A/N: I'm finished with all the chapters, so I'm hoping to release a new one every day or so as I review them. Thank you for all of your kind reviews.
Ranger's POV
There were only a few people in the world who could give me a migraine. One of them was my mother.
"You're turning thirty-five," my mother said, as though I was unaware of this. "We want to celebrate with you."
"Mom, I'm busy. I don't have time to come to Newark, nor do I really have the energy to be with the entire family. I'm working long days right now," I replied as I drove around the city. I was breaking one of my own rules and doing solo patrols, but we had several men out of the office, and it had to be done. At least I wouldn't sue myself if I got caught off-guard and shot.
"Then at least have dinner with your father and me," she said. "We'll come to you. You know that both your grandfathers died in their late sixties. Dad is coming up on that. You wouldn't want to skip dinner with him, and it was the last chance you had with him, would you?"
Here was the guilt trip. And it was going to work because I'd been living with my maternal grandparents in Miami when my grandfather died of a heart attack at sixty-eight. She knew what button to push.
"Fine," I said. "Last Resort on Broad Street. Six-thirty."
"Thank you," she said and hung up.
I didn't give a damn about my birthday. It was just another day in the year. As the youngest of six, it hadn't been all that cared about with the family when I had been a kid and actually cared. But now that I was older, my mother used it as an excuse to get me up to Newark more often.
At least by having dinner in Trenton, I could get out and do what I needed to do quicker than going up to Newark, then being stuck with the entire family. I loved my family, but I stood out. They never forced me to the edge, but I felt like I was stuck there. I wasn't married, my only child lived in another state, and I hadn't raised her. Julie was rarely mentioned in my family because it inevitably led to an argument. Some of my family saw me as irresponsible and selfish. Some tried to defend me saying I had sacrificed a relationship with her because I wanted her to have a united family, especially when I'd been in the Army. The truth was somewhere in the middle.
I dreaded dinner on Thursday because I knew my mother would once again bring up Stephanie or start asking me if I'd met anyone else. I was tired of the questioning, but I knew she wouldn't stop. I wondered if telling her the truth would cut her off. Telling her the story of how I got Stephanie to sleep with me the first time would appall her. She might even take her shoe off and start hitting me with it at the restaurant. But it might stop her from asking me any more questions. I briefly imagined it, but honestly couldn't bring myself to do it. Even I had my limits.
My parents were already at the restaurant when I arrived at six-thirty on my birthday. My father had clearly from straight from work in his jeans and polo shirt, which I knew my mother had probably complained about because she was wearing a nice dress. I had also just come straight from work, though I had changed my work shirt for a plain black t-shirt. I had also left my gun in the car and just had my ankle holster. My mother didn't like it when I showed up to something with her looking like I was prepared for a street fight.
"Happy Birthday, mijo!" she said when she saw me. "It's so hard to believe you're thirty-five. It makes me feel so old."
I rolled my eyes behind her back as I held the door open for her.
We got a seat at the back of the restaurant and ordered a bottle of wine. I browsed the menu, even though I knew exactly what I wanted, as to stave off the interrogation from my mother. I had just seen her in May, and she called me weekly, but she would still act as though she hadn't seen me in a year. We placed our orders with the server and took a minute to appreciate the wine.
"How's the office doing since the buyout?" I asked my father, hoping to lead the conversation to anywhere but my love life.
"It's actually going really well," he said. "They sent up a woman who is the office manager here in Trenton to help get us situated. It has gone better than I could have ever imagined. She doesn't take any shit, especially not from Mike Kowalski, but also understands why the office people weren't exactly happy to see her. She came in the door optimistic that she could make it a painless transition and that by the time she was done they'd be sorry to see her go. Tomorrow is her last day, and she was exactly right. I heard Tomás telling her he would miss her."
"That's the exact kind of person you need leading a transition," I said. "I figured it would work itself out, but it's something most people have to see to believe."
My father nodded. "Yeah, it was. She's something else. She only started with Kowalski back in January but managed to get him away from paper and onto iPads for the work, and she streamlined documentation that he usually wanted triplicated. I always tell her to let me listen when she talks to him because it's the best thing ever," he said with a laugh. "She said he hired her because he couldn't keep an assistant who would put up with his shit, so she not only puts up with it, but gives it right back."
"No woman should have to put up with a man like Mike Kowalski," my mother said, looking offended. "I met him once during discussions. He's a bigot and misogynist. I hope she poisons him."
"Wow, Mom," I said, surprised at her anger. "Tell us how you really feel."
"Is this woman single?" she asked my father. "Maybe we could set her up with Carlos."
"Jesus Christ, Mom" I said at the same time my father said, "She's too good for him, Lola."
My mother looked more offended at my father's tone than mine. "Why would you say that, Javier? Carlos is a good man."
"Because it's true. She's a good person. She deserves to be respected and treated like the intelligent, capable woman that she is. And Carlos doesn't have much respect for anyone's opinions except his own."
I stopped with my wine glass halfway to my mouth, shocked by my father's attitude towards me. "Did I do something?"
"You think you know better than everyone else," my father said. "You've been that way ever since you got out of the Army. It's not a great quality in anyone, but it's definitely not a great quality to have in a spouse. Your mother always wants to know why you're single. I'd say that's at least part of it."
I took that sip of my wine and felt a little confused about why my father suddenly cared so much about why I was still single. Maybe he was just trying to focus attention off his job.
My mother stared at my father, but she didn't appear to be as angry. "Is that true, Carlos? I mean, is that why you and Stephanie aren't speaking any longer?"
"Part of it," I acknowledged. "She also said I made her feel like she was entertainment. Like a pet, rather than a person. She told me she wanted me out of her life because she wasn't willing to put up with it anymore."
My mother looked betrayed, as if I had personally wounded her. "I can't believe you would be that way. We raised you better than that."
"I didn't mean to be that way," I said. "I didn't know my arrogance was so bad that even Dad noticed it. I don't believe I always know better than everyone, but apparently I act that way."
"Did you try to tell her that?" my mother asked.
"She didn't give a chance. She had a key to my apartment and threw it at me, told me thanks for the help and to get the hell out. Then she went to the bathroom and shut the door and I knew she wasn't going to come out as long as I was there, so I left."
"Why didn't you give her a few days to calm down, then call her?"
"Because she told me I didn't respect her and what she wanted," I replied. "She told me what she wanted was for me to stay out of her life, so I respected that. I haven't called her since. She quit the bonds office and I don't know where she works now. I know she moved because she told me that day she was going to find a new place, and I don't know where that is. I haven't wanted updates on her because I know myself and I won't be able to stay away if I know where she lives and works. I took her number out of my phone, even though I have it memorized, so I won't be tempted to call her."
My father was silent but scrutinizing as I explained myself to my mother. He was probably sick of her talking about it at home, and that's why he pushed the topic.
"You love her, don't you?" my mother asked quietly.
"Yes, I love her," I said shortly. "Is that what you need to hear? That I love and miss her? That she is the only person in this world I would ever considering marrying and having children with? And that I blew it? Does that make you feel better, Mom? Will that get you to leave me alone about this?"
I couldn't remember the last time I'd spoken like that to my mother. Probably not since before I'd been sent to Miami to get away from the gangs in Newark. But I was tired, both from a long day at work and of her constant questioning.
My mother looked like she might cry. "I'm sorry, Carlos. I shouldn't have push you on it. I won't ask about her anymore."
"Thank you," I said, grateful for the arrival of our food.
We ate silently for a while, no one seeming to know how to start a new topic of conversation that didn't touch on what had just happened. I felt bad for my attitude towards my mother, but it felt like something that needed to happen. I couldn't take her pushing me anymore.
Conversation eventually went back to less volatile topics like politics. We discussed the retirement of Raúl Castro and what Cuba's future might look like without a Castro in charge for the first time in over half a century.
We left the restaurant by seven-thirty. Normally my mother would have ordered dessert, but I knew she wanted to get out of there as much as I did. My father would inevitably get an earful on the way home.
I hugged my mother and promised to call her soon. I hugged my father as well and he moved his mouth to my ear.
"I want you to be the man I know you can be. You just need to believe you can do it as well."
"Thanks," I said, utterly confused about his change in demeanor. Maybe he had been reevaluating his life lately with the changes in his work life and had decide to evaluate mine while he was at it.
I went home and spent a couple of hours reviewing policy changes to our service terms. It was part of the economic shoring up of the business. I kept trying to focus on the wording, but my thoughts kept going back to dinner with my parents. I felt guilty for how hateful I had been with my mother. I would call to apologize tomorrow. She worried about me. It was a parent thing. Even though I hadn't raised Julie, I still worried about her. I worried about her safety, her health, and her happiness. It surely was even more intense when you had given birth to the person and raised them.
I woke up the next morning and got a workout in before heading down to my office. The shift reports from overnight had been uneventful. I sat through an early meeting with the accounting department and was headed back to my office to work on updates to a new security set up when my phone rang. The display said it was my mother.
"I was going to call you," I said.
"Carlos," my mother said, her voice shaking as she spoke.
"What's wrong?" I asked. My mother had worked as a nurse for forty years. It took a lot to rattle her.
"I just got a call from the emergency room at University Hospital. Your father was just brought in because there was an explosion at the construction office."
It felt adrenaline course through me. I felt my breath catch in my throat and it seemed like my brain took longer than it should have to process the information.
"How is he?" I asked as I hurried back to my desk. I grabbed my cell phone charger and keys before hurrying back out of my office. I ran across the control room floor and headed down the stairs.
"They said he had been impaled with a long piece of wood," she said. "A friend of mine called me as soon as she saw his name because she'd met him before. That was all she knew when she called. I just called Celia and she's coming to pick me up because she doesn't want me to drive."
"I'm on my way," I said. "I'll call you when I'm close to find out where you are. Do you need me to call anyone else?"
"I called Sofia just before I called you. She'll make sure everyone else knows."
"Okay, I'll see you in a little bit. Call me if anything changes."
I was in my car and driving out of the parking garage by the time we disconnected. I called Tank and brought him up to speed.
"See if you can find out anything about what happened," I told him as I hurried towards the Turnpike. "I'm offline at least the rest of the day and probably tomorrow."
Rush hour traffic was ending as I headed north, so I was able to make the normally hour-long trip in just forty-five minutes. My father's office wasn't far from the hospital, so I tried to get close to see the building, but the block was closed off. What I could see of the building made my heart skip a beat.
I called my mother as I pulled into the lot at University Hospital. She and my oldest sister were sitting in the waiting room for inpatient surgery. I parked in the garage and weaved through the familiar building. My mother had spent her entire career at this hospital. I couldn't count how many times I had been there in my life. I knew the surgical waiting room was on the third floor, so I went to take the stairs, but discovered they had been converted to an emergency exit only, which meant I was forced to wait on an elevator.
I found my mother and sister sitting on hard plastic chairs, both with swollen eyes and worried expressions. I sat down next to my mother and put my arms around her. I felt her sobbing to my shoulder.
"I can't believe this is happening," Celia said. "This can't really be happening, can it?"
"Have you seen the building?" I asked as my mother pulled away. She shook her head.
"It's bad," I said. "I don't know how the hell he survived. It looked like the upper floors had caved in."
"Oh, God," my mother said. She made the sign of the cross. "I haven't been able to find out anything about what happened. I was told the police are trying to talk to the other people who were there and figure out what happened."
"Was anyone killed?"
"We just heard on the radio on the drive that two people were killed, but they didn't identify them," Celia said.
I texted with Tank over the next few hours, but he wasn't getting anything out of Newark PD. A nurse would come to update us every couple of hours, letting us know that my father was doing well in surgery, but that there was a lot to do still. After the second update around lunch, my sister and I got our mother down to the cafeteria to eat. Not that any of us were hungry, but we needed something to do. My mother was constantly being sought out by people who knew her, offering reassurance about the surgeon and getting reports on his vitals. We had been back up in the waiting room for an hour when a detective walked in. He introduced himself as Lucas Rodriguez who was leading the case. My mother introduced myself and Celia to him. I gave up my seat next to my mother and took one on the other side of Celia.
"Mrs. Manoso, I know this is a difficult time, but I have a few questions I need to ask," he said. My mother nodded.
"Do you know of anyone who might want to hurt your husband or someone who worked at the construction office?" he asked.
"So it wasn't an accident?" Celia asked. Detective Rodriguez shook his head.
"No, the bomb squad found an incendiary device on the scene."
Celia whimpered and I put an arm around her.
My mother shook her head. "No, not anyone in particular. He just sold his business over the summer to another company. People were upset at first, especially because he had to let several people go. But he was just telling us last night that the transition was going really well," she said, indicating me as she spoke. "That people were less stressed about the change."
The detective made a note. "Do you know the names of the people he had to let go?"
"Of course," my mother said. "There was Julian Miller, who took care of the Human Resources stuff. Mark Evans and Lily Anderson were in the billing department. Marty Towers was the safety director. There was a part-time IT person or whatever they're called these days. Her name is Vivi Cortez. There was a project manager named Kendrick Jones. Um, there were a couple of other people who helped out around the office doing various odd jobs and running errands. They're my nephews, Damian and Tyler Carranza."
She waited while the detective made his notes. "Who was killed?" she asked. "We heard on the way here that two people were killed."
"Tomás Carrillo and Mark Evans," he replied.
"Mark? What was he doing there?" my mother asked. It took a second before the reality started to set in. "Oh my God, did he do this?"
"We're investigating all possibilities," Detective Rodriguez answered. But there was an unspoken implication that he was a prime suspect. "Do you know if your husband had any altercations with any of the current or former employees?"
My mother thought about it. "No, but he did tell me that Mark came to the office one day to talk to him. I don't know, maybe three weeks ago? He said he was upset because he couldn't find a job. Javier suggested he try the main Kowalski office in Trenton, because that's where they do the accounting. He felt bad that Mark couldn't find a job but said it had only been a month since he had to lay him off, so he thought Mark just needed to give it more time."
"Did he say if Mark was angry or threatening?"
My mother shook her head. "No, but I don't think he would have told me if he had been. He wouldn't want me to worry."
"There was someone else with him when Mark Evans approached him," Detective Rodriguez said. "She had been concerned about Evans' behavior and had advised your husband to report the interaction to police, but he never did."
"Oh God," my mother said, putting her head in her hands.
"How many other people were there?" Celia asked. "Are they okay?"
"Besides your father and the two men who were killed, there was another man and two women who were injured," he began, consulting his notes. The receptionist was under her desk looking for a ring she had dropped when the explosion happened. She suffered a concussion and some cuts, but nothing major. I think she was released. The other man suffered internal injuries and was rushed to surgery. I was just told he's out and in ICU. The other woman had just arrived at the office and was blown back from the force. She suffered a concussion, broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and a lot of cuts and scrapes. She's going to be kept overnight for observation. She was the one who went inside and got your father out before the building caved in."
"What?" my mother said, looking up quickly. "She went inside to get him?"
"Yes, he probably wouldn't have survived if it weren't for her. The police on scene said they had only been out of the building a minute or two before the upper floors gave away."
I felt a chill run down my spine and my sister shuddered with fear. My mother gave a small sob.
"Who was it? I know he said there was a woman from Trenton who was helping get the office set up, but I don't know her name," my mother said.
"She wanted to me to give it to you. She said she knows your son and would have called but her phone is busted from the explosion," he said, looking over at me. "Stephanie Plum."
The world felt like it stood still while I tried to wrap my brain around what I had just been told. I heard my mother say something but couldn't hear it over the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears.
"Where is she?" I asked after a few seconds.
"I spoke to her the ER a couple of hours ago, but as I was leaving a few minutes ago I saw her being wheeled out. She was asleep. They'd told her while I was in there talking to her that she needed to have her shoulder set, so I figured she was sedated."
I stood up. "I'm going to find out what I can," I told my mother. "I'll be back."
I headed to the emergency room and asked about her. The person at the desk said she was having a procedure done and then would be taken up to her room. I was told the room number was 5119, but that she wouldn't be there for at least an hour. I thanked the nurse and headed back to the waiting room.
"I need you to pack a bag for me," I told Ella when she answered the phone. "I'm going to be here at least overnight. And do we still have any of Stephanie's old clothes there?"
"Yeah, I have them in the storeroom. Why?"
"She was there, Ella. Working with my father. She saved his life. She's hurt, and she'll need something to pull on over an injured shoulder. Pack an outfit for her to wear home."
"Oh my God," she whispered. "I can't believe it."
"Neither can I," I replied. "Thanks, Ella."
Detective Rodriguez was gone when I reached my mother and sister.
"Did you find her?" my mother asked, grabbing my hand.
"She's in a procedure, but they gave me her room number and said she'll be there in about an hour. I called Ella and had her pack some clothes Stephanie had at my office in with mine so she can have something to wear home. I'll go up there and see her later."
"I cannot believe she was working there, and he didn't say a word about her," my mother said. "We just talked about her last night. And he didn't say a thing. I don't understand why."
I didn't either, but it did explain why my father had seemed almost hostile towards me yesterday. She must have told him about what had happened between us.
The next hour felt like a lifetime. My mother fielded calls from my other siblings and just as I was about to go up to Stephanie's room, a nurse came in to say that the surgery was over and the doctor would out to talk to us soon. I sat with my mother and sister while we waited for the news.
"Javier came through surgery well," the doctor told us after introducing herself as Dr. Elaina George. "He was lucky that the object didn't hit a major artery or he would have bled out before he made it here, and it missed his spinal cord. There was damage to his liver, but I was able to remove that portion and the liver will regenerate, so I don't anticipate any long-term issues. There was also damage to his right kidney. I did what I could to repair it, but we will have to see over the next couple of days how much, if any, functioning it will have. His other kidney is in good shape, so even if the right one fails, he should be fine. He'll have to recover for a while, but so far I don't see why he can't make a near complete one."
We thanked the doctor and I hugged my crying mother and sister. We were told he would be in ICU in a little while. I went to check on Stephanie while my mother and sister relocated.
I made it to room 5119 and opened the door. A nurse was standing by Stephanie's bed changing out an IV bag. Stephanie was asleep and she looked like hell. The nurse turned to face me when I stepped into the room.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"I'm a friend of Stephanie's," I explained. "I just found out about her being hurt in the explosion. My father was hurt as well. I wanted to check on her."
The nurse nodded. "She's okay. She's here for observation. She's still groggy right now."
"Do you know if her family has been contacted?" I asked, going over to stand by Stephanie's bed.
"No," Stephanie groaned. "Don't call them."
"Hey," I said, putting hand on her knee since the arm nearest me was up in a sling. "How are you feeling?"
"It all hurts," she said, not opening her eyes. "Don't call my family. I don't want them to worry."
"Don't you think they've already heard?"
"They're all out of town," she whispered. "And I don't think Val knows I've been in Newark working."
"They would want to know," I said.
"Don't, please," she begged, trying to open her eyes.
"Okay, I won't call them as long as you're stable," I told her. "But if you get worse, I'm calling."
She nodded. "That's okay. How's your dad?"
"He just got out of surgery. He should be okay. And he's definitely going to live, thanks to you going in after him," I said, squeezing her knee gently. I felt a small lump in my throat as I looked at her, seeing her injuries and knowing what she had done in spite of them.
The nurse, who had been lingering, seemed satisfied that I wasn't going to try to hurt Stephanie while she lay vulnerable in the bed and left the room.
"He's a good man," Stephanie said quietly. She kept trying to open her eyes, but the sedative in her system wasn't going to allow it. "I didn't think he knew who I was, that I know you. He just told me when we got out of the building." Her voice broke as she started to cry.
"It's okay," I told her. "You don't need to talk about it right now. Just sleep. I'm right here."
I sat in a chair next to the bed for the next few hours, watching her sleep. She woke up briefly once, but didn't register my presence before she went back to sleep. At a seven forty-five, the same nurse came in to check on Stephanie and see if she needed pain medicine.
"Visiting hours are over in fifteen minutes," she informed me. I nodded and waited to talk to Stephanie until she had left.
"I didn't know you were still here," she said.
"I didn't want you to be alone."
She was able to open her eyes now, which were beginning to have black circles develop around them. Her forearms were scraped and bruised, like she had put them up to protect herself as she fell. She had stitches at her hairline.
"How's your dad?" she asked again.
"He's okay," I told her. "My mother is with him. My sister was here, but she left a little while ago. They don't normally allow people to spend the night, but my mother got permission because she used to work here."
She winced in pain as she shifted in the bed. "You didn't call my family, did you?"
I shook my head. "No."
"Thanks," she said. "Did you know my mother never took a vacation while I was a bounty hunter she was afraid I'd get hurt while she was gone?" She gave a small laugh and winced. "How ironic."
The duffle bag containing my clothes and Stephanie's was next to the chair. I pulled it into my lap and opened it.
"I asked Ella to pack something for you to wear home tomorrow,' I told her, pulling out a black, zippered sweatshirt, black sweatpants and a pair of slip on shoes. I opened up the drawer in the nightstand and put the clothes on top of a plastic bag with her old clothes and her messenger bag. "I'm staying in town overnight so I can take you home whenever you're released."
"You don't need to do that," she said. "I'm fine."
"How do you plan to get home when you can't drive with that arm and your car is part of a crime scene?"
"I could take the train."
"Looking like that? You'd get mugged before you could buy the ticket."
"I don't need your pity," she said, looking down at her injured arm. "I'll be fine."
"This isn't pity," I told her. "This is me worried about you because you could have died today, and you saved my father's life. When I heard you'd been there–," I said, my voice catching as I spoke. "–all I could think about was how if you had died, I would have never had the chance to apologize or say all the things I should have said a long time ago. I know you don't need me to take care of you, but I need to do this for you. Will you let me?"
There were tears in her eyes when she finally looked up at me. "Your father didn't talk much about his family. But I never doubted that he loved you all. That's how you can be a boss and not come off as a heartless dick. You should be more like him."
"Yeah, I should," I agreed. An announcement in the hallway was muffled by the closed door as it stated visiting hours were over.
"I'll be back in the morning," I told her. "Try to get to get some sleep. Stay ahead of the pain."
She nodded. "I will."
My mother had given me her keys and told me to stay at their house for the night. I let myself into the house where I had grown up and locked the door. I was exhausted and had a throbbing headache. I found some ibuprofen in a kitchen cabinet and a beer in the fridge. I laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling, thinking about Stephanie and everything I had learned in the last few hours. I'd always known she was braver than she believed herself to be but walking into a building that was on the verge of collapse with a concussion, broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder to save a man she had only known for a few weeks was a different level. Most people would have laid down and waited for the EMTs and hoped the fire department got there in time. But not her. I also thought about what she had said the first time I'd seen her, about her not thinking he had known her connection to me. He had let her believe he was ignorant to it, just as he hadn't let on to us that she was there. I was interested to find out why he did that. And thanks to Stephanie Plum, I would have the opportunity to find out.
