A/N: I want to give my sincere thanks to everyone who has posted such thoughtful, kind reviews and to those who have followed my work. You inspire me to keep coming back to this story to give it my all. For me, writing is a release and a joy, and I'm grateful doing something I love can provide the same escape for others.
It was my great honor to have L-Sfarmwmn beta read this chapter. I was feeling uncertain about the direction in which this story was moving. Her feedback was outstanding and insightful, and I think her input produced a significantly better result for you all to read. Thank you, L-Sfarmwmn! If you haven't checked out her newest piece titled Blindsided yet, you're missing a real treat. I encourage you to head over... no, scratch that-race over to read it. 3 You'll be glad you did.
And with that lengthy note... here's chapter 26 for your reading pleasure! All the best, -J
We sat in strangled silence, Diesel's cry for help echoing in the silent room. Ranger's face grew hard, his mouth forming a straight line.
"No," Ranger replied, his voice filled with ice.
"I know how you feel about my asking, and I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."
I could hear Diesel's voice waver, and a softball size lump settled into my throat. I was pretty sure it was my heart. Sure, Diesel wore his emotions on his sleeve more than Ranger or even Joe, but to hear Diesel's tough exterior cracking was doing awful things to my heart and my stomach.
"You know I don't believe any of this stone—"
Diesel cut Ranger off.
"Wulf took Lizzie last night. I searched through the night, but I can't find her." He paused, taking a breath. "I have to find her."
I sat in stunned silence. That meant Wulf had snatched both Lizzie and I in less than twenty-four hours. He must have snatched her once I got free from Hatchett. What the heck was his problem? He needed a new hobby.
As if Diesel had read my mind, he responded. "He's getting desperate. Lizzie shares the same unmentionable skill as Hatchett. She can identify empowered objects. With Hatchett playing on Wulf's team, he was satisfied to leave Lizzie alone. Hatchett better served his needs. With Hatchett out of commission, Wulf needs a replacement to find the next stone. I don't think he wouldn't physically hurt her, but she's there against her will."
"Have you notified local authorities of the kidnapping?" Ranger asked.
"No," Diesel said.
A pregnant silence sat between the two men.
"I'm not going to devote resources to find her so you have an advantage hunting those stones," Ranger said, a hint of frustration in his voice.
"This has nothing to do with the stone of ira, or any other stone."
This stone business was getting weird. Why is Diesel looking for rocks?
"I want her safe, out of harm's way," Diesel said, his voice thick with emotion. "It's all I want. She never should have been brought into this in the first place."
He loved this Lizzie. That was glaringly clear now. My heart ached for him.
I knew Ranger could identify with what Diesel was experiencing—feeling responsible for dragging a loved one into harm's way. We'd been there ourselves years ago with Scrog. Hell, we'd been there yesterday with Wulf.
"You're sure they haven't returned to Salem?" Ranger continued.
"Unlikely," said Diesel. "Wulf isn't leaving without you. He wants to add you to his menagerie." The grim set on Diesel's face grew darker.
Ranger took a moment to absorb that piece of information, his face devoid of expression.
"He knows I won't assist him," Ranger said.
"He's a little gonzo under the influence of the stone of wrath. And he sees the opportunity," Diesel replied.
Silence.
I didn't like 'gonzo'. Diesel's take on our predicament concerned me. A lot. And sure, I was missing lots of pieces to the Diesel & Wulf puzzle, but I had to assume the opportunity Diesel was speaking of existed because Ranger was injured. I could feel my blood boil.
"If he thinks he can snatch Ranger out from under Rangeman, he's got another thing coming," I said, getting to my feet, my voice harsh. "Wulf's going to have to go through all of us."
A knock sounded at the door, and Ximena stuck her head in.
"It's time," she announced.
Ranger gave a barely perceptible nod, then turned his attention to Diesel. The door clicked back into place.
"Come to Rangeman with us. I'm in no shape to help, but we have resources to help you find your partner," Ranger said, his voice growing weary with the exertion of the conversation.
Diesel breathed an audible sigh of relief.
"Thank you."
"I can help too," I said.
"No," Ranger said, his eyes wide and his voice laced with venom.
I turned to face Ranger, hands on hips.
"No?" I asked, a look of shock playing on my face.
A shadow of something crossed Ranger's face, but it was gone in an instant. I took Ranger's hands in mine, willing him to understand.
"Ranger, I've worked with Diesel before. And we've established Wulf's not going to hurt her, he wants you. There has to be something I can do to help," I pleaded. "I have to keep you safe. We can use me as bait."
Ranger's face wrenched up in pain. "No."
"She has a point," Diesel said. "Wulf thinks he can get to you through her. If we let him grab her again, he'll take her to Lizzie. Then we can-"
"No," Ranger pleaded, dropping his head into his hands.
I could see that stress and exhaustion combined with his injury were cracking Ranger's usually calm exterior. I had never seen him so visibly shaken or upset. I dropped to my knees in front of him and stroked his cheek with my hand, shushing him.
"Can we have a minute?" I quietly asked Diesel over my shoulder.
He nodded, then exited the room.
"Look at me," I said to Ranger on a whisper.
He didn't move.
"Ranger, please," I begged, taking his hands in mine.
His bloodshot eyes connected with mine. He looked old beyond his years, exhausted and worried.
"I'm not going to do anything irrational or exceptionally dangerous," I explained. "We'll make a plan. You can have me tracked and followed. Rangeman can control everything. I'm not going off on my own. And Diesel won't let anything happen to me."
He shook his head almost imperceptibly.
"Like he didn't let anything happen to her?" he asked solemnly.
I hated to admit it, but he had a point. I know Diesel never intended for anything to happen to Lizzie, but he was stretched too thin. He was chasing some lunatic bomber, chasing Wulf, working with Lizzie, caring for Carl, and trying to hold me together when I was threatening to unravel at the edges. There was only one Diesel, and he couldn't do it all alone.
Before I could form coherent words, Ranger spoke again.
"I've kept you at arm's length for years for precisely this reason. The life I lead isn't normal. Because of your connection to me, you're continually being dragged into situations where people try to get to me through you. I can't let this continue," Ranger said. "I don't want you helping Diesel."
The rational part of my brain understood where Ranger was coming from, but the part of my brain driven by hormones, rage, and sheer female drive lost its cool in an instant.
"Is this the part where you tell me you love me in your own way? Or where you tell me you don't do relationships? Or maybe this is the part where you send me back to Morelli." I snapped, jumping to my feet.
Despite Ranger's fatigue, his voice was like a warning shot.
"Stephanie."
Ranger tried to speak, but I continued, unwilling to hold back the flood of emotions.
"No, Ranger. You listen. I love you. I have loved you almost as long as I have known you, even though it scares the crap out of me. I don't want to play this game anymore. And as much as I want to hash out whatever is going on between us, right now, Lizzie's life is the most important thing."
Ranger took a minute to process my words, studying my face.
"I appreciate that you want to protect me, but you're going to have to trust your men. I'm not asking you to trust Diesel—just trust your men to follow orders and do their jobs. Your job right now is to rest and heal," I said, my voice pleading. "Right now, we need to protect you. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you on my watch."
For the first time ever, I realized Ranger looked defeated. His shoulders had slumped, his eyes sad.
"It shouldn't have to be this way," he said, his eyes not meeting mine.
"You're right," I agreed. "It shouldn't. But we've got to work with the hand we're dealt, and right now, our hand sucks. Let's make the best of it."
Suddenly, a wave of pure emotion crashed over me. It was hard to identify, but right now, nothing mattered besides staying with Ranger, helping him to heal and keeping him safe. I smiled, longing to do nothing more than spend long hours relaxing in his company.
Something tickled the back of my brain. Hadn't I just been arguing with Ranger? A warning bell clanged in my head for just one second, before something silenced it.
I gazed down at Ranger and calm flowed over me, indescribably connecting me to this man. I couldn't wait to get him back to Rangeman and stay there with him.
Ranger spoke, his voice sad and quiet. "Babe, can I have a minute with Diesel?"
"Of course," I replied perkily. "But then we're taking you home, okay?"
It was late-afternoon by the time Ranger, Ximena, and I were safely nestled into a black Suburban, escorted front and back by other Rangemen SUVs. Ximena drove with Lester riding shotgun. I sat in the third row with Ranger seated sideways in the second row, his injured leg laying across the seat. Diesel rode in one of the other SUVs. We drove the mile to Rangeman Atlanta and parked in the secured underground garage.
We wrestled Ranger's muscular frame out of the SUV and into his wheelchair, which I pushed to the elevator. Ximena and I got him settled into a hospital bed, which had magically materialized in the small living room of his sixth floor unit since I'd left this morning. Ximena truly worked magic.
Ranger was asleep in minutes, the stress of the day taking its toll on his injured body. Ximena continued to fuss over Ranger, so I changed into pajamas before wandering into the kitchen to scrounge for food.
"I'll be back every hour or so to check on him," Ximena said, straightening various medical equipment on a folding table. "If he needs anything before that though, let me know. I'll let him nap for a few hours before we do another round of physical therapy."
I nodded my understanding, rummaging through cupboards and coming up with a jar of peanut butter. I grabbed a spoon and headed for the couch, sitting with my legs folded under me.
"You alright?" Ximena asked, staring at me like I'd sprouted daisies out of my head.
"Yep! Excellent." I announced before shoving a full spoon of peanut butter into my mouth. I flipped on the television, turning the volume low and scrolling through channels of garbage shows.
She didn't speak and didn't leave, so I turned to look at her. She had cocked her head to one side, looking at me like I'd totally lost my mind. Her look made my stomach feel uneasy.
"I figured you'd be at the meeting downstairs in ten," she said, studying my pajamas.
"What meeting?" I said, scooping up more peanut butter.
She looked totally dumbstruck.
"Never mind," she said, turning to leave.
"See you later," I said, flipping through more channels.
I heard her pause before she left, so I turned and waved goodbye over my shoulder, giving her a goofy smile. She gave a wave but didn't smile, then left.
As it turns out, Ranger's Atlanta apartment was primo for Netflix and chill. Netflix, because his smart TV had hundreds of channels, plus Netflix and Hulu apps. Chill, because he had a comfy couch, cozy blankets, soft throw pillows, and snacks that filled the cupboards, courtesy of Maria. I'd never been much of a television girl, often watching one or two shows before falling asleep or giving up for more stimulating activities. However, I started binging Orange is the New Black on Netflix as if I was a woman possessed.
I was well into the third episode by the time Ximena checked on Ranger, and I was on episode five when she woke him for therapy.
I dutifully paused the show to assist, helping Ranger out of the bed to his walker. I gave him a smile, a peck on the cheek, and a light swat on the butt. His only response was a sad smile.
"Cheer up, buttercup! You've got this!" I chirped at Ranger, hoping to lighten his mood before a strenuous physical therapy session.
Ximena put a belt around his waist and helped him to the bathroom. I straightened his sheets and fluffed his pillows before shuffling off to the kitchen to refresh his glass of water.
Maria entered the room minutes later with several covered dishes that smelled wonderful. I helped her to set the table, laying out silverware and glasses of iced tea. Ranger completed his therapy before he, Ximena, and I sat down to dinner. After, Ranger and I watched a Monday night basketball game, Ranger fading in and out of sleep.
The next day progressed in much the same way. Ranger rested and healed. Ximena changed his wound dressings, and he took the drugs she gave him. He did physical therapy several times, pushing himself to the limit each time to improve his strength and mobility. His physical progress was astounding, and he was soon able to limp around the apartment with the assistance of only a cane. However, he didn't seem to be acting like himself. I tried to push it aside. He'd had a long week. He was taking a lot of medication. He needed time to heal, right?
I watched a lot of television and ate a heap of snacks courtesy of Maria. I chatted with Connie, Lula, grandma, Mary Lou, and my mother on the phone.
By Tuesday afternoon, I decided to call Joe while Ranger was sleeping. I shuffled into the bedroom and closed the door so as not to disturb Ranger. I flopped onto the bed, laying on my back.
"Hello?" I female voice answered. I recognized the voice. It belonged to Joe's mom, Angie.
Angie Morelli was the definition of Burg housewife. No one's home was cleaner than Angie Morelli's, and no one's Italian food was finer. Sure, with the exception of Joe, her sons were a drunk, bar brawling embarrassment and the scourge of the Burg, but she was a good Catholic woman.
"Hi Mrs. Morelli, its Stephanie."
"Stephanie! What a pleasant surprise! We've been expecting a call from you," Mrs. Morelli announced, her voice tense.
"Can I talk to Joe?" I asked.
There was a long pause before she responded. I heard whispering in the background.
"Yes, but I have something I need to talk to you about first." She lowered her voice. "I hear you're out of town. When will you be back in Trenton?" she asked.
"I'm not sure," I said. "Hopefully in a week. Maybe sooner. Why?"
She whispered into the phone. "I need you to take Bob."
I resisted the urge to laugh out loud. Bob was Morelli's giant orange, shaggy dog. Bob was part golden retriever and part prehistoric woolly mammoth. Bob was a lot of fun, but he was full of energy, pooped mountains of dog doodie which required a snow shovel for clearing, and ate everything, including shoes, bedding, and furniture. I had originally been Bob's guardian, but Bob had chosen life with Joe. Joe had a yard.
"I'd be happy to take him once I get back to Trenton, but I'm not a lot of help here in Atlanta," I said.
"It's going to be some time before Joe can manage Bob on his own, but I don't know if I can do another week of Bob-sitting," Angie whispered into the phone. "It is my understanding Bob is your and Joe's dog. Together. Like a child, only with fur."
I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Great, Joe and I had a fur baby.
"Let me see if I can work something out, Mrs. Morelli. I'll call you back in a minute." Then I disconnected.
I pulled up my contacts and dialed Mooner.
The phone was answered on the second ring.
"Moondog speaking."
I went to high school with Walter "Moonman" Dunphy. He was a nice guy with a big heart, but he'd smoked a lot of weed in his lifetime. We'd experienced a lot together in the past couple of years, and he'd always been a good friend despite his shortcomings in the 'adult' department. More often than I liked to admit, Mooner caused me to experience maternal urges. Mooner was always getting into some kind of hair brained venture. One of his last ventures was dog sitting, so he seemed like an easy fit for temporary Bob care.
"Hi Mooner, its Stephanie."
"Dudette! Long time, no see! How's life on the Battlestar Gallactica?"
"Things are good, but I'm out of town."
"Excellent," he said.
"I need a favor," I said. "Do you remember Bob, Morelli's dog?"
"Sure, dude. He's, like, coooooooool," Mooner responded.
"Morelli got hurt on the job, and he needs someone to keep Bob for a week. I'd step in to help if I was in Trenton, but since I'm out of town, I was wondering if I might be able to pay you to keep him until I'm back in town."
"Far out," Mooner said. "Only problem is, the love bus is sort of out of commission, and my new apartment doesn't allow pets."
I sighed. Of course this would be my luck.
"Would you do it if I let you stay in my apartment?" I asked, sighing inwardly. I'd never be able to get the smell of weed out of my furniture.
"Sure, dudette. That would be, like, totally rad. The Bob dog and I can hang out with the little dude."
"Little dude?" I asked.
"Like, your rat," Mooner said.
"Rex is a hamster," I corrected. "Rex is staying with my parents, so it will only be you and Bob. You can go pick up a key to my apartment at my parents' house any time. I'll text you the address to pick up Bob and his food, plus the phone number to coordinate. Thanks, Mooner. I owe you one."
"No problem, dudette. Bob and I are on the job. Live long and prosper," he said, then disconnected. I texted him Angie Morelli's address and cell number.
I dialed Morelli's number again, and Angie answered again.
"Stephanie?"
"Hi Mrs. Morelli. I got the Bob issue taken care of. Walter Dunphy will pick him up tonight. He'll call you to coordinate pick-up."
"Thank you," she said, sounding like a heavy weight had been removed from her shoulders. "I do appreciate it. Would you like to speak with Joseph?"
"Yes," I said, feeling like I was stating the obvious.
I heard shuffling on the receiver, then quiet breathing.
"Joe?" I asked hesitantly.
"Hi Cu… cu… cupcake," he responded weakly, stuttering into the phone. His voice was dry and gravelly.
I was struck speechless. I hadn't been sure what to expect, but I certainly hadn't anticipated a stutter. Did the bullet he took to the head do that much damage to his speech?
I took a breath to compose myself, then made an effort to make light, friendly conversation.
"I was worried about you," I admitted. "How are you feeling?"
"Been bet…. Bet…" He paused, and I heard him take a deep breath to compose himself. "Been better," he said confidently.
"I bet," I said, a hint of sadness in my voice. "Bullets will do that to a person. Are they feeding you total garbage at Saint Francis, or is your mother smuggling in Pino's?"
We talked for ten minutes, making polite small talk. My heart ached for Joe's misfortune, but I actively worked to emotionally distance myself from him. We had broken up, and we were in the friends-only zone. I didn't ask about the extent of his injuries, and he didn't say anything about our relationship—or lack thereof. We disconnected, agreeing to talk again soon and wishing one another well.
By Thursday, I had finished every episode of Orange is the New Black and was feeling antsy. I'd spent too much time sitting on the couch, and I'd eaten too much junk food. I was starting to feel very unlike myself, and I didn't like it. Plus, my pants were too tight. Things were awkward with Ranger too, with only polite small talk between us. I hadn't left the apartment in days, and I was feeling ready for a change.
"I'm heading downstairs for a while," I said to Ranger, lacing myself into boots. I was wearing black Rangeman fatigues. "I'll take my cell. You can call if you need anything."
"Stay here, babe," Ranger said, sitting on the sofa with his leg up.
"Why?" I asked, getting to my feet. "I'm going stir crazy in here, Ranger. If nothing else, I need to roam the halls for an hour. My butt is numb from sitting around for so long."
Ranger rolled that thought around in his mind for a full minute, his face expressionless.
"I'll go with you," he said, starting to push himself upright using the arm of the sofa.
"You really don't need to do that," I said, scrambling to his side to help him up. "I'm perfectly safe in your building. I don't need a chaperone."
His only response was, "Babe." I sensed a hint of amusement in his tone, but something else was there, too.
I pointed at the pile of assistive devices—a wheelchair, a walker, a cane. "Which will it be, Batman?"
A humorless grin tugged at the corner of his lips.
"The chair, Alfred," Ranger said, limping in the direction of the wheelchair. I laughed out loud and scrambled to the chair, helping him into the seat.
I strolled out of the apartment, pushing Ranger through the halls of Rangeman Atlanta. Ranger gave the full tour, sharing information about the facility and its occupants. We explored the fourth and second floors, touring the gym and control room. The control room was buzzing, and it was refreshing to be part of the energy.
I pushed the elevator button to take us to the third floor offices and conference rooms, Ranger in tow. The doors to the elevator opened, and inside stood Diesel.
I hadn't seen Diesel in a few days. I was surprised when I realized I hadn't even thought about him. What the heck was up with that?
Diesel looked like hell. His usual scruff had grown into beard territory, and his eyes were dark-rimmed and bloodshot. His shoulders hung low, his back slouched. He looked completely defeated.
"Diesel, what's wrong?" I asked, scrambling to his side. I placed my hands on his chest, my heart faltering in mine.
He didn't speak. Instead, his eyes met with Ranger's and held.
I looked back and forth between the two men, neither speaking. It was a silent stand-off. I struggled to put pieces together in my brain, a mental fog lingering between the puzzle pieces I was trying to fit together. Something was off with me, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I wasn't sure if I'd had a stroke, if I was losing my damn mind, or one of the unmentionables in the room was messing with me.
I broke the silence, turning so a man was on each side of my body.
"What the hell is going on?" I said, anger rising in my voice. "Why can't I put this together?"
No one answered, so I spoke again.
"What's wrong with my mind?"
Ranger's eyes connected with his shoes, and Diesel's mouth formed into an angry line. The elevator doors began to slide shut, so I smashed the hold button.
"Diesel?" I asked, venom in my tone.
"I didn't do a thing to you, sweetheart," he responded, his face sad. The implication here was that Ranger had something to do with the mental fog I seemed to be experiencing.
The anger I had felt began to rise into panic.
"Ranger, what have you done?" I spit, turning to face him.
He refused to look at me.
"Diesel, please," I pleaded, my back to him.
The silence in the elevator was deafening.
Ranger spoke first.
"Don't," he said, his voice sad.
"She has a right to know," Diesel returned, his voice low.
Ranger nodded, but said, "Not now. Not here."
"No," I insisted, my voice two steps below shouting. "This is my life," I yelled, emphasizing the word 'my'.
I turned to face Diesel.
"What did he do?" I asked again.
Diesel opened his mouth, then closed it again. He considered for a long moment before speaking, his voice wavering.
"He persuaded you to forget about searching for Lizzie. He persuaded you to stay with him instead."
Suddenly, the pieces snapped into place as I recalled the odd feeling that had overcome me in Ranger's hospital room.
Lizzie was kidnapped by Wulf on Sunday. Diesel had spent days looking for her, and judging by the look of him, he hadn't had any luck tracking her down.
For the first time ever, Ranger had used his unmentionable talents on me.
Or had it been the first time? Not knowing was gut-wrenching.
Tears began to prickle at the corner of my eyes, and I began gasping for air. I looked back and forth from Ranger to Diesel. Diesel's face radiated sadness. Ranger wasn't making eye contact.
I tried to blink back the tears that were threatening to fall, but they came like a tsunami, rolling in waves past my eyelashes. I ran from the elevator, down the hall, and into the stairwell, leaving Diesel and Ranger behind.
Before the stairwell door closed, I could hear Ranger's pleading voice as I thundered down the stairs.
"Babe."