Recap: Ranger retells the story of book 12, where Steph is kidnapped by Scrogg. Then he comes home and has sex with her on the couch.
Stephanie
My stomach was in knots as the first light of dawn slunk in through the curtains. I'd slept fitfully for hours, nervous about the job we were doing today. Had it only been two weeks since I'd heard about it? I glanced at the calendar on the wall. October 31, 2016. It was only 13 days since Ranger had pinned me to the wall in the alley, and whispered in my ear about protecting the president.
"Babe?" came a soft voice from the bed. "Are you OK?"
"Just a little nervous. Not every day you protect the leader of the free world." I tried to sound lighthearted, but I'm not sure how well I managed it.
"You'll do great. You can shower first, I'll order breakfast."
The day was crisp and clear, with just enough chill in the air that it wouldn't be unpleasant to be in a large crowd of people. We were taking a last look at the security arrangements before people started arriving. Ram was up in the scaffolding tower with his snipers rifle, with the parking area for the presidential limo underneath. A rope line was in front of the stage with a barrier that looked like bicycle racks 20 feet behind it. There were similar barriers all around Eakins Oval, with guards every few feet to make sure no one tried to jump it. I recognized a few of the Rangeman employees, it looked like half the office was here.
On both sides of the oval there were lines of metal detectors. As Ranger had said, it was staffed with off-duty TSA agents. I suppose there's no better group for getting people through security quickly. I just hope they could handle the change of people being able to wear shoes. The lack of foot odor might make them queasy.
"Ready Babe?" Ranger asked as I surveyed the scene.
"Yeah. Though this kevlar is really uncomfortable. How to you stand wearing it all the time?"
I was wearing a flowing cotton shirt that was baggy enough to hide the vest, but it still chafed. Plus I looked 30 pounds heavier.
"You get used to it. Do you have any questions? I'll need to go up to the stage soon." Ranger played lightly with one of my curls while whispering in my ear.
"I'm fine. I'll see you when it's done."
He nodded, pecked me on the top of my head, and was gone.
"Seriously, how does he do that?" a voice said behind me.
"Agent Mankiller!" I said, smiling.
"Just call me Mary today. I'm incognito." She was dressed much like I was. A longsleeve cotton T and a light jacket.
"Any last minute instructions?" I asked, eying the crowd that was starting to form near the metal detectors.
"Yeah, we've moved you to the entrance. Keep an eye on people coming in. You remember what to look for?"
I nodded. "Anyone not excited, or who has a vibe different from the people around them."
"Yup. I'll be around. Good luck."
You might think that watching thousands of people get searched and wanded through security would be boring. You would be right. I watched endless lines of people step through the metal arches. Every few times someone would have something metal on them. A campaign button, a forgotten pocket knife, and occasionally steel-toed boots. Nothing threatening or out of the ordinary. The most exciting thing was a woman standing next to the line with a clipboard, looking for volunteers.
"The second best feeling in the world is when the candidate you love wins," she told the people waiting in line. "The best feeling is knowing you were a part of it. The worst is thinking 'I should have done more'. Avoid Wednesday morning regret, sign up to help Get Out The Vote!"
I couldn't help thinking I'd seen here somewhere before, but I couldn't place her, and after an hour I had her speech memorized and was starting to think I really should sign up for a shift.
My thoughts were interrupted by a loud voice. "Make way for Lula! VIP here!" I grinned and turned to see Lula sashaying through the crowd, wearing a red mini skirt, white tube top, and bright blue hair. She came up to me and enveloped me in a hug.
"Lula! I didn't know you were coming. Are you working?"
"Of course I came. Do you think I was going to miss out on this? Tank got me a ticket. I'm not working, I just came to drink in Mr Tall, Dark, and Presidential."
I grinned at Lula, then went back to scanning the crowd.
"Huh, didn't expect to see her here." Lula said.
"Who?" It seemed like half the city was in line.
"The lady with the clipboard. The one yelling at people."
"You know her? I thought she looked familiar, but I can't place her."
"That's because she's wearing normal clothes instead of lingerie. She was at the club this weekend."
"Are you sure?"
"Tank and I spent half an hour talking to her and her boyfriend. I'm sure."
I looked closer. Holy shit, Lula was right. "Small world" I said, going back to scanning the crowd.
Bobby
The medical tent is generally either really boring or really exciting. You hope for boring. Excitement usually means people getting hurt. At an event like this you usually had nothing worse than heat exhaustion, dehydration, or people that just needed to sit down for a while. With the temperature not expected to get above the low sixties, even that shouldn't be much of a problem.
Lester came in, a spring in his step. He had that excitement he always got before a job, even one that hopefully wouldn't include any action. "Is everything ready here?"
I nodded. "Cots, water, first aid, hospital on alert. There are a couple ambulances standing by if someone faints or something."
"Good, good." Suddenly Lester looked a little nervous. His eyes darted to a corner blocked off by curtains. I got the hint and walked over, settling down on a folding chair. Lester sat on the frame of the cot, his fingers fidgeting. A sure sign he was hiding something. Made him terrible at poker.
Lester jumped right in. "Is Ranger going to be OK? For this job I mean. It's so important, but if he had another attack….."
I considered what I could tell Lester without breaking medical privacy rules, but also to reassure him. I couldn't tell him that Ranger had been taking drugs to suppress his dreams, and that had thrown his psyche off balance. Now that he was off them, he hadn't had an attack. Nor could I tell him that Ranger had seen a therapist. Frankly, there was precious little I could say at all. "He should be fine. He's operated under high-stress situations plenty of times."
"I know," Lester said, hesitancy in his voice. "And yeah, the odds of him getting eaten by a jaguar here are pretty low.."
"What?" I said, confused about what jungle cats had to do with anything.
"Nevermind, just something that happened a long time ago. How sure are you that he'll be OK?"
"He'll be fine. Stop worrying and get to your post." I stood up and went back around the screen, ending the conversation.
Ranger would be fine.
Stephanie
I kept an eye out for the faces I had been studying of the local white supremacist leaders. Would they still show up after we had foiled their meetup last weekend? Or would they just give up and crawl back under the rock they came from?
3 hours into watching hundreds of people enter the energy of the crowd changed. It went from patient but happy to charged. The stage had been empty the whole time aside from random people checking on sound equipment, but now a line of sign-waving supporters climbed onto the bleachers behind the podium. The pace at the metal detectors sped up as people tried to get in before the action started, and the milling bodies in the crowd all turned to the stage, as if a magnet has been placed next to a box of pins.
Ranger
We performed one last check of the security. I ran my hands over my kevlar vest, hidden by my suit. We were all wearing bullet-resistant clothing, even POTUS. There are bullet-resistant clothes that look like regular shirts, and he was an early customer. There had been threats on his life almost constantly for 10 years, but a president can't wear a vest everywhere without looking paranoid, much as we security people might prefer it.
Everyone was in place. One last check of the radios, and we signaled the sound team to start the walk-on music.
Showtime.