A/N: Standard disclaimer applies to this story.
Highlands Girl, you are the best beta and I couldn't have done it without you. Thank you.
Everyone, since last chapter caused a bit of a stir, I hope this one makes up for the heartbreak. Thank you all for your reviews and alerts. Now, on with the story...
Chapter 3. I never found a wall I couldn't climb
With a parting strike of lighting, the rain stopped as quickly as it began, the sky cleared, and the moon flooded the parking lot with silver light, rousing Ranger from his anguished stupor. It was time to go. Unable to bear the thought of Stephanie's death being turned into a public spectacle, he made a split second decision. She deserved better than to be found in a desolate parking lot.
Cradling her limp body to his chest, Ranger rose from his knees, and started walking toward his truck. When he was only a few feet away, her body went rigid in his arms. He stopped in his tracks, stubbornly refusing to believe that his hunch about her had been right all along. But she stirred again, interrupting his introspection. Jerking open the rear door, he laid her on the seat and tore her shirt down from the hole made by the bullet to examine her chest. The skin where the exit wound had been minutes earlier was unbroken. He slid his fingers under her back, only to find nothing there either, as she sputtered, gasping for air.
Stepping back, Ranger pinched the bridge of his nose, silently berating himself for ignoring what his gut had been telling him since their first meeting at the diner. Of all people, he should have known better than to doubt his instincts, and as reluctant as he was to admit, some part of him had to have accepted her true nature, when he allowed himself to dream of their someday.
Leaning against the door, he waited for her breathing to even out. His mind was reeling from coming close to losing her and then getting her back all in the same hour. It wasn't as if he'd never seen it happen before, yet now with Stephanie, it felt different. But, by the time she took a deep breath and opened her eyes, he had regained enough of his composure to take care of her.
Blinking to focus her bleary eyes on his dark form, she finally spoke, her voice coming out a hoarse whisper. "Ranger?"
"It's me, Babe." His fingers wrapped around her wrist, checking her pulse. When he felt the erratic beat under his thumb, he asked softly, "Are you in pain?"
She shook her head, grasping his hand to sit up, and cleared her throat, trying to remember why she woke up in the back of his truck. "No," she paused, "I don't think so."
Her mind was foggy and her body didn't feel like her own. Unable to come up with a reasonable explanation for either, she asked, "What happened?"
"It's a long story. I'll take you home. Then, we'll talk."
Not trusting her voice, she nodded in agreement. Feeling sluggish, she let her eyes drift shut and fell asleep, before Ranger could say anything else. He yanked his windbreaker from the duffel he always kept in the truck and pulled it over her head to cover her shredded shirt. Needing reassurance that she was breathing again, he gathered her into his arms, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest. After touching his lips to her temple in a light kiss, he settled her in the front passenger seat. He closed the door and walked over to the driver's side, stripping out of his bulletproof vest and removing the earpiece. After tossing both into the back, he dressed in a fresh shirt, climbed into the truck and started the engine.
Stephanie didn't wake before he reached the highway, so he decided not to change the destination he had in mind. Now, it made even more sense to go to the house, for the privacy it would afford them couldn't be matched by either his penthouse on Haywood or her apartment.
Ranger assumed that an hour long drive would be enough for him to collect his thoughts, but his mind had other ideas, replaying the hurt and anger he had seen in Stephanie's eyes that morning. He wondered if those feelings would still be there once she learned the secret he'd been keeping from her. Conflicted with relief and regret, he contemplated ways to explain what had happened to her, as hiding behind obscure innuendos was no longer an option.
"This isn't the way to my apartment…"
A tremor in her raspy voice brought Ranger out of his thoughts, filling him with an urgent need to reassure her. "Do you trust me, Babe?"
"Yeah, but…"
"Then trust me. We're almost there."
From the corner of his eye, he saw her fidget in her seat. And as much as he wished to ease her discomfort, he couldn't: her body was still adjusting to its new regenerative abilities. Feeling a phantom numbness next to his left clavicle, he repressed an involuntary shudder, reminded of the aftereffects from a fatal curare-soaked dart. He had blacked out from asphyxia, and after he had regained consciousness, he felt stiff, disoriented, and weak for hours, as his body rebelled against him. It was an experience akin to a severe hangover, which he was eager yet unable to forget. Shaking off the memories, he stole another surreptitious glance at Stephanie. She was curled up in the seat, looking out the window at the nondescript shrubbery along the side of the dark highway, as they zoomed by.
"You're taking me down the shore?" she asked, turning to him when they passed through the tolls of the Garden State Parkway.
The corner of his mouth twitched in an almost smile, his mood improving at the evidence that her shock was wearing off, giving way to her innate curiosity. Being evasive wasn't his purpose, but he couldn't give up the small pleasure of witnessing her uninhibited reaction to the house.
"Five minutes. And you'll see."
She opened and then closed her mouth. Asking him questions was futile when he was set on keeping her in the dark. Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, she tried recalling what happened earlier that night, while playing with the zipper pull of the windbreaker, and wondering why she was wearing it.
Until they stopped at a red light, she wasn't paying much attention to the road. But when the truck moved across the intersection, she noticed the name on the street sign and recognized the upscale neighborhood with high fences and pristine lawns.
Rumson? What the hell are we doing in Rumson?
She got her answer when Ranger slowed the truck at a large wrought iron gate. Green light blinked on a panel in a stone column and the gate slid open, revealing a long, tree-lined alley, illuminated with antique looking street lamps. The truck rolled to the end of the drive and around a tall multitier fountain. Distracted by the rainbow of colors in the splashing water, Stephanie didn't look at the stone façade of the house behind the fountain and came out of her reverie only to realize that the truck was parked in a garage and Ranger was no longer inside. Before she had a chance to panic, her door opened, and she was lifted from the truck by a pair of familiar arms.
"Ranger!" Her voice sounded shrill even to her own ears. "I can walk," she added softly, trying to tone down her outburst.
The corners of his eyes crinkled in understanding that despite her weak state, she needed to feel some control over her body. He set her down, but was unwilling to risk her stumbling and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, leading her toward a polished wooden staircase at the far wall of the garage. After stopping at a small pad on the wall to put in a code and scan his palm, he opened the door into a long softly lit hallway, decorated with black and white silver gelatin prints.
The sound of their footsteps echoed off the hardwood floors, as they headed for the foyer. Despite having Ranger's arm around her, Stephanie still felt unsteady on her feet. Realizing he had slowed his stride so she could walk on her own, she thought that this was one of those times when independence was overrated and she should have just let him carry her. When he stopped to turn on the lights, she missed a step and had to grip his waist to remain upright and froze, stunned into silence by the sight before her eyes.
"Wow," she breathed, only marginally recovering her speech, taking in the gleaming marble floors of the two-story foyer and the double staircase leading up to the second floor. "Just wow..." Her voice trailed off again when her gaze fell on a suit of Conquistador armor complete with a sword, standing in the corner of a room that had to be the library. She looked at Ranger with widened eyes, "Is this…"
"The Bat Cave?" he finished for her, the corners of his mouth tipping up, before he schooled his features into his patented blank expression.
"No, Babe. There's no Bat Cave. This is just another place I own."
He'd teased her about the Bat Cave in the past, but the truth was that for decades, until she came into his life, he had no use for a home or craved one. Though, it never stopped him from acquiring real estate he considered a prudent investment. This turn of the nineteenth century colonial had been no exception: nothing more than any other piece of property he'd bought, seizing a golden opportunity.
"I thought you were going to take me home…"
"This was a better option. You need to know what happened tonight. And this conversation doesn't need an audience."
She let go of his waist and took a step back, wanting to hear the rest, but swayed, almost losing her balance. When he held out his hand, she stepped back again and would have fallen on her ass, if he wasn't fast enough to catch her.
"Babe." There was a hint of reproach in his concerned tone. "How do you feel?"
She clung to his arms, hating her body for betraying her, and mumbled into his chest, "Confused. Lightheaded. Sore."
"What about your ankle?" Noticing her confusion, he explained, "You were limping earlier."
"Huh, I don't remember that." She studied her feet. "It feels fine." When she raised her head, she had to close her eyes to stop the room from spinning.
"How about a bath?" Ranger asked, holding her to his chest. "It'll make you feel better."
A bath sounded heavenly, but she needed a change of clothes and hair products. She had neither and shuddered, thinking that her unruly mane must have turned into a rat's nest.
"There's nothing wrong with your hair." His tone was soothing, lacking the usual innuendo. "And you can borrow my sweats."
Her cheeks tinted pink in embarrassment. "Out loud?"
He nodded with a hint of a smile. "C'mon. Let's get you upstairs and out of these clothes."
He lifted her into his arms and, after sprinting up the stairs, carried her into the en-suite bathroom of a bedroom on his right. Inside, he sat her down on a teak bench next to a cast iron tub and unzipped the windbreaker. When her eyes fell on the ruined shirt, she let out a gasp, not knowing what to think. Pulling it off, she stared at the torn fabric, covered in dried blood.
Holy cow! Where did all this blood come from?
Jumping off the bench, she twisted around to the full length mirror and shrieked, seeing the bloody smears all over her back.
I'm not in pain. This blood can't possibly be mine…
Her eyes were raking over the reflection of her body. "Wha…"
"You were shot."
"Is this some kind of a sick joke?" Her eyes shot up to meet his in the mirror.
"No, it's not."
Leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, Ranger was close enough to reach if she needed his help, but far enough so he wasn't crowding her personal space.
He can't be serious. There has to be another explanation, she thought, examining the skin on her chest, oblivious to standing in the middle of the bathroom, wearing nothing but her black skinny jeans and pale pink bra.
"I don't see a bullet hole." She pointed to her chest. "Do you?"
"No. And physically, there's nothing wrong with you right now."
No longer satisfied with the eye contact in the mirror, she whipped about, but the sudden movement upset her balance and she landed on the bench, air whooshing out of her lungs.
Immediately, his hands went to her forearms, steadying her, and his concerned eyes focused her face. At her stunned expression, his thumbs started tracing random patterns over her skin. "Babe?"
"Right. There's absolutely nothing physically wrong with me." She glared at him, unable to keep the sarcasm from her tone. "Did you forget already that you had to carry me upstairs? I can't remember anything worth a shit, the room won't stop spinning, and I'm incapable of standing for longer than five seconds without falling on my ass…"
"Steph, stop." He interrupted her rant as her voice started rising. "You'll work yourself up to a panic attack." His tone took on the soothing quality it always got when he was handing a critical situation. Reaching behind her with his right hand, he turned on the chrome faucet and tossed a few handfuls of aromatherapy salts from the jar on the ledge into the water. "Let's get you undressed and in this tub. I'll explain, after you're done."
"Fine," she muttered, thinking that she had no problem pretending that there were no gaps in her memory or blood stains on her shirt. Otherwise, she'd have to accept that her wounds had miraculously healed, and she wasn't ready for that. So, she'd take a bath now and ask questions later. Finished with her internal dialogue, she saw that he had crouched down in front of her to pull off her shoes and undo her jeans. But as his fingers brushed the naked skin of her stomach, she shivered. Cursing her wild hormones in her head, she bit her bottom lip and met his dark eyes.
"I'll take it from here, thanks."
Ranger would have had to be blind to miss her reaction to his touch, and wanted nothing more than pull her into his arms and never let go, but knew that she needed space. As much as he hoped the bath would relieve most of the aftereffects, he didn't want to take any chances with her balance issues. If she fell and injured herself, she would heal quickly, but he didn't want her to endure any more pain when he could prevent it. So he rose to his feet, laid out two thick ivory towels on the white marble counter, and pointed to intercom pad above the tub.
"I'll wait downstairs. Buzz me when you're finished."
She rolled her eyes. "Ranger, I don't need your help getting dressed."
"Babe. Please." Once he uttered the word, they both knew she would do as he asked, so she nodded with resignation, and he left the bathroom, lightly closing the door behind him.
She stripped out of her clothes, pulled her hair into a bun, securing it with one of his leather ties she found in the top drawer under the counter, and lowered herself into the water. Thinking about her day, she remembered her morning fight with Ranger, her trip to the bond's office, and the merry chase around Trenton after her skip that ended at a warehouse, but not much after that. Random images swirled in her head, but she couldn't tell which ones were real and which weren't.
Giving up on recalling the events of the past few hours, she leaned back against the tub and let the water work its magic. The scents of vetiver and eucalyptus relaxed her stiff muscles and eased her anxiety. By the time the water cooled off, Stephanie felt strong enough to face Ranger again and get the answers he had promised. She climbed out of the tub, wrapped herself up in a towel, and ventured out into the bedroom.
A pair of black sweatpants and a shirt was laid out on the king size bed. She smiled at Ranger's thoughtfulness. Even after getting her to agree that she'd call him when she was done, he left the clothes out for her anyway, trusting her to make a decision about needing assistance. Her smile was short lived, once she realized that she'd have to go commando.
When in Rome… she let out a deep sigh. It wasn't as if she had a choice, so she got dressed and walked back into the bathroom to hang up her towel. She was about to press the button on the intercom, when she felt an intense sensation at the back of her neck that spread through her like an electric charge, sending shocks down her spine and rocking her to the core.