A/N: Over 100 reviews with only 6 chapters! Thanks for the overwhelming support. :) I'm glad you're all enjoying the story. I think I will start posting Tuesday evenings instead of Wednesday morning.
Fun fact: I was looking up how to spell Juniak, and it turns out there's actually a Joe Juniak who was the police director for the Trenton PD. Isn't that funny? Also FYI, I am no FBI expert, but I love the TV shows Bones and Criminal Minds, so I'm just using my imagination and the internet. Anyways, here's the next chapter-it's a longer one. Enjoy!
Waste a Moment by Kings of Leon
"She's a little burner, burner, gonna throw you to the flame
Little ticking time bomb, time bomb, gonna blow us all away
Oh, take the time to waste a moment
Oh, never ask to be forgiven"
Defining Moments
Chapter 7: Revelations
Steph's POV
The car ride to Newark is uninteresting, and the traffic is awful. Quinn is mostly silent, and I'm getting bored. I've never done well with long, silent car rides.
"Sooo Quinn, tell me about yourself," I say once we've gotten thirty minutes into the ride. He glances over at me before returning his eyes to the road. His profile is nice, his nose fits his face and his jaw is strong. He doesn't seem to have a driving mode like Ranger, but he's not agitated like Morelli in traffic.
"I'm a city boy born and raised," he starts looking over with a boyish grin, "I lived in New York city most my life." I can't help but laugh. I mean I could definitely tell with his accent. I'm just surprised that he seems so genuinely happy about it and unafraid to share with me.
"My dad was an agent, and I just followed in his footsteps. My ma wasn't too happy, but she never said anything against it," he explains more, "now she wants me to find a nice girl and settle down, but it's hard with my line of work."
I'm struck by how odd it feels to have someone being open and honest with me. Ranger barely said more than a word to me, and Morelli always told me he was busy or just couldn't talk because of police business.
"I guess being an agent was always in my blood. I studied Criminal Justice at Rutgers. My little sister Tess is in Japan now, teaching English as a second language. My dad died the first year I joined the bureau. He had a heart condition that they didn't catch in time. I'm working on just being the best agent I can and trying to make him proud." He goes silent, and I'm sure he's reminiscing about his father. It must be hard for him. I can't imagine how I would feel if my dad died.
"I'm sorry for your loss. I'm sure he's very proud of what you've done," I say, putting a hand on his arm for comfort. He gives me a small smile.
"And what about you Stephanie Plum or should I call you Bombshell the Bounty Hunter?" he questions in an amused voice. I huff at the nickname. I never really liked it much, but it seemed to stick especially with all the cars that have gotten destroyed in my possession.
"Just Steph. Bombshell is a stupid nickname the paper gave me," I reply, thinking he surely must already know this if he'd been looking into me.
"I hear you always get your man," he remarks before looking back at the road.
I shrug. Yes, it is true. I always seem to get my man even if I end up rolling in garbage or getting my car blown up first. I really should have listened to Ranger all those times he told me I needed more training. With my Spidey-Sense and natural curiosity, I always get to the bottom of things. Thinking of Ranger makes my heart ache. How could I have been so stupid for the past couple years and not listened to him? No wonder he'd go for Jeanne. She actually does her job well. I guess my silence bothers Quinn because he puts a hand on mine.
"Hey," he says quietly, "It's a good thing. And with you joining the FBI then you'll get even better." He smiles at me to reassure me. How is it that everyone knows what I'm thinking but I can never tell?
"Most of the accidents weren't even my fault," I start to explain, "I just tend to attract crazies who put up dirty fights and like to blow up my cars."
"I've read quite a few of the stories," he says with a laugh, "You lead an exciting life Stephanie Plum." I chuckle. I don't think that's how my mother would describe it.
"Yeah well, maybe you should talk to my mom," I reply, "explain that I'm not an embarrassment." He's quiet for several moments after I say that. I look over, and he looks unhappy. I suddenly feel nervous. Maybe he'll decide against offering me a position.
"Listen, Stephanie," he starts in a very serious voice, "When I said we've been looking at you, I wasn't kidding. I've read every article, talked to your friends, and even witnessed you first hand. I'm impressed, and you've done it all with little to no training." Now I'm the one who's silent as I take that in.
"You have to realize that most people, me included, do not have a 100% capture rate, and we have proper training," he continues in that serious voice of his. I feel tears fill my eyes. No one besides Ranger has ever said such good things to me about my work. I knew I always got my man, but I figured so did everyone else. Why had I been so stubborn in the past? I guess because I wanted to prove I could do it on my own, and that I was capable. I should've realized that I could get help and still be capable.
"That's one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me about my job," I say, swiping away a few stray tears. It's nice to not be considered a hot mess for once. I know my capture methods weren't orthodox, but he's right, I always get my man.
"Well get used to it, partner," he says with a cheeky grin. I sense he's trying to lighten the mood. The last word he uses catches my attention though.
"Partner?" I gape, "you're my partner? I assumed you'd be pairing me with someone else." He smirks and his sky blue eyes twinkle. I could get used to working with him.
"You thought I'd drop a 100% capture rate bounty hunter into someone else's hands?" he questions incredulously, "No way, not on my watch. Besides I'm the one who saw your work and did all the legwork." Well at least somebody has faith in me and wants to work with me.
"Are we close?" I question, looking at the endless line of cars on the highway. The traffic is part of the reason I don't like going into Newark. He looks at the clock on the dash and shrugs.
"Maybe 20 more minutes if we're lucky," he responds before honking his horn at a car that cuts him off, but just barely. That was a close one and even as a Jersey girl, I'm impressed by the driver's guts. If I were driving, I probably would be making some obscene hand gestures and letting loose a string of un-lady-like phrases.
"So what do the tests and training involve?" I ask tentatively. I've never done well with training before but then again I was stubborn. Now, I actually want to get better. I'm just worried the physical tests will be too demanding. I'm not exactly a gym goer.
"The physical part includes sit-ups, push-ups, a 300-meter sprint, and a 1.5-mile run," he informs me with a slight grimace. I sigh and lean my head back on the headrest. There is no way I could pass any of these things.
"I only just started getting into running," I say quietly, feeling upset. He has misplaced faith in me. I'm just a screw-up who eats too many donuts and rolls in garbage.
"You need to stop doing that," Quinn orders as he takes his eyes off the road to stare at me. His blue eyes are glittering intently like a stormy horizon, and he's not happy.
"Stop what?" I ask shifting my gaze to avoid his probing eyes. He lets out a sigh. I fidget with my hands and pull on a strand of hair.
"Stop doubting yourself. The FBI wants you. We already did all the background checks and work to make sure you're qualified," he explains, "I'm here to help. You'll pass the physical stuff with no problem. You already passed the harder stuff without realizing it." I nod, suddenly feeling embarrassed for being so insecure in front of a complete stranger.
We make the rest of the ride in silence. The traffic is still bad, but not unmanageable. I'm just happy we didn't hit rush hour. The sedan is comfortable and much better than my Honda Passport, but my butt is still going numb. He pulls up to a huge building.
One side is made of red brick and instead of being boxy or rectangular, the edges are slightly rounded. The other side is made up of grey cinder-block and windows. The description makes it sound quite drab but it actually has a certain aesthetic. A fence goes around, and we have to be let in by the guard at the gate. I can barely see the Passaic River from the car window as the building seems to be in the perfect position to overlook it.
We park the car and head inside. Taking the elevator up we go to the fourth floor. Quinn goes out first, and I trail dutifully behind him.
"First stop: HR. You'll fill out all the necessary paperwork," he says with a slight downturn on his mouth. Hmmm…what is it with guys and disliking paperwork? I mean, yeah, it's boring but necessary.
He stops in front of a door and knocks twice. The hallway is well lit and the walls are painted a beige and the carpet is a deep bluish green. I see Quinn look back at me for a second before the door swings open. A serious looking woman with blonde hair opens the door. She's wearing a grey dress suit and some sensible looking black heels. She has small wire-framed glasses and piercing grayish blue eyes. When she realizes it's Quinn she breaks into a smile before her eyes settle on me.
"You must be Stephanie Plum!" she says it with a grin and suddenly she doesn't seem so serious, "My name is Xandra." I smile back.
"That's me. I'm here to do some paperwork," I say excitedly. I now feel a little under dressed considering I'm wearing jeans, a blue t-shirt, and black Nikes. I was dressed for some skip tracing, not FBI work. Neither of them seems to notice or care which makes me feel better.
"Quinn's told me all about you, and I have everything ready. We can move to the conference room down the hall," she explains, "I'll grab the paperwork and meet you down there." Quinn leads the way yet again. The conference room is big. I thought the one at RangeMan was impressive, but this one tops that no contest. The conference room must hold at least fifty people and has a beautiful mahogany table in the center with chairs all around. Several chairs are also against the walls. A phone is in the middle of the table. We take two seats at the end of the table. Quinn takes this opportunity to check his phone. A couple seconds later Xandra shuffles in carrying a stack of papers. Yeesh. Looks like this might take a while. She sends me an apologetic smile as she sets it on the table.
"This may take a while," she says, "but it's worth it!" She shuffles everything around and places a packet in front of me.
"Okay, these are just the basic rules and regulations for being an agent," she explains, "Read it through and sign on the last three pages. After that, we have your benefits package, salary, and contract length. You're also free to take it to a lawyer and return it in a few days." I nod and mentally crack my knuckles. I'm ready to jump in with both feet. A lawyer will just cost me time and money.
XXX
"Alright, this is the last one," Xandra says with a flourish as she places one last paper in front of me to sign. I sign quickly, and by now my signature is unrecognizable. My hand is cramping and one of my ass cheeks is falling asleep. It's been two hours, and at one point I thought it would never end. Quinn, having dozed off while I was signing my life away, is now fully alert. He claps his hands together and has an evil smirk on his face.
"Now, time for the physical stuff!" I narrow my eyes at him. At least I have a sports bra and athletic shoes on. Xandra stands and extends her hand.
"It was nice to finally meet you. Welcome to the team," she says with a genuine smile before grabbing the paperwork and scooting out the door. Quinn motions his hand and walks towards the door.
"Follow me, sweetheart."
Great, another nickname. I roll my eyes but don't say a word. Instead of going up, we take the elevator two floors down. It opens into a bland hallway with linoleum floor and a small entryway to double doors with small square windows three-quarters of the way from the top. I can see in a little and notice a boxing ring. Oh boy.
"If you go two doors to the left you'll find the women's locker room. There should be shorts in there for you to use, and a door leads into the gym area from there," Quinn explains, motioning with two fingers.
"I'll meet you in there in a few," he states before walking to the right. I guess there's a men's locker room on that side. I head into the locker room, and I'm surprised how big it is inside. Lockers line the walls on the right side of the room with benches in the middle and a mirror on the end of one wall. On the left, a little hallway opens up to bathroom stalls and a large counter with multiple sinks and a big mirror. A few baskets are attached to the wall. I see hand towels, shorts, hair ties, and some goggles. I grab a pair of shorts and change. I also grab a hair tie and pull my unruly hair into a ponytail. I find an empty locker and put my clothes and purse inside. I do my business before heading towards the door that's past the lockers. I see it opens into a small hallway with signs pointing to the Pool/Sauna or to the gym. I head to the gym.
The gym is a huge wide-open room. On one side there is a rack of weights with the wall covered in mirrors. A short distance from the weights area is the boxing ring and beside it, several punching bags hang down from the ceiling. The whole floor is made of the rubber material to keep sounds down and for weights to be dropped. The other side of the gym has treadmills and other machines. I notice that above us there seems to be an indoor track. Fancy gym. The middle area of the gym is just empty space. Quinn is sitting on a bench at the back of the room near a water cooler. Beside the water cooler, there are mats hanging from a peg drilled into the wall. I head over to him. He smiles when he sees me.
"About time Plum," he greets laying his phone on the bench and standing up.
"What are we working on first?" I question, not looking forward to whatever we're about to do.
"I'm just gonna have you do the sit-ups and push-ups for now so I can see where you are," he says with a grin. I roll my eyes. He grabs a mat from the wall and hands it to me.
"Drop and give me twenty!" I shoot him a side-eye glare. He laughs.
"Sorry, I just always wanted to say that." I punch him playfully in the shoulder. I feel so comfortable with him after knowing him less than a day. I think that bodes well for our partnership. I put the mat on the floor and start with the sit-ups. He shows me the proper technique and times me with his watch.
"Not bad Plum, not bad," he says as I finish my third set of sit-ups. By this time, I'm sweating and out of breath. He gets me a cup of water, and I suck it down.
"Okay, push-ups and then we'll get out of here," he says enthusiastically. I groan. He's not the one who just did all this exercise. I am barely able to do ten push-ups. I have to switch to being on my knees. Quinn reassures me that by the time I take the actual test, I'll be able to do more.
"Finished!" Quinn shouts with a flourish. I collapse sweatily onto the mat, panting hard. We're both silent. I'm embarrassed when my stomach makes an inhuman growling sound. Quinn looks down at me.
"What the hell was that?" he questions incredulously. I smile up at him sheepishly.
"I'm hungry," I say with a shrug before standing up. He shakes his head and chuckles.
"All right, go get cleaned up and we'll meet in the hall," he says with a grin, "then we'll get food and retire for the night." I try raising an eyebrow. Retire for the night? As in not going back to Trenton?
"Wait, then where will we stay?" I ask trying to raise an eyebrow. He chuckles when I fail.
"I have an apartment close by," he says with a wink as though that explains everything. I shoot him a glare, and he puts his hands up in surrender.
"I have a guest bedroom," he informs me, and I nod.
I head back into the locker room. I decide I might as well take a quick shower since they have towels available. I'm surprised that they actually provide soap, shampoo, and conditioner in the shower. I wash everything quickly before coming out and putting on the same clothes I had been wearing before. The shirt and bra are a little uncomfortable, but I don't have anything else to wear. I grab my bag from the locker and put a little mascara on. I head out and Quinn is standing in the hall against the wall with his head down as he looks at his phone. He grins when he looks up.
"Ready to go eat?" he questions and in response, my stomach chooses now to make a loud grumble. I feel heat rush to my cheeks, and Quinn does a full belly laugh. His hair falls a little into his eyes, and the lines around his face crinkle.
"Damn sweetheart, that stomach is something," he says shaking his head. I narrow my eyes.
"So let's go to this food you promised," I say testily. I'm getting really hungry now. I can't be held accountable for my words or actions when I have an empty stomach. And, I just did physical exercise. He pushes off against the wall, and we head to the elevator.
Ten minutes later we're sitting in an Irish pub. It's a quaint little place with a bar at the front and then tables in the back. We're sitting at a four-seater table, and I look around to take in the space. The lighting is dim and they have candles on each table. One wall has a string of Irish flags and different pictures on the wall. I study the menu and decide to go for the Fish and Chips. I startle from a shuffling movement, and then I realize it's Xandra. She gives us both a smile.
"Thanks for inviting me Quinn," she says, "I need to make more friends in the area." She laughs and looks at me pointedly. The waiter comes by and we all order. Quinn gets a Guinness and Xandra orders a glass of white wine. I decide not to partake, as I still recall the whole bottle of wine I drank the other night. Xandra excuses herself to the bathroom, and I realize I haven't checked my phone all day. I groan as I think about what could await me. I pull it out of my purse and realize it has been on silent all day. I let out a big groan and hang my head when I see I have 15 missed calls, six voicemails, and twenty text messages.
"What's wrong?" Quinn questions from across the table. I grimace.
"I forgot about my phone, and now I have everyone and my mother to talk to," I explain as I unlock the phone. I have text messages from Lula, Connie, my mother, Mary Lou, Lester Santos, and…Joe. Hmm. I ignore the texts and go to voicemails. I have three from my mother, one from Joe, one from Lula, and one from Connie. I listen to the voicemails first.
"Stephanie, this is your mother calling. Anna Patello said she saw you get in a car with a strange man and drive off," the voice of my mother says shrilly from the phone. "Her daughter doesn't get into car with strange men! Call me so I know you're not dead." Sigh. I listen to the next one.
"Hey Cupcake, I know we've had our differences but your mother called. She's worried and your car has been parked and empty on the street for a while. Call me so I know you haven't been kidnapped," Joe says and I can tell he's probably taking some Maalox already. Double sigh. Of course, my mother would bring Joe into this.
"Yo white girl, yo' mamma is worried about you. She called up in here, and Joe stopped by looking for yo' skinny ass. Gimme a call if you need a ride." I recognize Lula's voice easily and if I didn't, I could tell by the way she speaks. Well, at least people care about me…right? I never thought they'd be so worried. Hell, I haven't even been gone a day.
"Steph, call me. Your mother is worried and they told where your car is parked. Just let me know you didn't run into Ian," Connie's voice is frantic, "If I don't hear from you, I'm going to tell my uncle to look for you." I skip the next two voicemails from my mother and just call her directly.
"Stephanie Michelle Plum! Why haven't you been answering your phone?" my mother screeches as soon as she picks up the phone. I rub my temple as I feel a headache coming along. Xandra chooses that moment to come back, and I see her give me a weird look. Quinn explains while I try to calm my mother.
"Mom, nice to talk to you too," I start, already annoyed, "I've been working all day and my phone was on silent." She's silent on the other end of the phone.
"I thought you'd been kidnapped by some crazy man again," she says and her voice sounds slow and slightly slurred. She's probably been tippling again. I feel slightly bad for making her worry.
"I'm sorry Mom, I should have called sooner. Don't worry, I've just been working and I'm perfectly fine," I reply, trying to reassure her.
"Okay, well I expect you for dinner soon," she says with a sigh.
"Okay, see you soon." We say goodbyes and hang up. Quinn and Xandra are looking at me with expressions of disbelief.
"Wow! Talk about overprotective mothers," Xandra says with a laugh. I laugh and shake my head.
"You have no idea." I look back at my phone and respond with texts to everyone else. The text from Lester catches me off guard, but I guess it shouldn't.
"Beautiful, control room says your car has been parked at the same place too long. Is everything alright?"
Another text from Lester but a few hours later, "Beautiful, we got worried so we tracked your phone. What are you doing in the FBI field office in Newark? R u ok?"
Lester Santos is a RangeMan. I've been partnered with him on several occasions, and we get along really well. He's tall and lean with shaggy light brown hair and intense green eyes. He's a total ladies' man and practical jokester, but someone I consider a good friend. He can be serious when needed. He also happens to be Ranger's cousin.
I go ahead and respond to everyone, assuring them I'm not dead, just been working. I don't mention anything about the FBI. I tell Lester I'm fine and will explain later. Quinn said that for this case I shouldn't mention it since we don't want Ian to know the Bureau is after him. I have a feeling RangeMan is going to end up being in the loop. After answering everyone, I'm finally able to pay attention to my dinner companions. The food arrives at the perfect time and we all dig in.
"So, Xandra how did you join the FBI?" I question as I take a bite of my fried fish. She finishes chewing a bite of her food and takes a sip of wine before replying.
"I just started two years ago. I'm originally from South Dakota, but I studied at Princeton," she explains, "I just thought it would be cool and when I finished college I got a position." I nod and think maybe we'll grow to be good friends.
"Must be hard being so far from home," I state before swirling some of my fries in ketchup before consuming them. She nods. We continue chatting and eating. By the end of the meal, we're all full. I feel like I made two new friends today and a great start to a better life.