Chapter 118: Perhaps I Should Explain . . .

Ranger’s POV

Boston looks good, as always. I’ve confirmed Mark went after Hospitality contracts. Nice healthy ones too. At the moment, his ass is grass with me, but Steph kept him for some reason. I’m waiting to hear why because it’s the only thing saving him from time on the mats with the entire LC before I dismiss him.

We return from the downtown office and I go in search of Mike again. He’s in Mark’s office, watching the monitors and reading.

“Problem?”

His head jerks up. “No, sir. Reading through the information Mark left for me. He left a series of articles for me to read, one each day, to teach me how to be an XO.”

I motion for the binder. He hands it over and I look. Good job. Detailed, broad range of topics, perfect to teach someone new to management how to perform his duties. “Useful?”

Mike barks a laugh. “Somewhat.” I wait. “I mean, it’s the difference between reading about how to drive and driving.” I nod, amused. “That binder is factually correct in everything it covers, but until you sit in this seat with twenty different things flying at you, you don’t understand the brilliance and the limitations of that book.”

“But overall?”

“Excellent guide. At the end of the day, I’ll take that home and read and some of the stuff that I had to handle during the day will just click. It’ll finally make sense in light of what I had to do that day.”

Good. Tank’ll be glad to hear that. I hand it back and sit. “What happened here?”

“Today?”

“Since my op started.”

Mike slumps in his seat. Over the next hour, I hear about everything that happened at RM-Boston. He’s honest, as I expect him to be, and he acknowledges that Mark stood before them and took responsibility for the mess RM-Boston was in. He gives me Mark’s speech nearly word for word and confirms that every man knows what happened and why and that they’re all still behind him.

“Mark’s let us know that all management is to be trusted and obeyed and he didn’t want to see us fall for the same mistake he had,” Mike says quietly. “He failed to trust management and questioned their decision, and he was wrong. The correct procedure was to trust you, to trust top leadership and their decisions, as we always have.” He stares at me. “Permission to speak freely?”

“Granted.”

“Sir, this has not been Mark’s best year so far, but I think he will finish this year stronger than ever.”

“Why?”

“Because, sir, he’s becoming you.” I raise a brow. Mike looks uncomfortable. “The Mark we have now is the leader I remember seeing when we were in Miami, sir. He’s become you even more than he once was.”

Uncomfortable thought. “Explain.”

He’s quiet for a few minutes. “In Miami, sir, you were always ready to listen to all suggestions and concerns. Now that we have so many branches and so many men, we know we won’t always get your time like that anymore, but we miss it. Mark morphed right along with you every time you left him in charge.” I wait. “He became more distant, more worried, more nervous about making sure everything was running right. It was harder to get his attention. By the time Ms. Plum took over, we realized we’d morphed with him. We wanted to keep Boston running smoothly so he never had to pay attention to us and could concentrate on everything else.”

There’s something to think about. “And?”

Mike’s jaw clenches. “The CO told us our brotherhood was crap. We were stunned, but Mark had already told management that weeks before. Well, he told us that Boston wasn’t trusted around the company. We were stunned and the day RangeWorld rolled out was worse. To see how we were slipping in so many places …”“Humbling.

He shakes his head.  We’ve learned we have to reach out to everyone at the same time and trust our brothers if we want them to trust us. I think it’s starting to make a difference. We’ve really reached out, humbly, like Mark has to the other XOs and Pat to the other strategists, and tried to get to know all the men around the company. We don’t want to get screwed in ‘friendly fire’ ever again.”

I raise a brow and he tells me about ‘swag’ issue and how NYC ‘helped’ them. I hide another smile. Mack is shaping up to be interesting.

“Ms. Plum?”

“Ms. Plum’s a great manager, sir. Caring, smart, and funny.”

Hmm … “I sense a ‘but’ there, Mike.”

Mike grimaces. “She’s not you, sir.” I wave my hand for him to continue. “Ms. Plum is great to troubleshoot issues and help us get what we need, but would I follow Ms. Plum into a burning building?” He shakes his head. “No, sir. Not without hesitating. Not without wondering if she were the reason it’s on fire.”

I stifle the laugh.

“It’s not an indictment of Ms. Plum, sir. I like her. It’s just . . . she’s not you, sir. We miss knowing you’re at the helm, sir.”

Good to know. “The rest of the LC?”

He shrugs. “Having Tank here for a visit was interesting. I couldn’t remember the last time we saw Tank in person.”

“And?”

“Enlightening.” He smiles. “He and Mark worked on the binder with Danny and he reviewed our processes. It was like having you here, but the quieter version.” I laugh at that. Mike smiles. “I personally felt like I was under a microscope”—You were, Mike—”but I was approved for the training program, so that was nice.”

I nod. “Les? Bobby?”

“Bobby’s scheduled to be here soon for a health check. We’re fit. We know it.” Mike grins. “Mark’s convinced a few men to try yoga.”

I make a note. “Bobby’s a yoga devotee. So is Les.”

Mike looks shocked. “Really?”

“Really.”

Mike is silent. I get the feeling every man here will attempt yoga before Bobby gets here. Tank and I know basics, enough to fully stretch our muscles before beginning our normal routines.

“Les?”

He’s quiet for a long time. “Mark doesn’t have a ball, sir. We’re nervous.”

I smile and stand. I shake Mike’s hand and leave in search of Pat. I find him in his office with his daughter, who is awake and fussy.

“Sir.”

It’s a baby garden in this room. Eight infants. “You lost the draw?”

He laughs. “I’m the RangeMan here with the most experience with the under-two crowd, so I won the draw.”

“What did the losers get?”

“The gym. Two to fifteen.”

I laugh and motion for the child. Danielle, I think. Wife is Jennifer, teacher, third grade. I rock the baby and she quiets, staring at me. I thought so. She needed novelty. I hear the rumble, note the twitching, and turn her away from me.

Misjudged. Not vomit. Diarrhea.

Babies. They’re cute but evil.

I hand Pat his daughter so he can change her and take a seat. His office looks the same. Pictures of his wife and child, ocean prints, pictures of the Boston RangeMen. Very little has changed except the overcrowding. “What do I need to know?”

Pat returns with his daughter and retakes his seat, bouncing her. He takes a deep breath and tells me about the months of running interference for Mark and his ‘discussion’ with Steph on the beach. At the end, he’s red and staring at his desk, waiting for my judgment.

I have none. Les is his boss. Steph acted in my stead. I’m not overturning their decisions, which is lucky for him.

“Disappointed.”

Pat slumps, embarrassed. “Yes, sir,” he whispers.

I sit back. “Why?”

Pat sighs. “Sir, I know if I follow you I won’t get shot or injured. Ms. Plum?” He smiles. “Our Trenton brothers are finally talking to us a little, but we heard about the incident rate. We’ve heard the stories for years. It was hard to understand this move.”

“You need to understand my decisions before accepting them?”

“No, sir, but…” His jaw tightens. “Sir, reputation is everything in business. Your reputation is excellent, sir. Ms. Plum’s reputation was as the ‘Bombshell Bounty Hunter’ and, as much as I’m sure everyone would like us to ignore that, not a single man in this company, outside Trenton, could say they thought it was a smart move. Ms. Plum didn’t have any skills, anything positive for us to point to as an indication that this was a smart move.” He stares at me. “Even Trenton didn’t have anything positive they could point to besides her capture rate. How could we calm the men’s fears when we had nothing to work with?”

Words, Ranger. I need words.

Perhaps Steph’s right. I could have made her beginning in the company easier if I’d given the men a reason to trust her. I just dumped her on them and didn’t smooth the way at all or give them a reason to believe in her. This is a black-ops company. Steph had no experience running or even operating inside RangeMan.

Lesson learned.

“And now?”

“We like her. She’s a good manager.”

I snort mentally. Nice try, Pat. “Mark told you all management is to be trusted and obeyed. You wouldn’t obey Ms. Plum in the field?”

He’s uncomfortable. “If ordered, I’d follow orders.” I stare at him until he fidgets. “Sir, we got details out of our Trenton brothers. We got details from Manny when he was here. Your reputation is perfect, sir. Hers is not. Simple as that. The Trenton men have a history of getting shot protecting her and she was known, for years, not to carry a weapon or scout a location for enemies.

I know that RangeMan training would have taught her differently, but until she serves under someone with experience and gains experience on her own, I would hesitate to follow her in the field. I have a wife and child, sir. I don’t want to get shot. In the boardroom? I’d follow her anywhere. In the field?” He shrugs.

I continue to stare and Pat sighs. “Sir, it would be similar to following a civilian who is suddenly placed in charge of the Army. Am I really going to follow Queen Elizabeth into battle just because she’s the one in charge? Or am I following someone with experience? Please don’t ask me to follow the Queen. It has nothing to do with gender and everything to do with experience. Yeah, the Queen served in the auxiliaries in WWII but she has enough sense to order her troops to follow her career generals, men who know the situation on the ground and have the experience.”

“Gender has nothing to do with it?”

Pat nods firmly. “Nothing. Our current Commander in Chief has never served. If he personally commanded the Army, I’d hesitate. What does he know of war and tactics? Following his generals? I’ll follow generals. I don’t care what gender is at the top, sir. What I care about is experience, if I have to follow you in the field.”

“Has Ms. Plum had a chance to show her skills in the field?”

“She caught a skip while here. We were impressed, but do you trust your troops to the general who’s been a paper pusher his entire career?” He shrugs. “’Always do everything you ask of those you command.’”

“Patton.” I like Patton. Man had a filthy mouth. One of Tank’s favorites.

“Yes, sir.” Pat smiles. “You served under brilliant commanders and became one.” I smile inwardly. “Ms. Plum doesn’t have experience. Well, she has experience as a bounty hunter but her experience doesn’t inspire confidence. I already know how to avoid garbage and car bombs.”

Good arguments. Just wanted to ensure that was his issue and not something else. “So what do I need to know about this location?”

Pat looks around the office before finally smiling. “We really want to keep our XO, sir. He’s working hard and listening to everyone again.”

—oOo—

My final stop of the evening is in Susan and Stephen’s apartment. As usual, Susan is welcoming and, after ensuring I don’t need anything, she gets down to business. She confirms everything Mike and Pat told me (including that she had no confidence in Steph at the beginning either, because of her reputation. Interesting. I really should have smoothed the way more.) then she switches to Maria.

“Frankly, sir, the housekeepers are disappointed that you and Ella allowed that situation to spiral out of control like that.”

“Ella?”

“Yes, sir. We’ve expressed our disappointment to her also. We had no idea Maria was living in those conditions and we were stunned to realize how long she’s been operating in Miami like that. It was untenable! We were all ready to poison the men of Miami by the end of our ‘vacations’!” She gives me an earful on her stay in Miami then provides an overview of every housekeeper’s stay in Miami.

In short, it’s an indictment of me, Ella, and Armando, and Susan’s not mincing words. I don’t have much of an argument against this.

Susan belongs to the ‘Bobby’ school of communication: blunt and forceful. The housekeepers have never really deferred to me. I mean, look at their boss. Ella twists my ears! The housekeepers do not question my authority in front of the men, but in private? I’m a boy as far as they are concerned.

It amuses me and I tolerate it as long as they don’t do it in front of the men.

Besides, I’ve never been the man who cannot hear hard truth. If that were the case, Bobby and I would be on the outs every week, but that’s the quality about Bobby I respect most. I prefer people tell me the truth. What I cannot stand is a liar. No quicker way to lose my respect and trust than to lie to me.

I should have spent more time in Miami. I intend, after this op is over, to move to Miami full-time. The branch needs my attention, Steph’s moving there for therapy and will need my support, and it’s my home base. I need to spend some quality time there. Besides, with Tank moving to Texas permanently, it’s time.

I can’t wait to tell Les what Susan is telling me. Eighty individuals he can play mind games on? Christmas in January! You’re welcome, primo.

“I’ve heard, Susan, and I cannot offer any explanation other than my inaction was both painful and embarrassing. I intend to talk to Maria, but I fully backed her decision to transfer to San Antonio.”

Susan sits back, mollified, but Steven shakes his head. “As a man, and as a husband who loves his wife very much, all I can say is that the situation in Miami was ridiculous. I’ve lost a lot of respect for Armando—”

“Careful, Steven,” I reply softly. Steven’s mouth snaps shut. “You have no idea what Mando was living through, so tread carefully.”

“You cannot defend him!”

“I cannot defend his actions, no. I can defend the man.” I sit back. “You had to deal with him for two weeks. Mando dealt with Antonio his entire life. Tony was his cousin, and what you clearly saw as abusive Mando had lived with his entire life. Armando is a survivor, just like Maria. If you want to blame someone, I’m the person to blame. Miami is my home branch. I am responsible for everything that happens there, just as Mark’s actions are Les’s responsibility.”

Susan and Steven look at each other silently.

“Yes, sir,” he says, calmer. “Still, for so many people to look at that situation and do nothing is ridiculous! All those men clearly saw that Maria was being mistreated! There’s no excuse for that.”

“No, there’s not.”

Steven nods. “Then what do you intend to do, sir?”

I stand. “Right now, I’m fact gathering. I’ll determine what I intend to do once I have all the facts.” I head to the door.

“And Mark?”

I turn. “What do I need to know?”

“He’s really trying to make up for his mistakes, Ranger. Don’t dismiss him. Please,” Susan says, almost pleadingly.

“Why not?”

Susan and Steven look at each other. “Because it’s easy to stand before men and say ‘I made a mistake’. It’s hard to stand before them, strip yourself bare, and not ask them to cover you,” Steven says. “Mark did the second, not the first.”

—oOo—

I wake up rested, relaxed and ready to hit the road. I have a lot to think over. “Ready to go?”

Steph looks at me in confusion. “I thought we weren’t leaving Boston until tomorrow morning?”

I shrug. “I accomplished the list. I spoke to Mike and Pat, we took a look at the new office, I’ve started searching for a new branch office and we’re rested and relaxed. Why not leave at noon? Gives us more time in Charlotte.”

“Well, I didn’t get to go shopping.”

“OK.” I kiss her cheek. “Have fun.”

I grab my laptop and head to Les’s living room. Steph follows me, arms crossed.

“Aren’t you coming with me?”

I shake my head. “Public.”

“What does that mean?”

I sigh. “Can’t be seen, Steph.” I lift a brow. “We discussed this yesterday. You knew you would be shopping alone.”

“How did you manage for eight months?” she asks, clearly annoyed.

“I lived in extended stay hotels. They’ll grocery shop for you and I ordered anything else I needed off the internet. I only went out to do surveillance, exercise, or run sting operations.”

Steph’s jaw is hanging. “So, you didn’t actually leave your hotel room?”

“No.”

She stares at me for a little while longer before grabbing her keys and leaving.

I review the conversation. I don’t think I answered anything wrong, but I’ll bet I didn’t answer an unasked question.

Sigh. Words, Babe. I need them too.

—oOo—

Steph’s POV

I pull up Agent Provocateur on my phone and head down to Newbury Street. Mike didn’t lie about parking months ago. I didn’t get parking karma and the closest I get to the store is twelve blocks away. I park, feed the meter and start walking.

I don’t know why I had this vision of me and Ranger doing romantic things together, but he’s sitting in Les’s apartment, staring at his laptop, and I’m out in Boston by myself. This isn’t what I expected and I realize that every time he visited to take me out, he put himself at risk to make me happy. Now that the op is over, he isn’t taking that risk.

Why then and not now? It doesn’t make sense.

I window shop for a while, but the cold wind and my colder mood keeps me from really enjoying it. I duck inside Mike’s Italian Bakery, grab a cannoli and cappuccino, and dial.

“Hey!”

“Hey, White Girl! What’s up?”

“I’m in Boston. How’s Texas?”

“Girl, I’m getting the best deals! Everything is on sale here!” I hear the rumble of Tank’s voice in the background and smile. “Tank says hi.”

“Did he say it or—”

“What do you think?”

I laugh. “Wait, Tank’s out with you?”

“Yeah. Imma owe him a lotta Lula-lovin”—I mentally whitewash that from my brain—“but he’s holding bags.”

I smile. “Lucky you.”

“What? He’s not out with you?”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Can’t be seen in public.” I think for a moment. “Can I talk to Tank?”

“Yeah.” She hands the phone over and I hear Tank’s rumbly voice again.

“Little Girl? What’s wrong?”

“I’m out shopping alone. I’m jealous of Lula. I need someone to hold my bags.”

“I’d rather not.”

“But you are.” I hear a chuckle. “Explain something to me.” I share my earlier musing with Tank and he snorts.

“You are the target they will follow to find him. It would be foolish of him to appear in public, with you, just as everything is winding down.”

“But still, before—”

“Before, he took you away into hiding with him. When he was out in public with you, it was after he was assured that he’d managed to cover your location effectively. You went to the Gulf Coast under alias and in a rented car and no one where you were knew where you were headed. His houses are not in his name and you were dropped off and picked up. See how this works? He covered your tracks as much as possible. Being out in public now, exposed, where anyone could see him by chance? Bad idea.”

I’m thinking about this. “San Antonio?”

“Fabric mask, padding, makeup, lots of eyes covering him and controlled environments. If asked, he was Alex.”

I think for a moment. “His older brother?”

“Right.”

“Your mother’s?”

“He was just another member of the wedding party, so none of the caterers or bakers will remember him. Everyone else was family or friends. We laid a false trail. No one except Mark and Diego knew we were headed to Louisiana for the weekend. Everyone else just thought we were wedding shopping in Houston.”

“Ranger’s hard to forget.”

“You’d be surprised at how good we are at making people do just that. Most importantly, at RMSA you two were never together in public. In Louisiana you were, but the number of people who saw him was limited.”

Geez. “That’s still a lot of risk.”

“You know how we feel about defending in large open spaces.”

True. Thanks for not using the word mall, Tank.

“I have a question.”

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you ask him to explain this?”

“Bye, Tank.”

—oOo—

I’ve been gone three hours and Ranger hasn’t moved. He looks up as I walk in empty-handed.

“Nothing?”

I plop down on the sofa next to him. “No fun. I wanted you there with me.” I look at him. “Why didn’t you explain why you couldn’t go out in public?”

“I did explain.”

“No you didn’t.”

He thinks. “Right. You asked me how I managed. You didn’t ask me why I couldn’t go.”

“That’s what I meant.”

“That’s not what you asked.”

“Ranger! I—”

“Ask for what you want, Babe, and don’t get pissed at me for not answering the right question.” Ranger’s voice is hard and my mouth snaps shut. “You asked me how I managed. I answered your question. If you want me to give you words, give me words and give me the right words.”

My face is flaming but I nod. “Talked to Tank?”

“No. Why?”

“No reason.” Ranger stares at me. I fidget. “I asked Tank.”

He puts the laptop in front of us and sits back. “Asked him what?”

“Why you wouldn’t come out in public with me.”

“And you couldn’t ask me?”

“I did ask you.” I raise a hand to stop his response. “I thought I asked you.”

Ranger’s quiet. “Walking off angry with me for not answering your question doesn’t help.”

“I know.”

“I would have answered that if you’d asked it.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

—oOo—

Ranger guides me out of Boston and onto the highway. We’re cruising for six hours and hopefully we’ll stop outside DC for the night.

“So, tell me about your marriage to Dickie.”

I jerk the steering wheel and the car careens into another lane. There’s a rash of angry honking and cars swerving around us, giving us the ‘Jersey’ salute, before I get the car back under control. I look over; Ranger barely looks fazed.

“There’s nothing about that I want to discuss.”

Ranger’s quiet. “You know about the majority of my life—”

“No I don’t!”

“Really?” He raises a brow. “I’ve told you about my childhood, how I ended up in juvie, some of my marriage and about my daughter. You know more about my life than most and I don’t know much about your life.”

“I don’t want to talk about my life.”

“Fine.”

Ranger goes into silent statue mode. It’s almost as if a cold front moves into the car. Ranger’s mouth thins, his body freezes, and he stares out of the windshield. After a few minutes, he reaches into the computer bag at his feet and pulls out a stack of papers.

I’m determined not to talk about my life.

I manage not to say anything for about ten miles. “My life is the town gossip. Anything you want to know—”

He puts the papers down. “I’m not interested in what the Burg gossip chain has to say. You tell me. Start with Dickie.”

“Why Dickie?”

“I assumed the story would be as short as the marriage, one.” I snort. That’s true. “And two, I’ve heard all the gossip about the divorce and none about the marriage.”

I concentrate on keeping the car on the road while considering how to tell this story. “I met Dickie right after I finished college. In Newark.” I see Ranger nod encouragingly. “He had a Viper.”

Ranger whistles. “Compensating.”

How does he always know? “Yeah, but it was the hot car for the longest.” I smile. “He’d pick me up and take me out and I felt special with him. Like I mattered. He’d just finished law school and was studying for the bar, but he’d pick me up and we’d go party in Newark, NYC, Philly, wherever there was a great party and coke.” I bite my lip. “I didn’t realize it at the time but if it could go up his nose, Dickie was into it.”

“Heavy?”

“No. Recreational. No idea how he didn’t get addicted, but he didn’t. Anyway, we dated for three months before my mother demanded to meet him.” I glance over. “The Burg grapevine filled her in.”

Ranger smiles.

“So I take Dickie to meet my parents and all Mom had to hear was that he was a lawyer and she was in love. She asked him all kinds of questions about law school, what was it like, who was he working for, what were his ambitions, and that’s when I realized Dickie planned to go into politics. He told my Mom stuff about his ambitions he’d never told me.”

I set the cruise control and get comfortable. I hate talking about Dickie, but Ranger’s laced his fingers in mine. I’m feeling calmer than I normally do when talking about Dickie.

“Before we left that night, Mom asked me if I intended to marry him. ‘No man buys the cow if he can get the milk for free!’” Ranger laughs and I try to smile. “I was horrified. One, my mother compared me to a cow. Two, I was 22. Who’s thinking about getting married at 22?! Not me! I just wanted to have fun and live a little, but she started the ‘You need a man. You have a good man. You should get married!’ bit and every time I talked to her, that’s all she said. How’s Dickie? Are you two still together? Do you think he’s the one? You should get married! And I got sick of hearing it. So when Dickie proposed six months later, I said yes.”

“Did you love him?”

“No.” I’m quiet for a few minutes. “I didn’t love Dickie. Sometimes I didn’t even like Dickie, but I thought that maybe I should get married. ML had been married for nearly five years at that point and she was happy. Val was happy out in California. Everyone I knew around me was married and happy and I thought maybe I would be happy too.” He nods. “Mom told me cold feet were normal. She had cold feet with Dad until the moment she said ‘I do.’ Grandma said the same thing, so I thought, OK. I’ll do it. I’ll get married.”

“And?”

“And I realized 24 hours later that I’d made a terrible mistake. Dickie cared about his life and his goals and what he wanted to achieve. My career as a fashion buyer was nothing compared to his future as Governor of New Jersey, maybe even Senator. So I should learn to cook and clean and host dinner parties. I should decorate the hideous house he and my mother-in-law bought with that pain-in-the-ass woman—”

“PITA?”

“Yeah, major PITA.” I smile, remembering Marjorie Orr. “I hated her and it was mutual. She thought I was a slut.” Ranger lifts a brow. “She knew about my past with Morelli.” He nods. “I thought she was an interfering old bag. I told Dickie that he needed to choose between his mother and me and he told me that I needed to grow up and learn to get along with people. His career in politics depended on both our abilities to be charming to people we didn’t like, so I should start by trying to get along with his mother. Besides, his mom wasn’t going anywhere and he’d never ask me to choose between him and my dad. I told him my dad would never put him in that position and he said yeah, because that would require your dad to get off his ass and give a damn.”

Ranger’s lips twitch.

“Ranger?”

“I like your dad.”

I snort. “That was the night I put Dickie out of our bedroom. No way he insults my family like that! I walk into my house two weeks later, after working the day from hell, and catch him and Joyce playing ‘Hide the cocktail wiener’. That was the final straw for me. I brought every neighbor we had to their front lawn, the way I screamed. Joyce ran out of my house half naked and I screamed at Dickie as if I lost my mind.” I smile at the memory. “My divorce was going to be bullet-proof. Everyone saw my husband’s whore run out of my house. I had grounds, clearly.”

Ranger smiles. “And?”

“I wanted to break him, but my divorce lawyer told me it was impossible. Dickie was just starting out, no name, no backing yet, and no money. The worst I could do was ruin his reputation, but if I planned to sling mud I should expect to get dirty. I didn’t care so I told everything.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s when I learned that ‘recreational coke users’ don’t like to be called ‘crackheads’, no one in that scene was going to back me up, and his mother was willing to swear on a stack of Bibles I was the Whore of Babylon, evil incarnate designed to tempt her precious baby away from everything good.”

Ranger finally laughs and shakes his head. “And?”

“I got my maiden name back and Dickie was ordered to pay for my car. That’s all I got. A car and a ruined reputation.”

“And Dickie’s political ambitions died.”

I nod. “The only really great thing that happened is the local bigwigs believed me. After all, I was his wife. I should know, right? Plus, everyone saw Joyce leave my house, so his infidelity was clear. So they decided that he wasn’t ‘family-friendly’ enough for them to back. His career tanked, just what I wanted.”

Ranger doesn’t ask any questions and we cruise. We’re just across the Massachusetts border when he speaks.

“Tough.”

—oOo—

We pull over at a rest stop and eat the sandwiches Susan packed for us. I’m still thinking about my marriage and how much of a disaster it was.

“Do you know why I hate Dickie?”

“Because he fucked Joyce?”

I smile. “That’s 25% of it.” Ranger smiles. “I hate Dickie because Dickie was everything I said I’d never be when I left my parents’ house for college.” Ranger nods, as if to say ‘Go on’. “Dickie was an attempt to make my Mom happy and it worked. She loved having a lawyer and an accountant for sons-in-law. Her daughters were married to successful professional men. Mom was Burg housewife of the year and I was miserable. I didn’t marry Dickie because I loved him.”

“Steph—”

“No, let me finish.” I put my sandwich down. “I allowed the Burg to tell me what was right for me and I didn’t say anything. I just did what they said. I said ‘OK’ and the Burg was happy, but I wasn’t.” I stare out of the window, breathing quickly, trying not to cry. “I hate Dickie because he seemed right at the time, but once we were married I realized we had nothing in common. Nothing. I was with Dickie to have a good time and that seemed like enough.”

I turn to Ranger. “And what scares me is, what if I hadn’t caught him with Joyce? What if he’d been more discreet and not fucked Joyce on my dining room table? How long would I have stayed? Would I have been my sister, dumped two or three kids later? How long would I have allowed the world to tell me I was happy when I wasn’t?”

The best thing about Ranger is the fact that he knows when not to say anything. He finishes his sandwich and water and I finish mine before he says anything.

“And Joyce?”

I grip the steering wheel tight. “Joyce? Joyce was personal. He knew how much I hated her. He knew I didn’t even like to acknowledge her publicly, although every time we were at the same parties or events, he always made me speak to her because her first husband was rich and he was trying to line up backers for his first campaign. So to come home and find him fucking her on the only piece of furniture in that house I loved? I honestly could have killed him for that. Making enough noise to get the neighbors to come look and catch Joyce leaving half naked was enough to make sure his political ambitions died.”

I ball up the trash and run to the restroom, tossing the trash as I enter. I make a stop at the Starbucks in the rest stop and get a venti latte for me and a grande Americano for Ranger, although I doubt he will drink this much coffee. I return to the car and hand him the coffee. He’s blasting the heat and he turned on the seat warmers.

I love him. My ass is toasty in minutes.

We sip our coffee and sit in silence. I’m driving today to make up for yesterday and I’m determined to drive the entire way to Baltimore. I reach down at Ranger’s feet for an apple and find a nice Pink Lady, grateful I moved the snacks today. Ranger knows not to pack them in the trunk anymore. I hand the apple to Ranger; he cuts it in half for me and hands it back. I offer him half and he shakes his head and puts his blade away. He looks thoughtful. “Steph?”

“Hmm?”

“In the end, it was your decision, Babe. No one else’s.” He balls up his sandwich paper and caps his water. He puts on a wool skullcap and pulls it low before getting out and heading to the restroom.

And like that, Ranger proves he really doesn’t get it.

—oOo—

Ranger’s POV

It’s Steph’s story and I plan to learn as much as I can about her, but so far, I’ve learned:

  1. She doesn’t plan. She’s spontaneous.
  2. She doesn’t ask the right questions to get the answer she wants.
  3. She really doesn’t take responsibility for anything that happens to her as a result of her decisions.

 I don’t know what Bobby had in mind when he issued this challenge, but I don’t think this was it. Fucker.

I didn’t hear anything about her marriage to Dickie that contradicted what I already knew. What surprised me was the way Steph told it, as if she were a spectator in a really bad play called ‘Life’ and stuff just sort of happened to her. Or perhaps she was Pinocchio before the fairy godmother, when the puppet still had the strings for everyone to pull.

And what Steph will say is that I don’t get it when I do.

I just don’t buy it. And I’m tired of being treated like Morelli.

—oOo—

I return to the car and she refuses to look at me. Great. Something is about to be my fault.

She gets back on the road without a word. I grab the paperwork I was reviewing earlier and wait. She manages fifteen minutes before she starts talking.

“Everyone was telling me I should get married,” she says quietly, teeth clenched. “Everyone! I couldn’t go anywhere without people asking me when the wedding was going to be! You don’t get it, Ranger! You don’t understand what it’s like to have everyone, everyone, pressuring you to make a decision—”

“I had Rachel’s parents, my parents, and Rachel all panicking around me.” I state this softly and it cuts off Steph’s tirade. She glances at me, angry, but I’m still looking at my papers. “I was nineteen. My sense of honor said I should marry Rachel and get a job. Provide for my family. I made a baby. Time to pay for the baby.

I had every member of my family, including Les, telling me what to do. I married Rachel.” I finally look at her. “I know what it’s like to bend to pressure, Steph, because I could have legitimized Julie and provided for her without marrying Rachel.”

She shuts her mouth.

“I didn’t marry Rachel because I had to. I did it to give my daughter my name and ensure she was born legitimate. No one was ever going to tell her that her father disappeared after her mother said ‘I’m pregnant’. That mattered to me. Why did you marry Dickie?”

She’s quiet. I read. After thirty minutes, I realize she really has no intention of answering my question.

“That’s the difference, Steph,” I tell her quietly. “I don’t blame anyone for the fact that I married Rachel. Not my parents, not her parents, not Rachel, hell, I don’t even blame Julie. I was the one who had to say ‘I do’. It was my decision to file for divorce and I got the same amount of pressure not to, but it was my decision. Why did you divorce Dickie?”

“Because I hated him,” she says quietly. “It was a mistake.”

“Who could have talked you out of that?”

“No one.”

“Your decision.”

“Right.”

“Same thing I said last weekend.” I put the papers down. “So why do you assume I blame you? Why do you assume I blame you for one and not the other?”

She stiffens. “What?”

“Both decisions were yours, no one else’s, just as I said when I got out the car.” I see the flush creeping up her face. “You really think I don’t understand?”

She concentrates on the road. I shuffle papers. As we pass back into New York, I speak.

“If you truly believe that every time we talk about something I’m looking to blame you or I’m looking for ammo to hurt you, then you need to reconsider whether or not you really want this relationship.” Her head whips around but I continue making notes. “I’m not going to spend weeks and months waiting for you to decide whether or not you trust me.

Trust is the foundation of any relationship, and if you don’t trust me then we don’t need to continue this charade.” I lift my gaze to her. “Otherwise, what’s the point of me giving you words if I have to wait for you to decide if you want believe them?”

She doesn’t believe that everyone has her back, just a special select few, because she’s grown up believing that everyone wants to hurt her and no one supports her. That’s fundamental and we can’t fix that.

Fucker.

By mutual agreement, we leave the subject of Dickie alone.

—oOo—

Steph’s POV

I drive in silence. We’re getting close to Baltimore.

“Is it safe to stay in Baltimore?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” I look around. “I’d stay in one of these smaller towns if I were trying to hide.”

Ranger nods. “Amateur mistake.” I scowl and he smiles. “In a small town, you’re unusual. People will remember you and remember when you were there. Most people checking into a hotel talk about why they’re there. Work, passing through, something. The person who checks in silently is unusual.”

Wow. He’s right. I chat when I check in to see if I can score a bigger or better room.

“Chances are the hotel won’t be big enough to have an attached garage, which means someone can set up miles away and observe you. There won’t be any food delivery except pizza and the pizza boy will remember you if you over or undertip. Or don’t tip at all.”

“A big city?”

“The hotel is busier. The person checking you in is asking questions to be polite, but you’re one of 200 people he’s checked in or out today. He won’t remember you, especially on a Thursday, Friday or Sunday.”

Today is Sunday. This is fascinating.

“The garage will be attached and there’ll be valet parking in hotels near tourist traps and self-parking in big hotels away from that. The valet will learn your face and name so stay away from tourist traps.” I’m mentally filing this away. “Finding food won’t be a problem. There are websites and apps you can use to order and pay and you only have to sign when the person arrives with your food.” Ranger shrugs. “If you want to stay anonymous, hide in plain sight.”

“Then why are we avoiding Orlando?”

“Because my enemies didn’t spot me. I was spotted by the local white supremacist group.” My head whips around and I stare at Ranger in horror.

“Why?! You aren’t black!”

He grins. “I’m not white either.”

“But … but …”

“Consider what I looked like when I arrived in San Antonio, Babe. Could I pass for Middle Eastern?”

“You could pass for anything, Ranger.”

“Exactly.” Ranger looks smug. “I’m a Latino who can pass for black, Hispanic, Middle Eastern and Asian. With the right makeup, white with a deep tan.”

“Asian?”

“Indians, Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, they’re all considered Asian.”

“Oh.”

“A beard, bushier eyebrows, dark makeup, I can be anything under the sun except Scandinavian.”

I pull into the hotel Ranger picked last week. We check in and, just as he said, the hotel clerk doesn’t really pay attention to us. We’re one of six couples checking in. Ranger’s terse, which encourages the clerk to speed it up and not ask questions. We take our bags to the fourth floor and collapse on the bed.

“Babe?”

“Hmm?” This room is cold. I’m trying to figure out how the thermostat works.

“You have plans tonight?”

Odd question. “No. Why?”

“Wanted to know if you’d like to go on a date.”


A/N: So, because I can hear the accusations of ‘You really don’t like Steph, do you?” again, I’ve explained my characterization here.

2 comments

  1. Molly9429

    I am comparing Pat’s comments here to Steph’s dressing down of Pat at the beach weekend. I am trying to “anticipate” your intentions here. Probably should take Jorge’s advice about not anticipating Les’ intentions an apply them to you. Does he still not get it and is he still dead man walking or is he right to be concerned about following her in a fire fight? The story of the Vietnam war was many followed paper pushers and inexperienced Lts to their death. However in the military you are given respect until you earn the disrespect. Pat did say he would follow her in the field, but with concern. Hmmm Ranger is not showing his hand. Now that she is trained would he still tell her to stay back or in the car? Les is even having a crisis of confidence in Steph. You have opened Mark’s heart, but I can’t decide which way you are going with Pat and Rod. I can’t believe how much I have forgotten from the earlier chapters.

    • veiland

      Molly,

      With Pat, he’s safe. His discussion with Ranger saved him. Ranger’s concern was determining if Pat was reluctant to follow Steph because he didn’t trust her or because she’s a woman. What he learned was:

      a. He was partly culpable for the Boston mess because he didn’t give the men a reason to trust their new CO. I Learn to Waltz applies here. Remember the rules for introductions?

      Introduce strangers first and use titles. And he used personal details to enhance his introduction, like Caro’s booklet said. Yup, the rules are automatic. I see how it works. Hood intros are much simpler. ‘Yo, A meet B. B, A.’ Not a lot of info in that. Formal intros like what Javi just did encourage you to trust the newbie. Smooth. [ILTW, Part III]

      That applies here also. When Javi introduced Byron, he did it in a way designed to create trust. The men knew that Byron was a professional, Javi had a personal relationship with this man, and Caro brought him so he was an expert at his job. In four sentences, Javi introduced Byron and gave the men a reason to trust him. Well, Ranger didn’t do that with Steph. His intro?

      “Second, let me introduce Stephanie Plum. Gentleman, Ms. Plum will be taking over as CO for the next year.”

      That’s it. Nothing to give the men a reason to trust this outsider brought in to run the company. No information about this woman to engender confidence. Ranger used a ‘hood intro’ for his woman! So he sees where extra information would have been helpful. in giving the men a reason to trust her, especially since he knew the BBH stories had traveled. If you want your men to trust and believe in you, you have to give them a reason to. Continually.

      Ranger did a military, ‘Follow orders’ intro. Javi, having been National Guard and mostly civilian, did a proper civilian intro and the trust level created is striking.

      🙂 ILTW is more than just another funny side story. I’m making another point, like the Housekeepers’ War.

      b. Pat clearly respected Steph but was nervous about following her in the field because of her reputation, which is a situation he can’t fix.
      c. As you pointed out, he too had problems following inexperienced leaders in the military. It’s the entire reason he got out and started RangeMan, so he’d never have the pain of loaning men to another brigade and having them die under someone else’s command. So he understand’s Pat’s reluctance to follow Steph in the field. It had nothing to do with gender (something he’s incorporating in his checks now due to the sexism push) but had everything to do with Steph’s reputation.

      So what Ranger learned in Boston is that if he’d done some simple things, he could have made Steph’s intro into the company much easier and smoother. These are his men. They’ll follow who he asks them to follow but he needed to allay their fears.

      Rod is coming up soon. 😀

      Now, would he tell her to stay back or in the car? Not now that she’s trained. In the woods, on their date, he followed her lead! He figured out her plan, executed his end, and they made it out OK. They did that without saying a word to each other! 🙂 During the Miami Port Sting, he held his tongue and allowed Les to proceed with his plan because Steph stated that she was willing to follow a plan if they had one.
      Training made the difference to Ranger. Before she was untrained and unwilling to follow orders. That made following her, trusting her with his safety, a questionable situation. Now he sees that she’s willing to follow orders in the field and, when an emergency arises, she’s quick on her feet with a plan. He trusts her with his safety now, so he’s willing to follow her.

      There’s a lot to digest! Sometimes I have to go back and reread how a particular setup scene went so I know how to do the follow-up scene. I’m constantly rereading!

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