Pen Name: PTBvisiongrrl

Story Title: The Bombshell Meets The Merry Men

Summary: Book Five events from Lester's perspective. Who's this white chick Ranger's helping? And why is Ranger bothering with her?

Story Rating: PG-13/R (I'll say- sexual innuendo and language)

Status: Work in Progress

Genre: Drama

Couple: Stephanie and Ranger (implied)

Spoilers: through Book Five

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, although I would really like to meet up with Ranger in a dark room somewhere. I simply borrow and gently use them for my amusement.

The Bombshell Meets The Merry Men

We met Ranger at the office as usual. That's where the same-old, same-old ended. Ric shocked the hell out of us as we began to load up. "We need to pick up our fifth man on the way to the job, boys."

Tank, Bobby, and I looked at each other after Ranger's pronouncement. None of us had been aware that he was considering adding a new man to the team. That was unusual; Ric was technically head of the company, but we were all partners, and things like new employees fall under "joint discussion" matters. That meant something hinky was going on. I was the first the recover. "Who?" I asked.

"Stephanie."

I didn't believe my ears. "The hot white chick you been helping out?"

Ranger's eyes darkened. Maybe I should have picked a better way to describe her. "Yes, Santos. Vinnie's cousin."

When Ranger didn't elaborate, Bobby jumped into the discussion. "Why?"

Ranger crossed his arms, waiting for us to get into the Range Rover. "Why not?"

Tank's voice rumbled behind me. "Let's start with, we don't need a fifth man."

"Couldn't hurt." Ranger's tone of voice hadn't changed.

"True," Tank conceded. "But this isn't a fifth man."

I felt the need to jump in before that argument started again. Tank was only a few years older than the rest of us, but he thought like my grandfather sometimes. "You thinking of hiring her, Ric?"

Ranger shrugged. "Maybe. Skips aren't skipping. She needs some extra work right now."

"And you just decided to offer her work?" Tank asked, a bit incredulous. "And not ask us?"

"She asked." Ranger motioned to the back seat, and I jumped in next. It would be a tight squeeze for the three of us, but I didn't think Ranger would want his pretty white thing sitting in the back with us thugs. She probably wouldn't be that comfortable with it, either. Tank sighed regretfully and wedged his massive hulk next to me. Bobby shook his head as he climbed into the back seat, but wisely choose to keep his mouth shut.

Ranger settled into the driver's seat and pulled out, ending the discussion.

She was waiting for Ranger down in her lobby. We all craned our necks to get a look at the woman. We're not the most subtle group, and Ric shot us a look in the rearview as she made her way over. None of us had gotten a close-up look at Ranger's latest fuck-doll, and we were all curious. Ranger had pretty high standards; his women had always been unbelievable eye-candy. We held our collective breath until she popped the door open.

Personally, I was a bit disappointed. Stephanie was good-looking, don't get me wrong, but not stellar. Her hair was a mess of unremarkably brown curly hair, but her eyes were an unreal, electric blue. She slid in and buckled herself into the seat next to Ranger. She turned around to spare us guys in the back a quick look. "Is that the redecorating team in the back seat?"

Redecorating? Just what had he told her about this job? I wondered a bit about Ranger's motives.

Ranger simply smiled into the predawn darkness and cruised out of the lot, not answering.

"I'm dressed different from everybody else," she said, her voice slightly unsure.

Ranger stopped at the light on Hamilton. "I've got a jacket and a vest for you in the back."

"This isn't interior decorating, is it?" She sounded nervous. What a bright girl.

"There's all kinds of interior decorating, Babe," Ranger replied in his usual vagueness.

"About the vest-" she started.

He cut her off quickly. "Kevlar."

"Rats," she said, paling slightly under the makeup. "I hate getting shot at. You know how I hate getting shot at." I had to make an effort not to laugh out loud.

"Just a precaution," Ranger said. "Probably no one will get shot."

I was surprised that Ranger hadn't filled her in on more of the details, but looking at her, I could see that this really was a pity gig. I'd bet she didn't even have a gun on her- or that she'd know how to use it if she did.

We rode in silence through center city. Ranger was in his zone, thinking private thoughts. We three in the back tried our best to look like we had no thoughts at all—ever- while we surreptitiously eyeballed the white girl. Stephanie occasionally looked at us in the back with slight concern, as if she wasn't sure what to make of us. Fair enough- we weren't sure what to make of her yet, either, and we were a hell of a lot scarier looking than she was.

"Where are we going?" she finally asked, breaking the silence.

"Apartment building on Sloan. Gonna do some house cleaning."

Ranger drove up three blocks on Sloan and parked. He nodded at the yellow brick building across the street, two doors down, that we had been hired to clean out and provide continuing security for. "That's our building. We're going to the third floor."

The building was four stories tall, and two or three small apartments in each floor. Ground-level brick was covered with gang graffiti. Windows were dark. No street traffic. Wind-blown trash banked against curbs and collected in doorways. I didn't think Stephanie was familiar with the area.

Stephanie glanced from the building to Ranger. Her words confirmed my initial impression of her- she did not belong in our dangerous world. "Are you sure this is legal?" She was white bread, with the crusts cut off.

"Been hired by the landlord," Ranger answered, avoiding her wording.

"Does this housecleaning involved people or just…things?" Did she really need to ask?

Ranger looked at her, his eyes laughing but his voice soft and- And I don't know what. I'd never seen Ranger interact with a woman the way he was with Stephanie. Almost- gently? Maybe it was because I'd never seen Ranger work with a woman, other than Jean Ellen, who didn't count. She was harder and nastier than most men I knew. But Ranger wasn't a gentle task master, either. There was an odd vibe hitting me here.

"There's a legal process involved in getting people and their possessions out of an apartment," Steph said. "You need to present an eviction notice and-"

What the hell did she think she was, a lawyer? Her tone of voice irked me a bit, explaining as if we really were the mindless stone idiots that we looked like, but that was something I was used to. I could play big and dumb.

Ranger cut her off again. "The legal process is moving a little slow. And in the meantime, the kids in this building are being harassed by the people who come to shoot up in 3C."

I could see in her posture and eyes that she was thinking about the kids. I wondered if Ranger had explained our "gray area" ethics before he offered her the job. "Think of this as community service," Bobby piped up.

"Yeah," Tank and I echoed. "Community service."

She cracked her knuckles and chewed her lower lip. The mannerisms were actually cute, in a way. I wondered if she'd stick this out, or head home now.

Ranger didn't wait for her response. He angled from behind the wheel, walked to the rear of the Range Rover, and opened the door. Everyone took a flak vest and a black windbreaker that had SECURITY printed in large white letters on the back. We had recently decided that, as the business grew, we needed to get a little more corporate and a little less street. Hence, we now had company not-quite-uniforms. I felt a little stupid with the windbreaker on. One look at me and my gun should register as "Security" and "Run the fuck away!" on even the most stoned of consciousnesses.

Steph strapped her vest on awkwardly and watched us while we buckled on black nylon web utility belts and holstered guns.

"Let me take a wild guess here," Ranger said, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "You forgot to bring your gun."

"Interior decorators don't use guns." Well, I was right. She didn't like guns and probably never carried one.

"They do in this neighborhood." Ranger joked a little with her.

We lined up in front of her and Ranger, falling back into military manners, waiting for orders.

"Gentlemen," Ranger said, finally formally introducing us, "this is Ms. Plum."

I was the first guy to put my hand out. Her grip was firm and warm, and she met my eyes directly, even though she had to strain a little to look up. Point for her. "Lester Santos."

Bobby, standing next to me, did the same. We both briefly wondered if Tank would follow suit or revert to his caveman manners. With him, either was a possibility, but he decided to pleasant today. It was almost amusing to see Stephanie take in his name and size. It registered in her eyes the minute she turned to face him after Bobby's handshake.

"I better not get into trouble for this," she said, turning to Ranger. "I'm going to be really bummed if I get arrested. I hate getting arrested."

I grinned at her. Maybe Ranger kept her around for amusement value. "Man, you don't like to get shot. You don't like to get arrested. You don't know how to have fun at all."

Ranger ignored my comments, shrugged into his jacket, and set off crossing the street with all of us closing ranks behind him. We entered the building as a group and climbed the two flights of stairs to 3C, where Ranger listened at the door. The rest of us flattened ourselves against the wall. None spoke, even Stephanie. Maybe she had a little sense for this type of work after all. I guess we'd soon see. Ranger and I took point, guns in hand, while Bobby and Tank stood slightly back holding heavy Maglights.

Stephanie was bracing herself; did she expect us to kick the door down or something? She seemed surprised when Ranger took a key from his pocket and inserted it in the lock. The security chain caught the door almost immediately. Guess it wasn't going to be as easy as we had thought. One look at me, and Ranger moved. He took two steps back and threw himself at the door, catching the door at chain height with his shoulder. Th door popped open, and Ranger went in first. It really wasn't necessary, but I bet that it looked impressive to Stephanie.

Then the boys and I followed in after him. Steph stayed out in the hall.

Someone hit the lights and they flashed on. It was chaotic, with Ranger shouting, "Security!" and half-naked people scrambling off the floor mattresses. There was shrieking and curses hurled at us in slurred voices as people rushed in all directions. We went room by room, cuffing the scum, lining them up against the living room wall. We got six in all.

The last guy went berserk, waving his arms to avoid getting cuffed. "You can't do this, you fuckers," he was yelling. "This is my apartment. This is private property. Somebody call the fucking police." Then he made the mistake of pulling a knife from his pants pocket and flicking it open. I hate knives, and I hate people that pull knives. I prefer a close, direct-contact fight or guns.

Tank beat me to it. He didn't really care what weapon he was confronted with, because with his size, he still usually won. He stepped in and grabbed the guy by the back of his shirt, effortlessly lifted him off his feet, and threw him out the window.

Everyone went still, staring dumbstruck at the shattered glass. The stillness only lasted a minute, though, once we made sure it was one of the 'residents' going out and not a team member. Steph, though, stayed still, her mouth open and her hand at her chest. Given how she was looking at Tank, it was probably a good thing that Steph hadn't had a gun this morning. She might have shot him.

Ranger didn't seem that bothered by Steph's apparent heart attack. "Have to replace that window," he said, turning back to the room.

Steph crossed the room to the window and looked out. "He's on the fire escape! God, for a minute there I thought you had dumped him three stories," she exclaimed.

Tank looked out the window with her. Dryly, he stated, "You're right. He's on the fire escape. Sonovagun."

It went smoothly after that. I think Tank scared the shit out of the druggies, who settled down. Bobby and I got the enviable job of transporting the bedraggled occupants into the hall, down the stairs, and chaffeurring their stinking carcasses to the closest clinic. Once there, they would be on their own. As long as they didn't come back to the apartment we were securing, none of us really cared what happened to them. Once the unwashed masses were dropped off, Bobby and I wasted no time discussing Steph.

"She's a dish, but not his usual type." Bobby commented.

I nodded. "I was a little disappointed. She must be a great fuck."

"Yeah," Bobby seconded. "I bet she is. Did you get a look at that ass?"

I smiled and chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, I did. Wonder how long until Ranger gets tired of her? Think she'd go for one of us?"

Bobby laughed back at me. "Back of the line, Santos."

"So, how long do you think?" I figured in my head. It'd been a long time since Ranger took an interest in a woman for more than a few nights. Steph seemed kind of bland, but there had to be something else there for Ranger to be hooked enough to want to give her a job that didn't involve high heels and bending over to file. "A month?"

"I bet a hundred she lasts another two weeks. Seeing what we do for a living probably scares the piss out of her. She won't last much longer, now." Bobby nodded. "Yeah, I'll take two weeks."

I reached out and shook his hand. "Deal. Let's see if Tank wants in on it when we get back. We have first watch."

Once back at the site, Bobby and positioned ourselves on folding chairs in the small vestibule downstairs. Tank was on his way to the landfill with the mattresses and bags of garbage while Stephanie and Ranger were upstairs finishing the clean-up. When they came downstairs, Stephanie was wearing Ranger's SEAL hat. Bobby and I exchanged a look that was gone the minute Ranger looked back at us.

This could be interesting. I might have to rethink my bet.