JE gets the honor of having created the characters below.
Jenny (JenRar) thank you so much for patiently straightening out each poor word choice, incorrect punctuation mark, and cloudy plot element.
Chapter 2 – Show Time
As we moved through the night on our way to New York, Tank continued to brief me about my cover giving me dos and don'ts of how to act in the hospital. Apparently, Manny's persona was that he was in the elite leadership of a Latin American family, much like the mob in an Italian family. As such, he was rich and powerful, which meant I needed to give the appearance of being comfortable in that world. And since loyalty is a big deal in family organizations, despite the fact no one would have heard of me before, I needed to appear completely devoted to my new husband.
I sputtered in response to that comment. "Trust me, guys... I may not be the sharpest tack, but I understand how to be a faithful wife."
"So when you first see him laying in the bed, looking like he's damn lucky to be alive, how are you going to react?" Tank asked, not trying to insult me, but trying to help me understand the subtle behaviors I needed to master with little to no practice.
"I'll probably cry, honestly, I hate seeing you guys so beat up," I confessed, figuring the truth was a good way to go.
"Crying is okay," Bobby offered a little softer, "but you can't turn to me for comfort, and I can't offer it on any level."
"What?" I didn't understand why he couldn't even put a hand on my shoulder.
"I'm the paid staff there to watch your back," he told me, helping me to see how much more complicated this was about to become. "You have to call me Robert, never Bobby, and the less you look at me the better."
"But what if I have a question?" I blurted out, feeling as though my safety net of not screwing this up was being ripped out from under me like a magician would yank a table cloth. Only, if I were the magician, everything on the table would go tumbling off in a broken heap, too, which made the analogy all the more fitting.
"You won't have any questions," Bobby replied as though I walked into hospitals all the time and got the guys released against their doctor's wishes while pretending to be happily married to the banged up guy in question.
Before I could attempt to find the right words to tell Bobby how wrong he was, he jumped back in to explain, "You won't need to ask me any questions because I am there to watch your back, which by the way, is the complete truth. You hold his legal power of attorney, and you have his international medical proxy authority and you're his wife and next of kin. Those things give you the legal right to do what you're doing. On top of that, you will be demanding his complete medical record to give to his private treating physician once you get him home. You don't need to understand everything in reality or in the role you're about to play. You just need to act like you are in complete control and you're used to having people jump when you say so."
"What if they don't jump?" I worried, not sure I could pull off the role of rich bitch as effectively as they thought I could.
"They will," Tank replied forcefully. "If not, call me, and I'll give you a little extra muscle."
"What will you do?" I asked, really curious how Tank's muscles could help me if he couldn't be seen.
"You leave that to me," he promised without telling me anything helpful. "But trust me, I don't expect the staff to get in your way."
"Okay," I conceded, not entirely sure I understood, but trusting them just the same. "So once I get him signed out, then what happens?" I asked.
"A helicopter on the roof will take the three of us to Trenton, and we'll get you guys to the house where you'll be laying low until this whole thing is over," Bobby replied.
"I get to ride in a helicopter?" I questioned, having never done it before, and briefly panicking over the idea that I might pass out from the stress if it felt much different from flying in a plane.
"Yes," Tank said with a lighter tone than he'd used for most of the trip. "But you can't act like it's a big deal. You have to at least give the impression that you've done this on numerous occasions."
"Is it a RangeMan helicopter?" I wondered, not sure how deep the RangeMan pockets ran.
"No, the bird belongs to a friend that owes RangeMan big, but it's unmarked, so it's perfect for this. The pilot is from the Boston office, so he's solid for getting us there quickly and quietly. Once we take off, you can relax until we get to Trenton," Bobby offered, much to my relief.
I knew I could keep myself under control while we were boarding, but once the pilot lifted us into the air, all bets were off about my acting abilities.
We'd covered just about all the logistics, so the only question left was the most important one of all. "How badly is he hurt?" I figured it couldn't be too bad if they were moving him, but my gut told me that was a dangerous assumption.
The seconds ticked uncomfortably by until Bobby cleared his throat, obviously realizing this question wasn't going to answer itself. "He was near a car when it was detonated with a an IED."
"What does that mean?" I interrupted.
"It's an Improvised Explosive Device. In addition to the force of the explosion and the fire itself, they'd packed the charge with debris like nails and small metal fragments to act as high-powered shrapnel. So Manny's got a ton of scrapes and cuts, giving him twenty-four sets of stitches in various parts of his body. The blast itself gave him a concussion, a fractured rib, a clean break in his lower arm, and severe bruising along the entire left side of his body." Then Bobby paused, which warned me that the worst injury hadn't been detailed yet.
"But his left leg is torn up. He has some bad burns on the skin, and some debris pinned his knee at a totally unnatural angle so that it aggravated an old injury and tore his ACL – one of the stabilizing ligaments in the knee – and shattered his kneecap. Because of his other injuries, he's going to lose mobility in that joint while it heals, which will require major therapy to get even close to working order. I don't know that he'll ever have the full use of that leg again. Initially, all the injuries together will make pain management the top priority, followed closely by infection prevention."
Before I could remind them that I had no medical background, Tank stopped driving and announced, "We're here; it's time to get your game face on."
I looked down and said, "Guys, I'm wearing a RangeMan uniform."
"See the duffle bag at your feet?" Bobby asked, causing me to look down for the first time since I got in the truck.
Assuming it was a hint, I pulled the bag up and opened it to find some clothes that I had no doubt would fit me perfectly. "What am I supposed to do with these?" I asked, looking around to make the point that there wasn't a bathroom or dressing area as standard equipment in a RangeMan SUV. I knew there was no point in even asking why they had this outfit in the truck.
"Change," Tank said, once again in his commander voice. "We won't look."
I was going to argue the point, but I could tell this was one of those cases I would lose. Even if I won, it would be a shallow victory, because it would waste all kinds of time, and I had a feeling the sooner we got Manny out of that hospital, the safer he and Ranger both would be. So I swallowed my pride and pulled my shirt off, replacing it with the silk blouse in the bag. It was fitted and didn't require tucking in since the hem was uneven at the bottom and meant to be shown off. The pants were a wide leg wool blend that were unusually soft. I gladly tossed my RangeMan cargos and tried to slip them on without flashing the guys in the front seat or anybody walking by on the sidewalk. I guess the tinted windows were coming in handy tonight.
At the bottom of the bag was a pair of pointed toe stiletto boots that I knew were going to fit me like a glove. I slipped my feet in and zipped them up, pulling the pant legs down over the boot tops and smiling at how classy the outfit was. This wasn't something I would ever have picked out for myself, but for the role of a rich, private fashion designer, it was ideal.
"All right," I announced, to let them know they could stop focusing on their windows.
Tank turned around with a box in his hand. "Here."
I opened it and saw what appeared to be a diamond necklace and matching earrings. "Tell me these aren't real."
Tank raised an eyebrow at me in response. I guess that meant he would be lying if he said what I'd asked him to.
"I can't wear that," I complained. "Something will happen to it and it will be all my fault, and I can't be held responsible for ruining thousands of dollars worth of jewelry."
"Boss said you had to wear it," Tank replied, giving me a look that questioned whether he was going to have to put it on or if I could just grow up and do it myself. "There's a tracker in every piece."
"You know, I could slip trackers into my shoes. He doesn't have to go this extreme to hide them," I pointed out, reaching for the sparkly accessories.
"He did that, too," Tank replied, as though it should have been obvious.
Of course he had. I was being sent on a mission of sorts prepped out by Ranger. There wouldn't be a stone left unturned. "Wait, how did he have time to pull all this together?"
"He's had a go bag ready for you for years in case he ever needed to get you out undercover. When I got the call, he told me to pull that bag and then open his safe for the jewelry. I'm just following orders here," Tank said, making me wonder why Ranger had such expensive jewelry sitting in his safe for no apparent reason.
"New bag," Bobby announced, pulling me from my thoughts. He handed me a purse that was much smaller than I usually carried, but I assumed that made sense, since a rich woman traveling the world with a staff and a bodyguard wouldn't need a huge bag filled with old candy wrappers. I quickly switched out my old bag for the new one, taking out only the necessities. "There isn't room for my gun and my stun gun in here," I announced, surprised that he hadn't planned ahead for my weapons.
"Your gun loaded?" Tank asked, sounding surprised.
I blushed, realizing he'd gotten me with one question. "No."
"Then don't take it," he replied matter-of-factly. "It could be more dangerous to carry it without the ability to use it."
His big hand stretched out, so I gave him the .38 Ranger had helped me purchase years ago when we first met. For some reason, I was struggling more to hand over that useless piece of metal than I was to walk away from my trusty purse that I'd used a lot more often than the gun to take down skips.
Then Tank lifted his big hand to give me a small black box. I knew it would contain a ring, and based on how soft the jewelry store's velvet was on the outside, I had a feeling it was going to be extraordinary. When I lifted the lid, I had to blink to believe what I was seeing. Inside were two rings: a wide gold band containing inset stones that I assumed were diamonds and sapphires and an engagement ring with a large round diamond in the middle, surrounded by sapphire baguettes and small diamonds along the remaining band. Even in the dark truck, they sparkled. I'd never seen rings like these and wondered if they'd been specially made for this purpose. They walked the line of being obviously expensive, the purchase of someone with vast amounts of money, while also being breathtakingly lovely with no hints of being over-the-top or tacky. When I slipped them on and lifted my hand, I was shocked to think I'd never seen a wedding set as classy as these were.
"Are you ready?" Bobby asked.
I stopped focusing on the rings and nodded to let him know I was okay to get this show on the road.
"You'll probably see some of the guys we use for contract work here and there and a few guys from the other offices. Don't acknowledge anybody, and just stick to the plan like we discussed."
"Okay," I responded, hoping if I kept my words short, he wouldn't hear the nervousness that was creeping into my system.
"I'll guide you to his room, and then I'll alert the floor nurse in charge so she can get the release initiated. I'll ensure that all the personnel that need to speak with you do so in the room with Manny so that you can stand firm on not leaving his side, plus we can protect you both better if you're together."
Once again, I imitated a ventriloquist dummy and just nodded.
Bobby must have taken that as permission to continue. "And if anything gets totally confusing or overwhelming, use the cell phone Ranger put in your bag to call Tank. It's the only number hard coded in as a contact. Just state what's happening, and he'll advise you. You can tell whoever is listening that you are conferring with a family attorney or an advisor from the family, or anything else you think will work."
I put my hand on the door handle when he stopped talking, ready to jump into this nightmare, but Tank told me to wait. "Bobby is your bodyguard, and you need to act like you are totally used to being handled like this. Always wait for him to clear the area and open the door for you. You never open a door – even to go into the ladies room. You always wait for him to clear it first."
"Are you guys sure—" I started to say, wondering if they'd pinned their hopes on me and were about to be majorly disappointed.
Tank stopped me before I could get the rest of the sentence out. "Bossman said nobody else but you could pull this off. And he's never wrong, so yeah, we're sure."
There wasn't really anything else I could say to that, so I gestured to Bobby that I was ready to make my acting debut defrauding a medical establishment and potentially committing a crime against the U.S. government. He hopped out and did a quick scan around before putting a comm. unit in his ear and speaking. I didn't bother asking who he was communicating with; I just waited as patiently as I could for him to open my door and gesture to the hospital entrance. He put a hand on the small of my back and stepped ahead of me to open the door and hold it open for me to walk through.
"Elevators ahead. He's in room 510," Bobby informed me in a voice so quiet, I wouldn't have thought he was talking to me if I hadn't seen his eyes focused in my direction.
I forced my hands to stay by my side and allowed Bobby to hit the button to call the elevator and to set our floor. When the doors opened, I took a step before stopping when I remembered what Tank said. Bobby made a soft sound that seemed like he was agreeing with my action, so I tried to hide my smile. I was such a sucker for these guys, and knowing I'd done something they approved of made me happy.
I was able to get the grin off my face when I stepped out of the elevator and saw the sign for the ICU, which appeared to be where we were headed. I fell into step with Bobby, allowing him to open each door and move us closer to the room where I was going to need to pull off the role of distraught, but completely in charge wife.
"Wait," I called out when I saw we were in front of room 510.
Bobby turned to look at me with a worried expression.
"Just wait a minute," I repeated when a nurse walked by, glancing our way with only mild interest. I took a few deep breaths and then nodded. "Okay, now I'm ready."
Bobby nodded but said nothing else before knocking four times and then pushing the door open.
Caesar and a guy I'd seen before but didn't know at all were inside and nodded at me, lifted their chin at Bobby, and then silently walked out, I presumed to stand guard at the door.
Bobby pointed to the chair right next to Manny and said, "That's for you. Don't let anybody make you move. Any test they need to run can be done with you in that spot."
He left after telling me that he was going to get the nurse and begin the process of having Manny released and reminding me not to worry, that Caesar and Erik were at the door. At least the mystery of who the other guy was had been answered.
As soon as the door closed, I let my gaze fall to Manny. I was glad for the briefing I'd gotten on the way over. He looked like death warmed over, and exactly as I'd told Tank, I began to cry. At first, I fought the tears; then I realized there was no reason to, because I needed to look upset and I wasn't wearing mascara. It was packed in my bag, but in my rush at home, I'd never put it on. No wonder I felt so on display... I didn't have anything to hide behind.
I blamed the stillness in the room and the steady sounds of the heart monitor for making me so unaware of my surroundings that my mouth opened on its on. I reached up, wanting to touch him somewhere but not really sure what was uninjured enough to risk touching. Finally, I settled on his hair and ran my fingers through some of it on the side. Manny had shoulder-length hair that he usually kept pulled back in a low ponytail tied with a strip of leather a lot like Ranger's. At the moment, it was loose, and the dark hair was in need of a good brushing.
Lazily, I moved my fingers through the side closest to me and promised him, "Once we get you somewhere safe, I'll make sure to get your hair washed for you. It looks like they got all the major stuff out of it, but it's still dirty from the blast, and I'm sure you'll want that grimy feeling to be gone."
Once I started talking, it seemed to get easier, so I let myself ramble about nothing in particular. I told him how bad he looked, and then my other hand moved up to touch his hand closest to me. It had an IV going into it, but I just held it carefully and promised him I'd do whatever it took to get him out and back home safe.
"I may not be able to keep myself out of trouble, but I don't let down the people depending on me, so don't you worry. Besides, a car has already blown up, so I don't feel the need to do that part in order to have a complete adventure."
There was a series of four taps on the door, spaced just as Bobby had done it earlier, so I didn't bother acknowledging the door when it opened.
A nurse walked over and looked over each of the machines before standing across the bed from me and introducing herself. "Mrs. Ramos, I'm Carolyn Hines, the head nurse in the ICU for this shift. I understand you wish to have your husband discharged into your care."
While she spoke, I looked at her, but when she said husband, I let my eyes fall back to Manny and nodded that she was right. "I do."
"Mr. Ramos's injuries are extensive. He's only been out of surgery for eight hours, and because of the amount of pain medication he's on, he is in and out of consciousness. I think it might be better for him to wait at least another twenty-four hours before attempting to transport him." Her tone was professional and soft. It was obvious she was concerned about her patient.
I knew I was supposed to come off as completely in control, but I couldn't play the ruthless bitch – at least not to someone who was attempting to be civil to me. I shook my head no and spoke in a tone as close to hers as I could muster. "I understand your concerns, but my husband has always been very clear about what I was to do in this exact circumstance, and I cannot deviate from those instructions even for a single day. He's made it through the surgeries; I have all the arrangements made for his care, so I need to get him moved immediately."
"The surgeon will come by to check on him in another four hours," she tried a different angle. "How about we wait until he's had another exam before doing anything rash? If the surgeon is pleased with his status, he might be willing to release him."
"No." I dropped the hand that had been playing in Manny's hair, realizing that even if I didn't want to be ruthless, I was going to have to be assertive at a bare minimum. I looked her directly in the eye and said, "I will not wait for the surgeon. I understand I'm signing him out against medical advice and that you will need my signature to do that. Please get whatever forms are necessary. I've already made the arrangements for his immediate transport, and I'd like to be on the move as soon as possible."
She looked at me for a tense second, probably weighing her options of how else she might stall me, but in the end, she nodded and said, "I'll pull the paperwork together, and I'll call the doctor on rotation right now. I'm sure he'll want to speak to you first."
She was nearly to the door before I remembered what Bobby had said about Manny's records, so I called out to her again, "Ms. Hines, I will need a copy of my husband's full medical records as well. His personal physicians will need to know everything that has been done to him since he arrived at St. Elizabeth's."
"Of course, Mrs. Ramos," she agreed, obviously comfortable with my request. "I'll get them for you right away."
After the door closed, Bobby held up a finger, so I waited to see what he giving me a wait signal for. There were two thumps against the door, like each of the guys had hit it with their palms, and then Bobby dropped his finger and smiled at me before putting a finger over his lips to tell me to be quiet. I got the impression the room wasn't clean, so someone else could be listening in. Still, it made me feel good just to see him smile, giving me a sign that I was handling this well.
I turned to look at Manny again and saw him struggling to open his eyes, so I stood up to be in his field of vision. I knew when I'd been out of it in the hospital, I always woke up confused, and I didn't want him to start complaining about me being here in front of his doctor.
"Hey, Manny, it's Steph," I said, keeping his hand in mine.
He instantly looked confused and tried to focus, but his eyes didn't seem to want to cooperate. "Steph?"
"Yeah. The guys called me and told me my husband had been hurt, so of course I came right away to take you home safely," I blurted out, trying to both tell him why I was here and keep it to the script in case someone was listening in.
That seemed to be what he needed to hear, because his eyes shot open.
I felt the need to step back, but forced myself to stay close so he would see I was real.
"You're real?" he asked with a slight grimace.
I knew the cloudy head feeling he had to be experiencing from the drugs and the injuries, so I just smiled at him and said, "I'm just here to keep you safe."
Then he gave me the sweetest smile as his eyes fluttered from the strain of trying to stay awake. "Ah, I'm dreaming. You're an angel."
His eyes closed then, and I wasn't sure he could hear me, but I still wanted to respond, so I said, "You know me well enough to know I'm no angel. You're going to need a whole lot of care, and until you heal a good bit, it's not going to involve me in a nurse's uniform."
A male voice I didn't recognize said, "At least you realize there are restrictions on what Mr. Ramos can handle. I'm hoping that means you're going to be reasonable about signing him out now and let him stay until he is a little further along in his recovery."
I stood up straight, not liking the doctor's tone one bit. "Actually, it means the sooner he's out of here and settled with his regular doctors, the better it will be for everyone involved."
"Mrs. Ramos, you aren't thinking clearly…" he began, using that condescending voice that men used to shut up their dimwitted wives. It hooked that place in me that resented being told what to do, and I couldn't stop myself from responding.
"Actually, doctor, I think it is your skills of thought that aren't firing correctly. I've given you all the required paperwork you need to process his release. You have no legal reason to hold him. I'll accept responsibility for his care, but my husband is leaving this hospital – now." By the end, my voice was getting a little louder.
I felt Manny squeezing my hand, and I looked down to see if he was all right. I knew what it was like to have a concussion from an explosion, and I figured my loud voice probably wasn't helping the headache he had to be sporting. I reached over with my free hand and touched his hair again. "Sorry if I'm making your head worse."
He shook his head much slower this time, probably remembering how it felt the last time he'd tried it. "You're okay," he assured me. "The doc's a dick. I don't want to be here."
I smiled at his word choice and then looked over to the physician, who was staring at us like we were an exhibit at an oddity museum. "You heard my husband," I stated to get the doctor out of his stupor. "Get him out of here."
"For the record, you are making a huge mistake," the doc replied tersely.
"Noted. Now do whatever you need to so that when I get word our transportation is here, we can leave smoothly," I instructed, turning my back to dismiss the doctor and face Manny once more.
The door closed, and after a brief pause, the two muted thumps from the guys gave us an all clear.
I looked back down at Manny, and he had obviously passed out again from the effort involved in trying to participate in the conversation.
I couldn't stop myself from squeezing his hand again and replying, "You sleep and let me finish busting you out of here."
I'd always loved to watch the guys when they were asleep. Their faces lost the hard fighter expressions they so often carried, and as the softness set in, I could easily picture them as young boys, ready for fun mischief and taking on the world. With Manny like this, I had an overwhelming desire to protect him.
I'd agreed to this because Ranger had asked. But seeing Manny so vulnerable, I knew that from here on out, I'd do whatever it took to keep him safe just to protect this broken man in front of me.