"We're making a bust?" Ronnie watched the CBI agents gear up, suddenly regretting the extra thirty minutes of sleep she'd snagged.
Lisbon glanced up, tossing her a tactical vest. "Rigsby and van Pelt are on their way. We're getting the boyfriend. Get your stuff and let's go." The boss grabbed an extra magazine and clipped it onto her belt, leaving Cho and Ronnie at the back of the car while she went to round up Jane.
Cho shouldered into his vest and grabbed his munitions, watching as she pulled off the long-sleeved button down and clipped her vest on over her t-shirt.
Ronnie switched out her compact concealed-carry for her full size service pistol, glancing over the hood of the sedan to see Jane already arguing with Lisbon over where to go to lunch afterwards.
"Masters," Cho stepped up, two fingers hooked in his belt as he glanced over her gear, making sure she had suited up properly. "If this doesn't go down pretty, I need your word that you're not going to do anything stupid."
She'd come to love the flat, dry voice of her partner which carried no intonation. At first it had intimidated her a little, but she'd come to realize that he had become the most straightforward, simple person in her life, and he didn't need dramatic inflection to impress sincerity upon someone. She needed that.
In turn, she'd begun to adopt her own flat tone, much to the rest of the team's chagrin. "I don't know what you're talking about, Cho. I don't ever do anything stupid."
"Really." He shot back.
"I'm not a stupid person," she winked, slapping his chest as she strode past, going to find Jane and Lisbon.
THE MENTALIST
Ronnie crouched behind a wrecked car, across from the old beater that Cho was hiding behind. In front of them, van Pelt crept around the corner of a dilapidated house, gun drawn and at high ready.
Music blasted from the house, masking the noise of the approaching agents. Two uniformed officers snuck around the front, toward the door, while Lisbon and Rigsby stationed themselves behind the CBI vehicles.
The police officer closest to the door shot a glance over to van Pelt, waited until she acknowledged him, and then banged loudly on the door, bellowing, "Sheriff's department! We have a warrant! Open up!"
After a second of no response, the officer kicked in the door and lunged inside, followed by his partner. Shouting ensued from within, and a shot went off somewhere. Before anyone could react, a body flew through the window behind van Pelt.
The figure rolled and then lurched to his feet, bolting across the lawn.
Lisbon was the first to move, pulling away from the suburban and sprinting after him.
Cho and Ronnie were right behind her. The man vaulted a wire fence, barely slowed by the movement. Lisbon swerved off, cutting through the bushes of another yard, and Cho hurled himself smoothly over the fence after the runner in the hoodie.
Ronnie's legs pumped strongly beneath her. She reached for the top of the fence and launched herself off the ground, effortlessly swinging her body over and landing mid-sprint.
The runner turned off onto the Main Street through the neighborhood and took scope of his surroundings before jogging straight for Jane, his machete flashing in the sunlight. Van Pelt and Rigsby were on the street after him, moving as quickly as their legs could carry them.
Cho was fastest, nearly on his tail, while Ronnie looked for an angle to get him from the side.
While she was searching, heart racing with the image of Jane being stabbed through the guts with the machete, Lisbon bolted out of the bushes like a cat on the pounce, tackling the man to the ground and pinning him harshly to the pavement.
Jane gave a visible sigh of relief as Lisbon cuffed the man, the boyfriend, holding him until the officers caught up and hauled him to their vehicle.
THE MENTALIST
"Boom. Out of nowhere. Guy didn't know what hit him." Rigsby marveled, beholding his boss with new appreciation.
The team stood around the back of one of the CBI cars, shucking their gear into the trunk.
Lisbon tossed her vest in with a modestly leased smile, not engaging with the conversation.
Even Cho was feeling the rush of the chase enough to smile, just as proud of the boss as the rest of them.
Rigsby turned to Jane. "So what were you planning to do if Lisbon hadn't stopped him?"
Jane shuffled around nonchalantly, shrugged. "Oh, I didn't bother to formulate a plan. I knew she'd stop him."
After dropping his vest into the trunk, Cho faced Ronnie, resting a hand on her shoulder for a second, already breathing normally again. "How's that for cardio, Masters?"
She grumbled, shouldering him aside to dispose of her own gear. "I friggin hate running, Cho."
"Cho, Jane, Masters, let's move." Lisbon tossed a look to Rigsby and van Pelt. "You two fill out the paperwork with the states, then go back to Sacramento, hold the fort."
THE MENTALIST
Ronnie stared at the wall, lost in thought. It was the next day, somewhere around noon. She had her boots up on the desk, arms crossed over her chest.
The quiet moments around the office, the lulls in cases, that had her head tripping back down memory lane. That moment in particular, she wondered at the whereabouts of her mom. Her mother was Carla Masters, a murderer and trafficker.
Tossing that hand grenade into that warehouse had been the most merciful thing her mother had ever done for her.
The serious crimes unit who came through the door next to apprehend Carla had been Lisbon's team. They'd found an entire gang blown to grotesque, bloody bits, and Carla Masters long gone.
It had been Cho who heard the weak cries of the twenty-year-old girl. He'd peeled the bodies off of her, scraped the pieces of the men who had inadvertently saved her life, and had found Ronnie Masters, covered in blood, crying on the warehouse floor.
CBI had been warned of Carla's daughter. She had a reputation along with her mother. Ronnie Masters was a sneaky little weapon, known for protecting her mother by any means necessary. So when Cho found her trembling on the floor, his first response was to pull his gun on her and state his credentials.
With weak, bloodied hands, the girl had pulled two knives from beneath her clothes, and a gun from her belt and had pushed them towards his feet. "Please," she'd cried, her forehead pressed weakly to the floor. "Please, help me. I'm done."
By the time Cho registered the desperation in her voice, she'd already fallen unconscious. The agent took her in his arms and carried her out to the response vehicles, and had personally conducted her interviews.
She'd given him everything.
"I have an idea!"
Shocked back into the present by Jane's voice, Ronnie looked up as the consultant paraded proudly into the room. "We bait the killer into killing again."
Cho straightened disapprovingly, prompting Jane to correct himself.
"No, sorry, into thinking he can kill again." He swept his gaze around the room finally limiting it to shooting back and forth between van Pelt and Ronnie.
"How we gonna do that?" Rigsby demanded, a sandwich in hand, mouth full of bread.
Jane sank down on his couch, still staring at the two women. "A red headed woman to be taken from Shane Creek." He raised his eyebrows enticingly. Almost as quickly as he'd sat down, he popped up from the couch and pointed at Ronnie and van Pelt. "One of you, yes?"
Ronnie scoffed out loud, while van Pelt looked shocked, mouth falling open silently.
"Oh come on, it's easy. Fake date, nice dress, a few bites of food, a quiet walk down the road. If my idea works, Cho and Rigsby will be on standby to catch the killer before he does anything. If nothing happens, then we got to play dress up, have a show, and go home. What's the problem?" Jane shrugged excitedly. "So who will it be?"
Ronnie shook her head, settling deeper in her chair.
Latching onto her apprehension, Jane pointed a finger at her. "Aw, come on, Ronnie, you never turn down a taste of excitement. What do you say?"
Her blank expression never changed. "Look at me, dude. I don't clean up nice." She could just picture herself in a showy summer dress, muscular arms bringing the thick girl effect to a screeching halt.
Jane waved away her argument dismissively. "Sure you do, Ronnie. Tell her, Cho." But he'd already begun to move on to van Pelt.
"Ronnie's not a redhead." Cho stated flatly, leaning over his desk.
"Be real, Cho, anyone's a redhead with the right wig." Jane shot back, staring very pointedly at van Pelt.
She shook her head desperately. "I'm new, remember? And you do clean up nice, Ronnie, of course you could pull this off." She met Ronnie's eyes, silently pleading for help.
"Oh, nice deflect, van Pelt." Ronnie cackled, reaching for her water bottle. "Not happening."
"Oh come on, van Pelt, it'll be fun. We'll put a camera on you, you'll go on a fake date with Rigsby, we'll watch the whole thing from close by. And if it works, we catch our killer. Come on, you know you want to." Jane wheedled, grinning broadly.
Ronnie shot Rigsby a look, seeing the blush rise on his face. She shared a low grin with Cho, amused to see Jane toying a little with the emotions of the jock-like detective.
"Jane, I dunno—"
"Why not, van Pelt? Could be fun." Rigsby butted in, shoving his hands in his pockets casually, but unable to meet her eye. "Right? Could be fun?"
The cute redhead sighed, backed into a corner. "Alright, let's do this."
THE MENTALIST
Holed up in the CBI surveillance van, Cho and Ronnie leaned over the monitor that sat in the front seat, hooked up to the wire that van Pelt wore in a flower on her dress.
She'd turned out to be the perfect pick for the job, her red hair cascading elegantly down her shoulders, her lean figure flawlessly filling a bright red dress.
At the moment, van Pelt stood in the bathroom of a hotel room, touching up her makeup in the mirror. Jane would have been in the next hotel room over, probably trying to convince Lisbon to sit still long enough for the ruse to play out.
"Jane's off his rocker." Ronnie muttered, watching van Pelt card her fingers through her hair and then leave the bathroom. "Dangling a woman on a string."
Cho's eyes never left the monitor. "It's weird. Theoretically it could work."
Ronnie popped a piece of gum in her mouth. "You think Rigsby's nervous? Putting van Pelt in the mouse trap like this?"
"I would be." Cho muttered.
"You're nervous for van Pelt?" Ronnie leaned in closer to the monitor, seeing Rigsby's angle of the camera come online. She didn't know what she thought of that; Cho rarely expressed concern for a fellow agent before.
"I was nervous when Jane put you up for the job. You'd let the killer strangle you if it meant it gave us enough time to apprehend him."
She shrugged, conceding. "Fair."
"Here we go." Cho announced, seeing van Pelt approaching Rigsby.
"How do I look?" Van Pelt murmured to Rigsby.
The other agent, clearly flustered, choked on his own tongue. "Good. You look good."
Ronnie snickered.
Van Pelt rolled her eyes. "I meant, can you see the wire?"
Rigsby's face got uncomfortably close to the camera, eyes flashing around dangerously. "Nope. Nope."
Ronnie groaned. "Ugh, down boy."
Cho hid a smile at her disgust.
She watched van Pelt and Rigsby play their parts, waiting to be seated, laughing lightly together, talking to the host as though a couple; her mind flashed back to Jane's suggestion that she be the sparkling damsel, and the unarguable certainty that she couldn't play the part. Ronnie hadn't even considered doing it—she'd known instantly that she wasn't the actress for the job.
Sitting back slightly, she ducked her head, using the angle to get a look at herself. Legs squarely braced beneath her, strong and hard. Veiny hands clasped between her knees, thick forearms, and broadly muscles arms. She knew, in context of conventional womanly figure, she looked like a dude. She loved her body. It was crafted and built through years of hard work and dedication. She felt strong, she wasn't vulnerable, no one looked at her and wondered if she could face a challenge.
But even loving her body she knew that there were areas of life that she could no longer manage. No amount of makeup and movie-scene makeover could turn her into a delicate beauty, and no amount of expensive silk could make her look like anything but a body guard stuffed into a dress.
Along shucking the conventional desired body type, gone were the conventional roles that she could play.
"You good?" Cho asked, eyes sliding to her for a second, long enough to see that she was looking at her own arms with a less-than-thrilled expression.
Ronnie looked up sharply. "Yep." Her green eyes locked on the monitor, watching van Pelt and Rigsby be seated at a table.
"You look upset." Cho observed bluntly.
Pulse racing in vulnerable panic, she shook her head. "Nah, just thinking."
"Masters."
She met his eyes, seconds away from breaking out in a sweat. "Cho?"
"Jane upset you." He proposed, eyes tracing her face for any sign of purchase.
"It's fusion." Van Pelt was saying, saving Ronnie.
Across from her, Rigsby scoffed, hiding his face behind a menu. "Confusion. Up to me, make it a cheeseburger every time."
Naively excited, van Pelt brightened. "Oh, me, too. With onion rings?"
"Sweet little all-American girl," Ronnie muttered with a dry smirk.
A few minutes later, van Pelt was tired of sitting around while her nerves frayed themselves to pieces. "Let's do it."
"Not yet."
"Why not?"
Rigsby pointed to his salad. "This is actually quite good."
Ronnie grinned full out. "Coward."
Just then, van Pelt drew back and slapped him across the face, hard. Evidently she had been feeling the same sentiment.
Rigsby sat back in shock, his lines flying from his mind.
"You're meant to shout at me and leave." Van Pelt growled beneath her breath, irritated.
Jumping into action, Rigsby stood, throwing his napkin down on the table. "Now you've gone too far!" He marched away from the table pathetically, and then turned back hesitantly. "I hate you!"
When he joined Ronnie and Cho in the van a moment later, Ronnie couldn't hold back her laughter, scooting over to give him room. He scowled at her, embarrassed.
"Smooth work." Cho commented sarcastically, while Ronnie chortled into her hand.
"Don't." The disgruntled fake boyfriend grumbled.
"I just left the restaurant. I'm heading towards the main road now." Van Pelt muttered a few minutes later, voice low and nervous.
The three agents leaned in closer.
Everything quiet and normal, only the soft sounds of van Pelt's shoes in the dirt could be heard.
Ronnie leaned back comfortably, amusing herself by watching the blush fade from Rigsby's face, held only in his ears.
A gasp sounded as, out of nowhere, Sheriff McAllister appeared in front of van Pelt, so close that the camera whispered against his shirt. All three agents flinched, stunned by the sudden presence.
Van Pelt jumped back, breathing hard.
The sheriff put his hands up, seeming just as startled. "Sorry, miss. I didn't see you there. I was just, uh... You okay?" He peered at her closer, fading off topic.
Regaining control, van Pelt gave a little laugh. "Oh, sure. Absolutely. Just scared me a little."
Rigsby glanced at Ronnie. "What's he doing there? Why's he there? Why'd he jump out of the bushes like a predator?"
She shrugged helplessly.
"Going for a stroll?" The sheriff guessed, looking the beautiful woman up and down.
Rigsby's fist tightened, jaw clenching as he watched.
Van Pelt made some lame excuse for herself, just to be interrupted by the sheriff.
"Only you need to be careful. We've been looking for a murderer loose around here. Yeah, went after a girl just like you—red hair and all."
Rigsby gave a small lurch. "I swear, if he's our guy, I'll kill him."
Ronnie bumped his arm with her elbow. "Steady, Rigsby, we have to catch him first."
Van Pelt grew increasingly more distressed, struggling to keep her act up. "No kidding?"
"Yeah." McAllister looked her over again. "I'll, uh, drive you up to the main road."
"Oh, thank you, but..."
McAllister jumped in front of her, stopping her. "No, no trouble, really. My car's just over here on the side."
Van Pelt turned away, whispering desperately into her mic, "Please advise?"
McAllister leaned in to hear her. "Beg your pardon?"
Caught, van Pelt dropped into a crouch, fishing a stone out of her shoe to distract him. "I'm not used to wearing these shoes," her voice was apologetic, but firmly rejecting his offer.
"Hey, you, uh, are you out here alone?"
Ronnie felt her own hackles rise. "This guy's a real piece of work, killer or not."
"I had an argument with my date." Van Pelt returned, anger in her voice.
McAllister gave a slimy smile. "Oh, sorry to hear that. You know, if you were my date, I wouldn't, uh, I wouldn't argue, pretty lady like yourself. My car's just right over here."
Ronnie cringed. "How very gross to say to a woman nearly twenty years younger."
That was all it took for Rigsby. He yanked the door open and bolted before Ronnie could stop him, and all she could do was charge after him, just knowing he'd blow the sheriff's head off before ever asking any questions.
Rigsby rounded the corner, Ronnie just behind him, as McAllister reached out for van Pelt, attempting to guide her to his squad car.
Poor fool had idea what he'd done.
Rigsby didn't slow until he'd plowed right into the older man, throwing him to the ground immediately upon impact. "Get your hands off her!" He snapped, pulling back to cover van Pelt with his body.
She was on him instantly, grabbing his jacket in relief as he stood as a barrier between her and the creepy sheriff.
McAllister leapt to his feet, howling. "What the hell's the matter with you? You're under arrest!"
Ronnie reached them then, hesitating only slightly as first the sheriff, and then Rigsby pulled their weapons on each other.
"No, you're under arrest, you piece of—" Rigsby shot back, absolutely seething.
Ronnie threw herself in front of McAllister, braced for a fight but her hand extended peacefully. "Back up, Sheriff," she warned. "Watch yourself."
He stared at her in confusion, and then over her shoulder, lowering his weapon. "Cho? Is this clown one of yours? What the hell is going on here?" He looked back at Ronnie. "What is this, woman?"
She pursed her lips, glare darkening as he backed off finally.
A squad car screeched up, dirt billowing around them. "Sheriff, everything okay?" An officer asked from behind the wheel.
McAllister huffed, tucking away his sidearm. "Well, yeah, now it is... Suppose so. Barely." He pointed a finger harshly at Ronnie. "Your operation is a hot mess, girl. Get over there and hope Cho doesn't suspend your butt."
Cho appeared beside her then, catching her arm before she could say anything stupid. "Come on, Agent Masters. You're taking point."
McAllister watched them walk away, stunned.
THE MENTALIST
Melanie's burial took place the day after Jane caught the Shand Creek owners trying to kill their next victim. Apparently it had been a dramatic affair, and Lisbon had swooped in at the last minute, saving Jane and taking out both killers single-handedly.
Cho and Ronnie took one vehicle, the rest of the team traveling together in the larger CBI van.
They were on the highway, about ten minutes out, when Cho uncharacteristically broke the silence. "Jane did upset you."
Ronnie sighed, deep in her chest, and fixed her eyes out the window. "Jane didn't upset me."
Cho rolled up the windows, silencing the billowing sound of the wind and highway. "Don't lie to me; if you don't want to talk about it, say so. But don't lie to me."
She turned away from the window then, taking in his profile. His eyes didn't leave the road, but she had his attention. Ronnie thought for a long minute, and then swallowed dryly. "That role is never mine to play."
He didn't get it. "You want to play bait?"
"It's like McAllister said. I'm not the type."
That didn't help. "You're listening to a creep? Who told you that you're not the type to be assaulted and murdered? And you're upset about it?"
Ronnie pressed her hands to her eyes, struggling. She didn't know how to say it. She didn't even fully know what she was feeling. "I'm not upset, Cho. I just can't put on a beautiful dress and play a pretty girl."
At long last, Cho shut up.
THE MENTALIST
"I don't get it. She actually enjoyed helping him kill." Van Pelt murmured, standing with the team as they watched Melanie's burial.
Ronnie's breath hitched, mind spinning.
"One crazy evil person, I understand. But two? Husband and wife? Marriage is supposed to be a sacred, loving thing."
Ronnie looked away, fists clenching. Her past swirled before her eyes, guilt clawing at her heart.
Sensing her distress, Jane pressed her hand to her back for a second, reassuringly, and then said to van Pelt, "They were soul mates in their own strange way."
His words made Ronnie feel worse.
Cho's hand replaced Jane's, guiding Ronnie away from the funeral. "Let's go," he said softly.
She turned away from the tragic scene, ducking her head low, and walked away with her partner.
end of chapter two