were we doing trying to take away a man's property." I couldn't believe it. I was so angry I was seething. I hadn't known what the term meant until now, but I could practically feel little droplets of rage seeping out of my pores I was so livid. Branskovic had to be taken care of. Immediately. I clamped down on my fury, barely, and finished dealing with Daniella.
"So," she finished. "I can only assume that Branskovic tracked down Kathy's father and told him where to go. Jerk."
"Which one?" I asked.
"Both." Good answer.
"Double security while I'm gone," I told her.
"Sounds good to me," she said with enthusiasm. Between Branskovic and Blackwell, I didn't want to take any chances, didn't want SO or any of the women there in danger because of me.
"Have a good trip," she said.
"Yeah, thanks." I smiled and she gave me another squeeze before hurrying after the others. I made my way back to the elevator, almost forgetting that Ranger was waiting for me inside. I unlocked the elevator and stepped inside as Ranger looked at me.
"How'd it go?" he asked.
"Fine," I lied. I was still enraged. I was boiling over and trying to keep it contained.
"Interesting security you have here."
"It's yours," I told him distractedly. Later I would wonder how extensively he'd tested the system while I was gone.
"Mine?" He was surprised.
"RangeMan installed it. I had them make a few modifications."
"I see," he said. He saw. Yeah. Whatever. My main goal just then was Branskovic, and if I had a bit of tunnel-vision, I don't think anybody would blame me.
"What happened in here?" Ranger asked as the doors opened.
"Happened? What?" I responded, confused, as I reset the elevator lock. He just looked at me. "Oh, right." Of course. What could I say. I was a little distracted, and my leg was starting to throb from where I'd hurt it.
"I'll have to explain it to the police," I told him, "so can you wait and listen then?" He agreed.
"His badge," I said to the first cop I ran across. "I want his badge." Of course, the first cop I ran across was Carl.
"Who's?" he asked.
"Branskovic. He's got three strikes. This morning when he tried to rape me. This afternoon when I called the department for backup and he told me that my 'whores' would get what they deserved. And I just found out from Daniella that he was the only person she talked to at the police department about the minor, so he had to have been the one who called her father. Reckless endangerment of a child, I want him up on charges. Now." Nobody was moving to do what I wanted them to do. It took a while, but when they'd all finished listening to my story and asking questions, they did start the process. If Branskovic wasn't in jail within three days, I was going to sue the department. Finally, I was allowed to go home, and Ranger followed me to my car. By God, all I wanted to do was sit down for a minute. My leg was burning and it was draining me. And it had started out as such a nice day, too.
"A police officer tried to rape you?" he asked. I could hear the rage I'd seen barely under control throughout the police interview come out in his voice.
"Mmm," I said. "He wasn't very successful." Yes, there was rage there, in his voice and on his face, but there was also pity, and something else. It was that something else that made him look at me differently now that he knew I was almost a victim of sexual violence. He looked almost disgusted. He looked slightly revolted, with me. It wasn't easy to find; there was just a hint of it in his body language, but I could tell. And he only knew about Branskovic. It hurt. It twisted something deep inside that would be forever crooked, but at least I knew I was right in not telling him. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. But if he found out about everything, about Blackwell, it could hurt me, and even though it may have been selfish, I couldn't let myself be hurt anymore. I wasn't sure I wouldn't break and shatter.
"That's what you have to say about it? What happened?" he asked.
"It's none of your business, Ranger. I don't owe you an explanation." He looked taken aback. Sorry, but I wasn't in the mood. Not after the actual event, and then Morelli, and then my family, and then O'Malley the gunman, and then the look on Ranger's face. God, I thought, imagine how he'd look at me if he knew about Blackwell. So no, I wasn't feeling too charitable. And I was still incensed from finding out about the phone call to O'Malley.
"No," he finally admitted. "You don't owe me an explanation. But I'm concerned about you, and want to know what happened and make sure you're alright." Okay, that was a really good answer. He wanted to make sure I was alright, he was concerned about me. God only knows why, but it made me feel better. It didn't change how he was looking at me, but it made me feel better.
"He was on duty when I went to bring in my skip," I told him. We were at my car and I leaned back against it. "He gave me some trouble, and it ended in him trying to arrest me on a bogus charge. He…" I hesitated, unsure I could talk about it just yet. "He touched me, then." I shuddered, still unsteady. "He would have done more, but I stopped him. And I called the Chief and the Commander and they said they would deal with it."
"Why wasn't he fired on the spot?" Ranger demanded. He'd unwittingly put his hand on my upper arm and was running his fingers up to my shoulder and down to my elbow and back again, and while it felt nice, it was distracting. I wasn't paying enough attention to what Ranger was saying and how I was answering.
"He was suspended pending investigation. I assume that with the emergency at the mall, everyone was called in."
"How can you be so calm about it all? You should be…I don't know, angry or traumatized or something," he said.
"Oh?" I asked, angry about the question. "You deal with this much, do you? You often walk into situations where there's a good chance of you being raped?"
"No, but…"
"Didn't think so. Next time you think you're gonna be raped, you let me know how you wind up handling it, kay?"
I took a step away from him and went to open the car door. It didn't last long. He followed me step for step until he was pressing me back into the car. His hands came around my waist, and I didn't know what to do. I was paralyzed. My mind was muddled and my emotions in turmoil, and my wits were dulled by the pulsating pain in my leg. It wasn't fair; I'd been through enough today. I was due a minute to sit and regroup. It was owed to me, dammit.
My hands were between us, not touching either him or me and unsure where to go. His arms tightened and pulled me even closer, and I had no choice but to lean against him. I tentatively lay my head against his chest and he dropped his head to rest on mine.
"Don't be mad, babe," he said into my hair. I closed my eyes and tried to relax, but everything kept spinning through my brain.
"I don't know how to handle this. I don't know what I'm supposed to do for you," he continued.
"Nothing, Ranger. You're not supposed to do anything," I told him. I tried to pull away, but Ranger wasn't having anything to do with it.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I'm supposed to be doing something. Friends are supposed to do something. Comfort, or something. I don't know."
"Thanks. Don't worry about it, though. I'm fine," I told him. He just held me a little tighter. "I'm fine, Ranger. Really." I wasn't fine. I was trying to relax and not think about anything, but everything from the day was just racing through my head, buzzing around faster and faster and I could feel the blood seeping into my jeans until they were wet and I wasn't sure I could keep myself from shaking.
"Let me drive you home, babe," Ranger said.
"I can drive myself home."
"I know," he replied. "Let me drive you home."
"Yeah," I said, "that would be alright." It would be more than just alright. Everything was catching up with me, and as quickly as everything was turning in my mind, my stomach was starting to turn even faster. I felt nauseous and my vision was off and I wasn't sure I'd be able to make it home safely. I handed over the keys and let Ranger take me round to the passenger side, opening the door for me and helping me in. If it had been prom night, my mother would have been happy at the manners he'd shown. But it wasn't, and I was just happy I was keeping it even a little bit together.
I saw Ranger jog over to talk to Tank and the guys. And then Shannon came strolling up. Oh, god. It immediately became very tense; I could feel it from twenty feet away and inside the car. Tank and Lester and Bobby immediately moved to flank Ranger, and I knew there was going to be trouble. It took more effort than I would have liked to get out of the car, and even more to keep from limping, but I managed to make my way over to the boys. They had been speaking softly, and noticed me before I got into hearing distance, but I knew they weren't exchanging pleasantries.
Tank looked like he was going to come to me, but saw Ranger move in my direction and stopped. It hurt that Tank was so willing to step aside now that Ranger was back in the picture. I'd thought that he was a friend. A real friend. But I guess it really was just a job; just looking after some chick while the boss was away. It hurt. It was a big hurt, but I'd swallowed bigger. So it would just add one more ache that I wasn't worth actually befriending. I'd handle it. I'd have to.
Shannon and Ranger got to me at the same time, both impassive, both void of expression. I imagined I looked much the same.
"Having fun, boys?" I asked. There was no response, not that I expected one.
"Fine," I said. "Here's the deal. It's none of my business what kind of relationship the two of you have, whether it's hostile, hateful, or happy, that's your matter. But if either of you start something because of me, I swear to god, I'll end it. You have enough points of friction between you without me, and if it'll prevent all hell from breaking loose in these streets, if it'll keep it safer for SO, for even one woman who might come to SO, it'll be over. Get it?"
This was one of those times where the big talk wasn't just talk. If they started fighting because of me, and it carried over into the streets, it would jeopardize everything I'd worked for. It would make the safe haven we promised SO to be the middle of a war-zone, and I would not let that happen. Even if it meant that these two men would no longer be any part of my life.
If it was possible, they became even more impassive and unreadable.
"So that's the way it is, huh?" Shannon asked.
"If something starts because of me that puts one of mine in danger, yeah. SO's the bottom line, and you know that. You know that."
My leg started to twitch and I couldn't feel my fingers.
Shannon nodded, and Ranger looked from one to the other of us. He looked like he was going to say something, but if he did, I never heard it. My vision went photonegative, and I collapsed. It was stress and exhaustion and pain and adrenaline, and my system was shutting down in self-defense.
I woke up within minutes. I was achy all over, but I wasn't throbbing anywhere. Well, except for my leg. But that meant that I hadn't hit my head or anything else on the concrete when I'd fallen. Then I opened my eyes and saw Ranger's face looming over mine, and realized he was holding me. Shannon was hovering close by with an unhappy look on his face, and I saw the other boys floating in and out of my range of vision. I blinked a few times to try to clear my vision and my head.
"Steph?" Ranger asked. "What happened?" How to answer that question. I was lying half on the ground and half over Ranger. He must have caught me when I fell, and sat down to hold onto me until I woke up.
"Nothing," I said. "I'm fine. Let me up."
"You're not fine," he said. "You passed out. Why?"
"He's right, Steph," Shannon agreed.
"Let me up," I repeated. Ranger was still holding onto me, and I couldn't get up until he let go. With the black jeans, nobody had noticed the blood I felt soaking through them.
"I want to know why this happened, and I want to make sure it isn't going to happen again."
"You don't get to interrogate me, Ranger. I'm a grown woman and I can do as I please. And that includes falling on my ass in public. Now let me up."
It wasn't the most brilliant logic I'd ever used, but it was the best I could come up with under pressure.
"No, Stephanie," Ranger said. "I'm not letting you up just so you can fall down again."
"That's my call to make, Ranger. Now let me up." I was feeling trapped and a little claustrophobic. Not a good combination. Shannon must have seen something Ranger didn't, or couldn't.
"Let her up, Ranger. If she won't accept help, you need to let her fall on her ass. And there's no helping a few bruises on the way." Not exactly rousing support, but it would do. Ranger looked quite unhappy, but helped me sit up and left me alone. Slowly, I got up off the ground. My leg was going to be a problem, but my vision was fine and I could feel my fingers and my toes. I took those as good signs. When I was back on my feet, I slowly started to walk back to my car. I wasn't terribly steady, but at least I didn't stagger. But I felt the jeans pulling where the blood had dried, cementing the skin to the fabric. It hurt, and it felt gross. I got to the car, and realized Ranger still had my keys.
"Ranger?" I called. "My keys?" He threw them to me and I scrambled to catch them. Luckily, Ranger's got a good arm so they practically landed in my hand. If they hadn't, I don't think I would have caught them. I made it to the driver's seat; then I just shut my eyes and lay my head back on the headrest. This was the minute of peace I needed, the one to gather my thoughts and collect myself from all of the events of the day.
Then it was time to go back to life. I pulled out my cell phone and started the calls to all of the bail bondsmen in the area, asking them not to bail out O'Malley. When I'd finished my calls, I looked again in the direction of the boys. They were all still there, talking and looking at me. I turned the engine over and put the car in gear. I was going to drive down the street, and if I thought I couldn't get home, I'd call a cab.
My vision was no longer spinning, and I didn't think I was in any risk of passing out again. The only thing that might have kept me from driving was my leg. It was the right one, the one I had to use for the pedals, and it was so painful I couldn't really feel my foot. But I managed to get back to my apartment safely. Cruise control at its finest. Nobody was about, so I didn't need to be brave or strong and I limped through the parking lot and up the stairs to my apartment. Then I went into the bathroom to administer first aid to myself.
I took off all of my various weapons and peeled off the black jeans to take a look at my thigh. Some of the blood had dried and my jeans were sticking to my skin, so I poured some water over it to loosen it. There was a gash from mid-thigh all the way down to my knee. I rinsed it off again and it looked deep, but not deep enough for stitches. At least, not deep enough I was willing to go to the hospital and get stitches. So I poured some peroxide on it and watched the bubbles. After patting it dry I taped it closed with special medical tape and wrapped gauze around it all to keep it clean. As I was gathering up my weaponry to go to my bedroom, I heard the tell-tale signs of somebody picking my lock.
Oh, god, I thought. What if it was Blackwell? I was starting to panic, but I clamped down on it. He wouldn't take me by surprise again. I quickly lay everything down in the bathroom except for two guns and closed the door. Then, gun in each hand, I stood just to the left of where the door would open and waited. The door opened, slowly, and I saw…not what I expected. It was Ranger. And Tank.
"Need something, boys?" I asked. They looked up, startled. And then looked down, raking their eyes over me. I realized I was standing there in a t-shirt and panties and nothing else. I saw the exact moment they zeroed in on the bandage. It was nanoseconds after that that I spun around and whisked into my room. It wasn't so much that I was worried about them seeing where I'd been hurt, it was that I didn't want their focus swaying from it so they would see the scars on my thighs.
I quickly grabbed a pair of sweatpants from a drawer and was putting them on when Ranger and Tank opened my bedroom door and came in.
"Do you mind?" I asked as I put them on.
"Yes," Ranger said. "I do."
"Excuse me?"
"How did that happen?" he asked, indicating my leg. I'd just finished pulling up my pants, so at least now I was fully clothed.
"It just did, Ranger. It's no big deal. I cleaned it up, and it's fine," I told him.
"It is a big deal," he persisted. "You passed out because of it. Why didn't you press charges?"
"No, I…what? No…" I tried to answer, but I was confused and my head hurt enough for me to want to scream.
"Just go away, guys. I'm fine. I just want to curl up for a few hours and do nothing, alright?" At the end, I wasn't sure I wasn't begging. I'd lost track of what was going on. All I could feel were his hands on me, his knife cutting me. I was about two seconds away from a nervous breakdown, thoughts of Blackwell and Branskovic and O'Malley all running together until I couldn't tell one from the other.
"Fine," Ranger practically spat. Some analytical part of my brain that was somehow separate from the rest of me watched as he walked out of the room. Watched as Tank followed without sparing me even a glance. After all, Tank was in it only because of the job. It was just a job to him. I was right, that part of me thought, my heart to sore to shrink further. And Ranger was angry at me. It occurred to me that it would make things difficult for this job. But right now, I just wanted to zone out.
Unfortunately, that wasn't in my near future. I lay back on my bed and took a deep breath to try to calm myself. To try to focus on something, on anything that wasn't flesh and metal and pain. I could hear the two of them out there, still in my apartment, and from the sounds of it having one hell of an argument. I eavesdropped shamelessly, centering my concentration on what they were saying so that I could get out of my head.
"She's so hard, Tank. I just don't get it. She's just… rigid," Ranger said. Hard? Yeah. I guess I was hard. I knew I wasn't a marshmallow anymore, and there was no going back.
"Yeah," Tank said. "She's hard. I was wrong before, I see that know. She isn't soft on the inside, she's iced the whole way through. She's grown up and doesn't want to be coddled or have somebody hold her hand. Get used to it. I did."
"It's taking time. I'm trying to adjust, but it's not going to happen over night."
"You better hurry up. We have a job to do and you have to be on the ball, Ranger. No more shitting around because of Stephanie."
Shitting around because of me. Well, that was certainly an interesting turn of phrase. I heard what sounded like they were flopping on my couch. Then there was silence for a few minutes before Tank spoke again.
"So what happened that you freaked so much last night?" Tank asked Ranger.
"With the mob thing? It was like a trip down memory lane, man. Steph was just, it was Alex all over again."
"She's not your ex-wife, Ranger. Stephanie's not a hit man for the mob, if for no other reason than it might make that organization of hers less shiny. You're not gonna wake up on the wrong end of a gun when you go to sleep with her."
I wasn't sure what to make of that. That Ranger's ex had been a hit man and tried to kill him in bed, I guess. That would explain his flipping out in the kitchen the other night. And Tank could just go to hell. That organization of mine? Yeah, well, I was dedicated. That's not a bad thing, right?
"I'm not going to sleep with her," Ranger said. It was time to stop. I didn't want to hear anymore. I got out of bed and hurried to the living room. I didn't get there soon enough to stop all of what Ranger had planned to say.
"Especially after hearing what happened with Branskovic," he said. "I think…" That was when I froze my feelings, compartmentalized the part of me that was fear and emotion, and focused. I only let that cold, dry analytical part of me into my head as I opened the bedroom door. I didn't need him to finish the sentence to know what he was going to say. I think that she's too hard. Too bad. Not good enough for me. Uncaring, horrible, disgraceful, dirty. I'd heard it all before. It didn't make it hurt any less.
"What are you guys still doing here?" I asked quietly. "I thought I made it clear I wanted to be alone."
"I think we need to be sure we can work together before there's no turning back," Tank said to me, eyes boring a hole in my forehead.
"I'll be fine, Tank. I'm iced, remember? I won't have any problems. Just keep your boy here from pulling a gun on me and we'll be just fine," I said.
"I'll be fine," Ranger said. "It's not me he's worried about. You still freeze anytime somebody touches you." He walked up to me, putting a hand on my hip and another on my neck. Was I fine? Would I be able to do this? Yes. He still wasn't sure what to make of me; a part of me really liked that, but another part was sad. But I'd show him just how fine I'd be. The ability to compartmentalize had save me more than once. Now it would again.
I opened my role and relaxed my body into his hands, gliding closer until we were pressed against each other. I brought my arms up so that they were wrapped around his neck and back, bending my knees to move ever so slightly up and down his body, rubbing us together. I drew his head to mine until our lips were just touching.
"I think I'm ready, Ranger," I whispered.
"Are you, babe?" he asked as he dragged his arm down my body from the back of my neck to my thing, finding the bandage and tapping his hand against it. I separated myself from his arms.
"It'll be fine in a day or two. And it's fine now, just ugly to look at." Like the rest of me.
"We don't have a day or two. We're leaving tomorrow morning," Tank said.
"I'll be fine, Tank. I'd be fine now if I could just get off my feet for an hour or two. Ranger? What do you think." I looked to him to decide what would happen.
"Yeah, Ranger," Tank said. "What do you think?" Ranger looked at me for a while, analyzing and plotting and god only knows what else was going on in his head. Finally he nodded.
"We leave tomorrow morning at five. I'll pick you up at half past three," he said.
"Commercial flights leave that early?" I asked. "And what should I do about my weapons?"
"We're not flying commercial," he said.
"So…what?" I asked. "You own a plane or something, Ranger?"
"Yes," he said. Oh. Well that would make it easier to get through security. Then the doorbell rang.
I grabbed the gun from the small of my back and headed to the door. I peeked through the spy hole and recognized him. It was the kid who delivers flowers to me every couple of weeks.
"Flower delivery for Miss Plum," he said through the door.
"Come in, put it over here." I told him while motioning to my coffee table. When he'd put his load down, I gave him a tip and, having seen Tank and Ranger, he hurried out.
I smiled a little as I saw it; I knew who these were from. Yellow tulips, white orchids, and purple lilies. Alexander Ramos. He'd been sending me these same flowers in a crystal vase ever since I'd taken him for cigarettes and a drink. I opened the note, and, as I'd expected, a bold 'A' was slashed across the card.
But there was another arrangement. A dozen long-stemmed crimson roses. And I had no idea who they were from. I picked up the card as I noticed Ranger and Tank giving me odd looks.
"What?" I demanded. They didn't answer, so I just shook my head and opened the card.
I'm coming, Stephanie. You're going to be mine.
Shit. Oh, shit, I thought. I felt the blood drain from my face and my knees go weak. He was coming for me. He was coming for me. Again. I didn't know what was I going to do.
"Stephanie?" Ranger asked. I snapped out of the panic, and for that I was grateful to him. I calmed down, and found the ground underneath me again.
"Yeah," I said. "So we're fine, then? We're going to be ok?" Ranger looked like he was going to say something but Tank cut him off.
"So we'll be fine working together? Is that what you're telling me?" Tank asked. I nodded.
"I think we understand each other," I said as I looked at Ranger. "Trust me to do my part, and I'll trust you to do yours." He gave a half-grin and nodded. Then he told me he'd see me in the morning, and they were gone.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself once again. Then I carefully put the note in a plastic bag and stuck it in my dresser drawer. Next to Ranger's check stub. Then, very carefully, very calmly, I checked my apartment, made sure all the windows and the door were locked, and settled in for the night, guns at my side.
When the alarm went off the next morning, I almost shot it. It had not been a restive night. I was spooked and too keyed-up to rest well at all. I got up off the couch and took a quick shower before I finished packing. When Ranger got there at 3:30 I was ready and waiting in front of the building, bags at my feet.
I hopped in the car, throwing the bags in the back and turning to Ranger.
"Let's get this show on the road," I said, and we rolled out of the lot. Neither of us had much to say on the way to the airfield. That was fine with me. It was a long ride, almost an hour, but I was just starting to relax about Blackwell and the note. After all, he wouldn't try anything when I was with Ranger. No, his style was to take them when they're alone and make them helpless. And he couldn't do anything while I was on the plane. So for a while, at least, I would be safe.
I could feel my body reacting, the twitchy hypertension leaving and my muscles relaxing. I looked over to Ranger as we entered the airstrip. He parked the car and suddenly tensed up. Something caught his eye, and when I followed his line of sight, I saw a beautiful, leggy blonde leaning against a car talking to Tank and the boys.
"Shit," I heard Ranger mutter.
"Something wrong?" I asked.
"No," he said without looking at me. I glanced back at the girl. So this is what he likes, I thought. Tall, blonde, busty. Much prettier than I ever could be, and probably smarter, too. Well, that's that. I knew for sure, now, that Ranger wasn't going to look at me twice. The flirting and the fun before he'd left had been just that – fun. So be it.
We got out of the car and started to walk toward the group. The blonde saw us and gave a squeal of delight before rushing over and latching herself onto Ranger. I sent an arch look to the pair of them before switching it to the guys. They had equally puzzled looks on their faces, so I just shrugged my shoulders and waited for Ranger and this chick to stop playing sucky-face. I watched as Ranger pried her off of him, and the look on his face made me reconsider my earlier thoughts.
"Get off, Carmondy," he said.
"Ranger!" she exclaimed happily. "It's so good to see you again. I heard about you being back and about the job and I thought I'd come along and help out."
"Carmondy," he started. "Shit." He took her arm and led her a few yards away so that they were just out of hearing range. Especially with the plane warming up its engines. From their body language, I knew that neither one of them was happy. Ranger was his same old statuesque self, but somehow stiffer than usual, and Carmondy was gesturing wildly. Then she spun on her heal and stormed off to a snazzy red BMW and sped out of the field. So maybe she wasn't his type after all.
Ranger came back with a stormy look on his face. The guys were all smart enough to get out of his way, but somehow I'd missed that memo. I saw him zero in on me, and he came over to me. He opened his mouth, anger still clearly displayed on his face. I cut him off before he could say anything."Punching bag is not in my job description, Ranger. If you're angry, don't take it out on me," I told him. He snapped his mouth shut and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
Leaning next to me against the car, he said, "Wheels up in 25 minutes. Grab your bags and give them to that guy under the wing." I nodded and he walked away. I did as he'd said, taken my bags from the car and gone to give them to the man standing by the cargo doors loading all the last minute bags and boxes into the plane. I thanked him when he took my bags and followed the boys on the plane. If Ranger was pissy the entire time, it was going to be a long flight.
It was a pretty big plane, with eighteen rows and two seats on each side of the aisle. There was also a conference room in the back. This was a serious plane, and I was seriously impressed. Ranger motioned for me to sit next to him. I would have anyway; all the other eats were filled. The bay doors were closed and the pilot radioed back to us that we were getting ready for takeoff and would be in the air shortly.
As soon as we were at our cruising altitude, Ranger got up to address the entire team.
"Everybody, please take out your packets. They should be in the seat pocket in front of you," he said. I looked for where mine would be, since Ranger and I were in the front row. I found it in a little pouch on the divider in front of us.
I took it out and began to flip through it as Ranger was talking.
There was a basic mission plan, followed by a list of everyone involved and what they would be doing. We had two main objectives. First was to find the person or persons responsible for the disappearances. There was a description of the perps MO followed by a list of dates that the women went missing and when they were found, and what, exactly, had been done to them. I almost flipped out, but I held on to my composure and moved on to the second objective. That was to deal with the drug problem; somebody was selling through the establishment, and the owner wanted it to stop. I was supposed to be working on the latter, but you'd better believe that I'd be concentrating on the disappearances, too.
We'd be heading to a resort just outside of Vegas. It was a whole compound that included a four star hotel, multiple restaurants, a casino, a full-service spa, and a club as well as a few other things. The cover that had been decided upon for the guys was a gym had sent all of its personal trainers on a vacation. I assumed they meant a nice gym. Maybe at a country club. But otherwise it was good; I'd been wondering just how they'd explain the sudden influx of a bunch of hulk-looking guys. It would've been rather suspicious for there to be an abrupt flood in the security guard department.
Then there were diagrams of the buildings with floor plans and such. Well isn't this a large-scale operation. The last thing was a list of all of the people who worked there. Each had pictures and financial accounts and any criminal records next to the name.
I finished reading it, and went back to the beginning to read it again. When I was through, I was pretty sure that I had all of it down.
As I read, I was filtering in what Ranger was saying. Basically, he just went over the packet, saying that anybody undercover could not bring the packet with them, so we should memorize as much as we could. There would, however, be contact with people who did have access to the information, so we shouldn't stress over memorizing everything. Then he asked if there were any questions. I just studied the employees while he talked. Wonder of wonders, during college I'd learned to read and listen at the same time. It was one of the few combinations I could manage to do at the same time.
He asked if there were any questions, and sat back down. Apparently, everyone understood exactly what was going on. That was good. If everybody was on the same page, there would be less chance of a stupid screw up happening.
"Did you hear even a word I said?" He asked me, the anger evident in his voice. I looked up at him, surprised. Where did that come from, I wondered.
"What are you talking about?" I asked. "Of course I did."
"You certainly looked like you were ignoring me, and I need to know that you're on the same wavelength as everyone else here. If we're all on the same page, there's less of a chance of a stupid screw up." Well that actually rather amusing, as I'd just had a completely parallel thought myself. I must have smiled, because Ranger's face turned slightly darker.
"This isn't funny, Stephanie," he said.
"No," I replied. "It really isn't. But if you're so worried about my performance, it would be best if you replaced me."
"I'm not worried, I just need to make sure that you know everything that's going on."
"I was listening and reading at the same time, Ranger. You shouldn't worry so much. I'm on the ball. I'm on top of things. I know what's happening, and know what you were talking about, and understand the plan."
"Fine. You just looked like you weren't doing anything," he said, grumpy. If I hadn't been so entertained by him and his attitude, I probably would have been pissed. But as it was, I found it satirical that he was in such a mood, and intended on enjoying it fully. I prodded him some more.
"Like I said earlier. If you're that worried about how I'm going to do this, or how I measure up to everyone else here, then replace me. Maybe Carmondy would be a good choice?" I said as I smiled.
He gave me such a look; it was surprise and bafflement and scorn at the idea. It was a face I'd remember forever.
"No?" I asked before returning to a serious matter. "Then remember, Ranger, it's all about the trust. Trust me to do my part, and I'll trust you to do yours."
Neither of us felt like talking much after that. Well, Ranger looked like he didn't feel like talking. And that was fine with me. I still needed to order my thoughts, sort through all of my feelings and emotions so I could be well grounded again. So I could get my equilibrium back. Ever since I'd heard that Blackwell had escaped, I'd been off-kilter, and I needed to be back on steady ground. I needed to get my emotional boundaries back in place and fix the walls that had been crumbling down around me. Everything was starting to decompress in my head, and I needed to put it back. Especially if he was working in Vegas, and especially if I was going to go after him.
If I was the one to find him, there would be no more court system. It would just be me, and him, and a gun, and to hell with the consequences. So it was time to deal with all of the thoughts and memories that had been floating around so that I could go back to my calm, to being steady and not an emotional wreck. A small sigh escaped, and Ranger looked at me questioningly. I just shook my head and hunkered down with my thoughts, letting my memories take me where they would.