SIX
Ranger spent another hour checking in with his men and making all final arrangements for tonight. A few minutes after five, Ranger led me to the nearest subway station to go meet Chantelle. It took close to half an hour to go the few stops we needed on the packed metro system. Back above ground, I followed Ranger to an upscale apartment building. He tapped in a few numbers on the security panel and the lock clicked, allowing us access to the building.
When Chantelle opened the door, my first impression suggested this girl would not have let me sit at her lunch table in high school. Her blonde hair, streaked with highlights, fell just past her shoulders in soft curls. She stood an inch taller than me and about three clothing sizes smaller. In short, she looked gorgeous, even dressed in a purple fuzzy bathrobe.
Chantelle greeted Ranger warmly. She gave me a cold nod.
Ranger introduced me, "Chantelle, this is Steph. She's going to keep close to you tonight."
Chantelle's eyes swept over me. "Not dressed like that, she isn't."
I looked down at my black jeans and stretchy black t-shirt, suddenly very self-conscious. "This is standard Rangeman attire," I defended.
"They won't let you into ESCA dressed like that. How are you going to protect me then?"
I looked to Ranger for back up, but he just shrugged with an amused half smile. "Guess you'll have to change, Babe."
Chantelle looked me over again. "I think I have some stuff that might fit you, back from when I was still fat."
I nearly choked. Ranger quickly bit back a laugh. I elbowed him hard in the ribs, hearing a satisfying groan before Chantelle dragged me away. She led me to a door in her bedroom, but when she opened it I nearly fell over. Her walk-in closet seemed almost as big as her bedroom. Racks circled three walls of the room. Shoes covered the entire far wall. At the center sat a big round cushioned ottoman and in the far corner a big three-sided mirror.
Chantelle began digging around in a corner of her closet.
"So how did you end up working for Ranger?" she asked as she inspected each piece of clothing. "You don't look like ex-military." It didn't sound like a compliment.
"I don't work for him full time," I replied. "He brings me on when he needs my special skill set."
"And that is?"
"Having boobs and a vagina."
Chantelle laughed and tossed a dress my direction. "Try this on."
She remained where she stood, clearly waiting, and I realized that I wouldn't be offered any privacy. Awkwardly, I pulled off my t-shirt. As I removed my holstered gun and set it very carefully on the ottoman, muzzle pointed away from both of us, Chantelle's eyes got wide.
"You know how to use that?"
"Yes," I replied, kicking off my black CAT boots and slipping off my jeans.
"Have you ever shot anyone?"
I struggled into the stretchy forest green dress she'd tossed me. "Yes," I grunted into the fabric, not bothering to hide my irritation. Chantelle seemed to get the hint and the questioning stopped.
"That looks pretty good on you," she gushed when my head finally emerged and I tugged the dress into place. "I'm so glad I didn't listen to my personal trainer when he told me to get rid of all my fat clothes. Here, let me help you zip it."
"It's a little tight in the chest," I commented after she got the zipper up. More cleavage than usual pushed over the scoop neckline. The hem hit mid-thigh, but at least it had long sleeves. The material hugged my curves and shimmered slightly as I moved. "I'm going to freeze when we get to Times Square."
"We're all changing after we eat," Chantelle told me. She rolled up my old clothes and stuffed them into a huge hobo bag. "Here, you can borrow this."
I looked down at my CAT boots. "I'm not sure this dress goes with my shoes."
Chantelle dug around on her shoe wall. A pair of sparkly silver flats landed by my toes. I looked at the size on their bottom, surprised to see mine. I stuffed my socks and boots into the hobo bag and slipped on the flats.
"Don't forget that," Chantelle motioned to my holstered gun.
I looked down at the dress. Didn't look like I would be able to carry it on me. I found a zippered pouch inside the hobo bag and slid the gun inside. It would take a miracle to find it in an emergency. Ranger wouldn't be happy with that, but that's what he gets for allowing Chantelle to turn me into her own personal Barbie.
"What are you wearing?" I asked.
"I can't decide," she moaned, moving to a different part of the closet.
"So how are you feeling about tonight? Worried about Aaron showing up?"
Chantelle shrugged. "He's an idiot if he does. I just don't get it. We had one history class together and he got put into my group on a project. I invited all six group members over here to work on it and he seemed nice. You know, in that nerdy kid kind of way. Then a few weeks later he starts telling everyone that I'm his girlfriend and we hooked up. So, I stood up for myself and told him that I was out of his league. People like me don't go out with people like him. And next thing I know, he's in all my classes this semester. So, I transferred to different classes, and he transfers too. He starts calling and texting me all hours, leaving sticky notes on my door. That's when I got the restraining order and the building changed their access code. I thought that would be the end of it, and then the creepy gifts started arriving. I never thought it would get to this point. What do you think about this one?"
I blinked, mind trying to keep up with her change of direction as I focused on the pink mini dress she held up. "It's pretty," I replied.
Chantelle looked at it for a few more minutes before she finally slipped out of her robe and pulled on the dress. She yanked a pair of matching pink heels off her shoe wall and threw a pair of flats, leggings and a long sweater into another hobo purse.
"Come on," she said to me, "we need to do something about your hair."
As we exited Chantelle's bedroom, I saw Ranger's head swivel my direction, a smile dancing on his lips.
"You so owe me for this," I growled in his ear as I passed him.
"I owe William Robinson a discount for this," he replied, grabbing my ass.
At six-thirty, Chantelle, Ranger, and I left her apartment. I had my ear piece in and could hear Tank and the rest of Ranger's Merry Men chatting. Ranger's voice suddenly buzzed in my ear, telling Tank to bring the SUV around to the front of Chantelle's building.
We waited in the lobby until Tank confirmed his position in front of the building with no sight of Aaron. Ranger ushered Chantelle out of the building and straight into the black SUV. Tank maneuvered us through the gridlocked streets, but it proved impossible to get near the restaurant, as it fell into the zone closed to traffic on New Year's Eve. Instead, Tank dropped us near a subway entrance.
After a crowded, but uneventful subway ride, we returned to street level and walked to the restaurant. Ranger's men set up surveillance locations around the eatery, watching all entrances and exits. Ranger had already arranged for a reserved space at their bar, that way he could keep an eye on things inside. I provided the last layer of defense for Chantelle if Aaron somehow managed to wriggle through.
The restaurant, ESCA, featured high end seafood and steaks. We met up with a group of Chantelle's friends outside. After much screeching, hugging, and complimenting of outfits, Chantelle introduced me as her bodyguard and we went inside.
Ranger's voice buzzed in my ear as we were led to our table. "Sit where you can see most of the restaurant, with your back to the wall. Put Chantelle next to you at the end of the table, in case you need to get her out fast. There is an emergency exit to the left of your table."
The maître de led us to a huge rectangular table in a back corner of the restaurant. I followed Ranger's instructions and sat with my back to the wall, Chantelle next to me at the end of the table.
I looked at the menu and balked at the prices.
"Who is paying for my dinner?" I whispered, hoping my ear piece would pick it up.
"Rangeman," came the reply.
I grinned and ordered the seventy-five-dollar filet mignon and lobster surf and turf when the waitress took our orders.
An exasperated, "Babe," came through my ear piece.
Dinner ended uneventfully. Chantelle and her friends ordered a steady stream of fruity cocktails and shots, so were all rather tipsy by the time the check arrived. They all piled into the small bathroom and changed out of their mini skirts and dresses. I felt more than happy to be back in my black jeans, black t-shirt, and boots. I pulled the gun out of the hobo purse and slid it back into my waistband, then bundled up in my winter coat, hat, scarf, and gloves.
Ranger appeared magically next to me as we left the restaurant. One moment I couldn't spot him anywhere and the next thing I knew, the scent of Bulgari Green surrounded me, making his presence known. We walked to Times Square, joining a throng of other revelers on the sidewalk. I spotted Tank, Bobby, Hal and a few more of Ranger's men spaced out around us in the crowd. We went through the VIP checkpoint to get into Times Square and were led to a reserved space near the front of one of the performance stages. Ranger and I were herded into the space with Chantelle and her friends, while the rest of the Merry Men spread out to various predesignated points around the area.
Ranger could maintain his professional persona in any situation. Good thing, because I found it hard not to get swept up in the emotion of the giant party. The performers were right there, how could I not dance and sing along? As the ball dropped, I counted down with thousands of others in the square. A collective cheer went through the crowd as the clock hit zero and 'Happy New Year' flashed across all the screens. Ranger grabbed my arm, pulling me into him for a heated kiss. It lasted only a few seconds before he turned all business again. But it left me tingling all over and suddenly eager to be back in our room in the Waldorf Astoria.
Within minutes after the ball drop, Times Square began to clear out. The impossibly huge crowd just seemed to melt away, leaving only litter and confetti as proof they'd been here in the first place. Already, police moved barriers, reopening the streets. And yet the feel of Ranger's kiss still sizzled on my lips.
We followed Chantelle and her friends toward the nearest subway station. Ranger stood to her right, eyes sweeping across the other revelers stumbling along the street. I walked a few feet away, pretending I knew what I was doing as a perimeter guard.
Two loud pops caused me to jump and Ranger to grab Chantelle's arm, but it was only a couple kids setting off celebratory bottle rockets from the top of a fire escape. The crowd grew thick again in the subway and it took three trains before we squeezed into a car like sardines. Our station couldn't come soon enough.
"I gotta pee," Chantelle slurred in my ear as the train approached her stop.
"You're almost home," I assured. The walk to her lush apartment only took a few blocks.
"Can't hold it," she gasped.
I had no desire to find out what condition a subway bathroom would look like after midnight on New Year's Eve, but it looked as if I was about to find out.
"We need a detour to the ladies' room," I whispered to Ranger as the doors slid open. I gripped Chantelle's arm, trying to prevent her from full out sprinting and losing me in the crowd. Ranger nodded and followed closely as Chantelle and I rushed up the stairs and past the turnstiles. Weaving through the crowd, I followed Chantelle into the bathroom and waited for her to answer mother nature's urgent call.
"Thanks," she said as she washed her hands, swaying slightly in her inebriated state. I placed a steadying hand on her back, afraid she might topple as she sashayed back into the station. It was nearly empty. A man slept in one of the chairs against the far wall, his hoodie pulled over his head, apparently too drunk to make it home. Otherwise, it was just Ranger and his men.
"Let's get you home," I said to Chantelle, turning her gently toward the final set of stairs leading up to the street.
"Okeydokey." Drunk Chantelle complied so much easier than sober Chantelle.
The drunk man in the chair stirred as we walked past. His head bobbed up off his chest and I recognized Aaron. His hand slid out of his pocket, gripping a silver revolver. I blinked and he leveled the gun at Chantelle.
Ranger saw the gun the same time I did. With a shout, he pushed Chantelle to the ground with his right hand. I heard the first shots as I felt Ranger ram me, falling to the ground on top of me. My head bounced off the tile floor and stars erupted in front of my eyes. My ears rang as more gun shots echoed in the small space.
It all happened within ten seconds. I glanced over toward Aaron and saw him on the floor in a pool of blood. Tank stood over him, handgun still drawn. To my left, Lester pulled Chantelle to her feet, seemingly unharmed.
Ranger remained on top of me, a stunned expression on his face. I put my hand on the tile to push away and felt the warm, sticky blood before I saw it. Then I screamed.