Chapter 13
Ranger
The act of stepping out of the shower and hearing voices coming from beyond the bedroom door was foreign to me. My seventh floor apartment had been my sanctuary since we moved into the building, and up until recently the only beings to have stepped foot inside were myself, my core team, and Ella and Louis. Then, two weeks ago, I opened my mouth and an invitation spilled past my lips. Next thing I knew I was having dinner with Steph in my apartment.
That first occurrence - because, of course, it was a first and not a singular event like it should have been - had been a little stilted, mostly because I wasn't prepared for how easily she could slip past all my defences and get me to talk about myself. But after a few more interactions in the office and a second spur of the moment invitation to dinner on the seventh floor later, I was prepared for her inevitable questions and ready to talk about certain parts of my life while steering her well clear of others. And it worked. That evening had gone much smoother and I hadn't had to excuse myself to have a mini crisis when I realised she'd gotten me to open up to her.
Tonight, though, was something else entirely.
I couldn't decide if what she'd done downstairs in the gym was smart or suicidal. Smart, because if I couldn't get myself under control in the next few minutes, I knew that Tank wouldn't have hesitated to hit the nightie-night switch under my chin, and as much as I would have been grateful for it, being knocked unconscious always posed health risks. And suicidal, because, well, if Tank hadn't been able to keep me pinned down, or if I'd suddenly snapped after he'd released me, there was no telling what I would have done to Steph. The second she stepped onto the mats she was taking her life into her own hands and I couldn't live with myself if I'd done something to her.
But I hadn't. Somehow, her presence and her touch, and her quiet reassuring words had cut down the beast raging inside me, like a wolf recognising it's master and returning to it's cage with it's tail between its legs, hoping for a scratch behind the ear and a nice treat for obeying so promptly. I could still sense its anger, power and distress inside me, but it was back under control, no longer dominating my mind and body. Just a presence as long as the images from this afternoon lingered in my head. And I owed a lot of that to Steph, a slip of a woman who, for whatever reason, couldn't stand by and watch me torture myself at Tank's hands.
And now she was waiting out in the living room for me to talk to her about what was wrong. Like fuck that was happening. Those images were between me, the police and God.
The voices out in the apartment continued as I pulled my clothes on and stepped from the ensuite into the bedroom, already feeling better than I had. Steph had been right about the shower helping. I was able to scrub and sear away the events of the day under the too-hot sprays. And while my skin now felt a little raw, it also felt clean in a way it hadn't when I'd arrived back at the building.
Letting my hair fall freely in its damp state, I picked up my keys, wallet and gun, tucking them away safely on my body as I crossed to the wardrobe to shove my feet into shoes before heading out to find Steph and get out of her for the night.
She wasn't on the couch where I'd left her, which caused a jump of panic in my gut that she had decided to leave me alone after all, until I heard the front door click and her soft padding footsteps approaching. She froze in the doorway to the living room, her gaze travelling over my choice of clothing with interest and I realised that this was probably the first time she'd seen me in anything other than black. I'd opted for dark wash jeans and a navy blue button down, so not exactly breaking any colour barriers, but it was obviously noteworthy if the way Steph's eyes raked slowly over my body was anything to judge by.
While she was distracted, I took a moment to scan her body as well, at least I would have if she weren't clutching a bundle of things to her chest. After a moment, her gaze returned to my face and she blinked in surprise before following my line of sight to everything she held.
"Oh," she uttered, an adorable blush rising on her cheeks. "This is - I hope you don't mind, but I had Lester bring my things up so I don't have to stop by the control room when I leave later." Now that she'd explained, I could easily make out her heels that I hadn't realised she wasn't wearing, her handbag, and the coat she'd worn when she arrived this morning.
"I'd like to get out of the building," I said, rather than acknowledge her words. I had no qualms with my cousin being in my space, especially if it was to help Steph feel more comfortable by dropping off her things. "Did you still want to join me?"
"Of course!" Nodding enthusiastically, she practically dropped her bundle of items to the floor, slipping her feet into the heels and grabbing up the jacket and purse as she straightened, a bright smile on her face.
I gestured back the way she'd come and she led the way out to the foyer, hitting the button for the elevator while I grabbed my own jacket and locked up.
Down in the garage, I led her to my Porsche Turbo and had the pleasure of watching her eyes bug out of her skull. Apparently, she'd never noticed the most expensive vehicle in the lot. She said nothing on the matter as we slipped inside, though, and remained quiet as I navigated the streets of Trenton until we arrived at our destination.
Peering out the windshield at the non-descript, grey cinder block building I'd pulled up in front of, she finally spoke up. "Where are we?"
"I promised I'd take you dancing once my leg was healed," I reminded her. "This is my favourite Latin dance club in New Jersey." The fact that I'd just admitted to having a favourite anything should have been a giant red flag, a signal to abort, to just drive her home and pretend this whole thing never happened. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Her presence beside me was the only thing keeping the thoughts and images at bay, and although I knew how vulnerable that made me, to be reliant on her to calm my mind, I didn't want to let her go.
She eyed the building and then me, a calculating expression on her face. "I thought we were getting dinner," she pointed out, her stomach growling to support the need for the statement.
Suppressing a smile, I just nodded. "They serve food."
Apparently that was all the assurance she needed, because her expression cleared into that easy smile I'd grown far too attached to, and she started unbuckling her seatbelt. "Okay," she agreed, scooping up her bag from the footwell and laying a hand on the door handle. Her gaze returned to me then, and I realised I'd made no move to get out. That must have been what she was looking for, because the moment I'd released my door she was doing the same, climbing out on the side.
I grabbed her hand as we approached the front door, noting that her fingers had turned icy cold in the few moments they'd been exposed to the cold night air. That wouldn't last long once we got inside. Even in the middle of winter, the dance floor was blazing hot, filled with glistening bodies pressing up against each other. It was the kind of place to make you forget the outside world. And the music was always loud enough to drown out your thoughts.
Probably, I should have prepared Steph for that last point, I realised as I pushed open the door and she flinched at the wall of sound that assaulted us. I glanced her way to be sure she was okay, but she was all smiles, squeezing my hand reassuringly.
I tugged her inside and toward the bar where Jenny was working as always. Short but broad, with hair teased halfway to the ceiling to compensate for her height, Jenny was a take-no-shit kind of woman, which is what made her perfect to work in a club that attracted fiery Latinos. She wasn't above setting a guy twice her size on his ass for flirting with a woman who clearly wasn't interested. She'd put Lester in his place a time or two over the years, which was always good value, especially since all she had to do these days was raise her eyebrow at him and he'd snap his mouth shut on whatever line he was about to sprout. He maintained he wasn't afraid of her, but Bobby and I knew different.
I caught Jenny's eye when she was finished serving her latest customer and sent her a couple signals. She nodded and tipped her head toward the far corner of the club. Returning the nod in thanks, I squeezed Steph's hand once more and led her to the booth Jenny had indicated. My usual table.
"What was that about?" Steph said, leaning closer to speak loudly in my ear to be sure she was heard over the music.
My dick perked up at the brush of her breast against my arm, but I ordered it to stand down. There was no way I was going there. Not tonight. My control was barely hanging in there, and I shuddered to think what could happen if I let myself let loose and follow the beast's instincts.
"Just ordering food and drinks to get us started," I replied, pulling her closer to avoid the couple salsaing off the dance floor.
She shook her head, wrapping her other hand around my elbow to aid in keeping the close proximity and the beast inside me growled possessively in approval of our new positions. And we hadn't even gotten to the dancing. I'd need to do some quick work while we ate to make sure it was locked up tight if I wanted to keep our relationship professional.
"Neither of you said anything," she said as we reached the booth and I gestured for her to slide in on the wall side before me. It wasn't ideal positioning in terms of keeping an eye on the rest of the club if I wanted to also see her face, but there was no way we'd be able to hear each other across the table, and I wasn't willing to be boxed into the booth and leave her vulnerable on the outside. That was why I'd requested they install the mirror above what we all considered 'my' table.
"No words were needed," I said, sliding in beside her and resisting the urge to wrap my arm around her and pull her into my side. Maybe coming here was a mistake. "Jenny has a knack for knowing just what a person needs,"
Stephs's eyes narrowed as she turned sideways on the bench seat, shrugging out of her jacket and unbuttoning no less than three buttons on her blouse, revealing the lacey camisole she had on underneath and distracting me entirely too much. "So long as she doesn't think either of us needs shots of tequila," she said, continuing to adjust her attire to the new temperature by rolling up her sleeves and bundling her hair into an elastic to keep it off the nape of her neck. "It's a school night, and I don't think the boss will be pleased if I call in sick tomorrow because I have the mother of all hangovers."
I tucked a wayward curl that had escaped entrapment behind her ear and let a small smile pull the corner of my lips up ever so slightly as I shrugged out of my own jacket and tossed it to the other side of the table out of the way. "I don't think the boss will care if he, too, was too hungover to come in to work," I pointed out, following her example by rolling up my sleeves and undoing an extra button or two. I may be keeping things professional, but that didn't mean I had to suffer the heat because of it, especially since she'd already set the tone.
She smiled back, eyes wandering down to the newly exposed skin of my chest as she finally settled into the cushioned vinyl. "Are you saying we should make tomorrow Tank's problem?"
I shook my head, working harder than should have been necessary to keep my gaze away from her collarbone and cleavage. It was a good thing she dressed conservatively for the office, or I'd be hard pressed to get anyone to do any work, including myself. "I'm saying I no longer drink tequila unless I'm prepared to not remember what year it is in the morning."
Her eyes narrowed again. "There's a story there that I will learn eventually," she informed me.
My smile ticked up a notch, because I loved her tenacity. She could be like a dog with a bone when she wanted something. "Good luck with that, Babe."
The expression on her face turned thoughtful for a moment, eyes roving over my face, shoulders, chest, forearms, leaving a physical sensation wherever her gaze touched before she finally dragged it back up to my face. "I bet Lester or Tank know the story," she said. "I can probably get one of them to tell me." And I had no doubt that she could. The guys loved her. They thought she was - as Lester put it - the Bomb. It didn't take much convincing from her to get them to do or tell her anything. She was just the right brand of charming to cut right through the hardened and guarded men I'd hired. And I'd be lying if I said I hated what she was doing to them.
In the six weeks since she'd started working for Rangeman, the men had loosened their strict, soldierly habits, relaxing into their roles and working together more cohesively for it. It was something that I'd been trying to make happen for almost a year now, first down in Miami as business picked up and we'd had to hire more people, and now in the new Trenton branch. The men knew teamwork like the back of their hands, it was as instinctual as breathing at this point, but there was something about having Steph there that made things better. I couldn't figure out just what it was, or how it happened, though, or I'd have implemented it down in Miami already.
"It's a good thing neither Tank nor Lester know the story, then," I said, just as Jenny arrived at the end of the table with two beers and a platter of various Central American finger foods.
