As always, not mine. Some of you may recognize the comment below that originated from a post in the Janet Evanovich Fan Fiction FB group. Thanks for the inspiration, Babes!
Many thanks to midnightandahalf for her insight, editing skills, and reassurance when I'm questioning myself.
Chapter 9
"So, what's a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?" Steph asks as we walk toward her Rangeman SUV. Her question may be an old joke, but I can see she isn't amused.
"Rangeman provides security to the pawn shop. Manny and I were responding to the silent alarm."
"And him?" she asks, nodding over to Tank who is putting her FTA in the back of her vehicle. Shit, I should have known she wouldn't let it go at that.
"Tank was already on site and let us know you were inside."
"And why was Tank already on site?" Eyes narrowing, mouth tightening. Yep, she's getting pissed.
"Because Al determined the vehicle that burned yesterday had most likely been sabotaged and I wanted someone watching over you to keep you safe."
"Dammit, Ranger! Why didn't you just tell me instead of assigning me my own personal stalker?"
Because I take care of what's mine is not the answer she wants to hear. That I don't trust she will be able to take care of herself after all the times she's needed to be rescued isn't going to fly either. I see Morelli standing across the street watching us.
"We'll talk about this tonight at dinner," I say, wanting some privacy for this conversation.
"No, we won't, since I'm not having dinner with you tonight," she says.
From the grin on his face, I know the cop heard her. Frustration with more than a touch of irritation shoots through me. Twelve hours in and she's ready to bolt. I should have known she would bail at the first hint of conflict.
"I already had plans before you left the engraved invitation propped up on my coffee maker. Girls night with Lula and Connie." She pokes me in the chest with her finger. "Did you get that? Girls night. No Tank. No Ranger. No Lester in drag."
There's an image I could have done without.
"I need to know you're safe, Babe. Someone tampered with your car."
"No, someone messed with the Rangeman car I was driving. Maybe I was just unlucky enough to be the one using the car that had been sabotaged."
"I said the same thing," Tank pipes in.
The adrenaline is burning off and my fatigue is even more pronounced now. I fight to keep my blank face in place and not roll my eyes at him.
"I'll be fine. I have my gun, and yes, it's loaded. I'm guessing there is at least one tracking device in my bag and I'll put a panic button in my pants pocket." She moves into my personal space and lays her hand on my chest. "Stop with the bodyguard thing unless we determine I really am the target. And if I am, promise me you'll involve me in your plans. No more making decisions for me. Make them with me."
I'm not making a promise I might not be able to keep.
"Do you need help this afternoon?" I ask instead.
"No, I'm going to take Stewart to the station to get rebonded and then I'm calling it a day. I'm going to try to get in a nap before I meet the girls. I don't know how you do it, Batman."
Little does she know how low my ass is dragging. I'm not going to disillusion her by enlightening her, either.
Tank is beside me as she drives off. We both glance at the street. No evidence of fluid leak where her SUV was parked.
"What do you want to bet Lula talks her into pushing the panic button for a ride so she doesn't have to spring for an Uber?" Tank asks.
"That's a fool's bet," I reply as Tank walks back to his SUV.
The afternoon is almost gone by the time we make it to the police station to pick up the police report I need to finish my recap on our client's break-in. It should have been a quick in and out, but now the cop is standing in front of me. Aggressive posture, fists clenched, blocking my path. The noise level in the room drops as people stop to listen.
"You and Steph seem to be gettin' real cozy," he says.
Not a question so no response is needed. Plus it will piss him off.
"We'll be back together before you know it. We always get back together," he adds.
I guess I know something he doesn't.
"Not according to Steph. You had your shot." And blew it, asshole.
"And you think you have a shot?" he scoffs.
"You're the one who wished me luck, Morelli," I remind him.
"Fuck you, Manoso. You could never be lucky enough to get, let alone keep, a girl like her."
"Luck has nothing to do with it. A woman like Stephanie knows what she wants. Sometimes it's better to be good than lucky."
Morelli snorts. "You think you're good enough for her?"
"No," I reply honestly. "But she does."