A/N: Thank you for everyone who reviewed chapter 3, and I apologize for the lack of updates. I wasn't sure how to write this opening scene, so I sort of left it for awhile and then came back to it….
Kidnapped
Chapter 4: Pink Slip
In war, the biggest enemy is not the other man you're fighting against, but the mental and physical fatigue that goes along with it. Ranger had seen battle fatigue do things to even the strongest men; more than once he had to witness a soldier put his sidearm to his own temple and pull the trigger, just to escape. It fucked with minds in the worst possible way. Even the memory of it stayed with you… long after the battle was over.
Flash of light… pain. A stinging pain in his upper arm, a bullet slicing through muscle and tissue. A little girl screaming in the distance, or a woman, he can't tell. Somebody important though, he figures through the haze in his mind. Isn't he supposed to save her, wasn't he born to save her? Or was she the one meant to save him? But they're both the same, losing one means losing the other.
He woke with a start, but he controlled his reaction as he has trained his body to do; there's only a sharp intake of breath before he's forcefully unclenching every muscle in his body that had reflexively tightened during the nightmare. Adrenaline flooded his system, but he waited it out, knowing that eventually it would ease off.
It was near midnight, several hours since they had met with Delgado, and tomorrow was the planned meeting with Bermudez. They were holed up in one of Delgado's posh hotels in Guadalajara, an act of good faith between supposed allies, but Ranger knew enough about the game to know that it was just the other man exerting his control. Ranger knew that they were probably being watched, maybe even listened to, but he leaves the sensors and cameras in place, even though Lester and Hector had located each and every one. For now, he'll play by Delgado's game.
Delgado was underestimating him, it was subtle but Ranger knew that the ex-military man had lost his edge. From the technology of the cameras in the rooms, Hector was certain that they didn't have night vision capabilities and that they could only be seen if they turned on a light. If it had been reversed, Ranger would have had the night vision in the cameras.
Once that fight or flight response had been drained out of him, he silently swung his feet over the edge of the bed and stood. He stayed still for a moment, taking in the slight sounds in the room, the gentle ticking of a nearby clock, the faintest hum of traffic several floors down, and the dim sound of Stephanie's breathing in the room adjacent to his.
The suite that Delgado had given them was large, to be sure, but it also offered them a distinct disadvantage. Tank, Hector, and Ram were in a different part of the suite, separated by a fancy sitting room and a large bathroom. It left them vulnerable, and vulnerable could get them killed in a heartbeat. Because of this, Stephanie was in the room next to his, mostly for his own peace of mind, but even that hadn't kept the nightmare at bay. He walked, feather soft to Stephanie's door and opened it; he swung it open wide and stood there for another few moments… this wouldn't be the same as watching her sleep in her bed in her apartment but it would have to do.
So that they couldn't be seen while they slept, they had cut off every source of light in the rooms, even going as far as unplugging the alarm clocks so that the numbers wouldn't shine across them. So, Ranger couldn't see more than a sleeping lump under the sheet, but it was enough.
The dream must have bothered him even more than he knew because he found himself stepping closer to her bed. She stirred after six minutes, coming awake with a sigh and a murmur. Next she stiffened, sensing another person in the room with her. But she quickly calmed and turned onto her other side, facing where Ranger was standing only a few feet from the bed.
"Ranger?" she asked.
"Shh Babe," he replied (knowing that just because they couldn't be seen, didn't mean that they couldn't be heard).
He watched her scoot farther away from him, closer to the other side of large king bed. The dark shadow of her hand raised and she patted the spot in the bed next to her, beckoning him further. He probably won't ever learn to resist her and he doesn't now. He crawls in beside her, arranging her bed-warmed body so that his arms can be wrapped comfortably around her. In little moments where it's easy and simple, when he's not applying pressure and she isn't being doused with Morelli-guilt, they can be anything they want to be. Friends, lovers, or just content with the unanswered questions of what they were, but their loyalty to the other, was always the constant in the equation.
"You okay?" she asked softly, lips pressed close to his ear.
Even though he's her Batman, a man with too many secrets and faces, she knows him better than anyone, even if she didn't know it.
"No good dreams tonight Babe."
She nodded. "Me neither."
Ranger knew enough about the world of the Cartels, and the business they involved themselves in to know that they were already running out of time. A child was easy to hide for years, to whisk away to never be seen again. According to the official FBI statistics there was a 72 hour threshold between the time a child is abducted and when law enforcement is most likely to retrieve the child alive. After those first 72 hours the chances dropped drastically. They were hurtling towards that 72 hour mark faster with each passing hour. Sure the circumstances were different, but that didn't stop the fact that that the longer Mary Alice was captive, the more likely she wouldn't make it out of Mexico with her life.
As Stephanie began to dose in his arms, he remembered the little girl's scream that he had heard in his nightmare – a not-so subtle warning from his subconscious.
They rose early that morning and prepared to leave immediately for Tijuana. Meeting Bermudez would not be the same as their meeting Delgado. Tijuana would be like entering the lion's den… with Bermudez they would have to play their part perfectly.
Standing in front of the large mirror in the bathroom, Ranger changed into the persona he would need to exude. He sported large studs in his ears, hair loose and down his back, a pair of expensive Ray-Ban sunglasses, a silk shirt, and dress pants. He heard movement behind him and turned, finding Stephanie in the doorway, her mouth open and her cheeks stained a light pink. He quirked an eyebrow.
"Do you want something?" he asked, knowing precisely what she wanted.
Her mouth closed with a snap. "Er… yeah something out of my bag." She edged around him.
Looking through her bag, her eyes traveled to him again – his eyes were ready to meet hers.
"I've seen you as a lot of things," she started, "corporate Ranger, Abercrombie and Fitch Ranger, punk Ranger, but I don't think I've quite seen you like this before."
His lips twitched into an almost smile. "What do I look like?"
"A badass, filthy rich, South American drug lord," Stephanie answered smoothly. "You look like something out of a movie."
He nodded. "That's the idea."
Ranger moved to pass her, letting her have the bathroom if she needed it, but stopped when their bodies touched. He backed her up against the counter, watching the way her eyes rolled back into her head when his palm covered her right breast.
"Didn't I tell you before that one Ranger is all you'll ever need?"
He nibbled on her neck and she moaned, body arching against his. When he heard his name from her lips, he let himself mark her, pulling a little the soft skin of her neck between his lips. He had resisted touching her until now, not wanting to cloud both their minds, but in this moment he couldn't resist. Ranger pulled back after a moment and inspected the mark he had given her and the way she was breathing heavily.
"Careful Babe, this isn't Romancing the Stone, and Bermudez is definitely not a nice guy."
She shook her head, like she was trying to dislodge something in there. "You think I don't know that?"
"No, but everyone needs reminding now and then." Ranger made himself take several steps back. "I put the clothes I want you to wear on the bed, I'm going to talk to the guys."
He left then, closing the bathroom door behind him.
While he waited for Stephanie to dress, he briefed his men on the plan. He and Stephanie would meet with Bermudez alone, as per his instructions. Both he and Stephanie had microphones, hidden James Bond style in their clothes (Ranger's was implanted in the top button of his shirt, and Stephanie's was in a button on her handbag). If things went wrong, the guys would be backup, or a rescue team. Ranger knew the way Bermudez worked, if Bermudez did renege on their deal and turn on them, Ranger would either be killed immediately, execution style, or tortured. But Stephanie would suffer a far worse fate, and Ranger couldn't let that happen. Human trafficking, prostitution, abuse, drug addiction, a life expectancy under 40. The words and bleak statistics, were running through his head on repeat. For some reason he couldn't think or say the word rape.
They all had strict orders, no matter what, to always go after Stephanie first, his own life was second…. Truthfully, it was Rangeman's standard policy.
They were going over the finer details when a throat cleared behind them and they turned, catching sight of Stephanie standing there in her own 'outfit.' She was dressed to match Ranger's persona in tight leather pants, a halter top, and slut shoes. She was dangerously sexy but at the same time it was less than her usual distraction outfits.
"Why exactly do you want me to dress like this again?" she asked, eyes a little wide. "I don't think I'll be able to actually sit in these." Stephanie tried to tug on the leather in an effort to loosen it but it didn't budge.
Lester whistled and earned himself an angry glare from Ranger.
"Think of it as a distraction," Ranger replied, swallowing the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat.
Stephanie pursed her lips. "Yeah I guess I could do that." She paused. "Who am I distracting?"
"No one, I just want you to give off a certain persona."
"Oh." She nodded slowly. "So, you're a rich drug lord and I'm your sex slave?"
Ranger couldn't help the grin that formed. "Something like that. These men will only understand ownership, if they think I own you than it might go better."
"Oh, well that makes perfect sense, they should really just stamp that across the ass of these pants. You know, new brand name. Pink slip."
They arrived in Tijuana three hours later after their second flight on the Rangeman jet. Tijuana, even with the warnings given to travelers, was full of American tourists; busy and noisy with a thick layer of smog covering the horizon. Their rental car (an older, black Expedition) was waiting for them when they exited the plane. At the wheel was a middle-aged Hispanic man with a graying mustache. Ranger gave him a nod as they climbed into the (thankfully) cool car. They seemed to know each other and spoke for a full minute before the car started rolling.
Stephanie, her stomach full of butterflies, jumped when she felt a familiar hand slip into her own. She turned her head and caught Ranger studying her. She was only able to smile nervously in reply.
Ten minutes later they parked behind a nondescript white van on a mostly deserted, residential road, just outside of city. Looking out the Expedition's window, Stephanie could see the city spread out below them. The area was desert, with short, spiky, bushes littering the landscape, and no trees insight. The houses were mostly upscale, owned by wealthy city business men probably.
Tank opened the passenger side door and climbed out, the gust of sweltering heat that entered the car making her cringe. Ram, Hector, Lester and the driver followed a moment later. The van's large back door slid open, revealing sound equipment, guns, and two more men.
"Ranger…" she began, confused as one of the new men opened the bag Lester had been carrying and pulled out a laptop.
"They're contract workers Babe, Tech specialists."
She nodded.
Ranger and Stephanie stayed in the backseat as the rest set up, catching their signal being emitted from the microphones and then routing it so that their conversation could be heard in the van. When Tank gave them a thumb's up, Ranger opened his door and Stephanie followed him out. They climbed into the front seat, Stephanie flinching as she maneuvered herself into the car in what was quickly becoming wet leather.
He caught her wince. "What's the matter?"
"The pants," she replied. "There's a layer of sweat between me and the leather."
"Hmm." He studied her for a moment and reached into the backseat, fishing around for a moment before he pulled out a fresh water bottle. "Drink."
She took the bottle gratefully and drained it quickly. It might not have helped the sweat problem but it did help the parched quality of her throat. At Tank's second thumb's up they pulled away from the van and continued down the road.
They drove in silence, Ranger in his usual zone and Stephanie trying to keep her breathing even. The area became less densely populated as they dipped back down into the city before rising once more into a low lying hill. Instead of rich family homes, they were near even more expensive villas with tall security fences.
"How do you want me to act?" Stephanie asked as her feeling of foreboding increased… they were getting closer.
"Around Bermudez, act like yourself, but don't be sassy, don't present him with any kind of challenge. He likes his women spunky before he breaks them down. Do not draw his attention to you if you can help it."
Stephanie swallowed hard.
"Around his men, stay by my side, no matter what." Ranger took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at her. He took her hand and squeezed. "These aren't going to be like Delgado's men, they might be the bad guys, but they still have their military training, and they follow Delgado's orders no matter what. If Bermudez has given his men orders to not harm us, that doesn't mean they aren't going to break it."
She nodded.
"If I'm taken out of the equation, do what ever you have to do to survive. They have no respect for women in the cartel, do NOT struggle, do you understand what I'm telling you?"
The car pulled to a stop on the side of the road, still a mile from their destination. Ranger took her face in his hands and turned her to face him. He'd never let her see this look on his face before, this imploring, pleading look that made something deep inside of her shake. "Stephanie, I need you to tell me that you understand."
"I – I understand," she murmured, shivering when his lips touched her forehead.
He nodded and started the car again. Less than two minutes later they were pulling up to an ornate iron gate with a white guard box out front. Along the front of the property were towers with barely concealed gunmen at the top – they could just see the barrels of the rifles from their spot outside. The guard, a muscular man with a M96 rifle strapped across his back, stepped out of the box and approached their parked car.
"Nombre?" he asked them, leering into driver's side window.
"Ricardo Manoso` y Stephanie Plum," Ranger replied smoothly, his gaze level with the armed guard. Show no fear.
The guard peered further into the car and inspected Stephanie. He sneered at her, eyes traveling up and down her form.
"¿Bastante puta, dónde la consiguió usted? Ellos no los hacen que limpian en México," the guard laughed, grabbing a hold of his crotch and turning his head to spit a large wad of flem onto the cement.
Only someone who knew Ranger very well would be able to see the wrinkling of disgust around his nose.
The guard waved them forward and gate opened with a soft screech. As soon as they were far enough away from the guard, Stephanie shook herself, as if she was trying to get something very disgusting away from her.
"Do I want to know what he just said?" she asked.
"No."
Stephanie nodded, her face a little whiter than normal. "You can tell me when we're old and grey and I won't care anymore."
He did his almost-smile. "Deal."
A/N: Next chapter will be up soon ladies. This one was supposed to contain their conversation with Bermudez but I reached what felt like a natural stopping point so I broke it off here. Currently the plan is to update next Friday.
-¿Bastante puta, dónde la consiguió usted? Ellos no los hacen que limpian en México. -Pretty whore, where did you get her? They do not make them that clean in Mexico.