I raced into the Rangeman garage in my Jeep, coming to a screeching stop in my assigned parking spot. My phone hadn't stopped vibrating the entire drive, but I'd refused to answer, choosing to ignore Joe's calls. I fled the vehicle and ran to the elevator in tears, frantically pushing the 'up' button until the doors opened. The elevator ride seemed to take an eternity as I nervously paced and ran my fingers through my hair. The doors opened, and I fobbed my way into Ranger's apartment.
I ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. I still looked light fright-night, but now I had huge black mascara streaks running down my cheeks. Blood still streaked my neck, chest, and jeans, and the bruise was darker. I stared at myself, hating the woman I was seeing in the mirror while my inner dialogue ran wild.
Stephanie, Stephanie, Stephanie. You ungrateful slut. You don't deserve Ranger. You screw everything up. He's been gone for a few hours to care for his mother, and you're off messing around with Morelli. You are a chronic fuck-up. You couldn't see a good thing if it slapped you upside the face….
Without warning, the bathroom door slammed open, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Tank stood in the doorway in Rangeman fatigues, looking worried with sweat beading on his forehead.
"Bomber, you okay?" he asked, giving me a once-over from head to toe.
"What?" I asked, too stunned to form coherent thoughts. "What are you…?"
"Christ, Stephanie. You drove in like a bat out of hell, you're injured and bloody, and you're shirtless."
I realized he was right, so I crossed my arms in front of my chest in a futile attempt to cover up.
"I was in the control room and saw you on the cameras. What the fuck is going on?"
With that, I burst into sobs.
Looking visibly uncomfortable, Tank pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed something into it. Then he lifted me like a rag doll and carried me into the living room, where he laid me out on the couch.
"I'm fine," I sobbed. "I swear. Please… just go. I'm fine. I'm sorry," I said between gasps.
"I can't do that. Ranger would have my nuts."
I heard two fast raps on the door, and Tank let the visitor in.
"Shit, Chica," said Ximena, staring down at me over the back of the couch.
"I'm fine, really," I begged. "Adrenaline let-down. My face is already fixed. I just need a shower."
"Let me be the judge of that," Ximena said, circling to my side. She was dressed in a black blazer, a soft pink sheath dress, and black peep-toe pumps. "We're good here, Tank. I'll call if she needs anything."
Tank still looked worried, but he gave a single nod and left, the door clicking closed behind him.
Ximena kicked off her shoes and disappeared, then reappeared with a bag of ice and a wet cloth. She sat me up, placing the cool cloth on the back of my neck. Then she put the bag of ice in my hand, holding it to my bruised face.
"Hold that there," she instructed, dropping her backpack on the floor. "Are you bleeding from anywhere besides your face?" she asked.
I shook my head no. "It's already fixed," I explained as she poked around at the gash.
"It will suffice," said Ximena. "But dude, seriously. What the fuck is going on?"
I felt my bottom lip tremble, but I took a breath and steadied myself.
"A skip hit me a couple times with his cane," I said as explanation. "Take-down gone wrong."
Ximena pursed her lips. "Chica, I know about you. Your take-downs always go awry. Don't tell me that's what got you all worked up, because I wouldn't believe you."
I sighed. "I'm a mess. I screw everything up. Lester couldn't go. You couldn't either. Ranger told me to take Morelli in a pinch…. So I did."
"Did he hurt you?" she asked.
I shook my head no, wiping tears away.
"Force you?" she asked, her voice strained.
I shook my head no again.
"Thank god. I don't know anything besides he's your ex. I didn't know."
A pregnant silence sat between us. Ximena seemed to want more information, but I wasn't in the mood to share more.
"Let's get you cleaned up," said Ximena, dragging me toward the bathroom.
She turned on the hot water and set out a soft white towel.
"Take your time, but don't get your cut wet" she instructed. "I'll be here when you're done." Then she pulled the door shut.
I shed my clothes and climbed into the shower, letting the hot water wash away traces of my day. I lathered in Ranger's Bulgari green shower gel, causing a new round of tears as the scent I associated with him filled my senses. I washed my hair, taking time to let the conditioner set while I let out the last of the emotions that filled me.
I towel dried my body and hair, then wrapped myself tightly in the towel. I opened the bathroom door, and Ximena came in.
"Do you feel better?" she asked, checking me over.
I nodded.
"Good. You certainly look better. Sit," she said, flipping down the toilet seat and gesturing toward it.
I obeyed, holding the ice bag to my face again. Ximena began gently combing out my hair. Once she was done, she smoothed product into it and worked at it with the blow dryer. When she was satisfied it was dry, she ushered me into the closet.
"Dress," she said, closing the door for privacy.
I pulled on underwear, a pair of blue floral-patterned leggings, and a navy sports bra. I stared at Ranger's clothes for a long time before snagging one of his black t-shirts, tugging it over my head.
I shuffled out of the closet and into the main living space. Ximena was sitting on the couch with a giant bag of McDonalds, shoving fries into her mouth unceremoniously.
"Burger or chicken sandwich?" she asked, gesturing to the couch.
I collapsed into the seat, wrapping myself in a throw blanket. "Burger. Thanks."
We ate in companionable silence, then sat in silence some more. I laid my head back and studied the ceiling.
"It's none of my business, but did you sleep with him?" Ximena asked.
"No," I sighed. "Thank god. But he kissed me."
"And?" asked Ximena.
"I kissed him back," I admitted, feeling guilty to my core.
"Are you going to tell Ranger?"
"Don't I have to?" I asked rhetorically.
"No," she answered.
"What?" I asked in surprise.
"You don't have to tell him," said Ximena, scooting over so we were hip to hip and wiggling under the throw blanket. She assumed the same position I was in, laying her head back on the couch. "You feel like shit about this, right?"
"Of course. I feel horrible."
"Good," said Ximena. "Now channel that energy into making sure it doesn't happen again."
"He deserves to know," I responded grimly.
"He's a smart guy," Ximena said. "He'll probably figure it out. But he's not going to walk away from you. I didn't know it was possible for Carlos to be so attached to someone. Like it or not, that someone is you."
I swallowed hard.
"Instead of channeling your energy into this unhealthy pity-party bullshit, you need to use it to strengthen your resolve to stay faithful to Carlos."
Her phone chirped, and she sat up to check the readout. She typed something into the phone, then put it back in her pocket.
"Tank is worried about you," she said, "but I reassured him you're fine. I guess your shirtless entry caused quite the stir in the control room." She broke out in a smile from ear to ear. "You're quite an enigma here."
"Nobody has said anything to Ranger, have they?" I asked sheepishly.
"I doubt it. He's in the wind."
Ximena glanced at her smart watch.
"I've got a few things I need to do to get ready for tomorrow. Are you good if I scoot?"
"Sure," I said, glancing at the clock. "I'm exhausted anyway. I'm going to head to bed."
She wrapped her arms around me in a bear hug, then headed for the door.
"Thanks, Ximena."
"Anytime, Chica. Make sure you let Carlos know you're in safely for the night."
Ximena left, and I did as I was told. I texted Ranger that I was home, told him I loved him, and that I was going to bed. Then I collapsed into bed for a dreamless sleep.
I stirred in total darkness snuggled into Ranger's bed—now my bed too—unsure why I was awake. It definitely wasn't time to get up. The bedside clock read 4:15 AM. Something felt off, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was. I knew I was safe in the apartment. It was as secure as the Pentagon.
After a time, it occurred to me that I was snuggled into a warm body—one that hadn't been there when I climbed into bed. I recognized the body's energy. It was Ranger. I turned into his chest, and he stirred.
"Babe," he breathed, pulling me into him.
"What are you doing here?" I whispered to Ranger.
"Couldn't sleep," he mumbled almost incoherently.
I lay quietly in the safety of his embrace, and his breathing evened as he fell back asleep. Despite my attempts, I couldn't fall asleep again. Instead, I let my mind wander with thoughts of Ranger and what our future could look like now that we had formalized our relationship… now that we cohabitated.
Was I capable of a monogamous, committed, serious relationship? Surely I could do it. I'd given it a futile attempt with Dickie, but he had screwed that up—not me.
I had seen lots of relationships work. My parents had done it. So had my grandma and grandpa. Ranger had seen lasting relationships too. His parents had a happy marriage. I didn't used to think Ranger was programmed for serious, long term relationships, but now he was willing. I was genetically programmed for it, and so was he. He wanted it, and he wasn't afraid. So why was I so afraid?
As a child, I'd jumped off the garage roof thinking I could fly. As an adult, I ran blindly into chaos to bring bad men back into the court system. Fire bombs got shot into my apartment, and my cars got blown up. And somehow, I'd become addicted to living fast and the adrenaline that came with the lifestyle.
With Joe, I'd feared having my wings clipped. His vision of a future with me included me taking a desk job or staying home. It involved making dinner and having children. He didn't like my fast and chaotic lifestyle. Sure, he had cared about my safety and welfare, but he was willing to sacrifice my happiness to ensure my safety. He wasn't above cuffing me to the water heater to keep me out of trouble.
Ranger was different. He not only supported my chaotic life—he enabled it. He cared about my safety, but he ran into chaos to protect me instead of keeping me home. Sure, sometimes his protection seemed suffocating, but his intentions were always honorable. When I blew up cars, he replaced them. When I got injured, he put me on Rangeman's health insurance. When I was pursuing dangerous men, he made sure I had bullets in my gun. When psychos stalked me, he had his men follow me to protect me 24/7. He did these things without the promise of a relationship or financial gain. He never asked to conform or created any expectations. He did these things because he cared for me.
So what was it about Ranger that made me uncomfortable? It occurred to me that our uneven finances bothered me—a lot. He bled money to protect me. Plus, Ranger lived a lavish lifestyle I could never replicate on my own. Frankly, I feared getting too comfortable in his apartment with designer furnishings with a cook slash housekeeper. I feared I'd come to expect to drive fast, black cars and own designer clothing. I feared I was taking advantage of his kindness and generous spirit, and that made me extraordinarily uncomfortable.
Were finances really my hang up? The answer was a resounding 'yes.'
My mind raced back to a conversation Ranger and I had in Atlanta.
I want you to let me take care of you, he had said. I know you're an independent woman I'm not trying to take that away from you... But when I want to help you, please let me. Don't question my motives.
At the time, I had begrudgingly agreed, but I had failed to truly internalize what that future would look like. With Morelli, finances were never discussed. We both scraped by. Sure, he had steadier finances than I did, but by no means was he wealthy. We'd both grown up in modest homes and had shared expectations about what life would look like. Never had I imagined a future living in a penthouse apartment with a boyfriend who drove fancy cars, looked like a Latino GI Joe doll, and loved me for being my crazy self. Could I…. would I… be okay living this near fantasy life?
I'd be an idiot to say anything but yes. I was head-over-heels in love with Ranger, and my future with him would be most girls' dream. So why was I so inclined to self-sabotage?
Grow the fuck up, Stephanie, I told myself. It's time to move forward with your life and quit questioning what you deserve. Everyone deserves to be happy, including you.
Ranger stirred, his silent alarm vibrating on his smart watch. He soundlessly rolled out of bed and crossed to the bathroom, closing the door without a sound so as not to disturb me. I had no idea when he'd come in during the night, but there was no way he'd had enough sleep for a normal human to function.
I rolled out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen, where I brewed a pot of coffee. While I waited for it to brew, I checked my phone. I'd had 15 missed calls, plus a variety of texts from Joe apologizing and asking me to call him. I'd also received a few missed calls from Ranger after I'd gone to sleep, which were followed by a text at 1:16 am letting me know he was coming home to sleep and not to accidentally shoot him when he entered the apartment.
Rex was asleep in his soup can, but I freshened his water while I waited. Stephanie Plum: Responsible hamster parent.
I poured Ranger a mug of coffee and took it into the bathroom, where I found him shaving with a towel wrapped around his waist.
"Morning, handsome," I greeted.
"Babe, you're up early," said Ranger, focusing in the mirror.
"Couldn't sleep, so I may as well get my day started."
Ranger rinsed his razor then glanced to me. He took a moment to study me, and his face fell.
"What happened to you?" he asked, making no effort to disguise his unhappiness.
I'd forgotten about my face. I looked at myself in the mirror, seeing the bruise had bloomed all along the side of my face and my cheek was puffy where the steri-strips held my gash together.
"It looks worse than it is," I explained, touching the injury. "Leo Zacharias's HurryCane is a dangerous weapon."
The muscles in Ranger's neck tightened, but his face was devoid of expression. He was trying to contain his emotions.
"I'll have to take Lester to the mats," he said, his voice flat.
"It's not Lester's fault. He wasn't even there. I had Morelli with me."
Ranger could no longer contain his emotions. His eyes burned with fire.
"He let this happen?"
"No," I said, realizing I was making this worse, not better. "He rode along with me, but he wasn't with me when I approached Leo."
"Where was Lester?" said Ranger, the muscles on his neck popping out.
"Uh…. Date?" I said, worrying I was throwing him under the bus.
Ranger ran a white cloth under the hot water and washed the remaining bits of shaving cream from his face. By the time he had finished, his demeanor was calm and in control again. He hung the cloth on the towel rack, dried his hands, and extended his arms to me.
I went to him, sinking into his strong embrace. He smelled of shaving cream and perspiration, and his freshly-shaven face was soft against my skin. After a time, he pulled away and studied my face, gently tracing his finger along my injured cheek.
"I'm sorry this happened to you," he said softly.
"I'm okay. Really," I insisted.
He tipped my face up to his, and his warm, brown eyes studied mine. His lips softly connected with mine, his kiss tender. I felt my body respond, fire curling through my belly. His kiss was filled with unspoken care and longing as he pulled me into him.
His lips traveled to my neck, and he gently suckled at my skin, sending shivers down my spine.
"I couldn't sleep without you in Newark," he whispered. "And I love when you wear my shirts."
He pulled the t-shirt over my head and tossed it on the floor. He placed his hands over my sports bra-clad breasts, backing me into the bathroom wall. He leaned his body into mine, and I felt his desire pressing into my stomach. He buried his nose in my hair and inhaled.
"God, Steph, you're like a drug. I can't get enough of you."
His words set me on fire, making the throbbing between my legs nearly unbearable. I pulled the towel from his waist, leaving Ranger standing naked before me.
"I love you," I said as I stared into his gorgeous brown eyes. His lips connected with mine once more, and I placed my palms over his firm backside, pulling him into me tighter. I shifted to turn our bodies so Ranger's back was against the wall, then broke from our kiss to fall to my knees in front of him. I searched his face for approval, receiving it without question.
"Babe," he moaned as I took him in my mouth, his eyes closing as pleasure chased away all rational thoughts.
While Ranger showered, I set out an assortment of items in the kitchen for breakfast—bagels, cream cheese, a packet of smoked salmon, yogurt, and fresh fruit.
When he emerged from the bedroom, he was drop-dead gorgeous in a tight black t-shirt, worn designer blue jeans, and black biker boots. My heart stuttered around in my chest just looking at him.
"When do you need to be back in Newark?" I asked.
"Mamí's surgery is scheduled for 1 PM, so I should be out of Trenton by 10 AM," he responded, cutting a bagel in half and inserting the halves in the toaster.
"How is she holding up?" I asked. "Is there anything I can do?"
"She's a fighter," said Ranger, "but she's tired. I had hoped she could beat this without such extreme measures, but hopefully this will be the end of it. There is nothing to do but pray and wait."
I nodded my understanding, feeling sad.
"What hazards do you have planned for today?" asked Ranger, changing the subject.
"Personal training," I cringed. "Trying to find Dickie Orr. It should be fairly uneventful besides those things."
Ranger sipped his coffee thoughtfully. "Consider handing off Mr. Orr," Ranger said.
"I've barely started looking for him," I replied.
"Chances are good he got involved with some bad people, and that's why he disappeared," said Ranger. "It's a low bond. If nothing else, we can write it off as a bad bond and move on."
"Is that an order or a suggestion?" I asked.
"Suggestion," he said, smearing cream cheese on his bagel. "Just be careful if you pursue it."
I nibbled at a grape. "Deal."
"We have a staff meeting this morning," Ranger announced. "Eight o'clock. Can you make it?"
"Sure."
"Great," replied Ranger. "We'll get the formal introductions out of the way.
"I'm pretty sure everybody already knows about me," I joked.
"Babe."
I'd never attended a Rangeman staff meeting before, so I stood in the closet wrapped in my towel surveying my wardrobe options. If it was a meeting, it seemed like I should wear professional clothing, right? I selected a classic grey pencil skirt with a slightly suggestive slit in the back, pairing it with a silky blue sleeveless blouse with a plunging neckline and a black blazer. I dressed and slid into a pair of black stiletto heels. I checked out my reflection in the mirror. Despite my face looking a mess, I was having an excellent hair day after Ximena's efforts last night, and even I had to admit I looked pretty good. I used foundation to tone down my bruising, then I added mascara and lip gloss to complete the look.
"Sexy," I heard from the doorway.
"Thanks," I responded, blushing.
"I have some things to do in my office downstairs," Ranger said, standing behind me with his arms around my waist. I stared at our reflection together and had to smile. GI Joe meets Calamity Jane. "I'll pick you up at 7:55 AM. Your office or here?"
"Office," I said, unable to wipe the goofy smile off my face.
He grabbed my ass, giving it a firm squeeze and gave me a playful nip on the neck. "See you soon."
I turned my face over my shoulder, and he kissed me with a lot of tongue before exiting the closet.