Disclaimer: Not mine. That ought to cover it.
Ranger Moments ~ The Beginning of a Beautiful
Partnership
Timeline: Set after One for the Money
(3/30/08)
It was my first day back to working for my ferret-faced cousin Vinnie at his bail bonds office. I was just getting my body receipt for Billy Welch, when Connie looked over my shoulder and sucked in some air. I glanced back to see why she'd stopped breathing and found Ranger standing in the doorway to the Bonds office.
I hadn't seen him since he got shot in the leg helping me pick up a FTA. A tight black t-shirt clung to his broad shoulders, the sleeves straining over biceps so hard they looked carved out of stone. He wore cargo pants tucked into black boots and he had small gold hoops in his ears. His hair was pulled back into a pony tail and his eyes were covered by black mirror shades. "Ladies," he said.
"Uh, hi," I said. I felt a little weird talking to him since I did get him shot.
He walked over to Connie's desk and she snapped out of her stupor enough to hand him a stack of files. "Vinnie in?" he asked.
"No, he's at court," said Connie.
"Probably best."
He handed her a body receipt and she smiled, "That's $15 grand for you. Everything go OK?"
"He got a little excitable, but nothing I couldn't handle." Connie cut him a check and he turned to me, "Can I talk to you outside?"
"Ok," I said. So far mine and Ranger's relationship had covered gun safety, Bounty Hunter Rules 101 and a brief episode of him rescuing me naked from a shower. I had no idea what we would talk about.
I followed him outside to stand in front of the office. Ranger pulled off his sunglasses and hung them on the neckline of his t-shirt. "Five to the heart. Nice shooting there, babe," he said with a smile.
I grimaced because talking about the shooting made my stomach knot up. A few weeks ago, I was in a situation where a bad guy was planning my rape and torture before he killed me. It had come down to him or me, and I'd chosen me. I don't actually remember shooting him five times. I wasn't sure if it was self-preservation or divine intervention. "I don't want to talk about it," I said.
Ranger nodded. "Not easy to take someone out. Don't rack yourself up about it. Alpha was not a nice guy; he's not being missed."
"You've had to kill someone?" I asked. I was pretty sure the answer was yes because I'd heard he was Special Forces so it kind of came along with the job.
"On occasion," he said. "Sometimes there's no other way." I nodded, because I knew a few cops and they'd said the same thing. We were quiet for a minute. Ranger was giving me an assessing look and I was trying not to fidget. "So, how's the butt wound? You seem to be getting around OK."
I looked at him in surprise. "How did you know about that?" My eyes narrowed, "Did Morelli talk to you about it?"
Ranger smiled then and it brightened up his whole face. "You'd be surprised what I know." He leaned against his black Mercedes, folding his arms across his chest. "I asked because if you're going to keep doing this job, you need some skills, babe."
"A partnership," I said. "You'd mentioned that before."
"That's right. Henry Higgins and Eliza Doolittle does Trenton. You need some help with takedown techniques and a few other things. I have some time tomorrow afternoon." He handed me a blank white business card with an address written on it. "Meet me there at 1:00."
"OK. Should I bring anything?"
"Gun, defense spray," he grinned, "handcuffs." He stepped aside to open the car door. "Don't be late." He angled in behind the wheel, buckled his seat belt and slid on his sunglasses. "Later, Babe."
"Hey," I called to him, "why do you keep calling me 'babe'?"
A little smile slid across his face, "You looked in a mirror lately?" he said and he put the car into gear and rolled away like Batman.
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