Many thanks for the great reviews, favorites and follows. Your appreciation is the only remuneration a fanfiction writer receives. Everything recognizable belows to Evanovich, Inc. Thank you to midnightandahalf for the beta work. And now, without further ado, time for the showdown.
Chapter 16
I move through the door sideways. Never give them a bigger target than you need to. The effort is wasted because her gun is not aimed at me. She is in full Rangeman uniform, including vest and utility belt.
"That's far enough. With your left hand, remove all your weapons." she says, eyes on me but a Glock 26 trained on Steph. Ten rounds in the magazine, one in the chamber. At least one spent.
Steph is sitting on the floor with her hands behind her back. I don't see any obvious injuries to her. Tank is sitting beside her, but listing heavily to one side. Looks like his hands are secured behind his back as well. Both are wearing vests. The blood is on the top right of Tank's chest. If the bullet had hit the axillary artery, he'd already be dead. If we get out of this, it's likely he'll live.
I keep my right hand out to my side where she can see it and use my left hand to remove the gun from the holster at my back. I can take her out with my left hand as easily as I can with my right, but she doesn't need to know that. As long as that gun is pointed at Steph, I'll cooperate and bide my time. She'll give me an opening eventually.
I bend slowly to pull my back-up piece from my ankle holster and remove the 7" blade from the sheath in my boot.
"Kick everything towards me," she orders.
Her gun hand hasn't wavered so I keep following orders, for now.
"Now strip," she says.
You're not my type, bitch. I lock eyes with Steph before bending over to untie my boots, hiding the involuntary lip twitch at what I see. There's no panic or fear in my Babe's gorgeous blue eyes. She's just pissed.
The vest comes off next, and then my t-shirt. I'm watching Carissa for any opportunity to strike, but the gun hasn't moved off Steph. Carissa reaches for the holster at her hip as I unbuckle my belt. I clock the taser a millisecond before the leads embed themselves in my chest. Shit that hurts.
It feels like there are a million bees crawling under my skin as I start to come around. She must have used a stun gun after she tased me. Smart. She didn't have to get close to incapacitate me with the taser, but the effects of the taser don't last.
I regulate my breathing while I assess the situation. No point in letting her know I'm conscious until I want her to know. My head is pounding, probably from bouncing off the concrete when I collapsed. Hands are cuffed behind me. Ankle shackled. Cold concrete against my bare skin. Probably still where I fell. She would have a hard time moving my dead weight.
"I've had enough of your games, Ranger," Carissa says from somewhere near my feet. "Time to pay for your sins."
"I have sinned many times in my life. You're going to need to be a little more specific," I reply. The kick to the kidney is painful, but not damaging. Carissa moves around me and squats a short distance from my face, blocking my view of Steph.
"I only care about one. It's your fault Carson is dead. That they're all dead. You should have gotten to them sooner." Carissa's face twists with rage and anguish.
"We got there as quickly as we could. It was already too late by the time we were called up," I say, although nothing I say will matter.
"I don't believe you!" she says, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "You could have saved some of them. Then Carson wouldn't have been the only survivor."
She raises the gun and pushes the barrel hard against my forehead. "Now you're going to know what it feels like to suffer the way you let my brother suffer."
She gives one final dig of the barrel before she stands and turns toward Tank and Steph.
"It's your turn to watch while the people you are supposed to protect die in front of you. Maybe I'll let you choose who dies first. Would you like that, Ranger?" she asks, turning back to me. "You pick who gets to live just a few minutes longer. Or, rather, who has to live longer knowing they're about to die?"
She points the gun at Tank. "Will it be your best friend, your brother-in-arms?" The muzzle moves slightly toward Steph. "Or will it be your girlfriend? Your soulmate, according to the guys at Rangeman. Decisions, decisions." She laughs as she says this. It is the laugh of someone who has lost touch with reality.
I remain silent for a moment. She isn't sane, but she isn't a natural born killer. If she was, she'd be able to pull the trigger without a second thought. Instead, she wants someone else to take responsibility for who she kills.
"I'm sorry about your brother, but there was nothing we could have done that would have gotten us there in time to save those men." I say. She is no longer rational. She doesn't care that I've lost men on missions. That the weight of each death presses down on me; that the nightmares will forever haunt me. She only feels her pain, her loss.
The gun swings in my direction and she screams, "I said choose!" She pauses and continues in a conversational tone, "I can make their deaths quick with a bullet, or I can use your knife and make you listen to them scream. Just like Carson listened to his men scream as they were slowly killed in front of him. Wouldn't that be fun, Ranger?"
The ungodly shriek from behind Carissa startles us both. That is one pissed off woman on her feet and launching herself at Carissa. The gun is knocked to the floor with a chop to the forearm. Steph grabs a fist full of hair and yanks Carissa's head backward. Carissa is pulled off balance and Steph falls with her and slams her head first into the concrete floor.
She pulls the stun gun from its holster on Carissa's utility belt and presses the prongs against Carissa's neck.
"That's for shooting Tank," she says as she pushes the button. Tank smirks at that. She pulls the device away, checks the charge left in the gun, and places it against Carissa's neck again. "And, that's for stunning Ranger."
There are no more handcuffs on the utility belt, but Steph finds the keys. My cuffs secure Carissa's wrists. She removes the cuffs from Tank and returns to where Carissa is starting to twitch on the floor. One bracelet goes around Carissa's ankle and the other is clipped to the chain on the cuffs holding her hands together behind her back, effectively hog-tying her.
"We need to get Tank to the hospital," Steph says as she searches through Carissa's pockets, presumably for her phone.
"It's just a scratch," Tank says, picking up the broken zip tie from the floor where Steph had been sitting. "Nice work, Little Girl. "
Steph shrugged. "I watched some YouTube videos. Thought it might come in handy someday."
"Tank just needs a couple of Hello Kitty band-aids and he'll be good as new," I add to lighten the mood.
Steph rolls her eyes at the two of us and pulls her phone from the side pocket of Carissa's cargo pants.
"I've got guys outside with an EMT on standby. Call the control room and have them sent in." No point in having the situation broadcast through 9-1-1.
"What do you want to do with her?" Tank asks, nodding at Carissa. Can't have the EMT's around if we need to get rid of a body.
"We're going to see that she gets the help she needs," Steph says. "She's mentally ill, not evil."
I'm not so sure about that, but I owe it to Carson to give her a chance. Besides, there is no way Steph is going to accept anything less.
"How did an accountant get the jump on a special forces soldier?" I ask Tank as we wait.
"It was my fault," Steph replies, interrupting whatever Tank is about to say.
"We entered the warehouse with me on point and Tank covering my back. As we moved into the open area, Carissa stepped out from behind those crates over there with a gun pointed at me. Before I could react, Tank stepped in front of me and she shot him instead." Steph looked at Tank. "I still can't believe you did that."
"Any Rangeman would do the same," he says, shrugging his good shoulder.
I know that's true. I used to believe that was because they would rather take a bullet than face my wrath if Steph got hurt, but now I know the truth. It's because of what she means to them, not who she is to me.