Chapter 3

Ranger

Thanks to Mr. Weston being pedantic and insisting I inspect every element of his alarm system when it falsely triggered as he was closing up his sport memorabilia store, I managed to make it to my parents' house just in time to sit down to dinner, slipping in under the radar in the chaos of bringing dishes to the table and choosing seats. It was perfect, really. Being late meant that I didn't have to endure my mother's nagging that I never came home for hours on end, and since I'd managed to score a seat at the opposite end of the table between my youngest sister Serafina, and my older sister Celia's husband Reynaldo, Mama wouldn't even be able to needle me during the meal this year.

Everyone was talking over one another as dishes started circulating, passing from hand to hand as my family continued conversations that had started before I arrived, or accused each other of taking the exact bread roll they'd been eyeing off on purpose. As such, it wasn't until all the food was dished out that my presence was noticed and acknowledged.

"Carlito!" Mama exclaimed, freezing with a forkful of potatoes halfway to her mouth.

"Sí, Mama?" I replied.

"How dare you try to slip in here unnoticed! What did you think you were going to do? Convince me that you'd been here the entire time and I just didn't see you? A mother knows when her estranged son returns to her nest, Carlito. I'm not an idiot." As she continued to rant at me in what was actually a surprisingly soothing slate of angry Spanish, she dropped her fork and stormed around the table to reach me. I pushed back and swivelled in my chair to face her, but didn't get up, knowing that my height would be no advantage against my birth giver. I may be a highly trained and decorated soldier, but that was nothing compared to an irate mother.

"I worry about you, mijo," she lamented, shocking me by wrapping her arms around my head, hugging me tightly to her bosom instead of slapping me around like I'd expected. "You never call, you never visit. If it weren't for your cousin's reassurances, I would think you were dead in a ditch somewhere." And then, as if the reminder of the uncertainty of my condition at any given moment was what it took to snap her back to herself, she suddenly released my head and whacked me once, twice, three times solidly about the head. If it weren't for my certifiably thick skull, I might have been worried about brain damage with how often this had happened since I hit puberty.

"Lo siento," I murmured, drawing her back to me with an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to her cheek like always. "I have many enemies, and I don't want to risk your lives by-"

Another solid one, two, three from her pot stirring hand cut me off and I realised too late that, as always, all I should have said was I love you, if I wanted to wheedle my way back into her good graces. I had seen it work countless times when my brother Marco fucked up, but stupid me always stuck my foot in it and tried to play the saviour card. My hero complex, as Celia liked to say, was going to get me killed in this house one day.

It took another minute or so to convince Mama I was truly remorseful for not announcing my arrival, during which time my siblings continued to roll their eyes and fake gag at me behind Mama's back, and Papa just shook his head with a rueful smile. I'd lost count of how many times he'd tried to warn me to be more considerate of my mother's need to take care of me even though I was a grown man who was more than capable of taking care of himself. I locked eyes with him as Mama made her way back down the table, and we were in the midst of yet another I told you so stare down as the meal resumed around us when his expression suddenly shifted to something softer and he turned his attention to the person seated beside him.

It was difficult to hear what he was saying at this distance, especially considering the cacophony of voices separating us, but I caught my name and what sounded like an explanation of what had just happened.

His voice faded into the wall of background noise as I cut my gaze to the woman he was speaking to, letting me know that much of what I'd been able to pick up was probably due, at least in part, to lip reading. Either that, or her natural beauty had swallowed up all the sound around me.

She was absolutely stunning, with bright blue eyes caught in a doe-like expression as she looked from Papa to the others nearby as they joined in the conversation. Her lips, slightly parted, were a shade of rosy pink that I imagined would look delicious pressed against my own darker skin tone, and for a few moments I just watched, mesmerised, as they formed different shapes, not even bothering to try to figure out what she was saying.

"Tio Carlos, pass the gravy!" Eduardo whined, distracting me briefly as his scrawny arms reached between me and his father. I blinked hard, realising I'd been so distracted by the woman that I hadn't been aware of my surroundings, allowing my nephew to climb out of his seat and approach without me noticing.

Mentally admonishing my actions as I acknowledged how much worse my inattention could have been for the safety of those around me, I settled the too-full gravy boat in Eduardo's hands and took a moment to scan the room for threats. When that was clear, I returned to examine the occupants of the table, my family, cataloguing each briefly as I resisted the urge to let my eyes stray back to the woman.

Until I could resist no longer.

She was seated between Papa and my cousin Lester, with Mama and Bobby flanking them on either side and my brother Marco directly across from her. He smiled warmly, squeezing her hand on the table as he stood to reach across and top up her wine glass. A spike of jealousy shot through my stomach at the way she returned the smile, and I realised why she was here: she was Marco's latest girlfriend. It was the only explanation that made sense. My sisters were all straight, and even with they weren't all three were paired off with a husband, a fiance and a long-term boyfriend respectively (the full set as Papa liked to call it). Lester and Bobby had been denying their feelings for each other for years before they finally got together about a year ago, and had gotten engaged just a few weeks ago. My cousin had been a notorious ladies' man prior, but I didn't think he'd be so bold as to a) have a side piece when Bobby was so hopelessly devoted to him, or b) if he was idiotic enough to stray, I didn't think he would bring said side-piece to dinner. And beside which, Bobby looked far too happy to engage in conversation with her for that to be the case.

That left Marco. And the more I examined the situation, the more it made sense. Not only was she exactly the kind of girl he went for - sweet, and innocent, and quick to laugh at his lame jokes - but she was clearly wearing a too-big Manoso Christmas Sweater, one of the ones Abuela knitted for every member of the family a couple years ago.

The jealousy roiled in my stomach at the realisation, but I tamped it down. It was a useless emotion at the best of times, but at Christmas dinner, with my family all around - the family who had an uncanny ability to read me even when I had everything under lock and key - it was downright dangerous. My siblings and cousin weren't above weaponising any weakness I may display, and I could just see this turning into a whole thing if they realised I was attracted to Marco's girlfriend.

"That's Steph," Celia informed me, leaning across her husband. Clearly, I had to stop staring. "You missed the big introduction earlier, but she's a lingerie buyer for E.E. Martin. She-" Her attention was pulled away by Zelia tugging at her sleeve, but she'd said enough. Big introduction meant tonight was the first time Marco had brought her to meet the family, which explained why Mama and Papa had seated them on either side of their positions sharing the head of the table. It was their usual test of the relationship: if the newcomer could handle being separated from their partner and seated next to a random Manoso (or in this case Santos) for the duration of dinner, they'd probably survive in the family.

The other thing Celia's explanation did was provide fuel for me to think of the woman, Steph, in her underwear, which given that she was my brother's girlfriend, was wildly inappropriate. As was the stirring I felt below the belt. She was off limits, even if Marco did break up with her as he always did, so I needed to get my attraction to her out of my head. Knowing Marco's track record she wouldn't survive to the next obligatory family gathering, so if I could just make it through the next hour or so until I could escape, I'd never have to see her again.

I allowed myself to be drawn into a conversation about football with Elena's fiance Anton across the table, managing to keep my attention away from the gorgeous woman my brother had probably only brought because he was incapable of being alone at the holidays. I'd only been in the house fifteen minutes and I was already counting down the seconds until I could leave. That was a new record even for me.

It's not that I found my family unbearable (they could be a little overwhelming, but I'd grown used to it over the years and braced myself for the chaos every time I saw them, which was less and less these days) but something about Steph, my attraction to her, and her unattainability had me in a foul mood that was simmering a lot closer to the surface that I was used to. Usually I had no problem keeping all manner of emotions buried in the dark pits within me.

"Are you seeing Julie for Christmas this year?" Mama asked, appearing beside me in the kitchen where I'd retreated at the first opportunity to start stacking the dishwasher. I knew I wouldn't get away with it for long, since I'd already been late to arrive and Christmas eve was supposed to be family time, but I still had to try every time.

"Rachel wants it to be just her and her new boyfriend, Ron, for Christmas," I explained flatly. "I'll visit Julia when I go down for work in the new year."

She made a tsking sound and flicked me with the tea towel from the counter. "She's your daughter, Carlito," Mama reminded me. "You need to-"

"I need to maintain a respectful relationship with her mother," I finished for her, knowing full well that that wasn't where her sentence had been going. "Otherwise I won't be able to see my daughter at all. I already threw Rachel's plans for the future under the bus when I impregnated her, I'm not going to make a villain of myself by forcing myself on her while she's trying to find happiness."

The humming noise that escaped her was full of familiar disappointment, but I didn't let it bother me. I'd explained on numerous occasions why me spending more time with Julie or my family was not a good idea and it only served to anger Mama. Since I was planning on ducking out while my nieces and nephew were still opening their gifts, I figured the least I could do was keep the peace for the short time I was here.

"Come," she instructed, dropping the towel and using a surprisingly strong grip on forearm to drag me out of the kitchen and into the living room where everyone was back to mingling and having a good time. "You haven't met Steph yet."

And just like that, I was face to face with the one person in the house I'd been hoping to avoid most.

She was even more beautiful up close. Her cheeks rosy, possibly from the alcohol, as her eyes sparkled with residual lightness from whatever Lester had just finished telling her.

"So you must be the prodigal son," Steph commented, that warm smile still plastered on her face as she flipped an escaped curl out of her face before extending it toward me. "I'm Steph. You have a lovely family. Every time I tell someone that they tell me to tell you. So, I'm here to tell you you have a lovely family that loves you and wishes you were around more."

"Uh, thanks," I replied, glancing past her to find an excuse to leave the conversation. This always happened. The second someone new entered the scene, they were tasked with trying to convince me that I was a terrible person for avoiding my family. They didn't understand that it was for their own good.

Bobby chuckled lightly, deftly switching out the scotch glass she held for a bottle of water, already opened. "Maybe offering you the scotch cold-cure after the two glasses of wine at dinner wasn't the best idea," he said, helping to guide the bottle to her mouth for her to take a sip.

"Probably a good thing she declined the pain meds earlier too," Marco said from where he stood talking to Serafina close by.

"I never would have allowed her to drink if she was on pain meds," Bobby said exasperatedly. His medic side really didn't have an off switch, which meant he could mother anyone at a moment's notice. "Drink this bottle of water, and no more booze for the night," he instructed. "That means no cake de ron for dessert later, too. Fi made it, and she tends to have a heavy hand with the rum bottle."

"What's the point in having rum in it if I can't taste it?" Serafina defended her actions, and I made a note to avoid the cake de ron later when Mama was offering me a doggy bag for the dessert I would be skipping out on.

I turned my attention back to Steph, who was rubbing her cheek with her left hand. A left hand that was clearly adorned with an engagement ring and wedding band. And from the way the flesh of her finger hugged it on either side, they weren't brand new additions.

"How long have you-" I started to ask, wondering how my whole family wasn't in a tizzy over the fact that Marco had gone and gotten married without telling anyone. Or had I really been so out of the loop that I didn't know he was seeing someone and I'd misinterpreted Celia's 'big introduction' comment earlier? None of this made sense. Surely, at the very least, Lester would have mentioned something to me.

"Oh," Steph uttered, glancing down at the rings on her hand with a grimace. "Six months, but I'm filing for divorce as soon as the courts open up again after Christmas. I honestly don't know why I'm still wearing them." And in the next second she was passing Bobby her bottle of water and twisting the rings off her finger. Marco handed Fi his drink and held his hands out to Steph, a silent offer of assistance, and she extended her hand automatically, tears welling in her eyes. "They're not coming off," she said. "The Dick insisted they were better off tight so they wouldn't slip off my finger, but now they won't come off and-"

"Hey, it's okay," Marco said soothingly. "I know a trick to get them off. We'll need some string or something. Come on, I'll check Mama's sewing kit in the den." He wrapped his arm around her, snatching a tissue from the box on the end table and handing it to her as he guided her from the room.

I didn't have a chance to process the fact that Marco was dating a married woman and my whole damn family was apparently fine with it before my cell phone rang on my hip. I snatched it up, noting the number for the Rangeman control room on the display, and pressed accept, stepping out into the hall where it was ever-so-slightly quieter. "Yo," I greeted.

"Merry Christmas, Boss," Cal's voice greeted sarcastically. "We got a break in at Keppel's Jewellery store on Hamilton. Ramon and Zero are already on scene, but Mrs. Keppel is insisting she talk to you. Apparently the alarm system failed, and it was only because Mr. Lawson was picking up his daughter across the street that the break-in was discovered."

"I'm on my way," I stated. "ETA 2100 hours." I hung up, returned the phone to my hip and had taken a single step toward the front door when a voice cleared behind me. Papa.

"You're not planning on leaving without saying goodbye, are you?" he questioned in that tone that strongly suggested I do the opposite.

"Of course not, Papa," I sighed. "I-"

"Your mother is in the kitchen getting the desserts ready," he cut me off. "And next time, I'll be confiscating your phone when you arrive. I'm starting to think you plan these emergency call outs in advance."

"You know I'm on call so my employees can see their families over the holidays," I reminded him.

He raised an eyebrow that let me know he saw through the excuse. "What about seeing your family?"

I spread my hands a little out to the sides. "I'm here aren't I?" I pointed out.

"You're leaving aren't you?" he countered. "Next year, you let Lester and Bobby take care of the Christmas period so you can spend some quality time with your family."

"But then they'd be missing out on family time," I tried to argue only to be cut off by a derisive scoff.

"We see Lester practically every other week," Papa said. "You, we have maybe one hour with, every other month on average."

Rather than continue to argue and waste time, I decided to placate my father by promising to talk to Lester and Bobby about it for next year. I let him hug me goodbye and push me in the direction of the kitchen where Mama was already loading dinner leftovers and portions of the desserts into a bag with my name on it.

"How did you know I was leaving?" I asked coming around to her side of the counter.

She frowned at me, the expression laden with disappointment that just added to the load of guilt Papa had just shovelled on top of me. "You never stay for dessert, Carlito," she said. "So I prepared your servings while I was cutting everything up. That way I get an extra couple minutes to hug you before you have to run out the door." Suppressing a sigh, I just held out my arms and let her wrap hers around me, knowing I'd never escape until she'd taken her fill. It was a good thing that I automatically built an extra ten minutes into my ETA whenever I was leaving from my parent's house.