Stephanie
Ranger didn't know I could sense his presence. Tingles in my neck indicated he was inside the bedroom. I ignored the sensation when I removed my treasure from the closet. It was amazing what people missed when they aren't paying attention. "You need to be more aware of your surroundings," I joked. Ranger grinned at me in amusement. It must be something he frequently told his employees.
I passed Ranger the six bundles of photographs. They arranged from the late 1800s to my sixteenth birthday. "When did you live here?" Ranger asked. I knew he ran a background check on me when General Plum assigned him the case. My friend helped me set up alerts whenever someone accessed my old DMV record. Ranger owned Rangeman, which was the company used to access my driver's license file.
"Never," I answered. "My grandma Plum owned the house. It got listed under her grandmother's maiden name. Unless you run an in-depth background check on my ancestors and me, you'd never link her connection to me. Grandma Isabelle never bothered updating the name in the land registry office. It got sold shortly after my sixteenth birthday. They sold it to an investor. I think it was supposed to get converted to a bed and breakfast, but it didn't pan out." Thinking about my grandmother made me sad.
"The box?" he asked.
"Oh. Nobody knew about the loose panel above the closet door. I stashed my treasure there after my sixteenth birthday party. My grandparents moved back to Italy to take over the family business," I replied. "I didn't know they sold it until I lost custody of Isabelle and needed a place to live. There was no way for me to retrieve my stuff. I used to sleep in this room whenever I spent time with my grandparents."
"Why didn't you move to Italy with them?" he asked.
"They never arrived," I replied, crying. "The plane crashed, and there were no survivors." Ranger pulled me onto his lap. My emotions were all over the place.
He let me cry on his shoulder for a few minutes before asking, "How did you know where to find the cameras?" I giggled. The sound went right to his dick. I felt him harden beneath me. Does everything turn him on? "No. Only everything you do," he answered. I gasped. "Babe, you asked the question. I answered honestly."
"Crap! I hate when I do that," I groaned. I looked into his eyes. He raised an eyebrow as he patiently waited for me to answer his question. "The crown moulding had a few extra bits." I removed the pictures from the bundle to show him. I loved the house and took photos of every room and feature. "Do you see? A piece was missing in these spots. There are only a few reasons for it getting replaced. Either someone filled in the gaps with extra trim, or it contained cameras. The rounded edge made me think it was a camera because that trim can't be found in retail shops. If you notice, the installation tech did the same in each room." I showed Ranger the other pictures and pointed to where I located the devices.
"You are amazing," he said. "We could use your talent at Rangeman." Ranger pressed his lips against mine again. The electrical sensation moved through my body. I wanted to grind into his crotch to create the necessary friction to sate my desire. No other man made me feel this way; horny and wanton.
I've kissed other men but we never got past the heavy petting stage. I kicked every single one of them to the curb when I heard them discuss having sex with me to their friends. It wasn't true and I refused to tolerate that behaviour or acknowledge their lies. I was a trophy girlfriend. Fun to have on your arm, but useless for everything else since I refused to put out.
"As much as I want to rip off your clothes and ride you, we have to discuss why General Plum hired you to protect me," I boldly said. Ranger kissed me again before releasing his grip. Mostly, I wanted to know why he cared.
I gathered my photos and letters, then shoved them back into the box. The paper scrap with Necromancer fell on the bed with the locket. I'll have time to reread the letters when I got home and hide the locket inside a safe. Ranger put his hand on my lower back as we left my old bedroom.
Necromancer was a military man who served with Frank Plum when I was young. He earned the nickname through his method of killing the enemy. Through power of suggestion and ability to hypnotize people without their knowledge or consent, he got them to commit suicide. I couldn't remember his name. It got hidden in the recess of my brain as my grandma, Edna, wrote in the letter. He didn't want me to remember him for some reason.
"Well, how did you know where to find the cameras?" Bobby asked. I rolled my eyes because the fucking stair creaked when they came upstairs. They listened outside the bedroom as I told Ranger the story. Pretending to be innocent and ignorant pissed me off.
"Like you don't already know the fucking answer," I snapped. "Stupid fucking military shitheads can't even miss the fucking squeaky step when they fucking eavesdrop and pretend they didn't already hear how I fucking knew about the fucking cameras."
"Six," Tank said when I stopped my internal rant.
"Six, what?" I asked.
"Six times you said fucking," he replied. Just fucking great. I can't believe I said all of that aloud. Now they're going to think I have a potty mouth. "Seven," Tank said, making me want to punch him. If I wasn't afraid of breaking my hand, I would have.
"Not a potty mouth," Lester said, proving I kept speaking my thoughts. "But you do swear like a sailor."
"Whatever!" I snapped. "When will supper be ready?"
"Another forty-five minutes," Bobby replied. "I put the lasagna in the oven twenty minutes ago."
"Okay, guys. Where do we do this?" I asked. Ranger pointed toward the living room. He placed a possessive hand on my lower back. When I sat on the couch, Ranger sat beside me. I leaned forward to set the metal box on the coffee table. "Introductions?"
Ranger introduced Tank, Brown and Santos. No first names. Each man raised a hand when Ranger said his name. I smiled when Ranger called the largest man, Tank. He was built like a tank, which is probably how he got his nickname. Brown seemed like the nurturing one in the group. His aura screamed, "medic." Now, Santos was charismatic. He had "player" written all over his face. I doubted he'd ever settle down. Ranger came across as a player, but I could tell he would be monogamous with a woman. He wouldn't ever cheat on the woman he dated or married.
God, I hoped I was right. I loved the man. How could I have these feelings for a man I just met? I could feel the cosmic pull to him. My heart said he was my soulmate, but my mind was wary. I got burned before. It was more like used, abused and tossed aside like yesterday's trash.
"Steph!" Ranger said to break me from my thoughts.
"Oh. Sorry. I got lost inside my mind." Ranger raised an eyebrow. "It's a scary place to be," I joked. He trailed a finger from my temple to my chin. My skin tingled where he touched. I felt it move deep and settled in my core.
"General Plum hired us to protect you. Are you aware of any stalkers?" Ranger asked. No shit! I thought we had already established that detail. But why would Frank give a damn?
"No. I've received a few inappropriate notes from fans, but those got delivered to the magazines. They asked my agent to collect them," I replied. "Why? Did someone besides Joe Morelli threaten my life?" I already knew the answer. My grandmother, Edna, told me in her letter. Someone had told Isabelle that I was her biological mother. It wasn't anyone in Trenton, so Joe assumed it was me. He threatened to kill me, but he wasn't the only one. Whoever spilled the news to Isabelle said they wanted me dead. She received the letter at school. The only prints found on the envelope and letter belonged to Isabelle. Someone covered their tracks.
"How do you know Morelli?" Tank asked. I covered my face.
"Do they know anything?" I asked Ranger. He shook his head. "Okay. I'll have to tell you the story. Though, I'm surprised you didn't get adequately briefed by General Plum. He never assembles a team without some disclosure." They listened as I told them everything I knew about Detective Joseph Morelli and his wife.
"Isabelle is Valerie Morelli's oldest daughter," Santos said. "Joe said Valerie had her before getting married. He said his wife's psycho younger sister ran over him with their father's car." I knew Santos didn't believe me. He must like Morelli. Though, I should've realized they were both players and those men stuck together. Joseph Morelli couldn't remain monogamous even if saving his dick depended upon it.
How many lies did Santos tell in his lifetime? He wouldn't know the truth if it bit him in his sexy ass. Santos must have heard many lies from the women he fucked to scratch his itch. Men like that disgust me. I'm not a prude, but not everything in life revolved around sex.
I rolled my eyes. It didn't surprise me that Joe lied. I stood up and pulled my track pants down to show my bikini line. "I know you don't believe me, asshole. I can see it written all over your face. What? I'm automatically a liar because I have tits and a vagina? Look here," I pointed to the scar. "This is from the incision where they removed Isabelle from my body. I'm aware that Isabelle can pass as Valerie's daughter, but I assure you, I was the one getting her cut from my stomach," I snapped.
Brown confirmed, "It's from a c-section."
"Now, who the fuck is threatening to kill me other than the asshole who stole my virginity?" I demanded.
"Woah, tiger," Santos said, holding up his hands. "I never said you lied. I was telling you the story we heard from detective Morelli. Valerie confirmed his story."
"You could cut off Valerie's tits to make her less of a woman, but the cunt still exists. She has always been a fucking liar."
"Don't take it out on me, Stephanie. You're the one acting like a cunt," Santos yelled.
"Fuck off." I stormed from the room. I didn't deserve his abuse. Ranger caught up with me in the front foyer. I reached for the doorknob and realized that I didn't have a car to escape.
"Babe. Please, stay for dinner," Ranger whispered. My stomach grumbled, reminding me I only ate a donut all day.
"Fine. But you need to get to the point and explain why General Plum thinks my life is in danger," I snarled. I was sick of military men trying to boss me around.
"I'm sorry, Beautiful. I didn't mean any disrespect," Santos said.
"Call me Steph or Anie, but do not ever call me by a fucking nickname," I said through gritted teeth. Santos quickly apologized.
"What do you have against nicknames?" he asked. He looked pointedly at Ranger who called me Babe.
"Santos, we heard Morelli talk about cupcake," Ranger replied.
"So what? He likes the mini cakes with frosting," Santos said.
"Tasty sweet and fun to eat. She squirmed and fought. But I did not. She turned me on. Her virginity is gone. I had to cum. Inside Stephanie Plum. My name is Joe. I have to go. See ya Cupcake," I quickly recited.
"Why did you tell me a poem?" he asked. I glared at him until he replayed my words in his head. "Oh. Shit! He wasn't referring to a dessert, was he?"
"Nope," I replied, popping the p.
"Man, I'm really sorry," he said. I didn't really care for his fucking apology despite his sincerity. Nobody was telling me anything that I didn't already know. All we accomplished in the past hour was reopening old wounds. "His poem suggests it wasn't consensual."
"I was intrigued and wanted to know how it felt, but when he pushed into me, I changed my mind. He said it was too late and continued to take what he wanted from my body," I explained.
"I'm going to kill him," Ranger growled.
"Are you all from the Army?" I asked to change the heavy subject. I got nods from all the men. "Let me see if I can guess your specialties. Tank, you can push past any barrier. You use your brute strength and size to intimidate the enemies. They'd rather surrender to you than experience your wrath." Tank nodded. I wasn't done with his assessment. He used a nickname instead of his given name. I believed he didn't like his first name. "Brown, you're the mother hen of the group. You care for the men's well-being and ensure their injuries get bandaged. You're the medic." Brown nodded.
I stared at Santos for a few minutes. He was fidgeting. I decided to leave him for last. "Ranger, you're the commanding officer. Men follow your lead without question. You take charge and ensure every man on your team gets home alive," I said. Ranger nodded. Huh. Three for three. Let's see if I can get the bead on Santos. Again, I let my spidey sense guide me.
"Okay, Santos. You clearly have an attention disorder. I can tell you're not used to remaining still for longer than thirty minutes. That being said, I believe you could focus on a target or goal without moving when it could affect your life or others around you. I bet they send you into an enemy camp, shooting to surprise the enemy. You may get distracted by the mundane life, but in a high-adrenaline situation, you don't miss a single thing," I said. Santos stared at me in shock.
Brown waved his hand in front of Santos's face to break him from the trance. "How?" Santos asked.
"You know General Plum is my biological father. He didn't rise through the ranks because of favouritism or nepotism. General Plum was a good soldier. He earned every medal and promotion he received. But General Plum was a horrible father. Hiring your business to "protect" me is his way of controlling me," I replied. "He has instincts unmatched by anyone in the military." Frank Plum used to be my hero.
"Instincts you inherited," Ranger said. "Your father."
I quickly interrupted him, "I told you he stopped being my father when he took my daughter from my arms."
Ranger amended, "General Plum thinks one of his enemies is after you to make him suffer." I snorted in disbelief. As if my death would affect the general. He continued, "All we know is the enemy's son is living in New Jersey. He changed his name to protect his identity. At some point, you crossed his path, and he decided to come after you."
"How can you be sure?" I asked.
Tank pulled an envelope from the pocket of his cargo pants. I slowly lifted the lip to remove the two photographs. One was a picture of me when I was five. I was on my dad's shoulders at the zoo with a red x drawn across my face. The other was a folded copy of the Allure perfume ad. My face had a red target with the words, "you're dead," written in black. "Oh. I um. I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon in New York. How is that going to work?" I asked.
"Where is the meeting?" Tank asked. A name suddenly popped into my head. Heh heh heh. I would have a nickname, too, if I got named Pierre.
"Cosmopolitan, Pierre. You started shaving your head in memory of your best friend who died beside you during battle," I replied. Everyone gasped. Tank stared at me with wide eyes.
"Ranger, did you tell her my name?" he demanded.
"No," I answered for Ranger. "The name popped into my head." I pointed to Brown. "Your name is Bobby. Even though you're the medic, on your last mission, you gave a team member enough morphine to kill him. He was going to die anyway, but you helped him along." I could tell the men were shocked.
"You," I pointed to Santos, "are Lester and Ranger's cousin. You learned to control your attention deficit after your first mission. You stormed the camp with guns blazing and accidentally killed the women and children you got assigned to protect." Lester sat with his mouth wide open. He had no clue how I could see these things. I only saw an image flash in my mind, but it was enough for my spidey sense to interpret the meaning.
I had learned to trust my intuition a long time ago. It had never failed me before and I doubted it ever would. I looked at Ranger. "Your name is Ricardo, but you prefer to be called Carlos or your street name, Ranger. During a mission last year, a Russian tortured you. He sliced into your lower right side and nearly performed an appendectomy."
Before I knew it, Ranger pressed his arm against my neck. "Who the fuck do you work for?" Damn! I'm not going to get any lasagna.
Tears streamed down my face as I tried to buck him off. I felt my head grow lighter as he cut the much-needed oxygen from reaching my brain. Someone shoved his weight off my body. I tried to breathe, but it was too hard. A dark hand pulled Ranger away from me.
I cried as Bobby asked me to take some deep breaths. "I am a freelance model you fucking idiot. I don't work for anyone but myself," I said between gasps. "You know everything there is to know about me. I shared my history with you. Fuck you, Ranger." I pushed Bobby's hands away from me. "Tell General Plum to go fuck himself. I'm done." My legs wobbled as I stood on my feet. Bobby protectively wrapped his arms around me.
"Steph, please eat something. Your stomach hasn't stopped grumbling since you arrived," Bobby replied. I hung my head. He just had to say please. I couldn't help but agree to eat the lasagna. It was a shame to waste food that smelled so good.
Lester went to the kitchen to dish the food onto plates. He pulled a salad from the refrigerator for Ranger. I pushed the lasagna around on my plate. "What's this?" I asked when I speared a chunk of meat.
"Um. I think it's a combination of chicken and shrimp," Lester replied. I shrugged a shoulder and ate. When I took the last bite, I had trouble swallowing and breathing. Why is this happening to me?
"Do you have any allergies?" Bobby asked. I shook my head. I've never reacted to anything Helen cooked or meals at a restaurant. Though there were foods I never ate before, such as lobster, crab and shrimp. "She's having an allergic reaction." Bobby screamed at Lester to grab his medic bag. I felt a knife press against my throat when everything went black.
Several hours later, I woke up with a tube stuck in my throat. Someone hooked me up to an IV, and machines beeped around me. "Thank God you're awake," Bobby said.
"Where am I?" I tried to speak around the tube in my throat. My voice sounded rough as though I had a cold or heavily smoked.
"Inside a private hospital in New York. We got you airlifted once you were stable," Bobby replied. I nodded. "For the record, you're allergic to shrimp. I've updated my medic bag to include an epiPen and extra epinephrine. I also started a chart for my records."
A tear slipped from my eye. I would miss my interview with Cosmopolitan. Not like it mattered because they'd drop me from the article because of the cut in my neck. My modelling career was over. Ranger and Lester ruined my chance of making big bucks before I retired. What am I supposed to do? I have more than enough money in my accounts and investments, but I hoped to get another year before I got kicked out of the game.
Fucking Manoso ruined my life. I guess that's what the psychic meant when she said my soulmate would cause great sorrow before I experienced great joy. If he never dragged me to his home, I never would have eaten the shrimp.
"Steph?" Ranger asked as he entered the room. I turned away from him. He hurt me for information I did not possess. The allergic reaction to the shrimp was a coincidence, but his action was intentional. Now, how the fuck am I supposed to trust this man for protection? "Babe, please look at me." I refused to face him. When he moved to the other side of the bed, I closed my eyes and rolled my head to look the other way.
"Leave," Bobby ordered. "Let me talk to her for a few minutes." I heard Ranger grunt a reply. "Steph, baby, did you know about us before today?"
"No. Do you have my purse?" I asked. He brought it to me. I removed the letters and gave them to him to read.
"You want me to read your private mail?"
"Yes. I hope it would explain everything about me," I replied. "The one with the symbol first." Bobby read the letter where my childhood best friend shared details regarding her life with Lenny and her three sons, Michael, Matthew and Kenny. She was pregnant with her fourth child and prayed for a daughter. Mary Lou reminded me of our last trip to Point Pleasant before my sixteenth birthday. We attended the carnival with her parents. Neither of us believed in psychics, but I got drawn to Seraphina's booth.
Seraphina held my hand as she told me about the two probable future paths of my life. In my first life, I was married to my first love. We had three children, but he cheated on me and beat me as his father had done to his mother. In the second future, I would be famous and wealthy before meeting my soulmate in the unlikeliest scenario. Mary Lou couldn't recall anything after the fame comment. I couldn't either. The memory got locked inside my mind. Though I remembered that Seraphina promised I would meet my soulmate, she had also said he would cause great sorrow before we experienced great joy. It was the phrase that got etched into my mind.
Bobby folded Mary Lou's letter, then opened the one from my grandmother. In the letter, my grandma Mazur said I possessed the gift of sight. Images or names would randomly jump into my mind. It was responsible for keeping my father, Frank Plum, safe during his missions. He'd receive the order, and I would say a name before he left the house. We had made a game of it. I don't recall what grandma described. Bobby gasped at the part where I expected. "They took you to a hypnotist? Why?" he asked.
"Keep reading," I replied.
"What the fuck?" he asked. "That's unbelievable. Have you shown Ranger this letter?"
"No. I have no intention of showing Ranger immediately either," I answered. He mumbled about people interfering with my mental health. I understood why Helen took me to a hypnotist. She thought someone was controlling me. It couldn't be farther from the truth, but Helen wanted me married to Joseph Morelli after the fucking garage incident. Thank goodness that will never happen. It was bad enough that I gave birth to his daughter. I wanted to call her his evil spawn, but I knew Isabelle was kind-hearted like me. Hopefully, Valerie, Helen and Joe didn't stomp out Isabelle's good qualities.
In the letter, my grandma said she tried to get Helen to back off the temporary insanity plea, but Helen insisted it was best for everyone involved. Helen waited until my Mazur grandparents were out of town before convincing me to change the plea. At the time, I didn't know Helen got the paperwork prepared for Valerie to adopt Isabelle and Joe to get full, permanent custody. With the plea bargain I signed, I inadvertently gave Helen permission to act as my power of attorney. Helen tricked me. There was no way for me to undo her handiwork.