The characters below are all courtesy of JE.
Jenny (JenRar) thank you for your hard work as the beta on this story.
Chapter 16 – A Little Mush, a Little Push, and Some Guns
Kissing always seemed like seeing the mileage marker for your vacation destination, knowing in just ten more miles, you would get out of the car and finally get to put your toes in the sand and your body in the water. The act of kissing brought about that same kind of anticipation and excitement for me, knowing that soon, I'd be moving on to the good stuff that my body definitely wanted to get to. But kissing Manny was nothing like the usual trip to get to the final location; it was a destination of its own, and I was in no hurry to have it end.
"Bed?" I managed to ask when he pulled back enough to take a deep breath.
He nodded, which I took as meaning, "Yes the bed sounds perfect, but I'm too distracted by kissing you to speak." It was a bit of a stretch that his nod meant all of that, but he wasn't disagreeing with me, so I felt like I was within my rights to put words in his open mouth.
We moved slowly, more because Manny seemed hesitant to let me go than because he was injured. I paused when we got to his hospital bed in the den, but he found his voice to say, "Not here. I'm tired of being in that damned bed. If I'm well enough to do this, I'm well enough to be beside you on a real mattress."
I could have debated that the hospital bed held a real mattress, but arguing didn't seem like the right move once his tongue slipped between my open lips again. And then he did the most wonderful thing – Manny moaned. This wasn't a short, quiet sound that slipped through. It was a long, sensual noise that told me his defenses and walls were nowhere to be found. I don't think any touch could have turned me on as much as that sound did.
"Bed, now," I instructed, beginning to move us again down the hall to the colorful room that I considered mine.
It took us a while to make our way that far, but I couldn't have said exactly how long. Kissing Manny had short circuited my reference of time. Every time his lips touched mine, I felt complete. Each time he pulled back to take a breath or skim his bottom lip with his tongue, I wanted to yank his head back to me. I was able to keep a firm enough grip on my senses to refrain from jerking him too hard, but it wouldn't surprise me if my pulls on his hair caused him to lose a few strands. Of course, the way he made a new sound every time I tightened my grip on his silky locks told me he wouldn't care if half his hair was gone.
We were only a foot away from the bed when Manny finally opened his eyes enough to look around. He blinked a few times and then looked down with a grin. "It's not just the pajamas here, is it? This whole house is an experiment in color."
"I know it's a little odd, but they were vibrant people. It fit them," I attempted to explain, even though I didn't really want to talk about my family at this precise moment.
"I like it." His smile transformed into something more predatory. "It fits you, too – completely alive and not bound by convention to be boring and contained."
"That sounds like me," I agreed, stretching up to kiss him again. "But some people interpret that as me being a bit of a freak and uncontrollable."
He chuckled a little before adding, "They're idiots."
After that conversation, he didn't seem to feel the need to practice our verbal skills anymore, which suited me perfectly. It took a minute to get him lowered down to the bed. It wasn't as high as his hospital bed, so it required getting his injured leg in the right spot before he could sit down. Then a few grimaces later, he pulled his cast up to lie on the mattress and stretched out, as well. By the time he was done, I wondered if all the activity and the obvious discomfort would mean he needed to actually rest now that he was lying down.
It took a second or two before he opened his eyes, and I was surprised to see the hunger that had been their earlier hadn't left. He patted the bed beside him, forcing me to climb up from the foot since I couldn't fit between the mattress and the wall and there was no way he could scoot over easily. I crawled up from the bottom and laid beside him on my side, supporting my head with my hand so that I could look at him.
"How are you?" I asked, wanting to be sure we weren't pushing him too soon after his injuries. It had been just a couple of weeks ago that he was unconscious in a hospital, so I didn't want to cause him more pain than pleasure.
He shrugged. "I'm focused."
Playful Manny was something I was still adjusting to, but I had to admit that I liked this side of him. I was sure part of it was because he was genuinely fun, but mostly I think I loved it because I'd never seen him relax like this around the guys, so I liked to believe this was a side that only I got to see.
"Focused on what?" I played along, lifting my free hand to rest on his chest.
He took my hand in his good one and held it there while he looked at me. After waiting just long enough that tension had begun to build, he decided to reply, "You."
I looked down, breaking the eye contact, but when he started speaking again, I had to look up once more.
"I have no idea how I've missed seeing you all this time."
"You saw me," I replied, trying to reassure him. "We even worked an occasional shift together, and you were a perfect gentleman."
"No, I was guarded around you and tried to keep more than a respectable distance between us. I told myself it was because you were the boss's woman, but I think it may have been more that I knew if I let myself relax, I'd want to be much closer to you than was possible," he assured me.
"What made you think it wouldn't be possible?" I wondered.
"Since Laney died, I've lived a partial life, going through all the motions of what was expected of me at RangeMan, but my free time has been devoted to this need to avenge my sister. I've lived with the knowledge that it would probably cost me my life but that I would willingly give it if that's what it took to end Hernandez's. When that is your main reason for living, there's no room for anything else. I don't think I could handle the competing pulls to give up my life because of what Laney went through and to live my life to be with you."
When he put it that way, I wondered what had changed. Why was it suddenly possible now?
"What's different now?"
His face softened a little, as though he understood what I was really asking. "Now, Ranger is taking out Hernandez, and I've gotten to know you. That stubborn streak in you proved to be too much for me to resist, and you pulled me in so far, I can't pull back."
"Do you want to pull back?" I didn't want it to seem like I was questioning everything he said, but my track record with guys who said they liked me proved that there was usually a qualifier of some sort attached to the sentiment.
"No," he quickly assured me, squeezing my hand with his to make his point. "But I can't promise that I won't do it from time to time. I've lived in my own little world for long enough that there may be times I push you out just because I don't know how to let you in. I'm not exactly the easiest guy to get along with."
"You?" I pretended to be shocked by his words. "I'm not sure if you've heard this or not, but sometimes I can be a little on the pigheaded side myself. And when I feel scared about something, I tend to run. There might be times that I run away just because I don't know how to deal with what is happening."
"What do I do when you run?" He was asking for my advice in how to handle me, and I thought it was the sweetest gesture any guy had ever made for me. He was admitting that he needed help, and he wasn't too proud to ask for it.
I had to think about it for a minute. When I ran from Joe, he would demand I come back, puffing up as though an authoritative voice was enough to bend my will to his. When I ran from Ranger, he let me go and then waited until we ran into each other again, pretending that nothing had happened. Neither of those really worked, though.
"I think when I run, I need someone to run with me. Not to chase me or to cut me off, but just to let me know that if I need a change of scenery, that's okay, yet I'm not alone while I'm getting there," I said, wondering if that kind of response was even possible.
Then I remembered what he'd said about how he might try to exclude me out of habit and asked, "What do I do when you try to push me out because you don't know how to let me in?"
He took a moment to consider my question, which I appreciated. He wasn't just blowing it off as though there was nothing that could be done. "Push back," he finally advised. "Remind me that I want you in my life, and don't let me get away with telling you parts of it are too dark or too dangerous for you to access."
"You know those words are probably going to bite you in the ass, right?" I teased, wondering if I could stand up to him when he needed me to or if I'd run from the challenge instead.
Manny frowned playfully, pretending to reconsider.
"I'm not the easiest person to get along with, either," I warned him. "You're probably only tolerating it this well because there is no one else here for you to compare me to."
He laughed at how I'd given him an out. "Trust me. If there was someone else here, your stock would go up. No one compares to you." As soon as he said the last part, he made a face.
"What was that?" I asked, not recognizing the expression.
"Tell me this room isn't bugged for safety reasons," he responded, not really answering my questions.
"I have no idea... Why?" I still wanted to know about that face.
"Because that last thing I told you had to be the girliest line I've ever said," he explained, making me smile.
"Don't worry, I won't tell anybody. Your tough guy image can stay intact," I assured him.
"I do have a good image to uphold," he said, sounding proud of it. "I don't know how I'll act when the guys are around. I mean, I've got years of training to fall back on that dictates my responses when I'm at RangeMan. I want you with me, but being open with you is completely contrary to what I'm used to."
"You can do both, you know." I felt like this was an important point to make. "You can be the big bad ass you've perfected around the office, and then you can be this guy when you're with me."
"It makes me sound like I've got a split personality," he joked, but his laughter felt forced.
"It's not like I have loads of experience with this," I pointed out. "I mean, it's not like I chase skips while holding hands with my partner."
Manny started drawing designs on the back of my hand, and the quiet in the room felt comfortable. "Do all healthy relationships start with this much talking?" he asked, lightening the mood once more.
"Hell if I know. I've never had a healthy relationship," I admitted. "I have no idea how to do this."
"We'll figure it out together," he suggested, stretching to move his hand up behind my neck. "We've got lots of time."
I allowed him to pull me toward him so that I was leaning across his chest with my face directly in front of his.
"Right now, I've got some better suggestions of how we should spend the time." He lifted his face just enough to touch our lips together.
I was lost to him again as soon as our mouths connected.
In the back of my mind, I thought I heard the cell phone ringing, and not for the first time, but I elected to ignore it, much preferring to focus my attention on what Manny was doing with his tongue on my throat. I'd always been slightly ticklish where my neck met my shoulders, but when he gave me attention there, it was all I could do to keep from begging for more.
Manny made a sound that was a lot more like a groan of annoyance than the sexy moan he'd made earlier. It was enough of a difference that I pulled back to look at him, and I could see something wasn't right, based on his face.
Before I could ask, he said, "I hate to say this, but you'd better get the phone. If you miss another of their calls, I'm pretty sure they'll just show up."
"I'll be right back," I promised, forcing myself to climb off of Manny and move to the den to grab the cell phone.
Just as I picked it up to bring it back to the bedroom with me, it began ringing again. I answered before the second ring sounded and heard Cal's voice.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," I assured him. "Why are you out of breath?"
"I was at the Tasty Pastry and was going to pick up something for you to bring by later and thought I'd ask what you wanted, so I called, but you didn't answer." As he spoke, I began walking down the hall to see Manny again.
"Since I'd ridden with Binkie and he was at the electronics store next door, I decided to run to the office and get my car to see what was going on to keep you from answering the phone."
"Cal, that's over a mile," I interrupted, assuming that's why he was out of breath.
He made a noise that basically blew off my worries about the distance. "Once I got to RangeMan, you still weren't answering, so I ran up the stairs to the control room and asked Brett to pull up the monitors from your place, but everything looked secure."
"So that's when you called this time?" I wondered if the stairs on top of the long jog accounted for his heavier than normal breathing.
"No," he said again, making my head spin at all he'd been through to get in touch with me. Now I felt slightly guilty for ignoring his calls just so I could neck. "By the time I got back downstairs, Binkie was back. He walked over to where I was so we could discuss the next move and left the Explorer at the curb. We'd only gotten so far as to bump knuckles before somebody drove by and shot the hell out of the SUV. We had to dive for cover and return fire."
By this point, I was back in the bedroom. Manny took one look at me and his blank face slid into place before he used his good arm to push himself up on the bed, leaning against the headboard. He motioned for me to come sit beside him. I followed his direction without consciously making the decision to do so.
Once I was sitting beside him, I relaxed slightly and asked, "Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"
"I'm fine, but it scared the shit out of me," he admitted, making me smile.
"I didn't think tough military guys were afraid of a bullet or two," I teased, trying to make him think of something other than what he'd just been through.
"I'm not, Angel," he assured me. "I was scared for you. We have no idea who was throwing lead at our car, but it's just as likely to be someone upset with you as with RangeMan, so when I couldn't reach you, I was worried they'd gotten to you as well."
"I'm okay, and so is Manny," I assured him. "Nobody knows we're here, so we're safe. If this is somehow related to me, I'm so sorry you had to go through that."
"We don't know anything yet about what happened. RangeMan has a list of people who don't send us Christmas cards because of our own pasts. There's no reason to assume it was a vendetta against you or Manny that caused it. But most people around here know better than to try to take out a RangeMan vehicle, especially right in front of our building. Stay low, and as soon as we finish processing the scene, I'm going to head out there. I think Tank wants another body or two there until Ranger gives the all clear to bring you home." Cal paused before adding, "Tank doesn't overreact, so if he says it's necessary, I hope you'll go along with it."
I didn't see anything to object to. If the powers that be thought we needed more protection, especially with Manny being compromised because of his injuries, then I was all for that. This was nearly over, so there was no reason to argue with the guys about beefing security now.
"That would be great. Whatever Tank thinks is best is fine with me. I just want to be sure Manny is safe."
"What about you?" Cal asked.
"Me, too," I assured him, but in the back of my mind, I knew that I'd do anything to keep Manny alive and whole, so accepting additional guards and an extended period in lockdown wasn't the burden it usually was. If it were just for me, I might complain that it was unnecessary because I didn't want to be a burden to RangeMan. But since it was for Manny, there was no way I was going to get in the way of that.
"When will you be here?" I asked, suddenly feeling the need to have backup in case the shooting there was related to Hernandez in some way.
"Within the hour," he responded. "Hang tight, okay?"
"Call me when you're here, and I'll let you in," I replied, before realizing he had hung up. I was trying – really, really trying - but that whole hanging up on me before I thought the conversation was over was getting annoying.
"What's going on?" Manny asked.
I realized he'd probably heard just enough to be worried, but not enough to have the whole scoop. I hated feeling that way, so I quickly filled him in on everything Cal had said.
"Help me up," he replied without asking additional questions. It was just as well he didn't need more details, because I'd already shared everything I knew.
By allowing me to help him, he moved much quicker, and after a stop by the bathroom for both of us, we made our way to the den.
He stopped walking and asked, "Where are the weapons from RangeMan?"
That was an interesting question. "I gave you the gun I found in the couch," I reminded him, pointing to his cast, where the holster I'd made him was still strapped to the fiberglass.
"No..." He shook his head, as though I'd said something incredibly silly. "There is no way RangeMan set this up as a safe house for you without a substantial amount of firepower to secure it. Are there any duffle bags in closets or in the cabinets in the kitchen?"
"When we got here, I didn't really do a search, so I don't know," I replied, a little embarrassed that I hadn't considered it. But then again, even if I'd known we were set up with enough ammo to hold off a small militia, I don't know what I would have done with that knowledge.
"You go search all the bedrooms and bathrooms, and I'll take care of the kitchen. Bring everything you find to the den, and we'll sort it out together," he suggested, basically telling me what to do. The way he'd included me in it so that I didn't feel like I was being ordered around made me want to do a good job for him.
Rushing through each of the rooms at my end of the house, I was shocked to find one duffle bag in the closet of the color room I'd slept in and another in the linen closet of the bathroom.
I dragged them out to the den, surprised at how heavy they were. Did they think we were going to be attacked by a rogue nation? I mean, how necessary was it for us to have hand grenades?
Manny had found three knives, a pouch of throwing stars, and another Glock in the kitchen, so when he laid eyes on what I was pulling out of the canvas, he began to relax. "Man, am I glad to see these," he said, looking like a kid at Christmas while picking up a smoke bomb.
"Why do we need all this?" I blurted out, wishing I understood the attraction guys had to this kind of thing.
"Well, they're all for different things. This"—he lifted a rectangular case—"is a sniper rifle. It's great from a distance, but not exactly what you want in a close gun battle."
Then he lifted a holster with two Glocks already loaded and ready to go. "And this is something you want on you so that you have a primary weapon and a backup in case something misfires or you have the need to shoot in opposing directions."
"These?" I asked, lifting two knives that looked more like something the grim reaper would carry with a short handle at the other end.
His eyes nearly glazed over as he took one from me. "Ah, now these aren't my specialty – I'm more of a gun and gadgets man – but Cal can do as much damage with an arsenal of knives, sickles, and throwing discs than most people can do with a handgun. It's like watching him dance, except his audience usually ends up on the ground bleeding."
I couldn't stop myself from feeling slight nauseous at that idea.
Of course Manny noticed and set down the blades he'd practically been molesting. "Why don't you like guns?"
"I don't have anything against guns," I replied, sounding defensive even to my ears.
"But you refuse to carry yours when it's loaded, and you never seem to draw it as a first line of defense," he pointed out accurately.
"It's seen some service," I responded quietly.
Manny's eyes squinted, like he was trying to squeeze a memory into focus. "That's right... You took out that guy who managed the boxer. From what I heard, despite him getting the slip on you and it being your first time dealing with adrenaline in a life or death situation, you were able to unload dead center and take care of yourself."
I drew in a breath that was shaky at best. "I don't like the idea of shooting people. It's like having to make a judgment call that someone else's life is less valuable than mine. And once I pull the trigger, I can't take the bullet back, so I hate even having it in my hand, because then I'm forced to use it." I shivered again as I thought back over each time I'd pulled my gun on another human.
"Hey," Manny said, reaching out to touch my face and force me to focus on him instead of the gory movie now looping in my brain. "You did what you had to do. The moment one of those assholes put you in the position where you could lose your life, they made the judgment call that they didn't deserve to live. All you did was fight for your ability to keep going. Don't blame yourself for someone else's bad decisions."
I knew he was right, but I still hated the thought that I'd taken someone else's life. In hindsight, it still seemed like the only option I had at the time, but I still hated that I'd done it.
As soon as that thought crossed my mind, I felt something cool on the opposite side of my face from where Manny's hand was and then I heard Nagymama's voice. "You have nothing to fear, child. You come from a long line of loving people who fight when pushed to protect what is right. Put these thoughts away now."
Just as quickly as it had come, her voice and touch were gone. I looked up at Manny, wondering if I should tell him what she'd said, but he spoke before I could.
"She's right, you know. You have nothing to fear, and it's time to put those thoughts away."
"You heard her?" I asked, knowing he'd shared some dreams with me but still finding it strange that he could hear her voice while we were awake. "I thought the voice was in my head."
He seemed confused by my question. "Yeah, I heard, and I don't think it was out loud in the room, so I guess it was in my head, too. Maybe it's because I was touching you when she spoke, or maybe it's because I've been here long enough some of the house's vibe is wearing off on me."
"The house's vibe?" I repeated, not sure what he meant.
"You know, the colors all seem to be right now, this carpet feels good on my feet, I don't mind the bright pajama pants…the house's vibe," he offered as an explanation.
I heard Nagypapa's laugh then before he said, "No, son, it's love. We are connected to Stephanie through our love for her, and now you have the same thing. You hear us through her. If you didn't care deeply for her, you wouldn't be able to sense us at all."
Manny and I kept staring at each other, neither asking if we'd heard the same message, because it was obvious we had.
Then Nagypapa added, "Besides, the house could use an update, and even I didn't wear most of those pants. Why would anybody buy pants with monkeys on them? It brings to mind an old vulgar expression from when I was a young man about choking—"
I heard Nagymama clear her voice to make him stop talking, and they drifted to the back of my mind, allowing what struck me most about what he'd said to come back to me.
"You care for me?" I wondered, past questioning the voices and just accepting they were real, at least to the two of us.
"And you care for him too, child," Nagymama announced, basically outing my feelings before I got Manny to confirm his own.
"But we haven't spent that much time together," I argued, putting a hand on Manny's to keep him connected to me. I might not understand how I was feeling, but I didn't want him to think I didn't like it.
"I took one look at my wife when we were fourteen and knew I loved her. She hadn't spoken a word to me, but there was no doubt in my heart that she was to be mine. Time is no matter to the heart. You could spend years with someone and have only a deep friendship to show for it. There is nothing wrong with that for some people, but for us… We have fire in our blood, and we must have passion. Love like ours is not born from time; it comes from the heart, and your heart knows what it feels," Nagypapa explained, as though he were teaching me how to tie my shoes. His patient voice seemed to drip with wisdom, and each word pressed the truth of his message into me.
Manny must have seen the moment I stopped fighting what my great-grandparents were trying to tell me, because he spoke the second my mind cleared. "I do care for you. I'm not Hungarian, so I don't know if I can claim fire in my blood like he said, but we Latins are known for passion in our own right. I'm pretty sure I can relate."
I couldn't help but grin at him. When we started our confinement in this house, I wouldn't have described Manny as fiery. Grumpy, for sure – even stoic in some ways. But the last couple of days, I had begun to see new sides of him, and I adored every one. When I thought about it like that, I found it easy to talk about how I felt.
"I care for you, too."
He got a cocky grin on his face as he held up some leather contraption that I knew had a couple of guns attached to it. "Do you care for me enough to put this on?"