Under Pressure – Chapter 7
When I awoke the next morning, I was alone in bed, naked. The sheets and blankets had been pulled up to cover my shoulders and I was warm, drowsy and safe. I had slept soundly the rest of the night.
On the edge of the bed lay the robe I had been wearing, neatly folded into a small square.
I was guessing that was Ranger's idea of a joke. He had an odd sense of humor and it was easy to forget he had one at all, especially when the professional, blank, face dropped down and he became all serious business.
From the bed I could see out the window, into what looked like tranquil suburban backyard. Grass, trees, flowers, sun streaming in the window. I was willing to bet there were birds chirping out there, too. A big contrast to how I woke up yesterday.
I stretched and sighed, wrapping the blankets around me tighter and closing my eyes again. I could hear the sound of a shower running and as I listened, the shower shut off. I looked at the doorway through lowered lashes and was rewarded for my subtlety by the sight of Ranger walking into the room.
Completely naked.
I'd never seen his naked body in bright light and I couldn't even think of a word that described how good he looked. He could make women walk into walls and drop things when he was fully clothed – naked he was worthy of full cardiac arrest.
Smooth, warm mocha skin sliding over muscle. Slim hips and a perfectly flat stomach, building up in a powerful triangle to his shoulders and upper arms. Although he was heavily muscled, none of it looked like it was for show. His body looked completely functional, nothing wasted, nothing excess.
His hair was wet and as he walked he was running his fingers through it, shaking out the excess water. He stopped by the low dresser and pulled his hair back, smoothing it down and tying the usual leather cord into it. The knot he used was an odd, complex one, but his fingers were sure and quick in the way that ritual and habit create.
He squatted down on his heels and turned and I saw why he rubbed his left shoulder when he stretched. He had a heavy, knotted, scar, a few shades lighter than his normal skin tone, starting at the base of his neck and running across his left shoulder and tapering down to his ribs. There were other scars as well, but nothing as major as that one long imperfection. My fingers twitched and I wanted to rub it, to soothe out the kinks and knots.
As I watched, he stood and pulled on a pair of black cargo pants and sat down on the edge of the bed to put on his socks and boots.
I sat up, holding the sheet around me, and touched his shoulder. "Geez, Ranger, it looks like you should have ducked." He wasn't surprised – he must have known I was awake. Awake and watching him.
"Did. Would have taken off my head." I felt the muscles beneath my hand twitch in what was probably an involuntary reflex caused by thinking about it.
"What would have?" His skin was warm and smooth and I moved my hands along the length of the scar, tracing the outline. I felt a fine shiver as my fingers brushed him.
"Machete." His tone was final, closed. Clearly telling me to move on to the next topic. The muscles beneath my hand tensed.
I moved my hands closer to the base of his neck and used my thumbs to press hard into the muscle. For a moment he resisted, and then with a small grunt, he rolled his head forward and to the other side to give me better access to his neck.
Years ago, Dickie Orr bought me massage lessons as a birthday present – my birthday, so I could learn how to give him massages, some present – and the instructor had been a sports therapist. I think Dickie had been hoping the instructor would be a Swedish bikini queen instead of an ex-football player. But, right now, I was grateful for yet another example of the Dickster's charms. I knew how to do this and I was good at it.
I pushed harder with my thumbs, digging in until the pressure had to be nearly painful, and finally felt his shoulder drop and relax under my hands. I smiled. "Mmm, big guy has a weakness."
He reached back for my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine, bring my hand to his lips and kissing my palm. "More than one."
He stood up and moved away. Like he was trying to distance himself from what he'd just said, what he'd just done. When he turned back toward me, his face was calm, under control.
I smiled again. I'd been looking in the mirror and had seen the expression on his face before he'd turned around. "I have to say that I've never been taken out on such an action-packed date before. What do you do for encores?"
I looked up and down his naked chest suggestively and saw the corners of his lips twitch up in a smile as he turned toward me, his eyes running down the outline of my body under the blankets, lingering where the sheets had fallen down and covered my breasts. Well, almost covered my breasts.
"Any particular requests?" He asked as he leaned back on the edge of the low dresser.
I laughed. "Do you sing?" He shook his head no. "Play an instrument?" He shook his head again, the grin on his face getting bigger. "Dance?"
His eyes darkened. "With the right partner." His voice was low and smoky and I shivered in response. And the physical evidence before me indicated he was definitely interested in some horizontal dance steps, right here and right now.
But he made no move toward me, instead he folded his arms and studied me for a minute. I could see the thin line of the cut on his temple and light bruising underneath, the remnants of yesterday's adventures.
"How's your head this morning?"
He shrugged, which I think was supposed to mean he was fine. "You?"
I spent a minute tucking the blankets in around me again. I was somewhat embarrassed by how frightened I had been of my dreams last night. "You're a pretty good cure for nightmares."
His ESP kicked in. Instead of smiling back, he frowned. "Shock and stress can cause recurring nightmares. Even in the biggest combat veterans."
"So do you let Tank sleep in your bed when he has nightmares?"
"He's never asked." He looked at me, clearly irritated. "Sleeping in my bed is just a little extra service I provide all my women who get kidnapped at gunpoint and terrorized in a basement."
This discussion was starting to take a turn in a direction I really did not want to go. "You make a habit of hanging around women that get kidnapped?"
He blew out a long breath, rubbed his temples and then his eyes. "Only you. You get under my skin. You distract me. Brooks should never have gotten that close to you."
"What does Brooks want with you?"
He stopped rubbing his eyes so he could give me a long, angry look. "And, if had done what I told you to do when I told you to do it, Brooks wouldn't have been able to get his hands on you." This was the second time he'd evaded my question about Brooks.
"I wasn't the one he was coming after!" How did this conversation become about me?
"That is the point." Ranger angry was ice, not fire. His voice was low and cold, each word ringing as though frost-covered in winter air. "Stolle's men before and now Brooks. Twice some asshole after me has tried to use you – hurt you."
He turned away and pulled a black t-shirt over his head. "This will stop. There will not be a third attempt."
"So we both have complicated work lives. I've gotten you shot twice now, once with my own gun. We can…"
"No," he said, voice low. "We can't. It's still a bad idea. Never stopped being a bad idea." He paused. "For both of us, Steph." He stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorknob and the other on the doorjamb. "Neither of us would come out of this happy."
I dropped my head down onto my knees as he left, closing the door behind him.
Well, he'd been talkative, that was good. Unfortunately what he had to say wasn't what I had wanted to hear. The man in black was not sounding like a man who couldn't live without me.
I wanted him to care for me. I wanted something more from him. And either it wasn't there or he wasn't willing to let it be there. Same thing, in the end.
I wiped my eyes. If I acknowledged the water leaking out of my eyes I'd start sobbing and I was not going to do that.
The little phantom Lula on my shoulder thumped me on the head and spoke to me: Get over it, girl, and get on with your life. You ain't got a choice.
I got out of bed and put on the cotton robe and walked across the hall to "my" bedroom. Someone else was here with Ranger, I heard another deep voice in conversation from the living area at the other end of the hallway. Some time during the night someone had dropped off a duffle with some of my clothes and I put them on quickly, heading down the hall in the direction of voices.
As I walked into the living area, I saw Tank and Ranger sitting at a dining table, both men quiet. Tank had a cup of coffee in front of him and I walked past the two of them into the kitchen a poured myself a cup.
I could feel Ranger's eyes on me and when I turned to look at him he rose from the table and took a few steps toward me.
And his cell phone rang. He answered and began to speak, his eyes on me during the entire conversation.
"Yo . . Brooks hit town a couple of days ago . . Looking healthy for a guy you said was dead . . Yeah, I'm guessing he knows I know where you are and that you are nearby . . It's your problem and your call on how to handle it . . No, I won't tell you what to do, but he tried to use someone close to me to get to me and that's not gonna happen again . . Yeah, I'm in . . He may be gone by tomorrow, I think he'll run now . . In 30, then."
He disconnected and looked at Tank. "She'll stay here with you until it's over. Rotate the rest of the team through in shifts. But you will stay with her at all times." He and Tank locked eyes and Tank nodded.
He was talking about me as if I was some sort of burden. And here he was, going out to "handle" another problem related to me.
I walked back to the bedroom and gathered up what few things I had, put them into my duffle and headed for the front door. As I put my hand on the doorknob, he spoke.
"Where do you think you're going?" He was directly behind me, his voice low and smooth.
He stepped around me, arms folded. His face was neutral, blank, but his eyes were angry. I started to walk around him to the door. His hand wrapped around my upper arm and I found myself jerked to a stop as though I had walked into the wall.
I twisted away – or, rather, he let me twist away. "Anywhere but here. Anywhere away from you."
"It's not wise for you to leave here."
If I was going to hurt, dammit, so was he. "A lot of things I've done with you weren't wise, but I'm starting to learn from my mistakes. Like you."
He stared in me for a moment. "Wrong answer."
"You can't keep me here if I want to leave!'
He leaned in to me, eyes dark and intense. "I can. I will."
He picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder, easily walking down the hallway into the bedroom as I tried to fight my way free. His arms gripped me like steel bands and nothing I did loosened his grip at all. I tried to bite him and he threw me down on the bed with enough force to knock the wind out of me.
He flipped me over and held me down on the bed, face down, one hand firmly in the center of my back, and locked a handcuff on one wrist, closing the other end on the bed frame.
I'd always relied on his strength and competence to get me out of trouble and having it used against me truly and deeply pissed me off.
"Ranger! Ranger, dammit, take this thing off me!" He stood up, stepping back out of my reach quickly. As soon as he let go of me I tried to jump up off the bed, the handcuff on my wrist stopping me short before I could reach him.
His face was completely blank and he looked at me as though I was a stranger. "You will stay here until I get back. Someone will be with you at all times." His tone was absolutely flat.
"Ranger, please don't do this to me."
His cold eyes met mine. "Steph, I do what has to be done. In this and all things." He studied my face for a moment and I knew he could see the marks of tears. He closed his eyes.
When he opened them, he moved to stand next to the bed. "Will you stay here until I tell you it's safe to leave?" His voice was rough when he spoke.
"Yes. As long as I don't have to stay when you get back."
He pulled a key out of his pocket, unlocked the handcuff from the bed frame and then my hand and tossed it hard against the far wall. "Tank will stay here with you. He will personally introduce all other staff. If security is compromised Tank will make other arrangements." He locked eyes with me. "You will stay here until I come for you?"
I nodded, clamping my teeth shut over what I wanted to say.
