Ranger's room was quiet. He had been resting peacefully for some time since his seizure. The medical staff had given him a dose of Valium to calm his episode, and the neurologist had come in to insert a small needle into his head to measure Ranger's intracranial pressure. Ranger was given a dose of medicine to reduce the swelling on his brain, the likely culprit of his seizure according to his neurologist. He was off the ventilator, now wearing a simple oxygen face mask.
I sat in the chair next to his bed, holding his hand in mine. The whirr of machines was strangely soothing, and I drifted in and out of sleep, resting my head on his mattress.
Tank had returned to Rangeman Atlanta to report on Ranger and assess the needs there in Ranger's absence. He had promised to return before nightfall.
Hal had replaced Tank. He stood at parade rest next to the door. He had showered and was in clean clothes, but he still looked like he'd been run over by a truck. He had deep, black circles under his bloodshot eyes. The distant, haunted look on his face told me he had seen too much horror today, and my heart broke for all the Rangemen who had to experience it. I had been there too, but my experience was short lived, thank god. Many of the Rangemen had completed previous military service in the Middle East. High stress situations were common at Rangeman, but this level of destruction of human life was typically only seen in war.
I was asleep when low conversation pulled me from slumber.
"How's he doing?" I heard Diesel ask.
"Stable," responded Hal.
"And her?" he asked.
"She's a champ," said Hal, sounding satisfied.
The smell of greasy fast food drifted to me, and I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hands.
The clock readout proclaimed it was after 4:00 PM. Afternoon sun streamed in between the blinds.
"Miss me?" Diesel asked, standing at my side. He gave me a smile that could ruin most ladies' panties. I had apparently grown immune or was too tired to be phased.
I gave him a half smile. "Hell yes, like a toothache," I joked.
Diesel gave me a playful, dejected look. "In that case, I'll take this Chick-Fil-A somewhere else…" He turned toward the door, then shot me a playful smile over his shoulder.
I snagged him by his jacket and yanked him to me, snatching the bag from him. He handed over a giant soda cup too. My stomach growled audibly, and Diesel gave me a smirk.
"Hungry?" he asked.
"Starved, apparently. I've only eaten a muffin and a snickers today. Thank you."
"Sure thing, sweetheart."
I inhaled my chicken sandwich and drank the coke, pleasantly surprised at how tasty the sandwich was. I'd heard of Chick-Fil-A, but I'm a Jersey girl. We eat Cluck in a Bucket in Jersey.
Diesel took a seat in the comfy chair in the corner.
"Did you find who you were looking for?" I asked him.
He shook his head no, looking pissed.
"Does it have anything to do with the marathon bombing?" I asked.
He nodded his head almost imperceptibly. Hal's eyes cut to Diesel, and I could feel tension in the room.
"If you have information, you need to talk to someone at Rangeman," Hal said, sounding angry.
Diesel nodded once, then the room lapsed into uncomfortable silence.
A nurse came into the room wearing light blue scrubs and white clogs. Her curly blonde hair was up in a ponytail, and her fair skin was flecked with freckles. She offered a small, polite smile before taking some notes on a small pad of paper. She took Ranger's temperature in his ear and checked his blood pressure. She emptied his catheter collection container. She pulled back the sheet that covered his naked body, checking the dressings on his wounds.
As the nurse worked, I studied Ranger's naked form. His once flawless caramel colored skin was riddled with developing bruises plus cuts, scratches, and covered, bandaged areas. Seeing his injuries made my stomach turn and my heart sink once more. I began to wonder if I was ever going to accept his injuries as a lasting reality.
The first several years I had known Ranger, I imagined him to be invincible and indestructible. He was a mysterious man in black. He had been my mentor and protector. He was everything I needed to be but couldn't in my work as a bounty hunter.
Those fantasies were shredded when Ranger was shot by Edward Scrog, an insane stalker who not only tried to be Ricardo Carlos Manoso but also tried to assume his life by kidnapping his daughter Julie and me. That night my world was shattered. Watching Ranger take gunshots to the chest and crumple to the floor to protect Julie and me forced me to acknowledge he was mortal and human, not a cartoon superhero. It also forced me acknowledge I was irrevocably attached to Ranger in ways I had never been willing to admit out loud, even to the man himself.
Several years have passed since Scrog shot Ranger, and I have grown even closer to Ranger in that time. We've cohabitated on a few occasions, more by necessity than desire, and we've shared a bed on a lot of occasions. Today was the first day since Scrog that I've felt the same gut-wrenching terror for Ranger's life. My love for him has grown powerfully, but I've spent years denying the pull of his force field. Once again, near tragedy had served as a painful reminder of the love I felt for the man laying before me. I had no idea if or when he'd ever have room in his life for a relationship with me, but I knew he was it for me. I was in love with Ranger, and I was certain there would never be room for anyone else.
"Everything looks good," the nurse said to no one in particular. "Once he's able, we'll get a physical therapist in here to evaluate his needs." She gave me a polite smile, then she was gone.
I laced my fingers through Rangers and placed a kiss on the back of his hand. His hands had warmed, and it was comforting that he felt like the Ranger I knew and loved.
Tank entered the room and spoke softly to Hal.
"Diesel, I'd like you go back to Rangeman with Hal. If you've got information to share, we'd like to hear it," Tank said sternly.
Diesel gave Tank a smirk. "I suppose I could do that. I always wanted a bodyguard," he joked.
Despite looking exhausted, Hal cracked a half smile, but Tank didn't look amused.
Diesel crossed to me, took off his coat, and dropped it over my shoulders. He fished around in his jeans pocket and came out with a white business card. I had seen his cards before. They simply said "Diesel" and had a phone number. He handed the card to me.
"If you need anything, call me. I'll be in town a few days. I'm at your disposal," he said. Then he was gone.
"Would you consider going back to Rangeman with Hal?" Tank asked.
I shook my head.
"Figured," he said, taking his place against the wall.
Ranger's eyelids fluttered, and I felt his hand grasp at mine. I was on my feet in an instant.
"Ranger?" I asked, hovering above him in the bed. "Welcome back."
Ranger blinked several times. His eyes were glassy and out of focus. I squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. He made an effort to say something, but it came out as a whisper. I couldn't understand him through the oxygen mask.
"Hold on," I told him, pulling the mask down to his chin. "What did you say?"
His eyes held mine. "Babe," he exhaled in a gravelly whisper.
I couldn't help it. When he spoke, I could feel myself beaming from ear to ear. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I tried to blink them away. He didn't need to see me being a blubbering idiot right now.
"Do you hurt? Can I get you anything?" I choked.
He tried to move his body, and he grimaced. "Hurts," he whispered, a lingering look of pain on his face.
I pushed the call button on Ranger's bed, and the blonde, curly haired nurse arrived sixty seconds later.
"Hi honey," she said to Ranger, giving him a small smile. "How are you feeling?"
Ranger repeated himself. "Hurts." He grimaced again as he tried to move in the bed.
The nurse told him about his injuries, and she explained his throat probably hurt from being intubated. "Can I get you something for the pain?"
Ranger gave a small nod, and she exited the room. His body language screamed pain, but Ranger is a tough guy. I was thrilled he accepted the offer, and I felt relief again.
I moved to slide the oxygen mask back onto Ranger's mouth, but he spoke again.
"You… okay?" he asked.
I nodded, gnawing on my lower lip.
"Yes, I'm fine now that you're okay," I said, still fighting back tears.
"Everyone… okay?" he asked.
"Yes, everyone else is fine too. You're the only Rangeman employee that got hurt," I explained. "Tank came. He's here." I stepped back from the bed still holding Ranger's hand in mine, and I waved Tank over.
Tank crossed the room to stand at bedside.
"You gave me a scare," said Tank, sounding more emotional than I had anticipated.
Ranger gave a slight nod.
"Did you see anything before the blast?" Tank asked Ranger, his brow furrowed.
Ranger thought about it for a while before responding.
"No…. remember nothing," he admitted.
"What's the last thing you remember?" Tank asked him.
Ranger thought again. "Walk… to park," he croaked.
Tank gave a nod, patted Ranger on the shoulder, and returned to the wall to stand.
The nurse came back with a syringe and injected its contents into Ranger's IV port.
"This might make you drowsy," she said, "but you need to rest. Your body needs to heal."
She flushed the port with more solution.
"We'll get an appointment with physical therapy to get your husband up tomorrow," the nurse said to me, dropping the spent syringe into the sharps container on the wall.
I nodded, and she left. I turned back to Ranger, and he looked slightly amused.
"Babe," he said, his grip tightening on my hand.
"What?" I said, sounding indignant. "I'm not going to tell them any different and risk being kicked out of here. As long as you'll have me, I'm here," I admitted.
Ranger tried to speak, but no sound came out. He tried again and whispered, "Flight."
I furrowed my brow, trying to figure out what he meant by 'flight'.
Tank spoke up. "Ranger had arranged for you to fly into Newark tonight. Your ticket is at the office."
The pieces fell together, and I remember Joe was in the hospital in Trenton. I was supposed to go back tonight to be with him. How was it possible that both of the men I cared about most were in the hospital at once? What a cruel twist of fate.
"No," I said to Ranger. "I'm not leaving you. I can't. I won't."
I could see Ranger fighting sleep, his eyes becoming more unfocused. I extended my hand to cup his face, and I stroked his cheek with my thumb.
"Sleep. You need it. We'll be here when you wake up," I said. I bent to place a kiss on Ranger's cheek, but he turned his face to me so the kiss was on his lips. I felt the fear that had been lingering in the pit of my stomach dispel, butterflies filling the space instead. Ranger was going to recover. He was going to be okay. We were going to be okay.
"I love you," I told him softly as his eyes fluttered, heavy with sleep.
"Love…." he whispered as his eyes closed and his breathing grew even.
I pulled the oxygen mask back over Ranger's nose and mouth. I glanced to Tank, and he quickly looked away.
I could feel the emotions trying to surface that I'd been choking down all day. I didn't want to break down in Ranger's room in front of Tank. I shoved my arms into Diesel's leather jacket and walked to the door.
"I need a minute," I told Tank.
He nodded, and I exited the room
I wandered without purpose and without direction. I walked away from Ranger's room with hot tears burning my eyes and rolling down my face. I didn't know where to go or what to do. I wanted privacy, but I was in a hospital that was filled with patients, their families, their friends, and medical professionals. Privacy was an unavailable commodity.
I roamed the halls and corridors until I found myself back in the emergency room waiting room. I wasn't sure how I'd arrived here, but I was certain I couldn't find my way back to Ranger's room without assistance. I sighed.
"Hi honey," I heard behind me.
I turned around and was face to face with Susan again.
"I thought that was you," she said. "I'm glad you found a change of clothes so you could get out of what you were in."
I gave her a small smile, but she noticed my tear streaked, red face. She gave me a motherly look of concern.
"Thank you for helping me earlier," I said, finding my voice.
"Of course, hun," she said. "How is your friend?"
"He's going to be okay, I think" I said. "It was hairy for a while, but things are looking up."
She nodded, satisfied. "Good, glad to hear it. Did you come down to visit the crisis counselors? They've got some openings now."
As a Jersey girl, I'm not exactly the type to talk about my feelings, even if they are a little more than I can handle. In Jersey, we manage crisis with lasagna, spaghetti, ziti, crumb cake, raspberry torte, chocolate cake, pineapple upside-down cake, and gallons of liquor. My typical crisis routine consisted of loading up on sugary food and spending time in the land of denial only to break down in a cereal aisle six or eight months down the road.
I shook my head. "No, I just needed to take a walk. The ICU was feeling a little overwhelming."
She nodded. "I understand. There's a blood drive down the hall if you'd like to check it out," she said. "The blood bank is experiencing a shortage after all the patients who were treated today. Many are still in surgery, so the need is great."
I considered that for a moment. Ranger would have lost his life if it hadn't been for blood donors.
"That's great, I'll check it out," I said.
It was after 7:00 PM when I finished up with my blood donation. I walked the hospital halls eating a cookie and sipping a can of Coke. Spending some time outside the ICU had helped me ground myself again, and despite being exhausted, I felt stronger.
I decided I needed to check in with my mom, so I pulled out Ranger's phone and dialed her cell number. She didn't answer, so I tried the home number. Grandma answered.
"'ello!" she chirped into the phone.
"Hi grandma," I said. "How's mom?"
"Sleepin' it off in the living room," she said. "She kept drinking even after she heard you were alright. She's trashed. We ordered in pizza for dinner, but she slept straight through."
I called Lula next.
"Girl, I was wondering what was goin' on with you. I called you a bunch of times, but it went straight to voicemail," said Lula. "I thought I was gonna have to come identify your exploded body."
The mental image I got wasn't pleasant, especially considering the atrocities I'd seen today. I gave her the details of the day.
"I can't believe Batman almost got blown up," Lula said, sounding sad. "I didn't think superheroes got exploded."
If only, I thought.
"When are you gonna be home?" Lula asked.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I was supposed to fly in tonight to check in on Joe, but I'm not leaving here. Not without Ranger."
There was silence on the other end of the line.
Finally, Lula spoke. "Girl, you've got it bad for Mr. Tall, Dark, and Mysterious. That man is fine. You need to nail him down and take his name."
I did some mental knuckle cracking before I responded.
"I don't think Batman is the marrying type," I said, noncommittal.
"Good thing he's not Batman after all," she said, then disconnected.
I returned to Ranger's room where he slept peacefully. Tank had given up his position by the wall and was relaxing in the recliner. I wasn't used to seeing Tank relax, but I was glad he seemed more at ease.
"The doc came by when you were out," Tank said. "Since Ranger is stable, they're going to move him out of the ICU into a private room on the third floor. I think they need the space here. Someone should be by inside the hour."
I nodded.
"They brought by his personal belongings bag," Tank continued. "They were going to toss his clothes, but since he had so much stuff in his pockets, they put it all in the bag. They said we should go through it."
I nodded again, spotting the bag on the window ledge. I shuffled over to it and began sifting through the items. Pepper spray, gun in concealed carry holster, knife, gun in an ankle holster, smart watch, two black socks, black boots, cuffs, flexi cuffs, shredded windbreaker, bloody cut t-shirt, shredded cargo pants.
I threw out the t-shirt and windbreaker, then returned to the pants. I began meticulously emptying pockets. Slim jim, pocket knife, something that appeared to be a tracking device, small black notebook that contained notes about today's security detail, a silver ink pen, wires, extra bullets, panic button, more flexi cuffs, a rosary with silver and black beads, stun gun, wallet.
The rosary caught me totally off guard. I knew Ranger was a Catholic, but I also knew his professional demands kept him from attending church very often. Something about finding them in his pocket was comforting. I tossed the pants in the trash, then opened the wallet. Okay, so maybe I didn't really need to go through his wallet, but hey… curiosity killed the cat. And you only live once, right?
Ranger's wallet was pretty typical man wallet. Bills in various denominations, medical insurance card, dental insurance card, vision insurance card, business cards, black American Express card, business VISA, and a few business cards from contacts he had made. I shuffled around the cards and noticed two small photographs in the wallet. I pulled them out.
The first photograph was of his daughter, Julie. Julie was the spitting image of her father. She was beautiful, with a genetic 200 watt smile, chocolate eyes, and light caramel skin. In the photo, her glossy black hair was pulled into a loose braid that cascaded over her shoulder. She was wearing a black blouse, go figure.
Julie was a teenager now. She lived in Florida with her mom Rachel and stepdad Ron. Ranger had met Rachel while he was active duty military, and after one night together found out she was expecting. Ranger did the chivalrous thing and married her, supporting her financially through Julie's birth. They divorced shortly after, having never lived together or loved one another. Their relationship had always been amicable, and Ranger was in Julie's life as much Rachel and his professional obligations would allow. He supported Julie financially, and he flew to Miami several times per year to spend time with her.
I slid Julie's photo aside and stared down at the second photo. To my great shock, the worn photo was of me.
I felt my breath hitch in my throat, and butterflies filled my stomach. I had never seen the photo before, but could pinpoint its origin. The photo was taken a few years ago at Robert Kinsey's wedding rehearsal dinner. My unruly brown hair had been tamed into soft, sexy curls. I was wearing light, natural makeup and a sexy black dress that was tight and low cut in all the right places. I wasn't looking directly at the camera. Instead, I was looking at the person standing to my left. Though the person was cut from the photo making it small enough to fit in a wallet, I knew that the person to my left was Ranger.
The look on my face was clear. It said, This chick is head over heels. I had to admit, love looked good on me. I ran my thumb over the photo of myself and smiled at the memory before placing it behind the photo of Julie again, sliding them both back into the wallet. I collected Ranger's items back into the personal belongings bag, then returned to my place at his side.