Thirty minutes later, I was sitting in the Rangeman Atlanta conference room at a large, oblong table made of dark wood. The room was sleek and modern, with white walls, a white marble floor, and sleek chrome accents. One wall was solid floor to ceiling impact glass, and the view of downtown Atlanta was incredible. Several glass dry erase boards were installed in the room and covered with notes, and a projector hung from the ceiling, projecting a map of Atlanta on one of the white walls. A route had been marked on the map, and I assumed it must be the marathon route. There were not enough seats for everyone, so while some men sat, other men were standing with their backs against the wall. I had tried to stand against the back wall to blend in, but Lester, ever the gentleman, insisted ladies should be seated at the table. He gave me his seat and assumed my spot at the back of the room, leaving me sandwiched between two huge guys I didn't know. They were actively working on their laptops, and I felt completely incompetent at the table between them. Why did I insist on coming here?
It occurred to me that I may need to take notes, so I dug around in my messenger bag for something to write on. I found a small notebook in my bag with a floral cover and pink, lined pages. It had a purple gel pen stuck into the metal spiral. I yanked out the pen and opened the notebook, flipping past grocery lists and personal notes to the first empty page I could find. When I glanced up, I noticed several men staring at me. They looked amused, their mouths turning up at the corners. I gave them my best bitch face. I don't know why their stare bothered me so much. I was used to being written in as part of the entertainment budget at Rangeman, right? Why should this be any different?
Suddenly, I felt the air leave the room and the hair stand up on the back of my neck. Ranger walked in, flanked by Ximena and another man I didn't know. The man was tall, at least six foot six inches. He was strong, but he was built much leaner than Ranger. He made Ranger look small and compact. The man also had fair skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes. His face was friendly and warm, and he smiled as he entered the room. He looked like the yang to Ranger's yin. The three stood in front of the dry erase boards.
The tall, blonde man spoke first. "Thank you everyone for coming. I know some of you traveled many miles by plane to be here. My name is Eric Fairchild, and I lead Rangeman's Atlanta office." He acknowledged the woman next to him with a warm smile. "This is Ximena, and she is second in command in the Boston office. We, along with Ranger, will be leading the team that provides security to the Atlanta Marathon," he explained. Apparently Ranger required no introduction. This peaked my interest. "Ximena will be managing surveillance operations from the office. Ranger will be managing boots at the starting line, at the finish, and along the routes. Because of my dashing good looks," Eric said, "I will be managing the full operation."
The room broke out in quiet laughter, and I think even Ranger smiled.
"Okay, so it has nothing to do with my good looks. I'll be managing the operation since I'm more familiar with the large territory we'll be covering. I'll have a core team that will support the larger coordination effort, and who will work as first responders as needed. We'll be covering over twenty six miles of roadway, which will be used for four separate road races—a full marathon, half marathon, 10k, and 5k."
Ranger spoke next. "We will be using technology to view as much of the roadways as we can. We've brought a variety of camera surveillance, drones, and robots from the Trenton office, and I've brought a group of specialists to manage the technology."
My eyes traveled to Hector. He smirked at me and wagged his eyebrows up and down. I laughed out loud, and I felt all eyes on me. I glanced at Ranger, horrified. To my shock, he looked amused. I smiled sheepishly, then looked down at my notebook. I scribbled some notes.
Technology Team
Hector
Ximena
Boots on the Ground
Ranger
Coordination/Central Team
Eric
Ranger continued. "We'll have men stationed at the starting and finish lines for the races. We are going into this event assuming the individual or group making the threats want to make a statement if they follow through on the threat. An act of violence along one of the routes may affect several dozen individuals, but an act at the start or finish would affect hundreds, maybe thousands. We will use this assumption to guide our work."
"Volunteers will be stationed along the route to provide assistance, medical support, drinks, photography services, and to tend to other needs of runners," Eric explained. "Rangeman's Atlanta crew met with race volunteers earlier this week to discuss the threat and to provide education. They have been trained to evaluate their environment for potential threats, and they learned about possible suspicious behaviors. They were given a phone number to call if they see anything of concern. We will manage the lines from Rangeman HQ, and we will have several first response teams in vehicles along the route who can respond if necessary."
Ximena spoke next. Her voice was low and velvet, and her accent was distinct. She explained the threats that had been received. She explained critical locations, using the map to illustrate. I tried to focus on her words, but I found myself studying her and trying to figure her out. Where did she come from? What makes her tick? Why does she work at Rangeman among so many men? What skills does she have that make her worthy of a second in command level position? My brain was swirling with questions when the conversation flowed back to Ranger.
"I know many of you do not know one another, but we must function as one team here," Ranger said. "I tried to develop organic teams that I knew would function well together, but we can readjust personnel as necessary if you find you're lacking in an area of expertise. If you find you're lacking resources, let Ximena, Eric, or myself know."
The silence in the room became punctuated with small side conversations between men. Ranger looked to Ximena. "Call your team, Ximena," he ordered.
She began listing off names for her team, and I realized she was listing an army of names. Clearly the surveillance detail was going to be a circus-sized effort. She spoke too quickly for me to write all the names, but I scribbled the names of Rangemen I knew in my notebook.
Technology Team
Hector
Ximena
Zero
Cal
Eric spoke next. "My core team will consist of Thomas, Stephens, Ulloa, and Williams."
I scribbled these names in my book, but I didn't know any of these individuals.
Coordination/Central Team
Eric
Stephens
Thomas
Ulloa
Williams
I looked expectantly at Ranger. Only his team was left to be announced.
He stood straighter and began to speak. "The ground site team will work as partners. Everyone on this team has been paired with someone they have worked with previously. My expectation is that you protect one another." He began listing men. Again, I scribbled the names of men I knew, but the team was massive.
Boots on the Ground
Ranger
Hal & Lester
It occurred to me halfway through the list that I probably wasn't paired with anyone. I was a last minute addition to the trip. My mind began to wander. What role could I possibly serve here? Water girl?
I was drug out of my mental reverie when Ranger spoke my name.
"Plum, you're with me," he stated simply.
Our eyes met, and my jaw hit the floor. I tried to close my mouth, but I don't know if I was successful. I looked around and realized every eye in the room was on me. I sat straighter and nodded to Ranger. Clearly the men were wondering why, of all the perfectly capable men in this room, Ranger chose me as a partner.
"Take fifteen," Ranger said. "We meet with our teams at 1530 hours. Tech in room one, street team in room two, and core team in Eric's office."
The room began to clear, but Ranger stood at the front alone, studying the map projected on the wall. I did a quick mental assessment of my emotional status. I determined I was feeling more balanced than I had earlier, so I rose to my feet and walked to the front of the room. I stood next to Ranger, studying the map.
"Me?" I asked in an almost whisper. "Why did you pair yourself with me?"
Ranger shifted his eyes to me, but his body didn't move. He thought for a long moment before responding, staring back to the map.
"We've watched each other's backs for years. I've known you longer than almost everyone in this room. You have great instincts about people, and you are observant. Tank is not here, so you are my logical partner here in Atlanta."
I stood in dumbfounded silence. Did Ranger really have that much trust in my skills? More trust than I had in myself?
I turned my body to him and he turned to me so we were facing one another. I held his gaze for too long, trying to find the right words.
"Thank you," was all I said.
Ranger nodded, then spoke. "Are you alright?"
I thought for a moment before nodding.
His voice grew soft. "Are we alright?"
The question caught me off balance. We? The question felt too emotional, too soft for Ranger. Did we mean we as friends? We as lovers? We as partners?
I felt uneasy, and my eyes began to dart around the room to the faces of men I didn't know.
When I didn't respond, Ranger placed his hand in the small of my back, pulling me to him. He whispered in my ear, "Can we go somewhere?"
My eyes met his, and his warm, chocolate eyes began to fill the void in my chest with warmth. I felt the ice I had felt for him earlier begin to melt. I nodded and followed him as he briskly left the room.
We got in the stainless steel-walled elevator and rode to the sixth floor. We exited into a hallway with a marble floor and three doors. The doors were labeled 6A, 6B, and 6C. I vaguely remembered a conversation I had with Ranger a couple of years ago, and I recalled him saying he had apartments similar to his in Trenton at his other Rangeman sites. This must be one of them, I thought.
Ranger walked to the door labeled 6A and fobbed his way into the apartment. I followed behind him.
He was truthful when he said he had apartments like his in Trenton. This apartment was smaller, but it was decorated in the same earth tones with dark wood and leather finishes. The apartment looked like a luxury efficiency, if that was even a thing. There was a small side table just inside the door, which displayed a lamp, glass dish for keys, and a bouquet of white, Georgia cotton. The overstuffed couch and arm chair were both leather, both dotted with tan throw pillows. There was a large television on the wall, and paintings of mountain and ocean scenes decorated the room. The kitchen countertops were granite, the cabinets were dark wood, and the fixtures were chrome. Two chrome bar stools with leather seats were pulled up to the bar.
"Have a seat," Ranger said, walking into the kitchen. He pulled two bottles of water from the refrigerator, and he scrounged around in a drawer for something.
I flopped down onto the couch, feeling out of place in an apartment that was Ranger's, yet didn't feel like Ranger's at all. He joined me on the couch and handed me a water.
"I'm sorry if I overstepped my boundaries earlier," Ranger began. "I know you value your privacy and autonomy, and I sometimes struggle to give you those things when I am concerned about your safety. I never meant to hurt you. I shouldn't have eavesdropped."
I was stunned to silence. Did Ranger just apologize? Seriously, who was this guy I traveled to Atlanta with? Was this the same guy who said he "loved me in his own way" in Trenton only months earlier? Since when did Batman speak? Or express feelings on his face and eyes?
"It's okay," I responded quietly. "It's not your fault. I shouldn't have lashed out at you earlier. I'm sorry."
We sat in companionable silence for a few moments. I tried to put how I had felt into words.
"My heart felt like it had shattered into a million pieces breaking things off today. You materialized from thin air, then admitted you'd heard the entire conversation. My mind began to play the "what if" game. What if you had exposed yourself while Morelli was there? Would he have thought I left him for you? He would have been devastated."
I felt my face growing red with embarrassment sharing this information with Ranger. I'm not the kind of girl who typically broadcasts her feelings for an audience.
"I need for my relationships with the two of you to be totally separate," I admitted. "You always knew I was dating Morelli when we hooked up. I think Morelli suspected there was something more between us on a whole lot of occasions, but he never knew. I was the unfaithful partner. But my leaving him had nothing to do with you, Ranger. It had to do with finding myself and being true to the person I am. The person I want to be."
"Understood," Ranger replied. I could feel the heat from his body next to mine, and I leaned into him.
"Thank you," I acknowledged.
Ranger kissed the top of my head and rose to his feet, pulling me with him.
"We need to get back to the third floor, but I've been meaning to ask you—where do you want to stay tonight? I have rooms reserved at the Hotel Indigo for the out of town men, but I hadn't reserved one for you since I didn't realize you'd be here. I can get you a room at the hotel, or you can stay the apartment while I stay at Hotel Indigo."
I took a moment to digest what I had just been asked. Was Ranger afraid to be seen with me in his apartment? Was I unwelcome here? Was he trying to protect my heart? Was Ximena staying here with Ranger? The questions started pouring through my mind, and I was unsure whether to be broken hearted or furious.
I must have stared at Ranger like corn was growing out of his head, because he tilted his head to the side in an assessing stare. "Babe?" he asked.
"Is she staying with you?" I whispered.
Ranger looked at me confused.
I continued. "Ximena. Is she staying with you?" I knew this sounded pathetic, but I had to know. The void in my chest ached.
Ranger placed his hands on my lower back and pulled me to him tightly. "Babe," he said, sounding like he might laugh out loud.
I pulled away from him to face him, scowling.
"What the hell is so funny?" I shouted, tears of hurt collecting at the corner of each eye.
Ranger smiled at me, then said, "Ximena Santos is Lester's sister."
I stared at him, registering disbelief but still failing to put the pieces together.
"And?" I asked, annoyed.
Ranger flashed his two hundred watt smile. "Same relation as Lester, Babe. She's my cousin."