Still not mine – JE gets the credit (and the royalties, darn it).

Jenny (JenRar), thank you for the time and hard work you have put into this story as the beta.

Chapter 19 – Payback's a…

I stood aside and watched Stephanie interact with the craziness around her. Honestly, without her hearing, she was probably at more of an advantage, as she could concentrate on one conversation at a time, without the distraction of all the yelling and commotion around her.

Finally, the EMT and Bobby both agreed that she was fine and released her to come over to me. My mind was full of questions, but I didn't know where to begin, so I settled for looking at her, glancing over to the car, and then back to her.

She laughed and said, "What? You were the one that said I needed a different car. I told you mine was fine, but it appears you might be correct. I am now in need of some new wheels."

"Care to explain why?" I finally spit out, still uncertain about what in the hell was going on.

Stephanie pointed to the still smoking remains of her car and said, "Isn't it obvious? Even by my low standards, that is no longer a safe vehicle."

I couldn't tell if she was trying to be funny or just trying to get under my skin, but the latter was all she was succeeding in. Hector came over and interrupted us by signing a mile a minute, before she responded at the same breakneck speed. I waited as they finished, and then Hector leaned in to kiss her check and walk away. I knew if he was walking away completely relaxed, there was no threat here, but until she explained the mystery, I couldn't let it go.

"Babe," I said, pulling her chin to look at me, "I need some details."

She pulled me away from the chaos and said, "Lula and I finished shopping, and when we came out, Joyce Barnhardt was parked a few spaces away from my car at the fringe of the parking lot. She'd put a note under the wiper of my car, telling me that I could quit working for Vinnie, because she was there to cover for me now that I couldn't hear."

I started piecing the scene in front of me in a dozen different ways with just that small amount of set up. "What did you do?" I asked, knowing it sounded like an accusation, but my gut was telling me it was a fair one, just the same.

Steph put her hand on her chest and pretended to look innocent, only reinforcing my earlier guess that she'd caused the scene in front of us.

"I went over to her car to confront her and let her know I wasn't giving up my job with Vinnie for her or anyone else, but she was asleep, and even with my yelling, she wasn't waking up."

Then Steph started to laugh, and I knew the good part was coming.

"I texted Hector, because he and I had spent a surveillance shift brainstorming different revenge tactics for Joyce, and he'd suggested making her understand what it was like for me, to give her a chance to change her behavior. I didn't think it would work, but I saw a chance to at least try it," she began.

I looked around and saw that the team of EMTs that had treated Stephanie were now around Joyce, and she was smacking at them, refusing to let them examine her. I knew she wasn't entirely stable, but I'd never seen her looking quite so crazed as she did at this moment.

"Hector showed up with some of the new wax ear protectors that you guys are trying out for extended gun range practice," she explained, pulling out a little box from her pocket.

I recognized the box. It contained a new product we were testing out at the range for the military. Normal ear plugs would mute the sound of the guns firing, but they didn't come close to blocking out all sounds. The wax was a bit of a misnomer, as it was actually a synthetic compound that felt like soft wax, making it pliable enough to shape easily. It was a brilliant invention that blocked out all noise so that only the vibration of sound could be felt, but no true sound waves made it through as an auditory signal. There were downsides to the product, as it was light, flesh-colored almost, and was harder than hell to get out if it were pushed in too far. Despite that drawback, I knew if I were in a high noise setting with hearing loss being probable, I wouldn't hesitate to shove a ball of the wax in.

"I took advantage of Joyce's unconscious state and put two big blobs in her ears. Lula stood guard and let me know that Joyce snored through the whole thing. Once I was satisfied it was in there far enough to not be seen, we moved onto stage two of the operation," she stated, still smiling.

I was afraid to ask, but needed the whole story. "What was stage two?"

"Nobody goes to sleep hearing and wakes up deaf without something happening in between, so I decided to give her a valid explanation for the state she would wake up in and got Hector to help me destroy my car." Her eyes were sparkling at the mention of her transportation's destruction.

"You seem pleased about the explosion," I pointed out.

"I've never been able to step back and observe one before. It's amazing, really," she said, as though she were describing the beauty of a blooming flower, and not the flames currently consuming her car.

"Anyway, Hector planted something on my car near the gas tank, and we all moved away to where he thought we'd be safe. We sent you and Tank messages not to worry, and then Hector hit the detonation button and we watched it explode. Lula said it made a huge sound, and even from the distance we were away, we could see Joyce wake up and jump out of the car, running toward the mall and away from the flames," she said, stopping to laugh some more at the memory.

I approached her and asked if she was all right, and she interrupted me, screaming that my car exploding had nearly killed her. She was completely hysterical, so I waited for her to stop talking, and then asked again if she was injured, but she just started screaming again that I had infected her and spouted off some mess about having parked so close to my car and how that had caused her to catch my deafness, like it were some kind of virus. Any pity I felt for her about the way our little trick had scared her vanished when she started pointing at me and calling me a freak. Lula got between us and tried to reason with her – well, reason Lula-style – but since Joyce couldn't hear us, she mainly just stood there screaming. I'm sure when she finally lets the EMTs check her out, they'll find the wax and take it out, so she'll be fine, but for right now, I'm pretty happy with her response to losing her hearing. It was totally worth killing my car to see her unable to communicate and unwilling to ask for help."

I knew in the back of my mind that this little stunt with Joyce might cause some major problems if Joyce decided to pay her back with a prank of her own, but at the moment, I didn't care. For once, a person that had hurt my woman had gotten a taste of their own medicine, and hopefully, before she began running her mouth off in complete ignorance again, she might think back on this brief experience and leave Stephanie alone. Just the same, I decided I'd talk to Hector about keeping an extra diligent watch over Steph when they were out.

"Where's Lula?" I asked, knowing better than to lecture her about pulling off this trick.

"There are cops here," she replied, as though that answered everything.

I guess it did. Despite her years on the straight and narrow, she hadn't gotten over her nervous aversion to the presence of police.

"You're okay?" I asked, knowing the answer, but needing to hear it anyway.

"I'm fine," she assured me, looking back at where Joyce was still fighting the medical personnel, refusing to let them near her ears.

I could hear her shrill voice screeching over the other noise around us and realized how fortunate it was that Stephanie had leaned more toward talking softer since she lost her ability to judge volume.

When she turned back to look at me, I asked, "Where to now?"

"Well, it appears that I'm in the market for a new car," she joked with a gleam in her eye.

"Any chance you'll let me take care of this new need on your behalf?" I pushed, knowing the answer, but unable to stop myself.

Her smiled fell completely, and she said, "No way. I have some money saved up, since I haven't had to pay rent in a while, and since I'm not taking my car out to chase skips anymore, I'm willing to invest a little more into my next vehicle. But I will let you help me pick out something a step up from where I've usually shopped for cars."

I began running through various scenarios, where I could pull the salesman aside and help with the financing in order to get her into the best possible vehicle.

"You can stop that, right now," she ordered, as though reading my thoughts. "I'm buying this car; you're just there to give it your safety seal of approval."

Knowing I was totally busted, I smiled and motioned for her to follow me. Just before I opened the door to the truck for her to get in, I remembered what she'd said. "What did you mean when you said you were not using your car to chase skips? Have you decided to give it up?"

She paused while she thought back over what we'd discussed, and then said, "No, I just meant when Hector and I go out, we take a RangeMan vehicle, not mine. I talked to him about it, and he didn't see why I had to give up BEA work. When we work together, we get everyone assigned to us quickly. We agreed that moving up to a higher level skip would be a bad move, but I like going after the bad guys, and Hector seems to enjoy doing it with me, so for now, I'm going to keep working on my skills and doing what I want to."

I pushed a curl away from her face and smiled at her words. Sure, there was a piece of me that hoped she'd give it up, just because she'd be safer if she weren't on the streets intentionally interacting with the criminal element of Trenton, but I knew what she meant about enjoying it and not wanting to give it up. Besides, just in the short time she'd been working with Hector, I'd noticed her whole approach had changed. She did more research first and came up with a plan. Hector had gotten her to carry a charged and ready stun gun, and a knife which he was training her with every day during some self defense training he demanded she endure with him. Her confidence was at an all time high, and there really was no valid reason to give it up.

"Proud of you, Babe," I repeated the words I'd said to her so often, pleased when her whole face lit up with my simple praise.

Five hours and four car lots later, Stephanie was driving ahead of me in her slightly used, midnight blue, 2010 Honda Pilot. It was a great vehicle for her – low mileage, great body, no mechanical issues, plenty of room for passengers or shopping bags, and a fantastic safety rating. She seemed thrilled that it had adjustable leather seats and a moon roof, and I liked that it had an advanced security system I would be upgrading and a solid undercarriage so that I could easily plant reliable trackers.

I did manage to convince the salesman to offer her a rebate of eight grand to reduce the price to her pre-stated range and slipped him my credit card to run it through while she was sitting in the driver's seat, playing with the controls. I should have felt remorse for going behind her back after she specifically told me not to, but the look of joy on her face when the finance manager came out to congratulate her on being accepted for financing on the balance of the car after the rebate and her down payment that I no longer saw the downside of what I'd done.

We pulled into the garage, and she hopped out of her new SUV, running her hand down the side and smiling at it. I walked over just in time to hear her comment. "This is such a great car." Then she turned to me and said, "Be sure to tell Hector to plant the trackers where I won't see them so they don't disturb the overall look."

"Got it," I assured her, glad she wasn't debating the fact that I was going to monitor her vehicle.

We made our way to the elevator, and she hit seven and five, which surprised me. It was getting late, and after such a long day, I figured she'd want to head up to seven. When the doors opened, I noticed she didn't move to step out, so I looked at her to see what was wrong.

"I figured you'd be more comfortable here," she stated, as though that were an explanation.

Seeing my confusion, she continued. "Since you intentionally went against my instructions and added some of your money to mine to purchase the car, I assumed you knew I'd be pissed off and want a little space to cool down. But if you want to chance it and put yourself in an enclosed space with a woman carrying a grudge, then by all means, let's continue this up on seven."

Damn, I was totally busted and couldn't say a single thing now to justify what I'd done at the dealership. "Babe," I began with just her name, but she put a hand up to cut me off.

"Save it, Ranger," she said, emphasizing my street name, making it evident that she wasn't calling me Carlos.

The doors to the elevator closed, and we began to move up to seven, when a counter argument popped into my head. "Wait a minute. If you knew what I was doing and didn't stop me, why are you pissed about it now?"

"I wondered if you would fess up and tell me what you were doing," she stated with a single finger in the air. She stood up the next digit, and then continued, "And when I realized how much I wanted that car, I knew I wasn't going to be able to afford it, and while I was distracted, I saw you talking to the salesman in the rearview mirror, so I read your lips and realized you were making it possible for me to have what I really wanted. In the short amount of time where I was debating jumping out of the car and telling you to stop, the finance person came out and started congratulating me, and I temporarily justified my selfishness in taking your money, but now that we're back here and I'm not so close to the car, I'm pissed again."

I'd never understood how women's minds seemed to work in such circles. "Wait, you're mad at me because you think you were selfish in letting me help you get the car you really wanted?"

"You aren't looking at this in the right way," she accused with a hint of sulking that I found endearing, even if the situation was frustrating.

"I'm looking at it as being a man who has endured hell because of my line of work. For enduring the horrors, I have been well paid and saved a sum of money large enough that I never have to worry. I want to share some of what I have saved, because it would bring me a great deal of joy to occasionally spoil the woman I love, and yet, every time I try, you shoot me down and refuse to let me do what I can to show you how I feel," I told her in what I thought was a very patient tone.

"And how about the way it makes me feel?" she challenged. "You have money to throw around, and I have so little comparatively. I can't spoil you the way you want to spoil me, so it creates a dynamic of me being indebted to you that isn't fair."

"I don't need to be spoiled," I pointed out. "I haven't gone without things as I've made my money. I buy everything I need as I go."

"Which means even if I had the funds, I still couldn't spoil you," she huffed.

I needed to put an end to this discussion, or money was going to be a sticking point every time it came up. This was the second time we'd had this conversation, and I'd hated it both times. "I need you to listen to me, and try to hear what I'm saying from my point of view, instead of judging it from the stance of what people in the 'Burg would say."

She rolled her eyes, but I waited until she conceded and said, "I'll try."

"How long had you known me before you heard me laugh?" I asked, trying to ease my way into the conversation.

She looked confused, but I waited until she tried to answer the question. "I'm not sure, but it had to be months. I got some smiles along the way, but no real laughs at first."

"Did you know that two years ago, my mother accused me of being emotionally disconnected?" I pushed, trying to cover my point from multiple angles.

Steph blinked a few times, probably trying to make sense out of what I was saying.

"I've never had a hard time pushing myself to work, to achieve, to produce. Whatever needed to be done, I did it. But between the two of us, one of the reasons I continued to renew my contract with the government was because despite how much I earned, there was still hollowness to my existence. I had everything I needed, but I didn't have anything that provided a real purpose for what I had, other than the same duties I'd always worked under."

Steph's head tilted to the side in a gesture unique to her when she was deep in thought.

"You were the first person to try and reach me on any level beyond the surface. Honestly, you scared the shit out of me when I realized how adept you were at getting to me and how much I loved having you close. I had no idea that I needed the warmth you brought to me until you had given it freely and I pushed it away. You fought for us against every defense I lobbed your way. You don't see it as comparable, and in many respects, you're right. What you've given me means a hell of a lot more than me throwing around some money. I'm giving a tiny piece of what I have, but you give me everything you have, without holding anything back in reserve."

I hated it when I tried to make a deep point and felt that my words were somehow lacking. A more verbose man probably could have made the argument better, and I feared that because of how brief my speech had been that it would be discounted.

The longer she waited to respond, the more I wondered if I'd gotten through. Finally, she broke the silence. "But I still feel like I'm taking from you when you spend money on me."

"Do you remember what happened Thursday night?" I asked, hoping I could end this debate once and for all.

She thought back, and then recounted, "You had a take down of a guy that had been molesting children. After you dropped him off at the station, you came back for a shower. You'd been in there for a long time by your standards, so I slipped in to check on you, and you pulled me in, clothes and all, to join you."

I smiled at the memory of the look on her face when she realized she was soaking wet beside me in the shower. "I was standing there, leaning on the tile, unable to let go of the images from the case file against him, the pictures of those children, and the fact that he'd gotten to so many before we tracked him down. I felt like I'd failed them all by not piecing the clues together quicker and stopping him sooner. But you took one look at me and spoke of all the children I'd protected, and then you refused to let me disagree with you as you continued to spin what had happened, until I began to let go of the guilt. There was a time when I buried shit like that after a take down and used it to distance myself from everyone else."

I took a step closer, hating the distance between us while talking about a memory like that. "But now, I find myself being drawn to you, needing you to help me process what's happened so that I don't shut down a little more with every case. You willingly face the demons of my life to keep me from pulling away from humanity. Don't tell me that you're taking from me. The few token things I've managed to give you are nothing compared to the constant gift you give to me."

"Even if that were true, the world doesn't look at it like that," she argued weakly.

I cupped her cheeks, forcing her to look at me. "I don't give a shit about the world. I only care about how we look at it. You give me something no other person has ever attempted to give, and I know that what I've done in return is a weak comparison, but it's all I have to give."

She put her hands on top of mine. "But you've given me just as much. I mean, you're the one I'd run to when I was in trouble. You're the one that gave me a safe place to crash, and you are the only one that can chase away the dreams when my past catches up to me."

I smiled at the thought of doing the things she'd listed. I knew it wasn't a drop in the bucket compared to what she'd done for me, but I was still proud of what she pointed out as things I'd given to her.

"We can't fight over this for the rest of our lives," I stated, afraid that was exactly what was going to happen anyway.

"How about you don't try and sneak your money in when you think I'm not looking, and I'll try not to fight you at every turn along the way?" she countered.

I was almost afraid to ask, but needed to understand where we stood. "Does this mean you will let me spend a little money on you?"

She smiled warmly at me, and I could feel the effect it had in my chest. When she got an expression like that on her face, I relaxed and felt warmer, regardless of what I was doing. "It means I'm going to try to remember that being in a relationship that's working is as strange to you as it is to me, and that you aren't trying to make me indebted to you, but you're just trying to show me how you feel."

Before I could relax too much into what she said, she added, "Of course, there will still be times that I'll accuse you of spending too much on me, and I'm sure I'll complain about it, but I'll try to see your point of view, too."

I kissed her forehead, and then pulled back to agree. "That's all I can ask."

"Good, because that's all I can give on this," she teased in return.

We stood there for a few moments, just looking at each other, until her stomach growled and I realized I was pretty hungry, too. Fortunately, while we were out looking at cars, Ella had dropped off dinner, and it was in a crock pot, staying warm on the counter.

Dinner was relaxed, with Stephanie giving me a few more details of her revenge against Joyce. As much as I wanted to warn her about possible retribution, I found that I couldn't trample on her joy.

She ended her recap by stating, "I know I probably shouldn't have done it, and once she puts it together, I'll need to look over my shoulder, but just for the few minutes where she was panicking over not being able to hear, it was totally worth it."

"Hector will look out for you," I told her, knowing it was true.

She burst out laughing, and then explained, "He'd better! It was his damn brain child; watching my back is the very least he can do."

"How is it, working with him?" I asked, curious, since she'd never come out and given me an opinion one way or the other.

"I love it," she blurted out, proving the honesty of her words. "He answers all my questions, he teaches me stuff, and he always explains why when I ask."

I knew the why of things was a big deal to Stephanie, so if Hector could answer that question, it would motivate her more than any threat he could attempt.

"He doesn't laugh at me, either."

My expression instantly fell. "Who laughs at you?" I asked, knowing she would only say something like that if it weren't in stark contrast to how someone else had treated her.

She shrugged, and I worried that she was going to attempt to blow it off as though it weren't a big deal. "I don't really know of anyone, but it feels like everyone treats me differently except him. When I'm out in public, I feel people staring at me, and I wonder if they're laughing when I leave; even around my friends, I feel like they are still handling me as though I'll break."

"Do I treat you differently?" I began to speed process how I treated her now compared to before her accident.

"Well, yes, but I think it's because we're sleeping together, and not because I can't hear," she pointed out to my great relief.

She tried to explain a little more, but seemed to struggle to find words. "Hector doesn't let me get away with anything. He calls me on every little safety slip up, he pushes me in the gym, he refuses to let me hide when I'm nervous about talking to clients in the field. When I complain, he listens, but I think it's only because he knows I need to get it out of my system, because I've never once changed his mind when he says I can do something and I don't agree."

I was glad she had someone like him in her life. I knew I challenged her, too, but there was a limit to how hard I would push a point. She was my woman, and it hurt me to force her into a situation she wasn't comfortable with. It sounded like Hector didn't have that same soft spot, which was a good thing. She needed someone like him, and although I never would have guessed it a few months ago, he seemed uniquely able to be what she needed in a friend right now.

As she spoke, I saw her motioning a little more, but instead of them being empty hand gestures from her Italian heritage, I recognized them as signs.

"Did you know Tank was taking a sign language course?" I blurted out, remembering how this day began at the monitors.

She laughed at the abrupt change in the subject. "Sure. How else do you think he could keep up with me and Hector when we sign in the break room?"

I made a note to go in the break room more often. Obviously, my good intentions to let the guys have a place without a boss to relax meant I was missing too much stuff. Between Tank's threats of Ella cooking sweets and now Tank hanging out with Steph and Hector in there, I needed to get my finger back on the pulse of this company.

"When you were on your last mission and Joe and I broke up, Tank was checking up on me, and I made an off handed comment about how guys tended to be unreliable. He challenged me on such a stereotype and told me he'd never let me down. I pushed back, because I was in a really bitchy mood, and told him that it was true, but that he wasn't around that much, so I didn't really depend on him, either. He ripped a piece of paper out of a book in his truck, wrote an address on it, and told me every Tuesday, he would be at that address for lunch – that I could call it Tuesday's with Tank and meet him there anytime I needed to. I could show up or not, and it didn't matter, because I could depend on him being there."

That might have surprised some people, but I knew Tank – better than most – and I knew if there was one trait he prided himself on, it was that he was dependable. Plus, I knew he ate his lunch at the same diner twice a week every week as a way to support the owner, who he admired. He was going to be there anyway, but I didn't feel the need to clue her in about that little fact. It was completely beside the point.

"The first week, I blew it off, but the next week, I decided to test him and showed up at the diner. I saw him sitting at a window booth with his back to the wall. We had a nice lunch, and I figured he'd met his obligation and proven his point, so I began to test him, going two out of four weeks, and he was always there. A couple of weeks ago, I went again for the first time since my accident. I didn't really think he'd be there, since I'd missed three in a row, but he was there waiting. Before I could say a word, he started signing, and he told me about this intensive class he'd been taking so that we could still have our lunches. I burst into tears at the lengths he had gone through to show me he cared about me. I had to pull myself together, because it looked like he was about to have an anxiety attack, not knowing how to comfort me, and I hated to get him so worked up."

I didn't have much room to talk, but I knew Tank was even worse than me when it came to emotions. I could easily picture the worried expression that must have taken over his face when she got emotional. Of course, this story, and his intentional effort to be there for her when I was gone, suddenly helped to put a lot of pieces together regarding how protective he was of her when I returned banged up from my mission.

"But still, it was that lunch that I realized I was so lucky. I mean, I know I've been through a lot, but I'm surrounded by this great group of people, and the world's sexiest man. Despite it all, I have more to be thankful for than I do to fret over, so that makes me pretty fortunate."

I couldn't agree with her more. Those same men had stood by my side through the worst this world could throw at us. We were bonded to each other in ways I couldn't begin to describe or explain, and Stephanie understood it exactly, because they treated her the same way.

Lucky didn't begin to explain how I felt...

I was blessed.