Chapter 10
Includes the April writing challenge from JE Fan Fiction FB group: Someday you'll thank me for kidnapping you. Once again, many thanks to midnightandahalf for her beta skills. All mistakes are mine, but the characters are JE's.
My brain is fuzzy and I force myself to remain still as I process what I'm feeling. Sitting in a chair with hands cuffed behind my back. I can feel the weight of shackles around my ankles. Not gagged or blindfolded. Muscles are jumping and twitching. Stun gun.
Think. Last thing I remember, I was at Rangeman. I was on my way out to watch over Steph on her girls night out. I stopped down on 5 to speak to Tank about adding me to the patrol rotation. He asked where I was going and I told him it was none of his concern. He asked if I was going to "spy" on Steph. Watching over Steph and her friends is just keeping them safe, not spying.
So then what? Was the building breached? Did one of my enemies find a way to get to me in my own space? The white noise in my head is quieting and I hear something. Someone. I'm not alone.
I squint against the light as I open my eyes. I'm still in Tank's office. Tank's behind his desk working at his computer like having me cuffed and shackled in his visitor's chair is an everyday thing.
"Don't need to be giving me the Manoso piss-your-pants death glare," Tank says. "I stopped you from doing something stupid. Someday you'll thank me for kidnapping you."
"Don't worry, I'll be expressing my appreciation just as soon as these cuffs come off, asshole."
"How many times do you think she's going to forgive your paranoid, over–protective dickhead moves? You've already pissed her off once today by having someone watching over her. And then you were going to do it again after she point blank told you no shadow tonight."
"And because I'm a paranoid, over-protective dickhead, you were there when she got in trouble." I don't even try to keep the smug tone out of my voice.
"But she still found trouble, didn't she," Tank replies, as if I've just proved his point.
I'm really looking forward to the beat down I'm going to give him when I get loose.
"Look, Rangeman, we all know Steph has a gift for getting herself into tight spots. I heard what she said to you. She's taking her safety seriously for a change. Maybe it's time you do the same."
What the fuck is he talking about?
"Explain."
"How long have you been playing hero to her damsel in distress? How many bridges do you need to jump from or bullets do you need to take before you figure out that, with some real training, that woman would be a force to be reckoned with. But no. You like being her Batman; her dark knight. What the fuck happens when her luck runs out and you get there too late? You'll end up eating your gun or taking every suicide mission Uncle Sam has to offer. And then I've lost you both."
Son of a bitch. "You're in love with her," I say.
"No, you dumb ass. I love her. Just like almost every man here. That little white girl has a way of worming into the hardest heart, even a black heart like yours. And I'm sick and fucking tired of watching you play with hers. Piss or get off the pot, Carlos."
And there's the rub.
"Not that it is any of your fucking business, Pierre, but I came to the same conclusion last night."
"Meaning?" Tank asks.
"Meaning, still none of your fucking business." What the hell has gotten into him?
Then, he sighs. All 6'5", 350 lbs of the man seem to deflate with an exhale of disappointment aimed directly at me.
"We've been through more cesspools, sewers, and shitholes together than I can count. We've seen and done things no human being should ever have to experience. We've saved each other's asses on more than one occasion. Hell, we've shared wine, women, and song. So why, in the name of all things holy, do you find it so difficult to answer a simple question about Steph?"
"Are you seriously asking what my intentions are towards her?" I ask, incredulous.
"Yes. Because if this is just a pissing contest between you and the cop, there is going to be a line of black out the door waiting to pummel your ass and then be there to console her when she realizes what a heartless bastard you really are."
"And you'd be first in that line." He drops his blank face in place and I have my answer.
Our stare down is interrupted by a sharp rap on the door.
"Enter," Tank bellows. Whoever it is probably just shit in his pants.
I tense as the door behind me opens. Logically, I know it's a secure building, but one of the reasons I'm still alive is because I keep my back against the wall. A throat clearing. Nervous tell. Probably one of the newer guys. I inhale slowly through my nose. Good, at least he didn't shit himself.
Tank glares over my shoulder. "Is this a social call, Kirkpatrick?"
The throat clears again. "No, sir. Unit 5 just requested emergency services be dispatched to their location, sir. They requested an ambulance and a wrecker."
The cuffs are off before Kirkpatrick finishes and I resist the urge to launch myself at my second in command as he removes the shackles. "We'll finish this later," I tell him.
"Understood," he replies.
"Who and where?" I ask Kirkpatrick as I move to the side of Tank's desk where my equipment is laid out. Two guns and a knife. Some things never change.
"Santos and Ramsey, sir. Hamilton Township. They reported brake failure just prior to the crash."