Disclaimer: Don't own 'em....blah blah blah
Ranger Moments ~ A Reputation
Well-Deserved
Timeline:
Set in Lean Mean Thirteen
(4/28/08)
It was a Monday evening and Ranger and I were at Domino's, a titty bar in central Trenton. We had gone there to keep an eye on a sleazy, low-end criminal named Rufus Caine. Ol' Rufus had gotten friendly with the staff while I'd spent the last two hours watching every silicone bimbo in the place throw herself at Ranger. He kept passing out $20 bills to get rid of them, but they just kept coming. It was "Hey handsome" and next thing you knew they were rubbing on him like horny cats, trying to straddle him and shoving their DD rhinestone pasties in his face. Did I sound jealous just then? 'Cause I'm not...really.
Anyway, our man Rufus was on the move and so were we. He had just cleared the front door when Ranger motioned that we should go. I was walking a few feet ahead of him toward the door. It was like walking a gauntlet of drunks. I was propositioned a few times, some disgusting comments were made and then, someone grabbed my ass.
"You like that hand?" Even over the music and the chatter, I could hear it - controlled, but deadly. I did one of those horror-movie slow turns. You know the one, where you just know that the big, bad, scary-as-all-Hell monster is right behind you, but you have to stop and look anyway? I turned around to find Ranger bending Grabby Guy's hand nearly back to his elbow.
The guy was pasty white, and I don't think that was his natural color. He was staring at Ranger with wide, bloodshot eyes. He nodded his head quickly. Ranger's eyes were solid black and the look in them said, 'You are in some supremely deep shit'. He tightened his grip on the hand and the guy whimpered. "You want to keep it?" Ranger calmly asked.
Again, the guy nodded his head so fast he looked like a bobble-head doll. Beads of sweat started popping out all over his forehead, and I thought I could hear his knees knocking together. Ranger leaned forward and got inches away from the guy's face. "Touch her again, and your hand won't be the only thing that goes missing."
You've heard of "scaring the piss out of someone", right? Usually it's just a figure of speech, but not this time. Grabby Guy was so scared he pissed down his leg. I'm not sure he even noticed. His eyes were fixed on Ranger and he just kept nodding his head and babbling "Oh shit...Oh shit."
I guess I should say something to diffuse the situation, but I really didn't know what to say. It was almost unheard of for Ranger to lose his cool. And even now, I'm not sure that was exactly what had happened. He didn't look out of control - if anything he was more controlled than usual. Grabby Guy was about 10 seconds from passing out from fear. I reached out and laid my hand on Ranger's bicep, "Ranger, we need to go," I reminded him.
He turned those dark eyes on me and if I didn't know him as well as I do, I might have mentally started writing my last will and testament. He looked back to Grabby Guy and dropped the offending hand. "You're right, Babe. Let's go."
He put his hand on the small of my back and guided me toward the door. Since he was behind me I didn't see his face, but from the look of some of the bar's patrons as we went by, Ranger's mood hadn't improved much. Drunks are usually pretty brave until they sober up. These guys went sober in a hurry. You could almost hear their gonads packing up and heading North.
Ranger opened the passenger door to the Porsche and I slid into my seat. He went around the front, angled in beside me and started up the engine. Usually Ranger does the Zen-driving thing. He obeys all traffic laws, but he's in a zone where he doesn't talk - not that he was Mr. Chatty anytime. I'm used to this and normally it doesn't bother me, but I was curious about what had just happened.
"What was that about back there?" I asked. Ranger looked at me like he wasn't sure what I was asking, and then turned back to the road. "You lost it on that drunk. Why?"
"That wasn't losing it. That was a friendly conversation." Ranger cut his eyes back to me. "When I lose it, Babe, you'll know."
"Friendly?!" I said. "Friendly is patting someone on the back or shaking hands. Friendly is not getting some guy's pinky to touch his elbow." The corners of Ranger's mouth turned up slightly. I smacked him lightly on the arm. "You enjoyed scaring the piss out of that drunk, didn't you?" Ranger just shrugged. "You did! Earlier today you shot a guy in the leg for trying to steal this car and tonight you terrorized a drunk. And you were worried you were losing your scary factor? I'd say the puddle on floor proved you're pretty damn scary."
The almost-smile turned up a notch. "I didn't terrorize the drunk. I just explained what would happen if he grabbed you again."
"And what's with that?" I asked. "It's a bar. There are drunks who do stupid things in bars - the two go together, Ranger."
"So you didn't mind having your ass grabbed?" he asked.
"Yes, I minded, but I expected something like that would happen. It's Jersey!"
"Doesn't make it OK," he said. "Does Morelli have a problem with guys grabbing you?"
I thought back to the evening at The Hole where Morelli smashed some guys face in for lifting my top to see my boobs, then laying waste to everyone between us and the front door. But Morelli was a bar brawler and always had been. I just couldn't see Ranger in a brawl. Morelli was like a B-52 bomb - it goes off and makes a big mess. Ranger was like one of those stealth bombs. It zeros in and ignores everything between it and it's target. "Yes, he has a problem with it. Are you telling me that you and Morelli are alike?"
Ranger turned dark eyes on me. "Don't confuse us, babe. Morelli and I are nothing alike." He pulled the car over to the curb and parked, then turned to face me. He traced a finger along my jawline, leaned over the console and brushed a soft kiss to my lips. "You ever stop holding me at arms length, and I'll show you just how different we are."
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