Chapter 26

As I paced back and forth in front of the fireplace I gnawed my bottom lip and worried that if I kept at it much longer I'd have to buy Ranger a new rug. Never mind, it would serve him right if I ruined his rug. Wow. My sudden fit of animosity caught me off guard, but only for a minute. My mind raced, where the hell was he anyway? I'd already taken a shower, trying to wash away the smoky remains of a truly disastrous evening. After the shower I'd slipped on one of his t-shirts to try and give myself some measure of comfort, but it wasn't enough. I didn't want his t-shirt, I wanted him damn it. I knew I was being irrational, bitchy even but my other option was to focus on the terror I felt. Being a bitch was soooo much easier.

I'd savagely attacked the remaining truffles, hoping they'd comfort me. When that didn't work I ate everything in the kitchen that contained processed sugar or trans fats. But by now I'd more than worked off the calories with my nervous pacing. I looked at the clock and wondered for the hundredth time, where was he? I could feel my anxiety creeping up like a bad case of indigestion.

A serious sense of déjà vu crept in. It was all too familiar, the waiting, the wondering, and imagining the worst. I spent a great deal of the first half of my marriage in this very state. Waiting and wondering where he was and who he was with while I sat home alone. Embarrassed over my past mistakes I blew out a breath I didn't know I was holding and pushed my hair out of my face. I was an idiot once and I didn't feel like a repeat performance.

I stormed into the bedroom and went immediately to the closet. Spying my empty suitcase tucked away in the back corner, I drug it to the center of the floor and unceremoniously began filling it with my things, clothes, shoes, lingerie. Jesus, who the hell packed all of this stuff? It seemed like half my wardrobe was here. We'll that's too bad. I'd have to get it later. I threw myself on top of my overflowing suitcase and managed to get it partially zipped. Clothing oozed out the sides and pockets, but it was as good as I could manage in my agitated state.

With a huff I stormed out of the closet pulling the ridiculously heavy bag behind me. In the back of my mind I saw an image of myself as a small child dragging an overly full backpack down the sidewalk as I ran away from home. I shook my head to clear it. That was totally different. I was an adult and I wasn't running away, I was simply removing myself from a situation. Yeah, it was totally different.

My bulging suitcase was poorly balanced and it tipped over as I tried to move too quickly around the corner leaving the bedroom. I righted it and made my way down the hallway. As I made the turn into the living room the damn thing fell over again. Swearing under my breath, I righted it once more and picked up the various things that had fallen out and shoved them back into the already stuffed pockets. Turning to make my exit I stopped short.

The looming dark figure in front of me caused me to let out a startled shriek, followed by a curse, "Damn it! Don't do that!"

All I got in return was a raised eyebrow. I tried to ignore how yummy he looked all disheveled in his tux. He had fine lines around his eyes, he looked tired. I guess she must have worn him out, I thought nastily.

"Don't sneak up on people! It's rude and annoying!" I just stood there, completely indignant.

He looked behind me to my suitcase, "Going somewhere?" He looked slightly amused as he took in my crappy packing job and my state of undress. It just pissed me off.

"Yes, I'm moving into one of the apartments down on four. Ella mentioned earlier that there was one open." I replied coolly. In fact, until the words came out of my mouth I'd given absolutely no thought to where I was going or that I was hiding out from not one, but two lunatics, so it wasn't like anyone was going to let me waltz out the front door. Much less that all I was wearing was a skimpy pair of panties and oversized black t-shirt.

His face went from amused to totally blank. "So you thought you'd move out?" His voice was flat and had an edge to it at the same time.

I suppressed a shiver at his tone and leveled my chin, "Yes."

His face got harder, "Were you planning on telling me or were you just going to sneak off?"

Refusing to back down I grit out my answer through clenched teeth, "Well I would have told you, but you weren't here."

He stepped closer to me, but instinctively I stepped back. His jaw was set, "No, I was with the State Police, Trenton's finest and your husband." I winced involuntarily when he mentioned Dickie, nothing like pouring salt in the wound.

And her, I wanted to add but thought better of it. I just turned and grabbed the handle of my suitcase and turned to leave. Of course I didn't get too far with 200 lbs of Cuban blocking my path.

"Can you move please?" I asked as politely as I could tolerate.

"No."

My voice rose, "No?"

His was quiet and even, "No."

I tried to keep from shrieking, but was only mildly successful, "Why?"

"Why?" He asked much more reasonably than I did.

I was too tired for this shit, I was beginning to feel like I was in the middle of a very unfunny Abbott and Costello bit. Exasperated I tried again, "That's what I asked."

"No, I want to know why you're leaving. I want to know what the hell is going on. I came home after extracting myself from that ridiculous circle jerk and find you with your suitcase packed and it looks like you ate everything remotely bad for you in the kitchen." I just glared at him. He obviously doesn't understand the need for comfort food or he would have had more than fat free yogurt in his freezer.

He ignored my disgusted look and barreled on, "I expected to find you in bed. I thought I'd be able to pull you into my arms and reassure myself that you were really alright." As he spoke, both his voice and face softened. He took a step towards me.

I melted a little, he seemed so sincere. But Dickie always sounded sincere too, the little devil on my shoulder whispered. I was about to tell her to shut the hell up when Ranger brought his hand up to pull me to him and I caught a whiff of her perfume that still lingered on him. I pulled back, "Well you may have wanted to shower first." I know I sounded bitter, but I didn't care.

Hurt flashed across his face as I pulled away from him, then confusion as he puzzled over what I said. Then he sniffed his lapel. Instantly he pinned me with his gaze and it wasn't a happy one, or a sexy one, it was actually pretty damn scary.

He stepped towards me again and I forced myself not to flinch. He ground out, "I'm not him, them. I'm not like any other man you've been with. Goddammit Steph, what do I have to do to make you understand that?!" He looked like he was going to grab me, and from the looks of it to shake some sense into me. Instead he turned on his heel and stalked into the living room. He moved swiftly to the bar and poured himself a drink and downed it in one gulp. He immediately poured himself another, but instead of drinking it he slammed it back down and started pacing the same path I'd worn into the carpet earlier.

He was muttering to himself in Spanish, but it was so low I couldn't make out any words, which was probably for the best. The image of him pacing and swearing reminded me of the many episodes of I Love Lucy I watched as a child. He looked like poor Ricky as he found out about another one of Lucy's schemes. I kept my thoughts to myself as I didn't think he would see the humor in the comparison, not to mention what it said comparatively about my behavior.

He whirled around abruptly and finally addressed me, "Is that honestly what you think? You think that after witnessing yet another attempt on your life, one that I failed to protect you from yet again, that I would go off and fuck some woman?" He looked incredulous.

Before I could sensor it, my mouth answered, "Not some woman. Her."

He looked confused at first, but then he connected the dots. "Jeanne Ellen?!" He looked like I told him I thought he was sleeping with Miss Piggy. It only served to inflame my temper.

"Yes. Jeanne Ellen. I saw you two tonight…" I swallowed the rest of the sentiment, embarrassed at my jealousy.

"You saw what?" When I didn't answer he continued, "You saw us dance? Talk? Have dinner?" I don't think he noticed his voice was rising.

"Let me tell you what I saw tonight. I watched you in the arms of your husband, working the room perfectly. I saw you dance with the first man you were ever with, a man you share a history with. I watched as a Greek gun runner had his hands all over you." He moved back to the bar and took a long drink.

"And you know what? It killed me. And there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. I felt completely impotent. In fact if I hadn't been so completely preoccupied with wanting to kill each and every one of them you wouldn't have had such a close call."

I immediately jumped in, "You can't blame yourself for that. It's ridiculous. Some nut job is responsible, not you."

"I wasn't doing my job. I let my emotions get in the way and you nearly paid the price." He berated himself.

Just to keep things interesting my mood decided to swing in the completely opposite direction as I tried not to screech at him, "So what are you saying? You're done? You're out? It's over?"

He refused to engage with my volatility, his voice even and rational, "You're the one who packed a bag. Looks like you were going to jump ship first." He motioned to my ridiculous luggage.

Before I could come up with an indignant retort he continued. "What made you think I was with Jeanne Ellen?" He arched one eyebrow in question.

By now I had lost my head of steam but still felt petulant but I answered him, "I heard you, right before I blacked out you called her name." I had to turn away from him, I was embarrassed. My voice was softer as I continued, "And I heard her."

He took the few steps to close the distance between us and turned me to face him, figuring that it was safe now and Mount Saint Stephanie was not about to blow. He tipped my chin up as he looked me in the eyes, "You heard her what?"

My eyes darted all around the room feeling his hot gaze on me. I hemmed and hawed then let out in a rush, "When I was in the bathroom, she was talking to Joyce Barnhardt about her night, how…how hot it was going to be. She told her she couldn't even imagine, but I could." By now I was very studiously studying my pedicure and my voice choked out around the sob I could feel forming in my throat. "I didn't have to imagine, I knew. I knew what it was like to be with you."

I finally swallowed hard and chanced a look at his face. The first thing I registered was that he looked shocked and then he started laughing, a full on laugh, tears in the corner of his eyes. Here I was about to break down in tears and he was laughing? I felt myself rev up for rhino mode and I took a few steps back..

He wiped his eyes, the hint of laughter still edging his voice, "You must have misunderstood her." I shook my head no. He insisted, "You had to have." Still on edge with his humor at the situation, I just gave him a pissy face. He tried to look more subdued, "Did she mention me by name?"

I shook my head yet again, "Well no, but she said she was just there tonight because she was doing someone a favor." I stated what I overheard from my bathroom stall, "Obviously that was you." Duh.

He stepped closer again, his voice sincere with no hint of laughter. "No it wasn't me. It was the head of security at the hotel. I was scrambling for someone I could take tonight, someone who knew what they were doing, that I didn't have to treat like a date." His eyes were pleading with me to believe him, "I've only met Jeanne Ellen twice on jobs and it didn't go much past a simple introduction. But she's good friends with the head of security at the hotel."

I was still doubtful, "Well just because you didn't think it was a date, doesn't mean she knew that. I heard her! She was practically purring while she talked about what she had planned for the night with you." I rolled my eyes for emphasis.

He shook his head again, insistent, "She wasn't talking about me."

Ever the skeptic, I tried and failed to raise a single eyebrow as I asked, "How do you know?"

At that he had the hint of a smile playing on his lips, "Because I'm not her type."

At that I scoffed, "Ha! You're every woman's type. There isn't a woman on earth who would kick you out of bed for eating crackers." Who did he think he was kidding?

For the first time since he'd returned he reached out for me, taking each of my hands in his and brought each to his lips for a soft kiss. He made sure I held his eyes as he answered, "Trust me, I'm not her type. You're more her type."

It took nearly a full minute for me to process what he said. My eyes flew open wide. The thought had never occured to me. "What? Then what the hell was she talking about? Who was she talking about?"

He shrugged and answered, "It's none of my business but I assume she was talking about Jackie, the head of security at the Hyatt."

"Huh." Was all I could say.

While I was puzzling over this new bit of information he turned and disappeared into the bedroom. Soon I heard the shower start.

I collapsed on the couch. I'd made such an ass of myself, accusing him like I did. I was angry at myself for letting the scars from Dickie continue to interfere in my life. I looked at my ridiculous suitcase and sighed. Good thing I had my stuff packed. I was pretty sure when he came out of the shower he was going to kick me out and I wouldn't blame him.