Valentine's Day Challenge, Part 19
Meanwhile, in Trenton:
I spent my day chasing a dodgy skip, avoiding my mother's phone calls, and sitting on my impulse to drive over to Rangeman. Surely, the Big Meeting that Tank had talked about was over by now. I thought that Tank would have called me. Maybe no news is good news? Probably more like he was afraid to have to be the bearer of bad news. I don't even know for sure what the meeting was about, but my spider sense was a-tingling. Somehow, I'm pretty sure it was about something we need to know. Well, something that I need to know.
I talked with Connie earlier; she still hadn't turned up anything. I was going to call Joe later tonight to see if he had any news to share. This was driving me nuts. I realized that if I didn't turn up something soon, I was going to have to walk away. The thought of that broke my heart, but I couldn't continue like this forever.
I drove into my parking lot, securing my normal prime spot next to the dumpster, and made my way across the parking lot. I was about half way there when I got the creepy-crawlies again. I looked around, trying to see what was out of place, when I spotted a dark sedan peeling away from the curb and speeding down the block. Now, a normal girl might just chalk that up to coincidence, but I've had way more than my share of psycho stalkers, and this just seemed too familiar. I hurried into the building, and was relieved to find Mrs. Bestler in the elevator.
"Good afternoon, dear," she greeted me as I entered. "Going up?"
"Second floor, please," it's always good to play along. "Mrs. Bestler, have you noticed anybody who doesn't belong around here this afternoon?" I hated to scare her, but I was a little scared myself.
"No dear, only the handsome delivery man that went up a few minutes ago. But I'm sure he wasn't up to no good." She smiled at me, and I gamely returned it, as the doors opened, and I walked out into the hall.
I reached into my purse for my gun. Of course, that was futile, since my gun was in my cookie jar where it belongs. My fingers did close around my stun gun, and I also managed to find a canister of defense spray. I pulled them both out, tucked the stun gun into my waist band, and gave the canister a good shake.
I quietly approached my door, and felt my heart stutter when I saw that it was shut, but not completely latched. I slid to the side, put my finger on the button of the defense spray, and gently pushed the door open.
I only got it open a couple inches when it was wrenched out of my grasp. I let out a scream, depressed the button, and looked up in shock at the barrel of a gun pointed right at my head and a pair of brown eyes that looked as surprised as mine own did.
The defense spray did its work in a cloud of stinging mist. As my eyes teared up, my chest felt like it was about to explode, I managed to gasp out, "Ranger?"
Fuck! Shit! Damn! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I SO did not just do that! I just sprayed myself in the face with my own damn defense spray. Oh my God! I just sprayed Ranger with my own damn defense spray. Damn, my eyes hurt. My chest hurt. My nose hurt. Oh, God, help me now. I'm about to be shipped off to a Third World country, and I can't stop gagging.
My panic was interrupted by a pair of strong arms pulling me into the apartment and into the kitchen. I could hear the water running, and then a merciful cold, wet cloth was running over my burning face. I couldn't catch my breath, I was coughing like I had a two-pack-a-day habit, and could feel the snot running down my face. Lovely. Just how I wanted Ranger to find me.
Oh God! Ranger! "Ranger, what are you doing here?" I managed to gasp out. "Why aren't you hurting? Do you even have pepper spray karma?" Some things are just so unfair.
I heard him give a little laugh, as he rewet the cloth, and ran it back over my face. He stepped away for a moment and then pressed a cool glass into my hand, and said, "Drink."
I did. Blech. Milk. I had milk in my fridge? "It'll help with the burning," he said gently.
After a few more minutes of agony, I realized I would live. I excused myself to go change out of my snot stained shirt, and to give myself a minute to pull myself together. Why was Ranger in my apartment? We had barely spoken two words since before Christmas. Where was Deborah Fairbanks? Oh, please, tell me she isn't sitting on my couch right now.
I washed my face, blew my nose, and pulled a new T-shirt over my head. Then, figuring I had postponed the inevitable long enough, I walked back into the kitchen to find Ranger leaning against the counter with his arms folded across his magnificent chest, muscles straining the material of his black t-shirt. I felt myself gulp, and saw his lip twitch. Smug bastard. Somehow, that little smirk galvanized me.
"What are you doing here, Ranger?" I asked. I didn't even try to hide the fact that I was pissed.
He quirked an eyebrow at me, but didn't say anything. I hate it when he does that. I decided I was in no mood to be nice.
"Where's Deborah Fairbanks? I didn't think she let you out of her reach?" I spat. I didn't care how it sounded. I'd had a long day.
"Babe." Ranger exhaled. I was trying his patience. But somehow, that former term of endearment made me see red.
"Don't call me that! How dare you call me that? Don't ever call me that again! What in the hell are you doing here, Ranger? Just checking to see if I'm still pitiful enough to entertain you? Why don't you just leave?" I didn't realize I was crying until I felt the tears run down my face. My knees went weak and I started to slide down the front of the refrigerator.
Ranger was in front of me in a heartbeat. He held me up by the arms for a moment before he crushed me to his chest and wrapped me in strong arms. I looked up into his face, and saw something snap. His lips crashed down upon mine, claiming me as his own. For a second, I tried to fight it, but who was I kidding? I could never fight Ranger. I felt my self floating away on memories and emotions. But then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. Ranger took a step back from me, but still held my arms to keep me from sinking to the floor.
"I'm sorry, Stephanie. I shouldn't have come." His voice sounded strangled, and I could see he was fighting for control and breathing heavily. He let go of me, and started to turn away.
"Why?" I choked out.
Ranger turned back to me, searching my face with his eyes, but didn't say anything.
"Why did you come?" I was on the verge, but didn't want to start crying again. I needed to know, though.
Ranger hesitated a moment before saying quietly, "I came to make sure you were alright. I've had a bad feeling for the last couple days. Are you? Alright, I mean?"
I didn't know what to say. My heart is broken. I'm worried sick about him. I may have a new stalker. Am I ok? No! Hell no! Did I want to share this with him? Also no.