Shelter from the Storm

[Probably you need to have read Take a Chance to understand who everyone is but it's okay if you don't, enjoy!]

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Chapter 32 ~ Difficult

Ranger

"Look, how often do I ask you for a favor, bro?" My other brother Dominic-Nick-folded his arms across his chest and stared at me. People say we look alike but he has these odd blue eyes, like Gulf of Mexico aqua, Caribbean blue, and to me it makes us look totally different.

I said firmly, "Hermano, I'm a mercenary. I'm not a babysitter. Steph took Zoë and Britta down to Florida to enjoy the early spring weather and get some sun, and to spend some time with Julie.''

''Yeah, well, my wife is doing her reservist call-up, man."

I looked at him. Jilly is not in any reserve unit I ever heard of, and she is not on active duty. She does now and then fly some missions for Rangeman's military strike group, Omega, but as far as I knew, not for anyone else.

Nick shrugged. "Ranger, she got a phone call, she threw her rifles and combats into a duffle, and she was gone. I have to take Jake to this peewee hockey tournament in Manchester PA, we'll only be there three days. So I want to leave Izabella with you.''

''Why can't she stay home with the housekeeper or your own nanny?''

''Ranger!'' Big sigh. "For one thing, we're halfway to the hockey meet, we stopped here on the way." His look said Idiot. "And our nanny has the week off, she's going home to the UK for a wedding. I am not leaving a seven year old child alone with the household help, she'd feel abandoned. You're her uncle, she can stay right here.''

''It's not safe.''

''She's seven years old, Ranger. She's harmless.''

I frowned. Not that any of my men would ever harm a child, especially one of my family, but I was desperate.

"She'll be perfectly safe at Rangeman for a few days," Nick told me.

Yes but would Rangeman be safe from her?

...

That was yesterday, Friday. The thirteenth? Izabella Mann had smiled shyly at me and moved into Zoë's room. Ella reported later that night that the child had played with Killer the pug, eaten a small vegetarian dinner, and gone to sleep without fuss. Ella had stayed in my apartment, knitting something, til I got in around midnight.

By 10 AM on Saturday, all the Rangeman computers had a Hello Kitty graphic homepage, with Kitty dressed in Rangeman black with pink trim and toting a pink submachine gun. All the GPS maps were showing the cartoon graphics of Dora the Explorer. And Fed Ex had delivered a rush order of pink long-sleeved t-shirts that had huge black sparkly RANGEMAN writing across the chest in 4 '' letters. And they were all too small.

This morning, when I got to the comm room after my workout, I found all my men dressed in the t-shirts and grinning like fools.

"In my office," I growled at the little girl. "Tank, you too." Yes, indeed, I needed his protection, this child is a witch, I think.

Izzy sedately walked behind me to my office. She climbed up on a client chair and folded her hands in her lap. If she felt any trepidation about being alone in a room with two large scary men she doesn't know very well, she showed no sign.

I stared at her. I've never spent much time with my brother's kids. Jake, aged 5, is a loud little terror, a crazy ball of ADHD energy. Izzy at seven is supposedly a perfect little lady.

Looks can be deceiving, as I know well.

Where her mother Jilly looks like an exotic warrior princess, all focused energy and wild gold hair and golden cat eyes, my niece looks like a fairytale ice princess - her waist-length hair is spun silver gilt, her eyes are huge and either cloudy sky grey or delicate, flower-like violet blue, depending on the light, or her mood, or her intentions, who knows. Her skin is pale, creamy, cafe au lait, her features fine and perfect, her arms and legs slender, attenuated. She looks like no Manoso child I've ever seen but judging from my business's computer system's current state she has her uncle Anthony's outlaw hacker ways.

Her eyes met mine for a second, perhaps she caught the last words? Her eyes almost smiled, then she resumed her perusal of my plain grey carpet.

I said, ''All my men are wearing pink shirts this morning.''

She nodded."They look nice."

''You like pink?''

Shrug.

She herself was dressed in current NYC children's high fashion style of ugly mole grey. Tattered layers. Fingerless gloves. Skirts and leggings and ankle socks; sweater with a hood, and thumb holes. All grey-brown-mole. Like they're all a bunch of homeless Quakers. Possibly cashmere, some maybe velvet, and because I know now about little girl's clothes, extremely expensive - rags.

"Jefe? You wished to see me?'' Hector tapped on the open door and leaned in, speaking Spanish. ''I am sorry I have not yet fixed whatever went wrong with...".

I interrupted. "Yes. Come in." I said to Izzy, "This is Hector, my IT man." Hector was wearing one of the pink Rangeman shirts and I found myself grinding my teeth.

"Buenos dias, Hector," Izzy said politely.

Hector eyed her warily.

"Buenos dias, senorita."

"Mi nombre es Izzy."

"Encantado, chica. Mi camisa es muy bonito."

She smiled at him. " Adoro camisas de color rosa."

Her Spanish was, of course, flawless, with a faint Cuban accent.

I said in English, "Tell him how to fix the computer graphics."

''Why?'' The child's feet dangled above the floor; she was quite tiny, and she gently swung her feet back and forth, back and forth. Her shoes were the only bit of color on her, except for her blue eyes. They were some sort of slipper, like a ballet dancer's, with large red silk pompoms on the toes.

I said, ''Because.''

''We can make a deal,'' she whispered.

''No deals.''

''No fix.''

"Tell me.''

"Let me drive your Porsche."

Tank stifled a hysterical burst of laughter. I frowned. "No."

She tapped a tiny pink tipped finger to her rosebud mouth and considered. ''Maybe...if you teach me to shoot.''

''That's impossible. Difficult.''

''But not impossible,'' she told me.

''Your hands are too small.''

''Your website is too pink.''

''Fix the computers and we'll see."

My phone buzzed and I picked it up, holding up a wait one moment finger towards Izzy and Hector. On the line was Mitch, down at the main desk. He said, ''Ranger, there's music now when I put people on hold...?"

I eyed Izzy and mumbled shit."How bad is it?"

''Listen: ''

''It's a world of laughter
A world of tears
It's a world of hopes
And a world of fears
It's a small world after all
It's a small world after all
It's a small world after all
It's a small, small world

There is just one moon
And one golden sun
And a smile means
Friendship to every one...

It's a small world after all...''

''Shit!'' I hung up a little briskly. "And you will fix the phones!"

"Fine!"

"Get busy."

She left with Hector and I buried my face in my hands for a second. Tank clapped my shoulder, not very gently.

He said, ''I'm on it, boss, I'll get a derringer from Sunny at the gun shop, or something like that. I'm ready for this. ''

I shook my head. "I'm not."

"See you in a few, boss." Tank headed out the door.

"And tell the men that I'll beat the crap out of anyone I see in a fucking pink t-shirt!'' I yelled at his retreating pink-clad back.

His bald head stuck back around the door jamb. Tank said, ''Not to worry, boss...she sold them all right off our backs.''

''Sold them?''

''eBay, Carlos, eBay. I hope you have a good supply of packing tape in the mail room.''

I'm doomed.

the end. series tbc

I hope you enjoyed meeting Zoë's cousin Izabella! Her name is spelled with a 'z' to honor Nick's adopted mother Elizabeth, who is Ranger's mom, the doctor.

Reviews are very wonderful, thank you for taking a moment to write!