Chapter 8: Just Do It

A.N.- beta-ed by misty23y. :)

Lester's P.O.V.

I followed Steph back out into the parking lot and gestured towards the elevators. "Now, you're going to Tank's office to get your first look at how we track FTAs."

She nodded and started walking again. I followed a few seconds later and joined her in the elevator. She glanced at my face and a small frown flitted across hers. I'm not sure what my face was showing, but it didn't inspire confidence because she stepped closer and asked, "Hey, are you mad I didn't tell you I was okay with guns?"

I stepped closer to her and said, "No! I was surprised, but I'm proud of you. We all want you to be safe, and having a firm foundation is the first step towards that."

She nodded, "Okay, so why the weird face? You look like you swallowed a bug."

She looked so sincere that I can't lie to her, but I have to be careful what I say. I looked down at my feet and realized how close we were standing. I took a quick step back and said, "It's nothing. I'm having an off day, apparently."

She snorted with delight and grabbed my chin, forcing my eyes off of my laces and up towards her face again. She was smirking at me, humor visible in her eyes.

"What?" I said, not getting the joke.

Her smirk turned into a full-blown smile as she said, "You're still freaking out about busting in on me changing, aren't you? If only your many conquests could see you now!"

She started laughing and I blushed again. What's with that? I haven't blushed this much since middle school. This is getting out of hand. Before I can defend myself, she speaks again, "Les, while it is absolutely adorable that you're embarrassed, you did your job. You reacted to a possible threat without thinking. While I'm not super excited about being that exposed to you, I can't be upset that you were trying to protect me. Even if it was only from myself."

She smirked again and bumped her shoulder against mine. "Plus, it's not like you haven't seen boobs before. Hell, you've probably seen more than me!"

She's not wrong. I think about it for a couple of seconds and smile when I realize why I've been so thrown off by Steph.

"I think I'm used to thinking about you as an attractive woman in the abstract. It's not like Ranger would tolerate anything other than strictly professional behavior from the men towards you. I think we all try and put you firmly in the sister category and work from there. Unfortunately, it's hard to think of you as my sister when you're laid out like a Playboy centerfold. It took weeks for all of us to cram you back into that category after the whole Bombshell Bounty Hunter promos. I'll get over it, don't worry about it."

She seemed surprised. She doesn't get how I could consider her tempting. I winked at her and she laughed again.

The doors opened onto level four before she finished laughing, and I looked out to see every head turned towards us. Well, at least this is something that won't get me mat-time when it eventually makes it back to Ranger. I stepped out of the elevator and nodded towards the many faces still pointed our way before heading down the short hallway to the right of the control center. There were only two doors in the corridor, one on each side. They each had a nameplate beside the door. The left one said Ranger; the right one said Tank. I led Steph over to the right door and knocked once. A low grunt was the only acknowledgment. I opened the door and gestured her in before nodding once again and heading back to my desk in the cubicle farm located on the opposite side of this floor. Hopefully, Steph will take to tracking FTAs using technology as well as she does through hunches and gossip. It will really up her game.

Stephanie's P.O.V.

I stepped into Tank's office and closed the door behind me. He pointed at one of the chairs in front of his desk and waited until I sat down to speak, "How did your firearms training go today?"

I shrugged and answered, "Good, I guess. Lester seems to think I'll get the hang of this soon."

I'm still not comfortable talking about my proficiency. I feel like that will encourage the guys to want me to shoot more. Plus, I'll catch a lot more crap when I hit felons with my purse.

He nodded and said, "Good. I'm sure he will be able to get you up to standard in no time. So, are you ready to learn some technical skills?" He pointed towards the computer and spoke again, "Hector will give you a more in-depth lesson later on, but for now, I'm going to show you how to use the software and walk you through a couple of searches just to get you familiar with how this process works."

Wow. I didn't know Tank could string that many words together at one time. So much for the silent, brooding thing he had going on.

"Okay. That sounds good to me. I'm not the best with computers, but I can do the basics pretty well. At least enough to do what Connie does," I replied. I've had to fill in for her occasionally when she was out of the office bailing people out. Even if Vinnie had a stroke and suddenly wanted to help, Connie doesn't want his nastiness near her stuff. I can't blame her.

I stood up and scooted my chair around to sit beside him in front of his computer. He pulled up a couple of programs and began a new search. "We're using an active file as an example. It's easier to understand when it's an actual person, and we're not wasting time looking for someone who doesn't exist." I nodded and we got to work.

30 minutes later

"Alright, now you just have to change this category right here, and you should be able to get a more detailed result." I was running the search myself now, sitting in Tank's chair with him leaning over my shoulder. I've almost gotten the hang of this; it's all about tweaking the search parameters. It can be a little tedious, but when you get the results you need, it's the best feeling.

"Good! Look, you found out he has a cousin in Newark who owns an apartment complex. You have a knack for this, Bomber." I grinned up at him and did a little happy chair dance. It's nice to be praised for being skilled at something. I don't count the whole gun thing; that's just tolerance at best.

Tank stood up straight and stretched, "Let me send this information to the recovery team, and then we can go and set you up at a desk. Some of the men share desks on rotation, but you will have a designated workspace." I glanced up at him in surprise. He chuckled and said, "I know you're going to smuggle in snacks, and I don't want you corrupting anyone else if possible. If you have your own workspace, you can keep a stash in your desk and hide it from the rest of the men."

Well, crap. That makes a lot of sense. I frowned when I realized they were giving me another loophole to avoid sticking to company policy, "I don't want to be a problem. I assumed that when I took this job that snacks were off the table."

He shrugged, "Well, I know how much you love your snack foods. I wasn't sure you would tolerate us having all of these rules about guns, clothes, and such and not go bat-shit crazy over your Tastykakes."

I grimaced and stood up straighter, "I came here to get proper training. I know that will be much harder if my diet isn't on point. I'm more than willing to sacrifice my snacks to keep myself safe on the streets."

His eyebrows shot up and his mouth opened slightly. When his brain started functioning again he said, "That's admirable, Steph. I'm proud of you. You're definitely a strong woman." He smirked at me knowingly before saying, "So you don't want your own desk then?"

I laughed and said, "Oh no. I absolutely want my own desk. You know these guys are going to try and prank me and sharing a desk with one of them won't make that any easier." I was fishing with that comment, but judging by the smirk on Tank's face, I was right in assuming there would be pranks. Well, they're in for a big surprise if they think I'll just sit back and take it without retaliation. Let the prank wars begin!