Chapter Eight
My fridge and the kitchen cabinets were devoid of food. I had eaten everything I had, not that there was much between my vacation out of the country and when I had decided to move. I decided to continue my productive streak and stock my new kitchen with a monster shopping trip at the supermarket.
I grabbed my keys and purse, looked briefly at myself in the mirror and stopped. I could not go out in public looking like this! I needed to take a quick shower and tame my crazy hair first. I looked much more presentable after a shower and a quick hairdryer blast. I may no longer want to care about what the 'Burg thinks, but I'm still a Jersey girl. I can't go out in public looking all sweaty and gross. People would probably think I was sick or something.
I went through the aisles at the supermarket quickly. In addition to some of the things I usually get, like beer, peanut butter and olives, I also got foods I knew Ranger would approve of. Now, I just needed to know what to do with it. Since I was starting with basically nothing, it took me a long time, but I got all the basics I thought I'd need and some things I had no idea about but figured I could learn how to cook. Maybe I could ask Ella to teach me some basics.
I looked around with satisfaction once I was home and had everything put away in the kitchen. I fairly reeked of virtuousness now! I decided to make dinner for myself and looked at my newly stocked refrigerator. I had bought some chicken breasts, but I was a little worried about burning down my new kitchen if I tried to cook them. But I was determined to figure out how to do this, so I grabbed my laptop and settled on my new sofa, navigating the web browser to YouTube. I typed in 'cook healthy chicken' and waited for the results to load. Yep, I needed to get internet access. Piggybacking my cell phone was like molasses slow. At least I had finally taken the plunge and gotten rid of my home phone. No one ever called it except my mother and random residents of the 'Burg, all of whom were calling me to either bitch at me or confirm if the latest gossip they'd heard about me was true. I didn't need that in my life anymore.
As I waited for YouTube to load, I wondered how to keep my new address private. As soon as I changed my driver's license, the police department would know, and then everyone would—something to think about later.
Finally, the results loaded. I checked out a couple of thumbnails and comments, not wanting to waste the bandwidth and my time by trying to load videos that wouldn't help me. I found one for lemon chicken, which looked promising. I bought lemons when I went grocery shopping because I thought it'd make water taste better, so it seemed like a sign.
I set up my laptop on the kitchen counter so I could follow along, pausing as I started each step. Thankfully, I went shopping earlier and stocked up on everything. I even had all the spices and ingredients the recipe called for, except parsley, but it seemed optional anyway. I stuck the chicken breasts inside a big Ziploc bag and made the marinade. This seemed easy so far. Why did my mom make it all seem so hard?
Once I was done with the marinade, I dumped it into the bag, zipped it up and shook it so all the chicken got covered. I put it on a plate, in case the bag leaked for some reason, and put it in the fridge. My new oven had a timer feature, so I set it for forty minutes, then checked out my kitchen to see what else I could make for dinner.
I had rice. I suppose I could make that. Huh. Funny. With some green veggies, this would be perfect Ranger food. I did buy some broccoli today. I have no idea how to cook it so it tastes good, but maybe Ranger does.
I grabbed my cell phone and called him.
"Yo," he answered.
"Yo, yourself," I replied. "Want to come over for something homemade?"
"You made dinner?" He sounded surprised, not that I could blame him for that.
"I'm in the process of making dinner. I don't know how to cook the broccoli, but I figured out the chicken and rice thing so far."
"What time?"
"Um, give me forty-five minutes?" I estimated.
"Babe." He hung up.
I stared at the receiver for a moment. He really needed to develop some phone manners!
I took the broccoli out of the fridge and stared at it. There was probably a way to cook this without boiling the shit out of it and making it limp and disgusting, but I'd be damned if I knew what it was.
I measured out some rice and rinsed it like the internet said. I put some water in a pot and set it on the stove, turning on the burner. I followed the instructions, waiting until the water boiled, then adding salt and rice. By the time it was all done, it looked pretty good.
The oven timer went off halfway through my rice preparation, so I took it out of the fridge, laid it all out in a pan and stuck it in the oven.
When the rice was just finishing, Ranger knocked on the door, and the chicken was supposed to be nearly done. I let him in, kissing him on the cheek and patting his arm.
"Hi, Ranger. Dinner is nearly ready," I said.
He was looking around at my apartment. "The place is looking good, Babe," he said.
"Thank you. But I need to ask you something important."
He raised an eyebrow in answer.
"How do you cook broccoli?"
Ranger laughed then, the sound simultaneously heartwarming and embarrassing. "Babe." He removed his jacket and draped it over the back of one of the barstools. He was wearing a pair of dark-washed jeans and a cream-coloured polo shirt. He looked so good. I rarely got to see him in 'civilian' clothes, and the sight of him sent waves of warmth flooding into my belly.
He entered the kitchen, a smile still playing at the corner of his lips. He looked at the pot of rice on the stove and the broccoli I had sitting on the counter. "First, we break it up into the florets, Babe." He demonstrated what he meant, and then, when I nodded, he continued. "We don't need much for just two of us. Do you have a steamer?"
At my blank look, he chuckled again and kissed my forehead. "I'll look. You still have that set of pots and pans your mom got you for Christmas a couple of years ago, right?"
"Yes. How do you know that?"
"Babe." He looked in a lower cabinet and found the pots, then pulled out a medium-sized one with some sort of insert with holes. I raised my eyebrows at his discovery. "This is a steamer insert, Babe. I'll show you how to use it."
He turned on the faucet and stuck the pot under it until there was a little water in the bottom. He put it on an empty burner and turned the element to high, covering it with the lid. "When it's boiled, we'll add the broccoli and let it steam for several minutes, and that's all there is to it."
"How long do we let it steam for?" I asked.
"With broccoli, probably no more than six or seven minutes. Every vegetable is different. But if you're ever not sure, just Google it."
"Thanks, Ranger."
We finished making dinner together, and I plated some for each of us. Everything looked and smelled great, and I poured two glasses of sparkling water for us while he took our plates to my new dining table.
After he took his first bite of the chicken, he smiled. "This is great, Babe."
"Thanks. I didn't burn down the kitchen!"
"You can do anything you set your mind to, Babe."
We smiled warmly at each other before I changed the subject. "Ranger, can I ask you something?"
"You can ask me anything you want, Babe, but I might not be able to answer."
I rolled my eyes. "It's nothing like that. You know Lula and I tried to find out where you lived, right? When your official address was a vacant lot?"
The corners of his lips tilted up. "Yes."
"How did you do that? How did you keep the authorities from knowing exactly where you lived?"
"You want to keep this new apartment off the grid?"
"As much as possible. I don't want everyone to know where I live."
"Including the authorities?"
"Like Joe. He doesn't need to know where I live anymore."
"Well, I incorporated. My corporation is also incorporated. There are several levels of ownership between me and my properties. When you searched, you found the only thing I'd allow anyone to find."
"Will you teach me how to hide my information?"
"Sure, Babe."
Our conversation turned to Rangeman after that, and Ranger told me more about the specific training and requirements I'd have to meet to be field-rated.
"What if I decided I didn't want to go into the field?"
"Requirements would change if you didn't want to be field-rated. You'd still be required to qualify for and carry a weapon whenever you're in the office. Though it's not as strict, you'd still have to maintain a base fitness level. What would you want to do if you weren't field-rated, Babe?"
I shrugged. "I'm just thinking about all my options, Ranger. Is there something else you think I could do if I weren't in the field that way? Besides sitting on my butt and running searches all day?"
"Like I said earlier, you could succeed at anything you set your mind to, Babe. If you're serious about trying a new role, why don't I think about the possibilities, and we can discuss it this week?"
"Okay." I smiled. "So, what did you think of dinner?"
He looked down at his empty plate, then smiled at me. "It was great. Proud of you, Babe."
"Me too. No fires, no food poisoning. At least, not yet," I joked.
He took our empty plates into the kitchen. I got up to follow him and found him starting to wash the dishes and putting them in a drying rack. I found a dishtowel in the drawer and started drying them, then putting them away. It felt very domestic, though I kind of liked the feeling. We finished the dishes, and as he wiped down the counters, I dished the leftovers into some storage containers and put them in the fridge.
After we were finished, Ranger took my hand and led me to the sofa. After I sat down, he leaned over and placed my legs in his lap. I scooted down to the opposite end of the sofa, and Ranger massaged my foot. His fingers pressed into the flesh, kneading them firmly. I leaned my head back and groaned in appreciation. He continued with his massage, working on my right foot and then my left until I felt very relaxed. When he finished, he laid my feet in his lap and softly ran his fingers over my ankles, tracing little patterns into my skin. I opened my eyes and looked at him through heavy-lidded desire, and I saw the same expression spark in his eyes.
He picked up my legs and carefully moved them to the side so he could stand, then he laid them back down on the sofa. He moved over me and lowered himself until his face hovered over mine. His eyes hadn't broken contact with mine, and just as I thought he would kiss me, I reached up and snaked my arms around his neck, pulling him closer until his body was over mine on the sofa. My lips were on his, but I couldn't tell you who finally initiated that first kiss. I moaned as he took it deeper, and our tongues were dancing in a tango of desire. When we finally broke away to catch our breaths, it was only momentarily until we launched at each other again, unable to get enough. I roamed my hands under his polo shirt and over his back, savouring the feeling of his smooth, muscled skin beneath my fingers. I moved my hands lower, skimming his waistband and cupping his ass under his jeans. Even through the fabric, I could feel his every flex and movement. He lifted his mouth from mine and moved his head to nestle in my neck, lavishing kisses over every inch until he finally nipped at the juncture where my neck met my shoulder. I shuddered at the feeling and could feel Ranger chuckle at my reaction.
After several long moments, feeling drunk on Ranger's kisses, I reluctantly pulled back. Having sex with Ranger was not a good idea right now, no matter how much my body wanted him. My heart needed to take priority, and my heart could not take another morning where he disappeared. Especially not when I would have to see him at work. I sighed.
Ranger clearly felt the change in atmosphere as he sat back on his haunches, running his hands through his hair. "Sorry, Babe."
"You don't need to be sorry," I said softly. "It's not your fault. If I wasn't starting at Rangeman tomorrow…"
"You don't think we could separate work and personal lives?"
"It's not that, exactly. I'm trying very hard to change my life, to make it better. And while a Ranger-induced orgasm would improve it," I smiled at him. "Ultimately, I can't do the casual thing with you. I'm sorry if I led you on."
"Babe, you didn't lead me on. Don't worry about it. I should go, though." He stood and looked down at me. "I'll see you tomorrow."
I nodded, then stood, too. Ranger retrieved his jacket from the back of the barstool and put it on while I watched.
"Night, Babe. Lock up behind me."
"Goodnight, Ranger," I said. After he left, I locked the door. I turned my back, leaned against it and slid to the floor, resting my head in my hands. My heart was heavy. Did I do the wrong thing? I wasn't sure. I told Ranger I couldn't do the casual thing with him, and he didn't say anything to dispel my notion that it would be casual.
After several minutes of hanging out on the floor, I shook my head. It wouldn't do me any good to wallow in my solitude. I had a plan, and I needed to stick with it. After I didn't feel like a constant drain on his resources due to needing to be rescued doing the job I was woefully inadequate for, maybe I could tell him how I felt.
Tank and I hadn't arranged a start time when he hired me, and I knew he and everyone else woke up in the middle of the night to work out, but I was absolutely not following suit. I decided eight o'clock was a nice, regular time to show up for work, and if I was wrong, we could sort that out tomorrow.
I set my alarm for six-thirty, figuring I'd need about an hour to wake up and get ready and about twenty minutes to drive here. I still had one uniform from working there part-time, and I could ask Ella for a few more. I packed a bag with some workout clothes and shoes, then laid my uniform on my bedroom chair. I went to bed reasonably early, wanting to be at my best for the first day of my new job.
By ten o'clock the next morning, I was seriously questioning my decisions. I arrived at ten minutes to eight as planned, and Tank was fine with an eight o'clock start time, but he immediately told me to get changed into my workout clothes and said I'd be in the gym and the range for four hours every day. Five miles on the treadmill, a hundred sit-ups, thirty push-ups, and three pull-ups later, I walked jelly-legged out of the gym and down three flights of stairs to the gun range.
They issued me a new Glock 26, and I was to spend at least forty-five minutes practicing with it daily until I passed the standards, and then I could drop my range time to only three days a week. They issued me a belt holster and said I was to carry it any time I was on company time, whether inside the building or out. I'd be written up if I were caught not carrying when I was supposed to. Tank said he'd explain the demerit system to me later.
Finally, at about eleven o'clock, Tank led me back to the gym and said he'd be teaching me self-defence. He spent the next hour showing me various holds and how to get out of them. It was miserable, and I couldn't escape any of them. He was remarkably patient, though, and said he would have been stunned if I could break free in my first week.
At noon, I dragged my exhausted body into the break room and sat at a table. I crossed my arms and spread them on the table in front of me, then laid my head down on top. I was never going to make it. They should just bury me right now.
Lester came in, saw my prone form, and laughed. "Beautiful, you okay?"
I just groaned in reply. He spent a few minutes selecting various items for his lunch. Ella stocked the break room with sandwiches, fruit, and other healthy snacks. Lester sat down next to me, slid a sandwich, a bottle of water, and an apple toward me, then poked me to get my attention.
"You need to eat to maintain your strength, Beautiful. It'll be hard at first, but I have no doubt you can do it."
"You all make it look so easy," I whined, lifting my head to look at him. I unwrapped the sandwich Lester brought me and sniffed it suspiciously. Turkey, swiss cheese, and deli mustard. I could live with that. I took a bite and moaned. Ella was amazing.
"We all worked very hard to make it look easy," Lester pointed out. "None of us started that way, not even the boss. He was a scrawny kid once."
"Really? I can't imagine that."
"It's true. He didn't start caring for his body until well into high school when he noticed the girls."
I rolled my eyes. "Of course. I guess that'd be good motivation."
Lester chuckled. "I've found it to be extremely motivating, too."
"Les, do you have the same non-relationship stance, too?" I asked.
He shrugged. "I haven't thought about it too much. I was deployed several times a year through my early- and mid-twenties. It isn't easy to develop and maintain a relationship in those circumstances. It became a habit to seek out a woman when I had time, but I'd never been tempted to make it into more than just mutually satisfying our desires. I suppose I could have a relationship now, but I've never met anyone who made me want to get into one. Unless you're offering, Beautiful," he teased, lightly elbowing my shoulder.
"Pfftt. You wish, Santos. Anyway, I'm focusing my attention on my professional life at the moment. I'm sure I'll be dragging my poor, aching body into a tub and bed early every night after torture like this at work."
"Only for the first couple of weeks, Beautiful. After that, you'll find the exercise gives you more energy. Combine that with healthy eating habits, and you'll be unstoppable!"
"Hey! I had baked lemon chicken and rice last night. And broccoli! I even made it myself." Mostly, I silently added.
He looked impressed. "That's great, Steph! I know you haven't been much of a cook, so if you ever want a lesson, let me know. My Abuela taught me how to make a lot of dishes, and I'd be happy to pass my knowledge along. You could be my Padawan!"
"Okay, Obi-Wan," I joked. "What kinds of dishes did your abuela teach you?"
"My Abuela was Cuban and Mexican, so she usually cooked a good variety. She also liked cuisines from around the world, so my culinary education was pretty varied. I was sick a lot as a kid, so I spent a lot of time with her at home.
"Why were you sick?" I asked gently.
"I was diagnosed with leukemia when I was nine," he answered. "I underwent treatment, but I was so sick that I couldn't keep going to school, so my Abuela homeschooled me. It took a couple of years, but I eventually beat it. My parents left me to live with her when I stopped going to school, and they moved away without a word. My Abuela and I were very close, as you can imagine, and when I was thirteen, Carlos moved down to Miami to live with us after getting in trouble in Newark. She taught us both how to be respectful men, cook and care for ourselves, and ensured we stayed in school until graduation. I don't think Carlos would have made it without her, and I know I wouldn't have."
I hugged him tightly. My friend had been through so much in his life. To be stricken with cancer was itself horrible, but then to be abandoned by your parents while you're undergoing the worst fight of your nine-year-old life is the icing on a very shitty cake. "I'm so sorry, Les. And so happy you beat the cancer, and I can call you my friend today."
He hugged me back for several long moments until there was tension in the room that wasn't there before. I separated from him to look around and saw Ranger standing in the doorway with barely disguised anger in his eyes.
Lester stood and said stiffly, "Primo," before he slid past Ranger and walked out of the room.
"Babe," Ranger said evenly.
"Hi, Ranger." I was shooting for a breezy tone, but I was nervous and could hear it in my voice. I don't know why I was so nervous; it was probably because Ranger seemed so angry. But Lester and I hadn't done anything wrong. "Is everything okay?"
"What were you and Lester doing?"
I sighed. "I was hugging him, Ranger. He told me a little about his childhood, and I hugged my friend."
Ranger's eyes softened almost imperceptibly. "He had a hard life. I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions."
"What conclusions were those?"
"It doesn't matter, Babe."
I let it go. Now wasn't the time to get into anything with him, and I wasn't sure how I'd react if I saw Ranger hugging another woman, even if I was pretty sure they weren't an item. I'd probably still be unsure and jealous. I figured Ranger probably had a private social life, especially while I was dating Joe, but it wasn't one I wanted to know or hear about. I excused myself, grabbed my duffel bag at my cubicle, and then took the stairs one flight up to the sixth floor and knocked on Ella's door.
I asked Ella if I could use her shower since there wasn't a ladies' room, and she ushered me in and led me down the hall to the bathroom. She left me a stack of towels, and I set my bag down. Her bathroom was as big and luxuriously appointed as Ranger's was, only it was slightly less 'upscale hotel room' and more homey and inviting. I stripped off my clothes and fiddled with the shower fixture until the water was steamy hot. I stepped in and groaned as the hot water hit my sore muscles. Ten minutes later, I turned off the water and stepped out. I quickly dried myself, redressed in my standard Rangeman uniform, and blasted my hair with the hairdryer I found sitting on the side of the sink.
I found Ella in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea. "Thanks so much, Ella. Your shower is fabulous."
"No problem, Dear. Would you like a cup of tea?"
"Oh, no, thank you, Ella. I need to get back downstairs to work."
We said our goodbyes after she offered to use her shower anytime I needed it, and then I grabbed my bag and hurried downstairs. My lunch break had probably taken a few minutes longer than it should have, but I didn't think Tank or anyone else would say anything.
"Hey, Bomber. How are you feeling after this morning?" Tank asked me when I stopped in his doorway. He motioned for me to come forward and sit down, so I sat on his little sofa.
"Tired and sore, but weirdly energetic too," I admitted. "I don't know how you can be both tired and energetic, but there you have it."
"It'll get better and easier as you stick with it. I promise. Eventually, you may even like and look forward to your workouts."
"I can't see that happening, but I promise to stick it out and see."
He flashed me a brief, blinding smile, and we got to work. That afternoon, he was teaching me some of the ins and outs of the neverending paperwork he and Ranger had. They wanted a third person to know how to do all of the 'admin shit we hate,' though he also promised they were not imposing it all on me. We worked together for the rest of the afternoon as he showed me the procedures, and I was amazed at how much he did manually without the help of the computer programs I knew he had. I wasn't sure if it was my place to say something, and maybe he had some sort of security reason not to use the computer programs. I kept my mouth shut for now. Once I get a better handle on how things work around here, maybe I'll speak up then.
