Chapter 12

Steph

I was sitting on the edge of Cal's desk, listening to his plans for his date on the weekend so I could give him the "woman's opinion and approval" he'd requested before I finished up for the day, when the air pressure in the office changed. A tension unlike any I'd ever known suddenly gripped my stomach, stiffening my spine to settle uncomfortably around my shoulders. And when I looked around, I wasn't the only one. Cal and Hank were exchanging looks over the cubicle wall, and Vince had turned halfway around in his chair - monitors forgotten - as he stared in the direction of the elevator and stairwell.

"Ranger is in a rage," Lester announced, the soft click of the door closing behind him filling the space easily. He looked shaken, visibly struggling to get himself under control, but still managed to offer a modicum of his usual grin as he added, "So maybe try to keep the idiocy away from him for a bit." And with that unusually sage advice, he turned on his heel and strode in a deceptively calm manner toward the infirmary. I wasn't sure if he or someone else had been injured, or if he just needed to see his partner, but I knew he'd be a lot more settled when he exited Bobby's office.

There was silence throughout the room despite the half-dozen normally rambunctious men filling it. Like they were all holding their breath. I'd never seen the control room so quiet in the six weeks I'd been working here except for the moments immediately before, after and during commands from Carlos or Tank. This one seemed to be stretching on ominously. I got the impression I was missing some vital information, some hidden subtext that everyone else got.

A glance back to Cal showed that he'd turned his attention back to his computer, our conversation forgotten as a blank mask of an expression covered up anything he was thinking or feeling. Hank, over the wall, appeared similarly engaged, his face a brick wall as he typed furiously on his keyboard.

Stealing my nerves as the tension continued to wind my body tighter and tighter, I slipped off the desk and crossed to the monitors, laying a hand on Vince's shoulder. I had learned that the guys on monitors tended to have the most up to date information on any goings-on, both in the building and out on patrols, so if something was up with Ranger upon return from a patrol, Vince and Zip were the most likely to be able to fill me in.

"How can I help, Steph?" Vince asked without so much as turning his head to catch sight of me out of the corner of his eye. I suppose I had a very different presence to the rest of the guys, and likely a gentler touch, so I shouldn't have been surprised by his ability to identify me without a visual.

"I'm wondering about the vibe shift," I explained. "Carlos, I mean Ranger- " Fuck, was I ever gonna get the hang of calling him Ranger? "-has been angry before and everyone just continued on as normal, but now…"

He did crane his neck to look at me over his shoulder then, before quickly reverting his attention to the screens, dragging the keyboard closer to start typing. "A rage is different to mere anger," he explained. "Anger is like when someone fucks up on a job and costs us a client. A rage is…" He paused, hitting a few more buttons until a single security feed filled the entire monitor at the bottom corner of the bank. "A rage is when something fucked up has happened and it triggers a visceral response. Sometimes, PTSD."

Gesturing to the screen, he drew my attention to it rather than him and a gasp escaped my throat when I took in the scene unfolding in the gym downstairs. It only took a second for me to identify the bodies in the ring: Tank and Carlos.

"Holy shit!"

"Language, Steph," Vince admonished, but I could hear the slight smile in his voice. After all, he'd just uttered the F-word at least twice. The only difference between his swearing and mine was that I was pretty sure this was the first time I'd let one out in the office.

I continued staring at the grainy footage of the two men beating on each other. Slamming together again and again. There was no sound on the monitor, and I didn't know if the security cameras even had the capacity to pick up audio, but it didn't matter, I could hear the huffing, the grunting, the snarling, and the sickening thud of flesh against rock hard flesh clear as day inside my mind. I'd seen men sparring during my mandatory weekly gym time, but it was nothing compared to this.

"They're gonna kill each other," I muttered to myself. Then louder, "Isn't anyone going to stop them?"

Vince shook his head. "They're not gonna kill each other," he assured me. "As violent as it may appear, they're still pulling their punches."

"What does that mean?"

"It means it could be a hell of a lot worse," Zip piped up from the other chair at the bank of monitors where he was keeping a close eye on the rest of the feeds. "And if it goes that way, Cal is on standby to step in."

That didn't make sense to me. How could Cal be ready to step in if he was sitting at his desk? I glanced over my shoulder to confirm this, only to find his cubicle vacant, and when I returned my gaze to the screen, Vince was pointing to the corner where Cal was clearly standing poised and watchful, ready for action if it was needed.

I shook my head. "Why are we just letting it happen?"I asked, still struggling to understand what was going on. Everyone was tense and quiet, but no one was taking action to bring things back under control. And coming from this group of men who were usually so focused on taking action, it was concerning.

"Because, this is what Ranger needs," Vince explained, sounding almost resigned. "I don't know what he witnessed or had to do, but I do know that when I see something fucked up, a good session with the heavy bag does wonders to clear my head."

"Tank isn't a heavy bag," I pointed out, frustration leaking into my tone. "He's a person, and he's in real danger if Ca-Ranger loses control!"

"Tank can handle himself," Zip said confidently, but it didn't assuage my worry.

Carlos may be out of his cast and cleared for regular activity, but from what I'd heard from both him and Bobby, he still had to be wary of further injury. The man currently pummeling his second in command in the ring didn't look very wary to me.

"I'm going down there," I announced, turning on my heels and striding to the elevator where I jabbed the call button. Since it was so rarely used, it was usually waiting on whatever floor I'd last exited to, so it usually opened within a few seconds of hitting the button. But for whatever reason, the one time when time was of the essence, I was still waiting half a minute later. My eyes cut to the stairwell door and I huffed out a breath, reaching down to remove my heels and started forward, absently aware of a rising commotion at my back as the door closed behind me.

I kept a steady pace on the stairs, reaching the third floor swiftly and pushing through to the gym. I didn't pause to survey the space; I knew where I was headed and there wasn't a single soul in this company who could stop me. Not even the newbie Hal who approached me with a timid, "Uh, Ms. Plum," before backing away when I growled at him.

Passing Cal, I dropped my shoes beside him and continued forward to the spring floor of the mats where I finally hesitated.

What was I thinking? What was I doing?

Lester and Bobby, with Tank's occasional help, had touted me enough self defence in the last year that I thought I'd be okay if I was randomly mugged on the street, but that was nothing compared to the way Carlos and Tank were going at each other. As much as I was worried that one or both of them would be hurt if they continued, I couldn't deny that the danger to myself if I got between them was much worse. These men were skilled in hand to hand combat and I could only dodge or block a punch sixty-seven percent of the time.

I felt Cal's looming presence approach behind me, his voice low as he tried to talk me down, to request I step back from the ring. But just as he got within arms' reach of me, I saw my opening.

Tank swung at Carlos, knocking him to the ground and pinning him with his body. Carlos was immobile with Tank's unrelenting weight and force pressing him to the ground. I scrambled into the ring, creeping forward in an arch so that I was coming at them from the side, giving Tank, at least, ample opportunity to notice me. Carlos, unfortunately, had his head forced in the opposite direction.

"What's your plan here, Little Girl?" Tank panted, meeting my eye as I paused mere feet away. Carlos's body jerked, attempting to buck Tank off, but Tank just pressed down harder. "Slow your roll, man," he snarled in Carlos's ear. "I know you're in a state, but I'm not gonna let you free and allow you to do something you'll regret." Then, returning his gaze to me for barely a second, he reiterated. "You need to speak up or get out, I can't hold him forever."

I still didn't have a plan for what I was going to do now that I was here, but I couldn't not try to diffuse the situation. Nodding as I sucked in a breath, I hurried around their heads.

"Get the hell out, Babe," he snarled the second my feet came into his range of vision, but I ignored the warning tone in his voice, the flash of his eyes, and the butterflies in my stomach as I realised this was the first time he'd called me Babe in front of people, and knelt directly in front of his face. I held his gaze for a long moment as he continued to fight Tank for freedom. Snarling at both him and me to back off.

Instead, I leaned forward, extending my hand slowly, like one might when greeting a wild animal, reaching slowly until my fingertips brushed his cheek, the rest of my hand following for a gentle caress. His entire body when still, the fury in his eyes giving way to confusion and finally anguish.

"It's okay, Carlos," I assured him quietly. "You're okay. It will all be okay."

A shuddering breath escaped him and he closed his eyes, hiding everything he was feeling from my view even as he pressed his face a little more firmly into my touch. We stayed that for a long moment, me brushing his cheek with my thumb, him steadily evening out his breathing, muscles visibly relaxing and Tank watching us both like a hawk as he maintained his position sprawled across Carlos's body. I don't know how much time had passed before he finally removed his weight from his upper body, sitting up and releasing Carlos's arms that had been pinned behind his back.

I looked away from Carlos's shuttered face long enough to meet Tank's eye, and received a nod as he lifted himself from the lower half of Carlos's body as well. Carlos didn't move a muscle as the big guy backed away to the edge of the mats, still watchful, ready to spring into action if something happened, but giving us some space.

"I don't know what put you in this state," I murmured, leaning down a little more so that my elbow rested on the floor and our faces were closer together, ensuring he could hear me as I lowered my voice even more. "And I don't know what trauma you're dealing with on top of that, but I'm here for you. If you want to talk, if you want to -"

The rest of my soft reassurances were cut off as the door to the gym banged open, admitting frantic, overlapping shouting from the pair that ran in only for it to be silenced with a single raised hand from Tank. Bobby and Lester froze six feet from the mats, taking in the scene: Tank, lurking in the corner, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice, me knelt in the centre of the mats, my hand extended in front of me now empty as the interruption had caused Carlos to leap to his feet, his stance lowered and ready to fight once more.

Tank muttered out a curse, stepping forward, hands slightly raised placatingly, as Lester and Bobby's eyes widened, their own hands shooting up, palms out beside their heads in a sign of surrender. "Sorry," they said in unison.

"We thought…" Bobby started.

At the same time, Lester tried to explain, "Vince said…" He shook his head. "Probably should have waited for the rest of the story before sprinting all the way down here."

My gaze was still on Carlos, mindful of how vulnerable my position was now that he was in fight mode again. I straightened, slowly getting to my feet and meeting Tank's gaze past Carlos's shoulder to make sure he was ready if the boss flipped out from what I was about to do. He inclined his head ever so slightly, and I took that as permission to go ahead, reaching out and laying the same hand that had just been caressing his face, on his bicep. I felt him flinch at the contact, his gaze cutting to me questioningly, but I didn't relent, slowly sliding my hand down his arm with just a little pressure to communicate that I wanted him to lower his fists.

"We're all friends here, Carlos," I reminded him. "You're safe. We're all safe. Can you turn to me? Tank has your back, he won't let anything happen, but I need you to look at me, just me, okay?"

His breaths were sawing in and out of him roughly, but after brief glances around the room, including a moment of eye contact with Tank, he turned to face me and I put my hands on either side of his face, holding him there even though I knew my strength was nothing compared to his. He closed his eyes for a brief second, taking a deeper breath and I noticed Tank waving everyone out of the room.

When Carlos opened his eyes again, they were boring into mine intently. "What you did was dangerous, Babe," he finally uttered, his voice barely more than a rasp. "I could have hurt you."

"You'd never hurt me," I assured him with a small smile. "You're not like that."

He shook his head. "No," he disagreed. "I wasn't in control. Anything could have happened. I could have -" He cut himself off, squinching his eyes closed for a moment as he sucked in another breath. "I could never forgive myself if I'd hurt you, even by accident."

"I wouldn't have let you," Tank said from his sentry position nearby. "If you so much as reached for her, I would have knocked you into next week."

"And I would have deserved so much more than that," Carlos muttered, the anguish back in his gaze as it unfocused, staring into the space between us unseeingly.

"Hey," I called gently, pressing my fingertips into his hairline. "What happened while you were out? What filled you with this rage, this despair?"

He shook his head again, this time, reaching his hands up to dislodge mine from his face, taking hold of them and lowering them between us. "You don't need to know," he said softly, not meeting my eyes. "I don't want you to worry about that."

Despite the tense situation, I let out a laugh. "Bit late for that, buddy," I pointed out. "If I wasn't worried about you and what set you to blows with Tank, I would have returned to my desk to silently work while you two pummelled each other like everyone else in the control room." And without pausing to let him rebut my response, I tugged on his hands. "Come on," I said. "You're done for the day. Are you gonna shower down here, or in your apartment?"

"I-" he started, but couldn't seem to get any more words out as he just stared at me in wonder.

"Locker room or apartment?" I repeated, releasing one of his hands to point in the direction of the respective options. When he was still unable to make the decision, I pulled him along with me as we headed for the door. "Apartment it is," I said aloud so he'd know what I was doing. "Probably more comfortable up there away from prying eyes. Do you want me to get Ella to fix you something to eat while you're in the shower? Or I can go grab donuts, they always help me when I'm emotional. I'd offer to cook, but I think you've been through enough trauma for one day. Best if I don't burn down your kitchen or give you food poisoning."

"I'm not emotional," he said flatly, ignoring the rest of my ramble as I hit the button for the elevator. "And eating donuts to smother your feelings is even more unhealthy than just eating donuts."

I shrugged. "Yeah, but the offer got you out of your stupor and acting more like yourself," I pointed out. The doors pinged open and I stepped inside, dragging him with me by the hand he still had in his grasp. "So what'll it be? Ella? Donuts? A call to the fire department? Or, I suppose we could go to Pino's and grab a couple meatball subs if you wanted to get out of the building."

He just stared as the elevator ascended to the seventh floor, like I was a puzzle and he couldn't figure me out. I have to say, it was a bit of a relief to have the hurt and anger missing from his expression, but I was a little concerned that he still wasn't quite back online mentally yet. He seemed a little slow on the uptake.

"We'll start with the shower," I said as the doors opened again and I led the way to the front door across the small foyer. "That'll help kick start you feeling better, and we can revisit dinner when you're done."

He reached forward to fob the door unlocked, but made no move to enter. I glanced between our joined hands and the door. Probably, I should feel a little awkward about the amount of hand holding and intimate-esque interactions we'd had in the last however long it had been, especially knowing that almost every inch of the building was under surveillance by the guys I knew downstairs, but the fact that he needed something to get him past whatever had happened today pushed any awkwardness out the window. I just needed to be there for him in whatever capacity he needed. Well, apart from as a punching bag; I guess Tank can keep that role.

"Do you want me to come in and hang out on the couch while you do your thing?" I asked. "Or should I go back downstairs and you'll call me when you're ready to talk or do food or whatever?"

In answer, he opened the door and took the lead, pulling me inside and to the living room where we'd sat and talked about our childhoods when he'd invited me up for dinner after work last week. He indicated for me to sit on the couch and waited until I was settled on the cushions before handing me the TV remote. I smiled up at him, hitting the power button as he retreated, a quiet, "Thanks," floating back to me as he disappeared.