Plum Sweet

by cornfedfiddler

Summary:

The City of Atlanta is receiving terrorist threats, and Rangeman's Atlanta office is hired to provide security for the Publix Georgia Marathon. Stephanie struggles to define her relationship with her mentor, friend, and sometimes lover Ranger after establishing boundaries with Joe Morelli. In the neighborhood of Hardcore Twenty Four. Most characters belong to Janet Evanovich.

Notes:

A/N: All characters belong to Janet Evanovich.

Chapter 1

Carol Cantell-Harmon was sitting on her windowsill with one leg in and one leg out of her 2nd story bedroom window. Her face, fingers, and pink velour sweat suit was covered in yellow Cheez Doodle dust, and her tears were washing lines down her dirty, Doodle dusted face. In one hand, she held an almost-empty bag of Doodles. In the other, she held a frying pan. Carol had failed to appear for her court date earlier in the week. As a result, my sidekick Lula and I had come to Carol's house this morning to check on Carol… and to drag her sorry behind back to jail. This wasn't Carol's first rodeo as a FTA. We did the same drill with Carol several years ago when she robbed a Frito Lay truck.

"I'm not going back to jail!" Carol shrieked. "The women there are terrifying! I don't stand a chance in there! Nobody will bail me out after this! My sister can't afford it. And orange isn't my color!" Carol let out a guttural wail as she teetered precariously on the window ledge.

"It's not so bad," Lula said. "Definitely not worth killing yourself over. And girl, like it or not, orange has been your color for years. When was the last time you showered?"

Carol's eyes bugged out of her head, and a look of rage crossed her face. She shook her frying pan at us. I let out an exasperated sigh, and my eyes rolled back so far in my head I think I saw my brain.

My name is Stephanie Plum. I'm a fugitive apprehension agent for my cousin Vinnie's bail bonds office. I'm 5'7" and 130 pounds of Jersey wit & feminine tenacity, but on bad hair days, my hair adds at least three inches to my height. Today was one of those days. Jersey's summer humidity hadn't been kind to my hair, and it was one step away from wild man of Borneo, with brown curls fluffed in every direction. I was wearing tennis shoes, denim shorts, and a teal girly-cut t-shirt. My blue eyes, a nod to the Hungarian part of my heritage, were accentuated with a double-swipe of black mascara, my lips were glossed, and my nose was a gift from God.

"You're not gonna die if you jump out of a second story window. You're going to break a leg and give yourself a concussion, but you're not gonna die," Lula scoffed.

Since I had last seen Carol, she had married a plumber from the Burg named Hank Harmon. She had settled down in a quaint, two story brick row house one block off Hamilton on Bayard Street. Carol had fallen comfortably into the housewife routine. She spent her days on her couch eating Cheez Doodles and Tastykakes, and she spent her nights burning her daily caloric intake doing the dirty with Hank. Much to Carol's dismay, she learned Hank not only had his hands in every toilet in Trenton, he also had his Mr. Happy inside half the women in the tri-state area. This broke Carol's fragile grip on sanity. In the same day, Carol served Hank with divorce papers and took a tire iron to his Harmon Plumbing panel van. Carol took it too far when the police arrived to arrest her, threatening Officer Robin Russell with the tire iron and breaking the passenger side window on the cop car.

Something in the front yard caught Carol's attention, and she craned her neck for a better look. "What the hell are you doing here?" Carol shrieked in a fit of rage.

Lula and I couldn't see the yard from our location, so we scrambled into the on-suite bathroom and ripped open the tiny window, poking our heads out to see. Hank Harmon stood in the middle of the postage-stamp front yard in his blue plumber's jumpsuit. He had one hand gripping his iPhone, pointed in Carol's direction.

"I came by for the show," Hank said. "Mrs. Menendez next door called me to let me know you were hanging out the window. I thought I'd come by to get your fat, psycho ass on camera. Smile for the camera, baby. You're on Facebook live."

I couldn't see Carol's face, but she released an angry scream before cussing an impressive string of four letter words in Hank's direction.

"She's distracted," I whispered to Lula. "Let's drag her back into the house and get out of here. I'll pull her in, and you cuff her."

"Sure thing," said Lula, digging around in her massive purple purse and hauling out a pair of cuffs.

Lula is the file clerk for Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. I met Lula in my first few weeks on the job as a bounty hunter. She's a short, voluptuous black woman with even more attitude than extra body fat. Lula is an ex-ho, and even though her job title has changed, her wardrobe remains much the same. Today, Lula had painted herself into poison green capri-length leggings and a purple-and-poison green zebra print spandex halter top. There was lots of side-boob oozing out of her top, and it looked as though her leggings were testing the stretch capacity of spandex. Personally, I was praying the spandex held. I'd seen Lula naked on at least one previous occasion apprehending a fugitive on a nude beach, and it wasn't pretty. Lula had accessorized her outfit with a giant purple leather purse, big black hoop earrings, and a pair of black Via Spiga stiletto heels.

I sort of saved Lula's life after a dangerous turn of events with a really bad guy named Ramirez, and ever since, she's been attached to me like gum stuck to a shoe. Sometimes I find this annoying, but I usually find it endearing. She's horrible as a bounty hunter assistant, but she's a good friend. Life was never boring with Lula in the passenger seat.

Lula and I crossed the threshold into the bedroom and saw Carol swearing and making rude hand gestures out the window. I heard Hank shouting from below, but I couldn't hear specifics over Carol. I moved as silently and as quickly as I could across the bedroom floor, Lula behind me. I could see that a small crowd of onlookers had gathered on the front lawn, and at least one police car was parked curbside. I tried to squash down the annoyed feelings that were surfacing. Why me? Why do my takedowns always become such a friggin' spectacle? I resisted the urge to sigh out loud, and I wrapped my arms around Carol's waist, leaning back with all my weight to pull her into the house.

Unfortunately, thanks to the Cheez Doodles Tastykakes, there was a lot of Carol. She wasn't as big as Lula, but the woman had put on some serious weight in the absence of her nightly cardio routine. She had at least forty pounds on me. Leaning backward with all my weight, I couldn't make her budge. When Carol realized what was happening, she shrieked and tried to pull away from me, in the process, knocking us both ass-over-teakettles out the window.

We landed on our backs with a thud on top of an azalea bush, and we expelled a huge breath as the wind was knocked out of us. I stared up at Lula with her head hanging out the upstairs window, unable to breathe.

"Steph, you okay?" Lula shouted. When I didn't respond, she left the window, presumably to come down to check on us.

I lay there in stunned silence trying to take an assessment of the damages. I wiggled my toes and fingers. I jiggled around on the ground a little. So far, so good. I tried to sit up and realized I had a throbbing headache. I sucked in some air, laying back down on the ground to wince in pain. When I opened my eyes, I looked up at two Rangers. I blinked several times, and my eyes managed to focus, pulling my vision of two men into one.

Ricardo Carlos Manoso, often called by his street name Ranger, is my longtime mentor, sometimes boss, and infrequent-yet-incredible lover. Ranger is nearly six feet of highly-toned muscle in mocha latte-colored skin, a nod to his Cuban ancestry. Today, he was in his usual uniform of black t-shirt and cargo pants with black, Vibram sole boots, accessorized with a gun belt that held his Glock, pepper spray, and his sat phone. Ranger's dark hair is cut short, and his chocolate brown eyes dilate to black when he makes love. My relationship with Ranger is complicated at best, and his admissions for love for me are rare and intertwined with qualifiers.

Ranger owns an elite security company called Rangeman with offices in Trenton, Boston, Miami, and Atlanta. Ranger is ex-army, Special Forces. His skills in the bedroom are magic, but his street skills, bounty hunter skills, and security professional skills rank somewhere in the neighborhood of superhero.

"Babe," Ranger said, lingering on the "a" sound a bit too long.

I blinked up at him. "Mmmph," I moaned.

Ranger did a quick assessment of my status, asking me to wiggle my toes and fingers or bend my arms and legs. Once he determined nothing was broken, he pulled me into a sitting position. I looked down at myself and realized I was covered in Cheez Doodle dust. I sighed. I looked over at Carol, who was still crumpled on the ground. Her soon-to-be ex-husband was standing over her with his iPhone, no doubt still broadcasting live on Facebook. Carol's eyes were open and she was sucking in air, but she wasn't up and moving yet. I realized her arm was twisted in an unnatural position, clearly broken after her two story fall. My stomach lurched, causing me to empty the contents of my stomach onto my legs and denim shorts. Ranger rubbed my back and held back my hair.

"Sorry," I whined, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Let's get you to Saint Francis. You have a head injury, but nothing life-threatening. An ambulance is on the way for her," Ranger said, nodding towards Cantell.

"No!" I exclaimed with too much enthusiasm, causing my head to pound. "She's FTA. She's mine—I caught her, and…"

Ranger cut me off. "I've got Hal and Lester in the car on the street. We'll give them the paperwork. They'll follow the ambulance to the hospital and wait until she's treated. They'll take her in and bring you the body receipt. You've done enough damage for one day," said Ranger, looking like he was thinking about smiling.

Lula sidled up to us. "You gonna live?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"Yeah, I think I'm okay. Can you take my car back to the bonds office?" I asked "Ranger is going to take me to get checked at Saint Francis."

"Sure thing. This place is starting to swarm with cops, so I'm gonna get the hell out of here," said Lula, turning around and swinging her ass in the direction of my car.

Ranger scooped me up under the armpits, setting me on my feet. I tried my best to balance on the balls of my feet, but everything was spinning around me. When Ranger felt my knees give, he held me up and hauled me to the curb where his Porsche 911 Turbo was parked. He slid me into the front seat and buckled me in before jogging around the car to climb into the driver's seat.

"Ranger, I'm getting barf in your car," I whined apologetically.

"Babe."

Twenty minutes later, we were in Saint Francis Hospital's emergency room behind a series of privacy curtains. I had an ice pack on my head while I waited for my turn in the MRI machine downstairs. I was grateful that Ranger was sitting with me, but he was in the zone. The silence was deafening

"Why did you show up at Cantell's?" I asked Ranger.

"The men in the control room had tracked your Corolla. We heard the call go out on the police band for a possible suicidal woman at the address, so I thought I better come check it out. I wanted to make sure the suicidal woman wasn't you," Ranger joked.

"You're in an awfully good mood," I said, giving him my best Burg glare.

"It's not every day I get to see you fall from a second story window and get covered in crushed Cheez Doodles."

I rolled my eyes, and tried my best to brush the crushed Doodles off the back of my shirt.

Two hours later, I was diagnosed with a mild concussion and told to take it easy for a few days. Ranger drove into the lot of my apartment and helped me to the door. He waited patiently outside the bathroom door while I brushed the barf out of my teeth and showered to remove any food, dirt, or vomit that still clung to my body. I emerged in a towel Doodle-dust free and dressed in soft flannel pajama pants with an oversized t-shirt. Ranger got me settled in front of the couch with an ice pack on my head, snacks on my coffee table, cell phone on the arm of the couch, and a blanket over my lap.

"You're acting awfully domesticated," I told him with a smirk.

"Don't push it, babe. I'm many things, but domesticated isn't one," he replied dryly before pressing his lips to mine in a mind-numbing kiss that ran straight to my duda. It took me a few seconds to remember to breathe when he ended the kiss. By the time all my senses were again working, he was gone.

Chapter 2

The next morning was Wednesday, and the day started without me. I woke up at 9 am with a throbbing headache, and my entire body ached. I drug myself out of bed and into clothes, forgoing the shower. I made an effort to tame my hair in the bathroom mirror but eventually gave up, throwing it into a ponytail and swiping mascara on my lashes. I entered the kitchen to make coffee and wished my pet hamster Rex a good morning, filling his bowl with Hamster crunchies. He scurried out of his soup can, filled his cheeks with breakfast, and ran back into the can. I washed down four Tylenol with a cup of coffee, then headed to the parking lot with my messenger bag in hand.

I stood in the parking lot, disoriented looking for my car. It took me a few minutes to register that Lula had taken my car to the bonds office yesterday after the Carol Cantell mishap. I swore under my breath and pulled my phone out of my bag. I stared at a list of missed calls, voicemails, and text messages on the screen, an audible sigh of annoyance escaping my lungs. I had left the phone on silent and hadn't checked it last night. I decided to check the texts first.

Mom, 6:15 pm: Hello? Are you alive? I've been calling you and leaving voicemails all evening. Call me.

Grandma, 6:32 pm: You caught Carol Cantell! Go get 'em, tiger! I need a ride to the funeral parlor Wednesday night. Do you think you could manage with that lump on your head?

Joe Morelli, 7:22 pm: I heard about your fall. You alright? Call me if you need anything. Bob misses you.

Mom, 7:48 pm: Should I call the police for a welfare check?

Mom, 8:02 pm: If you don't call me back soon, I'm banning you from chocolate cake for life.

Lula, 8:07 pm: I'll pick you up tomorrow. Call me when you need a ride.

Mom, 8:46 pm: Don't make me call Joseph!

Mom, 9:33 pm: I'm calling Joseph.

Joe 11:12 pm: Call your mom. She's called me five times in the past hour. She's driving me nuts.

I texted Lula to come get me before listening to the voicemails.

Mom: "Stephanie? This is your mother. I heard you fell from a second story window chasing some no-good fugitive. Are you okay? Did you break anything? Betsy Kuwicki's daughter doesn't fall out of windows at work. She has a safe job at the personal products plant. Ethel Nizzi's daughter works there too, and she's never fallen out of a window or had a gun fired her way. I saw they're hiring. Call me."

Ranger: "Babe."

Unknown number: "Hi, my name is Robert Banks from the Trenton Times. I was wondering if I could interview you about the incident at the Harmon Home yesterday…"

I deleted the message before it ended and dialed my mother. She picked up on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi mom, it's Stephanie."

"Oh, thank god you're alive!" my mother raved. "I've been trying to get ahold of you for more than twelve hours. I was worried about you! I thought maybe you had died in your apartment, or maybe you had been kidnapped. It wouldn't be the first time."

"I'm fine mom. Mild concussion. I'll be good as new in a few days," I said.

"Yuri Kaughman is laid out at Stiva's tonight, and your grandmother needs a ride. Can you take her? It's supposed to be a closed casket, so she'll need a chaperone. Why don't you come by for dinner? We're having cabbage rolls."

My grandma Mazur is not a fan of closed caskets. She lives by the rule, "If you don't get to see the deceased dead in their casket, how do you know they're really dead?" My grandma is like an older version of my mother with steel grey hair and too much skin for her small, saggy frame. Time hasn't been nice to grandma. What she lacks in physical size she makes up for in grit, tenacity, and comedy.

Stiva's funeral parlor is the social center for elderly residents in the Chambersburg section of Trenton. The funeral parlor hasn't been owned or operated by anyone named Stiva in years, but the name sticks as a nod to times gone by.

"Sure mom," I sighed. "I'll come by for dinner, and I'll take grandma to the viewing."

"Why don't you invite Joseph to dinner? We'd love to see Joseph."

I rolled my eyes so hard I almost fell over. "No mom, I'm not bringing Joe to dinner."

My mother whimpered on the other end of the line. "But Stephanie, Joseph is a nice man. He may be your last chance at marriage! He's got a good job, and…"

Lula's red Firebird rolled into my lot, and I took this as my opportunity to escape the conversation. "Sorry mom, got to go. See you at six." I hung up and dropped my phone into my bag. I heard it vibrate, my mother calling me back, but I ignored it. I didn't want to talk about Joe.

Joseph Morelli is a Burg native and a Trenton plain-clothes cop. We're currently in an "off-again" phase of our on-again, off again relationship. I've known Joe my entire life. When I was six and Joe was eight, we played choo-choo in his garage. I was the tunnel. When I was sixteen, Joe rid me of my virginity on the Tasty Pastry Bakery's floor, and he wrote about it in public bathrooms all around the Burg. In a fit of rage several years later, I ran him over with my parent's car, breaking his leg. In my defense, he deserved it.

A lot of time has passed since the early days of our relationship. Joe is a good cop, and sometimes he's a good boyfriend. We've dated off and on for years, even cohabitating for months at a time. Usually, our cohabitation phase ended in a string of swear words, Italian hand gestures, empty threats, and me moving back to my apartment. Most recently, Joe's boyfriend title was stripped after an argument about my career path, which happened to result in the decimation of two cars in one week. This particular argument is a broken record in my love life. I've heard the argument so many times I have it memorized. Joe doesn't like that I continue my job as a bounty hunter. Yes, it sometimes puts me in physical danger. So what if I'm not an expert at my job? What I lack in apprehension skills I make up for in stubbornness and grit, and I always get my man. I'm not saying it's pretty, but it's effective. And I've learned to love the thrill of my job. I'd be bored out of my mind in a job at the personal products plant, and I'd go certifiably insane at the Button Factory. Being a housewife is out of the question, though Joe has proposed it on occasion.

"Hey girl!" Lula crooned as I slid into her Firebird, and she pointed her tires in the direction of the bonds office. Today, Lula was wearing head-to-toe flamingo pink—pink tank top that showed miles of cleavage, pink Victoria's Secret sweat suit, and pink Converse sneakers. Even her hair was pink today, clearly a long-haired pink wig. Lula reached behind her seat and pulled out a bakery box. "I thought you might need doughnuts after yesterday. How's your head?"

I sighed with contentment as I ripped the lid to the box open and yanked out a Boston Crème Doughnut, sinking my teeth into the pastry. "I'll make it," I said, "but I have a killer headache."

"Fuckin' a," Lula swore. "You're lucky you just have a headache. I thought you broke your neck when you fell like that yesterday! Don't scare me like that!"

I sighed, shoving the last bite of the doughnut in my mouth and digging in the box for a second. "Have you been to the office already this morning?"

"Yeah. One of Ranger's men in black brought by Carol's body receipt this morning. Connie has your check on her desk."

Ten minutes later, Lula parked in front of the bonds office. When we walked in, Connie was sitting at her desk. She was on the phone, and her volume was one decibel short of deafening. It made my already-throbbing head unbearable.

"I don't care if you're the fucking pope, I'm not gonna bail out that slime ball!" she shouted. And she hung up.

Connie Rizzoli is the office manager at Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. She looks a lot like Betty Boop… that is, if Betty Boop had a moustache. Connie is 5'4" tall, and fifty percent of her body mass is located in her chest. Today, she was wearing a grey pencil skirt, a lavender v-neck sweater, and four inch black spike heels. Her black, Italian hair was perfectly tamed, teased and straightened into submission.

"Who the hell was that?" Lula asked, setting down the box of doughnuts on Connie's desk.

"Vinnie. He's in Atlanta for a few days, but he wants me to bond out Dickie Orr."

Lula and I both stared at Connie in silence, dumbstruck.

Before I was a bond enforcement agent, I was married for fifteen minutes to Dickie Orr That marriage ended when I caught him on our dining room table doing the dirty with my arch nemesis, Joyce Barnhardt. Dickie is a Trenton lawyer, and our divorce will go down in history books as one of the ugliest and most dramatic in the history of the Burg.

I spoke up first. "What the hell is Dickie in jail for?"

"Apparently he got caught soliciting some action down on Stark Street with an undercover cop. Vinnie got the call that his brother wants to post his bail, but I think it's best if he takes his business elsewhere. Conflict of interest, you know? He can go through Les Sebring for bond."

A gleeful smirk passed my lips before responding. As much as I'd love to haul Dickie's sorry behind to the Trenton Jail, I figured he'd comply with the terms of his bond. His law career, including his six-figure income, was worth showing up for. "Times must be tough if Dickie is having to pay to get some these days."

Lula chimed in. "That man is nasty. I was with a lot of men when I was a professional, but I don't think I could stand to be with Dickie Orr. That man gives me the heebie jeebies. I don't want no Dickie cooties. Ain't enough money in Trenton for that." She crossed her arms defiantly and took a seat on the worn faux leather couch.

"Here's your check for Carol Cantell," said Connie, passing me a check. "We've got two new skips today." She handed me the files.

"Oh boy," I said, cracking open the first file. "Anything good?"

"No high bonds," Connie said. "These are low bonds. Non-violent criminals. Probably a good thing with that bump on your head."

"William Earling?" I said with a hint of a smile on my face. "Again?"

"Arrested for indecent exposure at the Senior Center. He went to afternoon bingo naked."

William Earling was a regular at Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. Mr. Earling was one of the many senior citizens who lived in my apartment building. He had an affinity for watching the news, drinking coffee, and being naked. I'd hauled him in countless times for failure to appear in court. Appearing in court required appropriate clothing, and Mr. Earling didn't look forward to getting dressed. Getting him to the station was easy… as long as I didn't consider clothes as a requirement for the trip.

"No problem," I said, opening the second file. I scanned its contents. "Sharonda Blake, age 28. Arrested for shoplifting in Victoria's Secret at Quaker Bridge Mall. Her address is an apartment on the third block of Stark."

"I know her," Lula said filing her nails. "She's got a corner down on stark. She's a specialty ho."

I looked at Lula. "Specialty ho? What is a specialty ho?"

"Specialty hos specialize in hard-to-find fetishes like bondage and spanking and stuff like that. I think Sharonda's specialty was golden stream."

Connie and I looked blankly at one another before looking back at Lula.

"Golden stream?" Connie asked.

"Some guys like to pee on their woman."

Connie and I stared at Lula in stupefied horror, our upper lips curling in disgust.

"That's why you got specialty hos," said Lula. "Ain't no perverted asshole gonna pee on me. Mark my words, I'd never let some Tom, Harry, or Dickie Orr pee on me."

Chapter 3

I decided to take a shot at apprehending Mr. Earling first, so Lula and I headed for the door.

"We're not taking the Firebird," said Lula. "I don't want his eighty-something, naked, pruney ass on my back seat. I'd have to get my baby detailed, and I don't have time for that crap."

I had to agree with Lula. I really didn't want his back side on my back seat either, but my car was by far the least appealing of the two. And realistically, it wouldn't be around much longer anyway. I have bad car karma. I'd had the tan 1998 Toyota Corolla for nearly two months, and the odds of surviving another month with me were not great.

"No problem," I said. "We'll take my car." We climbed in, buckled, and pulled the car onto Hamilton.

Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up to my apartment building and parked at the back of the lot. I live in a modest, three story yellow brick apartment building. I am currently the youngest resident in the building by at least thirty years. At times, a young couple will take residence in the building for a short time, but it's typically a brief stop somewhere between the altar and a single family home with a baby on the way. Currently, all of the residents are senior citizens who prefer spending their time reading the newspaper, attending viewings at the local funeral homes, poorly tipping waitresses, playing cards at the senior center, and walking their cats on leashes down the hall of the building. Since it was late morning, the lot was between the morning coffee rush and the senior center lunch rush. The lot was packed with the cars of residents watching the Price is Right and The Young and the Restless.

We pulled ourselves out of the car, walked to the building, and descended on Mr. Earling's apartment. I rapped twice on the door, getting no response. I knocked several more times with the same effect.

"Seems like Mr. Wrinkles-and-Bags isn't home right now," said Lula, looking uncomfortable.

"He's always home this time of the day. He never misses the Price is Right."

"I can understand that, on account of it's a great game show. But it was a hell of a lot better when that Bob Barker guy was the host," said Lula. "He was one dandy, charismatic old dude. All the ladies loved him. Now they have that Drew Carey guy on the show. He's not that bad, but his body is all saggy after all those weight loss surgeries. He's not much to look at, and those black framed glasses are downright depressing."

"I had no idea you were such a Price is Right fan," I told Lula.

"I don't get to watch it much anymore since I'm on the street fighting crime with you during the day, but back when I was a ho, I got to watch it over my lunch hour. It was a fine way to spend my lunch. One day, I'd love to be on that show. I'd wear a custom shirt with a catchy saying like, 'The Price is Right Here—Pick Me! Or maybe 'Can I Plinko You?'"

I blinked a few times before turning back to Mr. Earlings door. I tried the handle and found it unlocked. "Mr. Earling?" I shouted, pushing the door open and stepping into the small foyer that mirrored mine.

"Oh lord, help me," Lula said, looking into the apartment. "Ain't nobody got time for this. Girl, get me outta here."

Mr. Earling was naked, reclined on an extra-large blue large Lazy Boy. Sure enough, the Price is Right was broadcast on his flat screen television. The sound was blaring. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and the remote in the other. I approached him hesitantly, unsure if he'd heard us.

"Mr. Earling, how are you today?" I asked as I slid between him and his television. He looked up at me, recognition dawning on his face. "Do you remember me? My name is Stephanie Plum, and I represent your bond agent. We've met several times before. You missed your court date, and I stopped by to pick you up to reschedule."

"Right now?" croaked Mr. Earling. "I'm in the middle of my show. After my show, I've got a date with a Swanson frozen lunch. I don't want to get dressed today. It's a Wednesday. Wednesdays are a day to walk on the wild side—naked."

"How about this?" I asked. "If you come with us now, we'll swing through the Cluck in a Bucket drive through, and you can have chicken for lunch on me."

"That is an excellent idea," Lula said, swinging her purse higher on her shoulder. "I could go for a bucket of extra crispy chicken with a side of mashed potatoes and gravy."

Mr. Earling chimed in next. "You can't eat chicken without biscuits and those little apple pies. If I go, are we getting apple pies?"

I blew out a sigh of resignation. I was going to spend all the money I'd make on this capture buying chicken and sides for Mr. Earling and Lula. "Sure, why not? Everybody to my car."

We all trooped down the stairs and across the parking lot to my car. We got in and headed toward Cluck in a Bucket.

An hour later Lula and I had returned to the bonds office, and I had my body receipt. I had indigestion from the chicken, potatoes, biscuits, gravy, apple pies, and ice cream I consumed for lunch, and my throbbing headache had returned. I had almost forgotten I had a concussion.

"I think I'm going to go home to rest and take more Tylenol," I said. "I don't feel so good. My head is killing me."

"Need a ride?" Lula asked, her mouth full of apple pie.

"Thanks, but no. I'll be alright. I'll check in again later, and we'll take a try with Sharonda Blake." I grabbed my bag and walked out the door, straight into Joe Morelli.

"Easy, Cupcake. Headed somewhere in a hurry?"

I gave him my best Burg glare, crossing my arms over my chest. "It's none of your business. What are you doing here?"

"I was stopping by to check on you. Your mother seemed very concerned about you last night," Joe said, brushing an escaped brown, curly tendril behind my ear. "I was concerned about you, too."

"I'm fine, thanks," I said, side stepping to get past him. Joe took a step with me, blocking my way.

"You can't run away forever, Steph. Bob misses you. The boys miss you. I miss you," he said, his eyes sincere.

"If Bob misses me, he can come stay with me sometime. Maybe we can work out an every-other-weekend arrangement like properly divorced parents so Bob doesn't have to choose," I said, laying on the sass.

"Why are you so angry? It's been more than a month since we argued," he spat, clearly annoyed with my avoidance.

"Oh, I don't know. Why would I be angry?" I said with too much rage. "Maybe because my crazy Italian cop ex-boyfriend can't handle my career choices. I'm tired of fighting about it! I'm done!" I shouted shaking my arms angrily.

"What you have isn't a career, Cupcake. Some days, it's a television episode featuring Lucy and Ethel. Other days, it's a suicide mission. You have no financial stability. I want to fix all of that. I want you to come live with me. You can be a Burg housewife."

I stood in stunned silence for almost a full minute. When I found my voice, I asked, "Is that a proposal?"

Morelli hesitated. "I guess it is."

"You can't propose to someone you aren't even dating!" I shrieked, my head throbbing with the exertion. I hiked my messenger bag higher, held my shoulders high, and stormed in the direction of my car. Morelli followed.

"Come on, Cupcake. I really am sorry."

"Leave me alone," I warned, shoving the key into the door of my Corolla.

"Ok. I'm backing off. I'll see you tonight," said Joe, shuffling backward his SUV.

I craned my neck to face him and shrieked, "NO!"

Joe smiled a megawatts smile. "Your mother invited me to dinner. It would be rude to decline her invitation." He hauled himself into the front seat of his SUV, started the engine, and he was gone.

I stood next to my car in stupefied silence. What just happened? Did Joe just propose to me in the middle of Hamilton? I shuddered at the memory. I pushed my racing thoughts aside and slid into the Corolla. Over analysis of this experience would have to wait until I swallowed half a bottle of Tylenol. I slid my car into the mid-day traffic on Hamilton and pointed my car toward my apartment.

Chapter 4

I woke up flat on my back with a pillow over my face. I shoved the pillow aside and sat up, glancing at the clock.

5:44 pm.

I groaned out loud. My head still hurt. I'd slept the day away. If I was late for dinner, my mother would claim the food was ruined. I did some mental knuckle cracking. If I went to dinner, there was a good chance Joe would show up. I didn't want to see Joe, but I had promised to haul Grandma Mazur to the viewing tonight.

I grabbed my phone off the side table and texted my mother.

Got tied up with something. Sorry I won't make dinner. I'll pick up grandma at seven.

I stuck the phone in my pocket and padded barefoot into the kitchen. I made myself a peanut butter & olive sandwich and washed it down with a beer. I gave Rex two baby carrots from the fridge, then headed to my closet to find funeral home appropriate attire.

I emerged fifteen minutes later in a black pencil skirt, a white button down blouse, black kitten heels, and a blue sweater. I applied a second coat of mascara, reapplied my lip gloss, and tamed my curls with lots of hair products. I heard my phone go off, so I swiped at the screen.

Joe: Chicken.

I ignored the message, walking into the living room to collect my purse. I did a quick inventory of its contents: wallet, pepper spray, cuffs, hair spray, mini hair brush, chapstick, hair elastics, tampons, dozens of crushed receipts, car keys, lipstick, Snickers bar, stun gun. I pulled out the stun gun to check the battery. Good to go.

I hoisted the purse onto my shoulder and headed for the kitchen. I ate a Butterscotch Krimpet Tastykake standing over the sink and brushed the crumbs off my face. Calories don't count if you eat standing up, right?

I was halfway out my door when I heard my phone go off again.

Joe: This coconut cake is to die for. Too bad you're missing it, Cupcake.

Okay, so the first message from Joe pissed me off. Evidently no one ever taught Joe the difference between "chicken" and "avoiding assholes for more important activities-like colonoscopies and root canals." The second text message, though, had me in a white hot rage. I was being run out of my own family gatherings by my ex. Who the hell does he think he is?

My phone buzzed again, and I growled as I flicked open the screen. I nearly shrieked.

Joe had sent me a picture message of his perfectly sliced, beautifully layered, expertly frosted coconut cake.

He had gone too far.

Okay, so there was a time in my past when I really did love Joe. He's not a bad guy, but his gene pool isn't anything to brag about. All the men in Morelli's family are worthless, womanizing drunks. Morelli's mother spends more time enabling his immaturity and bad behavior than she spends breathing oxygen, and his Grandma Bella is certifiably nuts. Bella believes she has the supernatural ability to put curses on other. I don't believe in that crap, but I came close when she claimed to have given me the Vordo.

Somehow in the past, Joe seemed to rise above his piss poor gene pool. He managed to hold a job as a cop, and he got promoted to detective. He owned his own home, and he had a dog named Bob that he almost always remembered to walk and feed. Maybe calling Bob a dog was a bit of a stretch, since he ate everything within fifteen feet of his body, including but not limited to table scraps, furniture, mail, my underwear, and lost body parts. (Don't ask about the lost body parts.) Morelli paid his own bills, got his annual physical, and had stopped letting his mother purchase his underwear.

Joe and I had been seeing one another for years. We were able to fall into a casual but comfortable on-again, off again routine, but both our emotional immaturity and uncertainty about what our future selves would want seemed to prevent us from moving forward.

Lately, I was tired of the on-again, off again routine. It was exhausting. I loved my job as a bounty hunter, because it brought adventure into my life. Somewhere between getting shot in the ass and fighting brain-hunting drug zombies, I'd become a thrill junkie. I'd also become fairly respectable at my job, and I was known as a reliable bounty hunter in Trenton. I wasn't willing to negotiate cohabitation or nuptial terms that terminated my employment with Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. No matter how hard I pushed back, this seemed to be the one thing Joe couldn't stomach. Problem was, Joe couldn't separate his disappointment in my career choices from me as a person. A girl can only be told she's a disaster so many times before she starts to buy into the hype. I found the more time I spent away from Morelli, the easier it was for me to find happiness. I needed these past months to myself to reexamine my life and to find myself once again. Before our final break up, I had told Joe we should see a relationship counselor to work on our issues to find a way forward. I honestly thought it would help. Unfortunately Joe was so put off at the suggestion that we argued, which resulted in me packing a laundry basket full of my personal belongings and moving back to my apartment, effectively making Rex and Bob children of divorced parents.

One thing that had become clear was that Joe would have to be supportive of me if we were going to establish a more permanent relationship. He couldn't pick the parts of me he liked and leave behind the parts he didn't. I was a package deal, the best parts sold hand-in-hand with the worst. I truly believe I had come to love and respect Joe for his entire self, but he was not capable of doing the same for me. A part of me would always love Joe, and a part of me still hoped for a future with Joe. My brain had finally jumped ship though, determining being alone and satisfied with myself was better than becoming someone I was not. I didn't fit into the Burg mold, and that was my personal cross to bear. I couldn't spend the rest of my days on earth living in a brick row house in the Burg, baking coffee cakes and trading gossip while grocery shopping at the Shop-n-Bag. I refused to settle for anything less than happy.

Rather than reply to Morelli's messages, I threw my phone in my purse and re-entered my apartment. I retrieved a white garbage sack from my kitchen and began shoving items that belonged to Joe in it. I was determined to rid my apartment—and life—of Joe Morelli.

Fifteen minutes later, I parked the Corolla in front of my parents' house. Joe's SUV was parked curbside. I dug around in my purse until I found my stun gun, and I shoved it deep in my sweater pocket. I swung my ass out of the driver's seat, and I hauled the trash bag over my shoulder. I crossed the lot quickly and entered the house without knocking.

"Well I'll be," said Grandma Mazur as I entered the dining room. "We were just talking about you."

Everyone but my father was sitting at the table with the final crumbs of dessert on their plates. My father had retreated to the solace of his TV in the living room, having no practical room in his life for small talk. Morelli was seated wearing worn jeans, a button down grey shirt, and running shoes. My grandma sat across from him dressed in a powder blue polyester pants suit with a white turtleneck and white tennis shoes. Her hair was tinted a very light lavender. My mother was wearing a tan cotton dress and leather sandals.

"I hope you were saying good things," I said, dumping the white trash bag at Joe's feet.

"Well, your mother suggested we get you to apply for that opening at the personal products plant, but Joe suggested maybe you could take a job as a secretary somewhere in town," admitted grandma. "Personally, I think you should become a cop! It's the next logical step for you, what with your experiences as a bounty hunter and all. I can see it now! Stephanie Plum—Trenton Cop and crime fighter! Maybe you could find a female partner and you could be like those two ladies in the movie 'The Heat'! Or maybe you could join the FBI and go undercover in beauty pageants like Sandra Bullock."

"What is in the bag?" my mother asked, stacking dirty plates.

"Stuff that belongs to Joe."

Joe studied me questioningly, loosening the drawstring on the bag. He glanced in the bag, then his eyes met mine. As much as I wanted to hate him, I swear his eyes looked sad. My mother looked horrified.

"Cupcake…" he started, but I cut him off.

"I wanted you to have back your things. I thought you might be missing some of your clothes, since quite a few of them have accumulated at my place over time." I was shocked at how broken my heart felt after this one simple action, but I refused to acknowledge those feelings now. Those feelings could wait until I was in the comfort of my own bed where no one could witness my weakness.

"Stephanie must be in a spring-cleaning phase," my grandmother said, clearly trying to pacify my mother. "It is that time of year! Good for you, Stephanie."

"Are you ready to go, grandma?" I asked, wanting to escape this car crash immediately.

"I just gotta grab my bag from my room. I'll be down in two minutes," declared grandma.

The unspoken words in grandma's admission were that she had to go upstairs to put her forty-five long barrel gun in her purse. I excused myself into the kitchen, where I cut myself a slice of my mother's cake. Cake would most certainly erase the broken-hearted feeling I was experiencing and replace them with a sugar-induced stupor. I held the wedge of cake in the palm of my hand and took a massive bite. I exited the kitchen and ran for the front door, avoiding eye contact with my pacing mother and my dumbstruck ex-lover.

I was sitting in my running car waiting for my grandmother when Joe exited the house and jogged to my car. I sighed with resignation, locking my doors and lowering the passenger window a crack.

"Steph," Joe stated simply.

I stared at him, attempting to erase all emotion from my face.

"Can we please talk about this?"

"Not now," I replied. "Maybe later."

"Steph, we can't avoid this forever."

"Joe, I…"

I was cut off by my grandma who wrenched the passenger door open and slid in shotgun.

I shrugged apologetically at Joe, shifted the car into drive, and pulled onto the street. I looked in my rear view mirror and saw Joe, standing on the curb looking dejected. I steeled myself, taking a deep breath and turning on the radio to drown out the thoughts in my head.

Chapter 5

I arrived at my apartment after the viewing around 9 PM. Shockingly, the night went without incident. I think grandma could tell things were a bit out of whack in my life at the moment. I entered my apartment, locked the door behind me, and stood in my kitchen, head in the refrigerator searching for something worthy of eating. After nearly ten minutes of waiting for food to magically appear without success, I closed the fridge and went to the living room.

I stripped out of my dress clothes and went in search of an oversized t-shirt to wear. Problem was, I'd just sent all the oversized t-shirts I had with Joe. I sighed in defeat, standing in my panties and bra. I pawed through my pajama drawer, finding only sexy negligées clean. No use for those, I thought, my face getting hot with frustration. I could feel myself becoming irrationally angry about my lack-of-desirable-jammies situation. I tried to ignore the underlying cause for my emotional imbalance, instead choosing to live in the land of crappy pajamas and denial. I'd sleep naked, but God might be watching. I opted to slip into a pair of Nike shorts and a ribbed tank top before padding barefoot to the bathroom to brush my teeth and remove my makeup.

I crashed on the couch, watching several episodes of House Hunters International before succumbing to a deep, dreamless sleep.

I woke up feeling disoriented. I lay perfectly still trying to collect my thoughts. It was still dark outside. A glance at the bedside clock. 4:55 AM. I was working on piecing together what was wrong with this picture when something made contact with my temple.

I thrashed out with my arms and screamed, panic following through my veins. I realized I hadn't gone to bed last night. My hand made contact with something hard as a rock as I continued to thrash. I jumped out of the bed and smacked my hand into the light switch, illuminating the room and temporarily blinding myself.

"Babe," came a soft, concerned voice from the bed.

I blinked several dozen times, not speaking. I did some deep breathing and tried to steady my heart. When my blood pressure finally dropped below stroke level, I studied the man in my bed.

Ranger was laying in the bed next to where I had been. He was not wearing a shirt. His hair was mussed with sleep. The bed sheet was draped over his perfect legs and lower torso. And his nose was bleeding.

"Crap," I whined. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was you. I didn't mean to do that…" my voice trailed off as Ranger stood, pulling a tissue from the box on my dresser.

"I didn't mean to frighten you or come where I was unwelcome," Ranger said.

"I don't mind," I said on a whisper. "I didn't realize it was you."

He studied me before speaking. "I came by to speak with you around midnight, but you were asleep on the couch when I arrived. You looked uncomfortable folded up there and your sleep seemed fitful, so I carried you to bed. I was walking out your front door when I heard you cry out. You were having nightmares. The only way I knew to soothe you was to pull you close."

I studied his face. I don't know why this shocked me so much. This was typical Ranger. Man of mystery, always trying to protect me. But this version of Ranger seemed softer than I was used to, and it caught me off guard. I couldn't find words.

"I'm sorry if overstepped my boundaries, Babe." He was applying pressure to his nose with a fresh tissue.

Instead of responding, I walked to Ranger so I was standing face to face with him. I studied his eyes for a long moment before laying my hand on his heart and laying my head on his shoulder. He wrapped his free arm around me, and he laid his cheek on the top of my head. I closed my eyes and sighed with contentment. Ranger felt safe and warm.

"I'm sorry hurt your nose," I whispered.

"Babe," he whispered back, drawing me closer to him and pulling up toward the bed. We settled back in, Ranger on his back with me on my side, one arm curled over his chest and head resting across his bicep.

I lay there for a long time, unable to fall back asleep. I listened as Ranger's breathing evened and his body relaxed. I studied his face, shocked at how young and peaceful he looked when he slept. The lines of worry that were often etched into his forehead relaxed and disappeared in sleep. The hard line of his mouth softened. The firm set to his jaw calmed, and his mouth was ever so slightly open.

I knew Ranger was close to my actual age, but our ages would be decades apart if age was determined by life experience. Ranger was an ex-Army Ranger, and the horrors he had seen on missions had aged him and changed him in ways I would never understand. I did not know him before his military career, but I knew that experience had affected him deeply. He had learned to protect himself by hiding his emotions and by disengaging. He learned to protect others bodies, but also thought he could protect others' hearts by shutting them out. His work for Rangeman could be plagued with danger, further alienating him from society and his family. This beautiful man laying before me had a dark, dangerous past and an uncertain future.

Like Ranger, my future was uncertain, too. But my uncertainty wasn't the result of living a fast, hard, perilous lifestyle. My uncertainty was caused by a serious lack of maturity. I have spent my entire life refusing to conform. My singular, feeble effort to conform by marrying Dickie lasted mere minutes. As a child, I insisted I could fly. (News flash: I found out the hard way that humans are not built in a way that makes them capable of flying.) As a teenager, I spent a serious amount of time with my head in the clouds. As an adult, I refused to accept a job with steady pay. I refused to marry a balding man, buy a house, and birth 2.5 children. Worst of all, I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. I love my job as a bounty hunter, but realistically, I can't see myself doing this job in my fifties. It's physically challenging. I can't chase down and tackle skips forever. Despite the uncertainty in Ranger's and my lives, the one thing I absolutely could be certain of is that I loved this man in my bed. I wasn't sure how to define the love I felt for him, but I knew it was there, and it scared the crap out of me.

Ranger was sleeping peacefully when I broke from my mental reverie. I felt myself beginning to drift off again. I studied his face for another moment before snuggling my body further in to his. I brushed my lips across his ribs and on a near silent rush of air whispered, "I love you."

As I drifted off, I swear I heard him say, "I love you too."

Chapter 6

I woke up alone in my bed. I wondered briefly if Ranger coming into my bed was a dream. I rolled over to look at the clock.

7:11 A.M.

I lay in bed doing some mental knuckle cracking when the smell of coffee wafted into the bedroom. I had almost dragged my rear end out of bed when Ranger came through my bedroom door carrying two cups of coffee. He was dressed in Rangeman black fatigues. His clothes were perfectly pressed, and he looked well rested. I, on the other hand, looked like something the dog dragged in. Not to mention my dragon breath.

"Rise and shine, badass," Ranger said, his mouth tipping into something close to a smirk. He held a coffee mug out to me in the bed.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" I asked sarcastically, taking the mug and giving him my best grumpy morning face.

"I have to go out of town for a few days. If you need anything while I'm away, contact the control room. Tank will take care of it. We'll be running understaffed, so be very careful. We won't always have eyes on you."

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"To the Atlanta office. Rangeman has been contracted for a large-scale operation, and I need to be on site until the contract ends. I should be back by Monday."

Today was only Thursday. Monday felt like it was a lifetime from today. The bonds office had been quiet lately. Vinnie was a crap human being, but a good bail bondsman. He was a good judge of character, and he could almost always guess if a client might skip. No big ticket bondees had skipped lately. I was a month behind on rent. The thought of being alone with my thoughts of Morelli for days on end while my mother drank and ironed over our latest breakup made my stomach turn. Before dawn in my bed, Ranger felt like a security blanket. A gift sent in the middle of the night. Now in the light of day, I saw that he was only a placebo to mask the hurt I was feeling. He was a band aid that was about to be ripped off to let my wound air out. I had to think of something—anything—to keep my band aid on a few more days.

"Babe, I smell hair burning," Ranger said.

"You said you're understaffed with this contract, right?" I said, looking hopefully at Ranger. He nodded. "Do you need help at Rangeman?"

He stared at me like I'd grown three heads.

I continued. "I'm way behind on rent, and the bonds office has been slow lately. If you need the help, I could really use the money. That is, if I have any skills that might actually be of use to you," I qualified, looking expectantly his way.

"I don't think you'd like the work I've got in Trenton this week. We're watching video feeds for clients, running regularly scheduled property check routes. I don't have any searches for you to run right now. Our efforts are being concentrated almost solely in Atlanta this weekend."

"What's going on in Atlanta?" I asked.

"The Publix Georgia Marathon is being held in Atlanta this weekend. Almost 10,000 runners have registered for the event. Last week, the organizers began receiving bomb threats. It's unclear at this time if the threat is from a lone wolf or from a group. It's also unclear if it's a disgruntled local or an international terrorist threat. It could be nothing, but it's being treated as a legitimate threat. After the Boston Marathon bombing, the threat of a copycat bombing is real. Atlanta PD, Georgia State Patrol, and Homeland Security are actively working to exhaust all possible leads, and they will be providing patrols during the event. However, the marathon route covers over twenty six miles and budgets are tight. The organizers of the marathon contracted Rangeman to provide extra security, particularly video surveillance. We have technology that can make patrols more efficient, and we'll have more boots on the ground to manage the crowds. We will begin installing equipment along the route tonight, and a crew will watch the feeds from the Atlanta office. We'll have boots on the ground at the starting line, finish line, and all along the route. I'm taking a team from Trenton, and I've also called in teams from Boston and Miami."

"This sounds like a huge job," I responded.

"Rangeman was contracted because we have the bodies and the technology. It's a big event, but we've run security for events like this before. My men are trained to handle it," Ranger responded coolly.

Possible terrorist threats? A home-grown radical bomber? The thought of Ranger getting blown up was too painful to bear.

Nonsensical word vomit began spewing from my mouth, and as much as I tried, I couldn't make it stop.

"Baaaaaaabe," Ranger responded, sounding annoyed.

I took a breath, planted my feet, and responded. "I'm going with you."

Ranger looked exasperated. "It's not safe. I'm not going to put you in harm's way unnecessarily or without cause."

"I can watch video feeds at the Rangeman Atlanta office," I offered. "I can patrol on the street. I can deliver sandwiches and water to your guys. I can scrape gum off runners' shoes. I don't care. I need out of Trenton this weekend. Take me with you."

He stared at me.

"Please?" I asked, flashing him my most hopeful smile.

Ranger straightened, studying me. His face was serious. I sat on the bed in front of him waiting. I took a sip of coffee. I finally broke eye contact with him, feeling uncomfortable.

Ranger finally spoke. "Babe. You can't run away from this thing with Morelli."

My eyes shot to Ranger, and my face must have registered shock.

"I'm not running away from anything," I almost shouted.

"You're going to have to talk to him sometime, Babe."

This is not a conversation I wanted to have, especially with Ranger. I scrambled to my feet and shook my head "no", heading for the bathroom.

"I'm an opportunist. I've tried to stay out of your relationship with Morelli, but I know I've disrupted it in ways that were unfair. I never meant to stand between you and him."

I entered the bathroom, slamming and locking the door. I didn't want to talk about Morelli, especially with Ranger. I put my back against the bathroom wall and slid to the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees. I heard Ranger as he continued talking outside the door.

"I've had you in my bed, but I've always tried to send you back him. I live fast, and my lifestyle never left room to be tied down to a partner. I've stepped into his territory time and time again. But Morelli loves you. You get to choose what you do with your future, but if you're really breaking things off with Morelli for good, he deserves to know why. It's been months now. He deserves the closure. And you deserve to be happy."

Tears were pooling in my eyes. I wasn't prepared to deal with any of this. It took every ounce of mental strength I had to break it off with Joe and stay away. Giving back Joe's things ripped my heart out of my chest. I knew deep down it was the right thing to do, but it didn't make it any easier.

Words rushed out of my mouth, laced with venom and spite. "Why the hell do you care? Stay out of my business. Stay out of my life!" I shouted at the door.

My brain registered that I was overreacting and being hysterical, but I couldn't shut down the emotions. They were like an avalanche, spilling out of my mouth and out of control. This train wreck was going to have to play itself out.

There was silence on the other side of the door. My heart clenched, realizing I had likely run Ranger off with my venom. I sat for ten more minutes, sobbing into my shirt and wiping my nose on the back of my hand. Still silence from outside the door.

Once I finally quit wailing and had moved on to the hiccups stage of frenetic crying, I decided to shower. I washed quickly, longing to climb back in to my bed and forget this ever happened. I stepped out of the shower, wrapped myself in a towel, and towel dried my hair with a second. I brushed my teeth, studying my face in the mirror. My face was red and splotchy. My eyes looked tired and hollow. I rinsed my mouth and toothbrush, and exited the bathroom.

To my surprise, I found Ranger sitting with his back to the wall outside the bathroom. He looked relaxed with his legs crossed before him and his hands in his lap. His eyes found mine, searching for something. He pulled himself to his feet gracefully and closed the distance between us, never breaking eye contact with me. He extended his right hand to my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb. His touch sent electricity through my body. I didn't meet his eyes, staring at my feet.

"Why do I care?" Ranger echoed my words sounding hurt. "I care because I want you to have a happy, fulfilling life. I care because I know you're hurting. I can see it in your eyes, Steph. I care because I'm emotionally attached to you. If I was in Morelli's shoes, I'd be broken. It would take time to accept that leaving me was what you wanted. But if you told me that leaving was what you needed to attain self-actualization, I would let you go."

I tried to process the things Ranger had told me. He's emotionally attached to me? Ranger would be hurt if I had left him? I heard bells clanging in my head, and the room felt like it was spinning.

In an instant, Ranger's hands were steadying me. "Breathe," he instructed.

I did some deep breathing. Ranger drug me to the bedroom, sitting me on the side of the bed before digging around in my drawers, pulling out garments. He set an outfit next to me in the bed. I glanced at him before studying the clothes. Ladies black cargo pants, black v-neck t-shirt with Rangeman embroidered on the pocket area, black socks, and some black lacy lingerie.

"Get dressed. We depart for Atlanta at 12:15 P.M. You'll need to pack toiletries and undergarments. I'll ask Ella to collect your uniforms from the Rangeman building, since you'll need several to get through the weekend. I'll collect you from the apartment at 11 A.M."

He kissed me on the forehead, and he was gone.

By 9:00 A.M., I was dressed and packed. I hit my hair with the blow dryer before swiping mascara on my lashes and gloss on my lips. I poured a travel mug of coffee, slung my messenger bag over my shoulder, and carried Rex's cage out of the apartment to my car. I drove through the Dunkin' Doughnuts drive-through and ordered doughnuts: two Boston cremes, one jelly filled, one lemon filled, one long john, and one chocolate.

Fifteen minutes later, I was regretting eating six doughnuts and was parked in my parents' driveway. Grandma was waiting at the door for me.

I carried Rex's cage and his things to house, and Grandma opened the door. "Well isn't this a surprise! Set his cage on the table in the living room. Your mother has coffee cake in the kitchen."

The thought of loading coffee cake on top of six doughnuts caused my stomach to turn. I set Rex where instructed. "Thanks for the offer, but I already had breakfast. Do you mind keeping Rex for a couple of days? I have to go out of town for work, and I can't take him with me."

"No problemo," grandma responded. "Rex is good company on account of he doesn't talk through my daytime television shows." Grandma looked in Rex's small plastic cage, tapped on the side, and waved a giant human "hello". Rex stared out of his soup can, unamused.

"Thanks," I said.

"Where are you headed for work?"

"Atlanta," I responded.

"Looks like you're working for the hottie!" grandma said. "You look good in black! He looks good in black too, but I wouldn't mind seeing him out of his clothes again."

I sighed. When grandma was writing her bucket list, seeing Ranger naked was included. To everyone's surprise, grandma achieved this life-altering experience during a trip to explore the Monkey Pod Casino and Hotel in Atlantic City. Ranger would have no desire to repeat the events of that day any time soon. In fact, never would be too soon.

"The bonds office isn't paying the bills right now, so I got a temporary job with Ranger. Everything is fine," I said, falsely believing if I claimed everything was "fine", my problems would work themselves out. "I'll be back Monday."

"Be careful," grandma said. "It's going to be awfully quiet around her without you!"

Chapter 7

I pulled the Corolla into a parking spot in front of the bonds office, slung my messenger bag over my shoulder, and hauled myself inside. Connie was sitting at her desk stuffing papers into files, and Lula was on the couch eating a doughnut. Connie was wearing a black v-neck silk blouse with a grey pinstripe pencil skirt. Her hair was wrapped into a bun on top of her head and her gold hoop earrings were paired with a modest gold chain necklace. Lula was wearing a chartreuse yellow spandex halter dress with five inch pink stilettos, giant pink hoop earrings, and pink hair feathers in her hair, which had been dyed blonde and straightened to the texture of boar bristle.

"Good morning," I said, taking a seat on the couch next to Lula.

"You're late," Connie said. "I thought maybe someone had thrown you in the river. I was about to send Lula out to check on you."

This might have been a humorous comment if I hadn't been thrown into the river before. Connie was dead serious. I sighed, reminding myself that I needed a new life.

"Girl, what the hell are you doin' wearin' black?" asked Lula, studying my outfit.

"I've got a temporary gig at Rangeman through Monday. I have to go to Atlanta. Did any new skips come in today?"

"No, the only outstanding is Sharonda Blake. She's a low money bond, and we've still got time to drag her back to court," Connie said, shuffling papers. "What's happening in Atlanta?"

"Rangeman is providing security for an event in town. They needed more bodies, so they're calling in staff from all their offices," I explained.

"And Ranger called you?" Connie asked, clearly surprised.

"Not exactly," I said. I was afraid Connie would start asking a bunch of questions I didn't want to answer, but our attention shifted away from the conversation when we heard a large crash, and the sound of metal on metal.

We looked out the front windows and saw that my Corolla had been smashed like an accordion between the truck I had parked behind and an ancient tank trunk with "Fred's Sewage and Septic Services" emblazoned on the side.

We all stood in dumbfounded silence.

Lula broke the silence first. "Girl, your car karma still sucks. I thought maybe it was improving, on account of you've had that car for a while now, but I guess now maybe not."

I let out a frustrated rush of air. "Why me?" I whined. "I liked that car!"

We watched as a cop car slid to a stop, pulling into the alley that ran next to our office and parallel to Hamilton. Lights were flashing, but the siren wasn't wailing. I recognized the cop behind the wheel. Eddie Gazarra.

I'd known Eddie since we were kids. We lived in the same neighborhood in the Burg, and we took first communion together. Eddie was now a Trenton cop, and he's married to my cousin, Shirley the Whiner.

I watched as Eddie ambled out of the car and took in the sight. Recognition crossed his face as he looked at my car, and he looked to the bonds office window where I was standing, hands on hips looking annoyed.

"You better get out there," Lula said. "You want to make sure that the driver of that poop rocket on wheels doesn't finger you as the driver at fault."

Me? At fault? Was Lula freaking kidding? My smashed like a pancake. How I could be at fault for this disaster was entirely beyond my comprehension, but I steadied myself and walked out onto the street anyway.

Instantly, the overpowering stench of sewage hit my nose. I gagged and focused on mouth breathing. The truck was leaking sewage from a small crack in the large tank. Eddie smiled at me.

"Nice," he said, shoving his thump in the direction of my car. The driver of the truck ambled over to where Eddie and I stood on the sidewalk.

I felt my phone vibrating in the back pocket of my jeans. I pulled it out and read the name of the caller on the screen. "Merry Men." I was getting a call from the Rangeman control room.

"Yes?" I answered hesitantly.

"It's Hector. The tracking unit on your car quit relaying location information. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I answered honestly.

"And the car?"

"It's having sort of a shitty day."

Silence. No response. I mean really, how do you respond to that?

"Firebomb?" Hector asked eventually.

"Nope."

"Stolen?"

"Nope."

"Garbage truck?"

"Nope. Getting warmer. You've only got fifteen questions left in this game," I said, trying to find any trace of humor in this situation.

I sensed that Hector was smiling on the other end of the line.

"My car got smashed by a sewage truck," I announced, and Hector broke into fits of laughter on the end of the line.

"I'll have to let Hal know he won the pool," stated Hector.

"It's not funny," I whined. "That was the most reliable car I've had in a long time."

Hector stopped laughing. "Shit happens."

I rolled my eyes so hard I almost lost consciousness. "Not. Funny," I stated, trying to muster as much bitch voice as I could.

"Do you need Rangeman on the scene?" he asked, making an effort at holding himself together.

"No, I'll get a ride from Lula. Thanks." I disconnected.

I completed the obligatory police report, thanked Eddie for his help, and re-entered the office around half past ten. No Lula.

"Where did Lula go?"

"She left out the back door. Said she was going home. She said the cop on the sidewalk was giving her diarrhea."

"Crap. I was going to have her give me a ride home. Can you take me home?"

"No can do," Connie said. "Vinnie is out today, so somebody's got to keep the bonds office open. Oh, and Steph…. Just a heads up, you don't smell great."

I sniffed at my clothes and felt my face turn green. I smelled as bad as the truck at the curb.

I was pulling out my phone to call the Rangeman control room when the door to the bonds office opened. In walked Joe Morelli wearing a sage green t-shirt, jeans, and an open green and blue plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. The hole where my heart used to live ached with emptiness.

"I heard about the truck accident," Joe said. "Are you okay?" he asked, studying my Rangeman uniform.

"She's fine," Connie responded. "She was nowhere near the car when it got compacted. She doesn't smell great, though."

My eyes cut to Connie. "It's not my fault."

"Cupcake, it's never your fault," Joe sighed.

"I'm heading out," I said, grabbing my messenger bag and heading for the door.

"Are you walking?" Connie asked. "You don't have a car."

I smacked my forehead with the heel of my hand and let out an exasperated sigh. I paused a moment before responding, "Yes. See you Monday."

"What do you mean you're walking?" asked Morelli. "It's a twelve minute drive—it's a two hour walk. Have you lost your mind?"

"I'll be fine," I responded, exiting the office and heading north on Hamilton. A crew was on the street cleaning the sewage from the street, and the truck that had been parked in front of my car was being hoisted onto a tow truck.

I walked a block before I realized Morelli was following behind me. I didn't acknowledge him and kept walking.

Three blocks later, he spoke. "Steph, can we please talk?"

I ignored his plea and kept walking. When he increased his pace to catch up to me, I increased mine too.

"Steph? Please."

We continued increasing our pace incrementally for three more blocks until I broke into a dead run.

I ran for several blocks before my lungs felt like they were going to explode. I felt an intense pain in my side, and I was gasping for air. I was embarrassingly out of shape. I needed to lay off the Tastykakes, I thought. I slowed to a stop, pressed my palm into my side, and leaned into the red brick storefront. I turned to find Joe standing, barely winded but looking forlorn. He didn't say anything. He didn't touch me or open his arms to me. He simply stood there.

I worked to catch my breath and studied Joe. Memories of our shared history flooded my thoughts. We had shared some bad times together, but we'd shared many good times. My casual relationship with Joe had been comfortable, and perfectly acceptable by Burg standards. He had been rough around the edges as a kid, but he'd grown in to something of a golden boy as a man. My mother dreamed of a future for me that included Joe, a house, and children. I had mused about that same future at times too, but something kept me from moving towards it. That something was my conscience.

Joe broke his silence, and simply stated, "Why do you keep running from this?"

I did some deep breathing to steady myself and took a step towards Joe. I took his hand in mine, hoping he interpreted it as a friendly gesture rather than romantic. I pulled him towards the storefront bench, and we both took a seat. I tried to put together the words I needed to say here, and I worked incredibly hard to omit anything that might hurt him.

"Joe, I've loved you forever. You're my best friend. You were my first love, and you'll always hold an important place in my heart. Problem is, I don't think our future are compatible," I said sadly, not making eye contact.

Joe was silent.

"We've done the on-again, off again relationship for years. I've always made an effort to love you for exactly who you are through the good and the bad. It's taken me a long time to realize I deserve to be loved like that too," I said, my voice cracking with emotion. "I can't become something I'm not to please you, and I'm unwilling to compromise my true self for the version of me you'd be more comfortable dating, living with, or marrying."

"Stephanie, you never…" Joe began, but I cut him off.

"Please let me finish," I said, my tear filled eyes meeting his. "It's already too hard to say this out loud without arguing back and forth." I took a breath and blinked back the tears that had pooled in my eyes. "I know you've started moving to a place in your life where you're thinking about settling down. Even if you haven't seriously proposed to me, discussions about marriage and cohabitation have become more frequent. You have a steady income and a career. You've got a house and a dog, for Christ's sake."

Joe nodded in acknowledgement, so I continued.

"I still don't know if I want those things for myself. I don't know what my future holds, but right now, that doesn't feel right. I love my job as a Bond Enforcement Agent, but I know it's not what you want for me. I truly appreciate that you worry for my safety, but I wish you could honor my aspirations and support my choices.

"The more I've thought about us, one thing has become clear. We could stay in this comfortable pattern of on-again, off again forever, but it's unfair for me to continue dragging your heart around like this when you want something I'm incapable of giving you. And it's unfair for you to expect me to give up my job to become a stay-at-home wife simply because my career gives you a cramp in your ass. Your job as a cop is dangerous too, but I don't ask you to take a job selling Sony tv consoles instead. I accept the risk, and if this was ever to work, you'd have to do the same."

My eyes met Joe's, and I realized for the first time he had tears in his eyes, too. A searing pain ripped through my chest seeing his pain. I squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him.

"I love you. I have always loved you. Because I love you, I have to let you go to give you a chance at happiness. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to have all the things you want in this life." My voice changed into a whisper. "It took me a long time to accept it, but I deserve those things too."

We sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. When Joe cut his eyes to me, it looked like he wanted to speak. I nodded acknowledgment. I had said my piece.

"I'm sorry if I let you down," Joe said. "I'm willing to try to fix this if you are."

I shook my head gently, "no."

My refusal sent Joe scrambling to pick up the pieces of his heart I'd just shattered. "I can change, I really can. I'm willing to try. I'd do anything for you, Cupcake, you know that. I know I haven't always been good at saying it out loud, but I do love you. My future is with you. I can't lose you."

I squeezed his hand, trying to muster a reassuring tone. "You're not losing me, Joe. We can still be friends. It may take some time, and it may feel uncomfortable for a while, but I can't stand the thought of losing you as my best friend."

The tears finally began to fall down my face, and Joe brushed them away with his thumb. We sat quietly for a long while in companionable silence, both of us alone with our thoughts.

Joe's phone broke the silence. Instantly, his face transformed into a stone-cold cop face. "Morelli," he answered.

He listened for a moment before thanking the caller and disconnecting. He met my eyes and said, "I'm sorry, but I've got to go. Some gang members were just found dead on Stark Street, and I was assigned the case."

"Stay safe," I whispered, squeezing his hand as he rose to his feet. He squeezed my hand in return, held my gaze for a moment, then jogged in the direction of the bonds office.

I sat for another moment, gathering myself. The hole in my chest felt huge. I stood to leave, then realized I still was without a car and miles from home. My tears started again, but this time, they were angry tears. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the time.

11:16 A.M.

I took a breath to steady my frustration, and unlocked my phone. I had just opened my contacts list when I saw a figure step out of the alley.

My initial reaction was fear. Men coming out of alleys are typically not good for your health. My heart rate switched from racing to total stillness when I realized who it was.

Ranger.

Our eyes met. He studied my red, tear stained face. He didn't say a word, he just stood with a look of concern on his face.

I broke the deafening silence. "I'm so sorry I didn't meet you at eleven like I had said, my car got compacted by a sewage truck. I had to fill out a police report, then Morelli showed up. I thought I'd get a ride home with Lula, but she ran off when she saw the cop, and…." Tears were streaming down my face, and my breathing rate increased.

Ranger raised his hand, stopping me from this downhill spiral.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

I thought about it for a moment, then shook my head "no". My tears transformed into sobs as Ranger closed the distance between us, wrapping me in his arms.

He buried his nose in my hair and murmured in my ear, "Proud of you, Babe."

"How long were you in the alley?" I choked out.

"A while," he responded evasively. I pulled back to meet his eyes, asking for an explanation.

"I didn't know you were with Morelli. I knew you were without a car, so I called the control room for the location of your messenger bag. They said you were moving slowly northbound on Hamilton, and that it appeared you were walking. I stopped at your apartment to get your bag and was coming to pick you up when I saw you with him. I didn't want to interrupt, so I waited."

My inner self fought between feelings of gratitude and frustration that my privacy had been invaded. My sane-self decided to settle on gratitude, since the walk home would have been insufferable.

"Let's go," Ranger said, pulling me in the direction of the alley. "We've got a flight to catch."

The Porsche 911 Turbo was parked in the alley, mere feet away from where Joe and I had sat on the bench formally ending our relationship.

"Ranger?" I asked. He turned to meet my eyes, nodding acknowledgment. "How much did you hear?"

He shook his head, but I gave him an expectant look mixed with my best Burg glare.

Finally he spoke. "All of it," he admitted.

I sighed, closing my eyes. I wrenched open the door to the Porsche, slid on to the seat, buckled in, and crossed my arms across my chest.

Ranger put on his emotionless face, started the Porsche, and drove off in the direction of the airport.

Chapter 8

Ranger and I arrived at the airport in plenty of time for departure. He pulled the Porsche up to a gate, which was guarded by two men in navy uniforms. He lowered his window, speaking with them briefly and showing identification before pulling through the gate and onto the airport service roads. He pulled into a plane hangar not far from the gate. He exited the car, crossing in front of the car before opening my door, unbuckling my seatbelt, and pulling me to my feet.

My bloodshot eyes met his and held. I realized his eyes were full of concern, an unusual event for Ranger. I stood quietly, trying to channel all the strength I had left to muster. I was on this trip to provide professional security services, not to be a liability or a burden. I had to pull myself together. This moment felt intimate, but my heart felt very broken. Intimacy was at the bottom of my priorities list right now. Self-care was at the top. I was uncomfortable and wanted to break the spell with Ranger.

"I'm alright," I said, trying to put something pleasant on my face. "An in-flight nap, and I'll be good as new."

Ranger didn't look convinced, but his face grew solemn and he nodded. He reached for me, but I stepped back, shaking my head "no". He made no move to hide the hurt on his face as he turned away from me. He grabbed our bags from the back of the Turbo and pointed me in the direction of the plane, placing his palm on the small of my back. I pulled away again.

I tried to control the frustration that was beginning to simmer under the surface of my skin, rationalizing that Ranger had done nothing to intentionally hurt me. He was trying to be a supportive friend and a good man, but the emptiness in my chest felt too real. I was too hurt, too broken. Right now, there was no room to feel love for this man in black behind me. Did he recognize that he violated my privacy by listening from the alley? Didn't he understand I had just said goodbye to the man I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with? Didn't he realize there was a massive void in my chest where my heart used to reside? Sure, I had feelings for Ranger, but those feelings were on hold. In fact, all feelings except grief were on hold.

I tried to ignore Ranger and focus on the plane. From what I'd been told, I learned that Rangeman had chartered a private jet in Boston that stopped over in Trenton, collecting more Rangemen before traveling southbound to Atlanta. The jet was modern and utilitarian. The exterior was white with three narrow black pinstripes that ran horizontally around the body of the plane. Men wearing Rangeman black were loading bags and equipment into baggage compartments from large, rolling carts. I recognized them both—Hal and Lester. Ranger took our bags to them, and they were loaded under the plane too. Inside the hangar were two black SUVs I assumed also belonged to Rangeman.

"Board the plane. I have some things to do before I come on board," Ranger said, crossing the concrete floor of the hangar to talk with a man I did not know.

I ascended the stairs into the plane and took in my surroundings. The plane was empty, no men in black filling the seats. The interior was comfortable with tan leather seats, tan carpeting, and white finishes. The cockpit was sealed, presumably seating pilots behind its closed doors. The plane comfortably seated sixteen additional passengers. The seats were organized into four forward-facing rows, with two seats on each side of a narrow aisle running down the center of the plane. The plane also had a small galley kitchen, a bathroom, and a small comfortable seating area with a love seat and two arm chairs.

I walked to the back of the plane and took a seat by the window, pulling my cell phone from my messenger bag before dropping it between my feet. I glanced at the screen. I had several text messages and a voicemail I'd missed. I decided to listen to the voicemail first. It was from my mother. I cringed and hit "play".

Mom: Betty Bianchi just called me. She said she was at the Shop-n-Bag when she ran into Angie Morelli. Angie told Betty that you broke Joseph's heart today! She said you were done with Joseph for good, and that Joseph had to take the rest of the day off from work he was so upset. Your grandmother said you were leaving town, and that is why Rex is at our house. Stephanie Michelle Plum, you make this right! Why are you running away from Trenton? Joseph is the best thing that ever happened to you, young lady. You need to….

I wrenched the phone away from my ear and hit the delete button. A fresh wave of tears threatened to fall from my eyes, but I sniffed them back and steeled myself. For god's sake, I was a grown woman. I had the right to choose my own future. No matter how much I had cared and still care for Joe, he was not my future. I reassured myself that I had done the right thing before opening my text messages.

Grandma, 11:06 am: Kick some bad-guy ass! If you think of it, bring me back some real Georgia peaches.

Joe, 11:49 am: Steph, please reconsider. I'm so sorry.

I heaved a sigh and switched my phone onto airplane mode. I felt emotionally exhausted, and I couldn't do any more conversation. I shoved my phone into my cargo pants pocket, buckled in, folded my arms across my chest, and leaned my head against the plane window, wishing for sleep.

I must have fallen into a deep sleep, because I don't recall takeoff. The flight to Atlanta was uneventful and passed quickly. I woke as we were preparing for descent and found Hector bucked into the seat next to me. He was powering down his laptop in preparation for landing, shoving equipment into his black backpack. I had shifted positions in my seat at some point during the flight, and I had snuggled into his side, resting my head on his shoulder.

Hector was a small Latino man who worked for Rangeman in Trenton. I first met him when Ranger asked him to install a complicated system of locks and security features on my apartment door. I would guess he was a few years younger than me. He preferred to speak in Spanish, but was also fluent in English. Hector scared the crap out of most people thanks to the two teardrops that were tattooed under his eye, the gang display meaning you'd killed two people. I didn't ask Hector about the tattoos, and he was not forthcoming with the information. However, Hector had grown on me over time. We'd experienced a lot together, and I trusted him like family. For this reason, he often referred to me as "hermana", which I'd been told was the Spanish word for sister. He also called me "Estefania", the Spanish form of my given name.

I blinked the sleep from my eyes and straightened in my seat. "Sorry Hector," I mumbled. "I didn't mean to suffocate you."

Hector smirked. "No worries, mi hermana," he replied. "You needed your rest." He patted the back of my hand to reassure me.

"Thank you," I whispered, turning my hand beneath his to grasp it, squeezing it tight. He returned the squeeze.

I craned my neck so my head was above the level of the seat backs and glanced around the plane, taking it all in. I counted fourteen total passengers, all of us clad in all black. I recognized several of the men from Rangeman in Trenton, including Hector, Lester, Hal, Zero, and Cal. I didn't know any of the other passengers. I was shocked to find another woman was on the flight. She was seated in the front row of seats. I could not see her face, but I could tell she was a woman from the girly ponytail she wore in her gleaming, jet black hair. Seated next to her was Ranger. They were talking quietly.

I felt my chest clench with… what was the emotion I was experiencing? Fear? Longing? Sadness? Anger? This feeling I was experiencing was unfamiliar, uncharted territory in my relationship with Ranger. I sat a long moment, letting the rawness of the emotion fill me. It was only then that I could pinpoint the name that had evaded me.

Jealousy. I was absolutely green with jealousy. I sat in stunned silence.

I turned to Hector. "I didn't realize Rangeman had any female employees. Who is the woman sitting next to Ranger?" I murmured.

Hector looked at me and grinned. "You're a female employee, Estephania." He winked at me, and I blushed with embarrassment.

"I meant besides me. Anyway, I'm not full time. I'm more of a private contractor," I explained. More like Ranger's bedroom buddy, I thought.

Hector let a laugh escape his chest. It sounded like music and was infectious. I laughed too, but the smile didn't reach my eyes.

"That is Ximena," Hector explained, placing his backpack between his feet in preparation for landing. "She is second in command at Rangeman in Boston. Harvey, the first in command, stayed behind to keep operations moving, and Tank stayed behind in Trenton."

I nodded understanding, but questions flooded my mind. What is this woman like? What was her relationship like with Ranger? Was she kind and warm, or was she cold and ruthless? Had she worked for Rangeman long? What would she think of me?

The plane landed smoothly in Atlanta and taxied to a hangar, similar to the one we'd boarded from in Trenton. I stared out the small plane window, taking in the sights. A fleet of five black Rangeman SUVs were parked inside the Hangar, each with a man in black standing at parade rest at the back hatch. Rolling carts were parked nearby to unload bags and equipment from the plane.

The plane came to a stop, and a small staircase was rolled to the door. The Rangemen on the plane got to their feet quietly and exited efficiently down the stairs. I followed suit, slinging my messenger bag over my shoulder and straightening my clothes.

I followed Hector to a baggage compartment, and we began to load metal cases and tubs onto a rolling cart. Hal joined us, and we transported the items into the back of one of the Ford Expeditions parked in the hangar. None of us spoke, and we completed the task in mere minutes. The Rangemen began loading into the SUVs. I began to follow Hal, but saw he was headed for the SUV where Ranger and Ximena were settled. I turned around to flee to another SUV, and I ran directly into Hector, knocking him on his ass.

Hector landed with a sharp exhale, and I gasped in surprise.

I extended my arm to Hector and took his hand, pulling him to his feet.

"I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed. "Are you alright?"

Hector laughed. "I'm fine, Estephania. Let's go." He began walking toward Ranger's SUV, but paused when he saw my expression. A questioning look crossed his face, and I shook my head "no, not now". He gave a single nod of his head, grabbed my hand, and pulled me in the direction of a different SUV.

The SUVs wove through the congested streets of Atlanta. I was in the back seat of a three row Ford Expedition with Hector by my side. He was peppering me with questions in hushed tones, and I was doing my best to provide answers. I trusted him, and the truth was, I needed to get some things off my chest.

"What's going on, hermana? What's wrong?"

"I told Joe we're done for good today. It's been a long time coming I know it was the right thing to do, but my heart feels like it was ripped out of my chest," I confess.

"Didn't see that coming," Hector shared. "What's that got to do with Ranger? You're avoiding him, Estephania."

"Ranger tracked me, and he came to pick me up since my car was toast. He snooped on me when I was talking to Joe. He heard everything."

Hector thought about it for a moment. "Did he hear something you didn't want him to hear?"

I replayed the conversation in my mind, trying to conjure an answer. "Maybe? I don't know. It just felt like an invasion of my privacy. I've always tried to keep Ranger at an arm's length, out of my relationship with Joe."

Hector nodded. "I've seen that. But you care for Ranger, no?" he asked, his accent thick.

"Of course I do. He's my best friend. I trust him with my life," I admitted.

"Don't shut him out, hermana. He's a good man. He only wants to ensure your safety and happiness. He cares for you very much, even if he's not good at expressing it in words."

I nodded agreement. "I know he worries about my safety. Every car I've owned for years has had a tracker. I finally got tired to searching for trackers to remove in my purse, so I've just left them. I trust his purpose. It's just… I… my… he…" I let my voice trail off, not finishing the thoughts that threatened to spill out.

Hector sat quietly, expectantly. He took my hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

I blinked the tears from my eyes. I was afraid to say my thoughts aloud, so I whispered them. "My heart hurts too much right now. I need some time."

"Take all the time you need," Hector stated simply. "Focus on the job. This is going to be a long, hard weekend."

Rangeman's Atlanta office was located in downtown Atlanta on Walton Street near Centennial Olympic Park, the Georgia Aquarium, and the World of Coca-Cola. This part of town was bustling, but the Rangeman building was on a quieter side street. The building was a modern, six-story black metal and reflective impact glass structure, making the Trenton office look like a dinosaur. Similar to the Trenton building, the Atlanta office had an underground parking garage where the SUVs we rode in were parked for unloading.

We all piled out of the cars, and the men lined up to stand at parade rest in the garage. I followed Hector's lead. I saw Ranger and Ximena exit their SUV and walk to stand in front of the crew. I studied Ximena, taking the opportunity while I blended into the crowd. Her shiny, black hair was pulled back into a shiny ponytail, and her face was pretty but makeup free. Her almond shaped eyes were brown and serious, and her lips were full. Her skin was golden, outwardly announcing her Latino ancestry. Her body was small but strong. I estimated she was about my height, but she probably had fifteen pounds on me—fifteen pounds which appeared to be all muscle. She wore the same uniform as me, which consisted of black cargo pants and a black v-neck t-shirt with "Rangeman" embroidered on the pocket area. Her black boots were perfectly polished and scuff free, tied carefully and precisely. She was perfectly pressed, and she stood perfectly straight. Her body was feminine yet strong. I could see she was comfortable around Ranger, and Ranger was comfortable around her. It made sense since they were colleagues, but it still turned my stomach.

Jealously reared its ugly head once again, and I did my best to squash it down, channeling my inner strength. I put a serious expression on my face and straightened my back. I refused to be a liability on this job. I refused to be perceived as weak. The only way I knew to do this today was to be cold and unfeeling. I shut out everything, and I focused on standing tall and strong.

Ranger broke the silence, speaking to his crew. His face was serious, in the zone. "We will have a briefing in the third floor conference room in thirty minutes. Unload the equipment and load it into the second floor store room using the freight elevator, but leave your personal bags in the trucks. We will break for dinner at 1800 hours, and you will have time to check into your hotel rooms then. After the briefing, we will divide into teams to begin installing equipment along specified routes."

Ranger's eyes met mine, and I felt my heart rate increase. I stood still and solemn, working to exude a sense of belonging in this group of strong, serious men. Ranger did not acknowledge me. He turned and headed for the passenger elevator, Ximena following. I steeled myself, followed Hector, and began unloading equipment into the freight elevator.

Chapter 9

Thirty minutes later, I was sitting in the Rangeman Atlanta conference room at a large, oblong table made of dark wood. The room was sleek and modern, with white walls, a white marble floor, and sleek chrome accents. One wall was solid floor to ceiling impact glass, and the view of downtown Atlanta was incredible. Several glass dry erase boards were installed in the room and covered with notes, and a projector hung from the ceiling, projecting a map of Atlanta on one of the white walls. A route had been marked on the map, and I assumed it must be the marathon route. There were not enough seats for everyone, so while some men sat, other men were standing with their backs against the wall. I had tried to stand against the back wall to blend in, but Lester, ever the gentleman, insisted ladies should be seated at the table. He gave me his seat and assumed my spot at the back of the room, leaving me sandwiched between two huge guys I didn't know. They were actively working on their laptops, and I felt completely incompetent at the table between them. Why did I insist on coming here?

It occurred to me that I may need to take notes, so I dug around in my messenger bag for something to write on. I found a small notebook in my bag with a floral cover and pink, lined pages. It had a purple gel pen stuck into the metal spiral. I yanked out the pen and opened the notebook, flipping past grocery lists and personal notes to the first empty page I could find. When I glanced up, I noticed several men staring at me. They looked amused, their mouths turning up at the corners. I gave them my best bitch face. I don't know why their stare bothered me so much. I was used to being written in as part of the entertainment budget at Rangeman, right? Why should this be any different?

Suddenly, I felt the air leave the room and the hair stand up on the back of my neck. Ranger walked in, flanked by Ximena and another man I didn't know. The man was tall, at least six foot six inches. He was strong, but he was built much leaner than Ranger. He made Ranger look small and compact. The man also had fair skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes. His face was friendly and warm, and he smiled as he entered the room. He looked like the yang to Ranger's yin. The three stood in front of the dry erase boards.

The tall, blonde man spoke first. "Thank you everyone for coming. I know some of you traveled many miles by plane to be here. My name is Eric Fairchild, and I lead Rangeman's Atlanta office." He acknowledged the woman next to him with a warm smile. "This is Ximena, and she is second in command in the Boston office. We, along with Ranger, will be leading the team that provides security to the Atlanta Marathon," he explained. Apparently Ranger required no introduction. This peaked my interest. "Ximena will be managing surveillance operations from the office. Ranger will be managing boots at the starting line, at the finish, and along the routes. Because of my dashing good looks," Eric said, "I will be managing the full operation."

The room broke out in quiet laughter, and I think even Ranger smiled.

"Okay, so it has nothing to do with my good looks. I'll be managing the operation since I'm more familiar with the large territory we'll be covering. I'll have a core team that will support the larger coordination effort, and who will work as first responders as needed. We'll be covering over twenty six miles of roadway, which will be used for four separate road races—a full marathon, half marathon, 10k, and 5k."

Ranger spoke next. "We will be using technology to view as much of the roadways as we can. We've brought a variety of camera surveillance, drones, and robots from the Trenton office, and I've brought a group of specialists to manage the technology."

My eyes traveled to Hector. He smirked at me and wagged his eyebrows up and down. I laughed out loud, and I felt all eyes on me. I glanced at Ranger, horrified. To my shock, he looked amused. I smiled sheepishly, then looked down at my notebook. I scribbled some notes.

Technology Team

Hector

Ximena

Boots on the Ground

Ranger

Coordination/Central Team

Eric

Ranger continued. "We'll have men stationed at the starting and finish lines for the races. We are going into this event assuming the individual or group making the threats want to make a statement if they follow through on the threat. An act of violence along one of the routes may affect several dozen individuals, but an act at the start or finish would affect hundreds, maybe thousands. We will use this assumption to guide our work."

"Volunteers will be stationed along the route to provide assistance, medical support, drinks, photography services, and to tend to other needs of runners," Eric explained. "Rangeman's Atlanta crew met with race volunteers earlier this week to discuss the threat and to provide education. They have been trained to evaluate their environment for potential threats, and they learned about possible suspicious behaviors. They were given a phone number to call if they see anything of concern. We will manage the lines from Rangeman HQ, and we will have several first response teams in vehicles along the route who can respond if necessary."

Ximena spoke next. Her voice was low and velvet, and her accent was distinct. She explained the threats that had been received. She explained critical locations, using the map to illustrate. I tried to focus on her words, but I found myself studying her and trying to figure her out. Where did she come from? What makes her tick? Why does she work at Rangeman among so many men? What skills does she have that make her worthy of a second in command level position? My brain was swirling with questions when the conversation flowed back to Ranger.

"I know many of you do not know one another, but we must function as one team here," Ranger said. "I tried to develop organic teams that I knew would function well together, but we can readjust personnel as necessary if you find you're lacking in an area of expertise. If you find you're lacking resources, let Ximena, Eric, or myself know."

The silence in the room became punctuated with small side conversations between men. Ranger looked to Ximena. "Call your team, Ximena," he ordered.

She began listing off names for her team, and I realized she was listing an army of names. Clearly the surveillance detail was going to be a circus-sized effort. She spoke too quickly for me to write all the names, but I scribbled the names of Rangemen I knew in my notebook.

Technology Team

Hector

Ximena

Zero

Cal

Eric spoke next. "My core team will consist of Thomas, Stephens, Ulloa, and Williams."

I scribbled these names in my book, but I didn't know any of these individuals.

Coordination/Central Team

Eric

Stephens

Thomas

Ulloa

Williams

I looked expectantly at Ranger. Only his team was left to be announced.

He stood straighter and began to speak. "The ground site team will work as partners. Everyone on this team has been paired with someone they have worked with previously. My expectation is that you protect one another." He began listing men. Again, I scribbled the names of men I knew, but the team was massive.

Boots on the Ground

Ranger

Hal & Lester

It occurred to me halfway through the list that I probably wasn't paired with anyone. I was a last minute addition to the trip. My mind began to wander. What role could I possibly serve here? Water girl?

I was drug out of my mental reverie when Ranger spoke my name.

"Plum, you're with me," he stated simply.

Our eyes met, and my jaw hit the floor. I tried to close my mouth, but I don't know if I was successful. I looked around and realized every eye in the room was on me. I sat straighter and nodded to Ranger. Clearly the men were wondering why, of all the perfectly capable men in this room, Ranger chose me as a partner.

"Take fifteen," Ranger said. "We meet with our teams at 1530 hours. Tech in room one, street team in room two, and core team in Eric's office."

The room began to clear, but Ranger stood at the front alone, studying the map projected on the wall. I did a quick mental assessment of my emotional status. I determined I was feeling more balanced than I had earlier, so I rose to my feet and walked to the front of the room. I stood next to Ranger, studying the map.

"Me?" I asked in an almost whisper. "Why did you pair yourself with me?"

Ranger shifted his eyes to me, but his body didn't move. He thought for a long moment before responding, staring back to the map.

"We've watched each other's backs for years. I've known you longer than almost everyone in this room. You have great instincts about people, and you are observant. Tank is not here, so you are my logical partner here in Atlanta."

I stood in dumbfounded silence. Did Ranger really have that much trust in my skills? More trust than I had in myself?

I turned my body to him and he turned to me so we were facing one another. I held his gaze for too long, trying to find the right words.

"Thank you," was all I said.

Ranger nodded, then spoke. "Are you alright?"

I thought for a moment before nodding.

His voice grew soft. "Are we alright?"

The question caught me off balance. We? The question felt too emotional, too soft for Ranger. Did we mean we as friends? We as lovers? We as partners?

I felt uneasy, and my eyes began to dart around the room to the faces of men I didn't know.

When I didn't respond, Ranger placed his hand in the small of my back, pulling me to him. He whispered in my ear, "Can we go somewhere?"

My eyes met his, and his warm, chocolate eyes began to fill the void in my chest with warmth. I felt the ice I had felt for him earlier begin to melt. I nodded and followed him as he briskly left the room.

We got in the stainless steel-walled elevator and rode to the sixth floor. We exited into a hallway with a marble floor and three doors. The doors were labeled 6A, 6B, and 6C. I vaguely remembered a conversation I had with Ranger a couple of years ago, and I recalled him saying he had apartments similar to his in Trenton at his other Rangeman sites. This must be one of them, I thought.

Ranger walked to the door labeled 6A and fobbed his way into the apartment. I followed behind him.

He was truthful when he said he had apartments like his in Trenton. This apartment was smaller, but it was decorated in the same earth tones with dark wood and leather finishes. The apartment looked like a luxury efficiency, if that was even a thing. There was a small side table just inside the door, which displayed a lamp, glass dish for keys, and a bouquet of white, Georgia cotton. The overstuffed couch and arm chair were both leather, both dotted with tan throw pillows. There was a large television on the wall, and paintings of mountain and ocean scenes decorated the room. The kitchen countertops were granite, the cabinets were dark wood, and the fixtures were chrome. Two chrome bar stools with leather seats were pulled up to the bar.

"Have a seat," Ranger said, walking into the kitchen. He pulled two bottles of water from the refrigerator, and he scrounged around in a drawer for something.

I flopped down onto the couch, feeling out of place in an apartment that was Ranger's, yet didn't feel like Ranger's at all. He joined me on the couch and handed me a water.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped my boundaries earlier," Ranger began. "I know you value your privacy and autonomy, and I sometimes struggle to give you those things when I am concerned about your safety. I never meant to hurt you. I shouldn't have eavesdropped."

I was stunned to silence. Did Ranger just apologize? Seriously, who was this guy I traveled to Atlanta with? Was this the same guy who said he "loved me in his own way" in Trenton only months earlier? Since when did Batman speak? Or express feelings on his face and eyes?

"It's okay," I responded quietly. "It's not your fault. I shouldn't have lashed out at you earlier. I'm sorry."

We sat in companionable silence for a few moments. I tried to put how I had felt into words.

"My heart felt like it had shattered into a million pieces breaking things off today. You materialized from thin air, then admitted you'd heard the entire conversation. My mind began to play the "what if" game. What if you had exposed yourself while Morelli was there? Would he have thought I left him for you? He would have been devastated."

I felt my face growing red with embarrassment sharing this information with Ranger. I'm not the kind of girl who typically broadcasts her feelings for an audience.

"I need for my relationships with the two of you to be totally separate," I admitted. "You always knew I was dating Morelli when we hooked up. I think Morelli suspected there was something more between us on a whole lot of occasions, but he never knew. I was the unfaithful partner. But my leaving him had nothing to do with you, Ranger. It had to do with finding myself and being true to the person I am. The person I want to be."

"Understood," Ranger replied. I could feel the heat from his body next to mine, and I leaned into him.

"Thank you," I acknowledged.

Ranger kissed the top of my head and rose to his feet, pulling me with him.

"We need to get back to the third floor, but I've been meaning to ask you—where do you want to stay tonight? I have rooms reserved at the Hotel Indigo for the out of town men, but I hadn't reserved one for you since I didn't realize you'd be here. I can get you a room at the hotel, or you can stay the apartment while I stay at Hotel Indigo."

I took a moment to digest what I had just been asked. Was Ranger afraid to be seen with me in his apartment? Was I unwelcome here? Was he trying to protect my heart? Was Ximena staying here with Ranger? The questions started pouring through my mind, and I was unsure whether to be broken hearted or furious.

I must have stared at Ranger like corn was growing out of his head, because he tilted his head to the side in an assessing stare. "Babe?" he asked.

"Is she staying with you?" I whispered.

Ranger looked at me confused.

I continued. "Ximena. Is she staying with you?" I knew this sounded pathetic, but I had to know. The void in my chest ached.

Ranger placed his hands on my lower back and pulled me to him tightly. "Babe," he said, sounding like he might laugh out loud.

I pulled away from him to face him, scowling.

"What the hell is so funny?" I shouted, tears of hurt collecting at the corner of each eye.

Ranger smiled at me, then said, "Ximena Santos is Lester's sister."

I stared at him, registering disbelief but still failing to put the pieces together.

"And?" I asked, annoyed.

Ranger flashed his two hundred watt smile. "Same relation as Lester, Babe. She's my cousin."

Chapter 10

I sat in Ranger's team meeting, sandwiched between Lester and Hal. Lester was listening, but constantly whispering jokes in my ear. Hal was staring daggers at Lester between furiously typing notes into his Microsoft Surface. I was doing my best to take notes in my girly notebook, memorize maps, and mentally catalog as many potentially suspicious behaviors as possible before we broke for dinner. Ranger was an exceptional teacher, and I found myself compelled by the information he was sharing. I had helped with Rangeman operations in the past, but I'd never been part of an operation of this magnitude. I had rarely been included on meetings like these, and I appreciated feeling like a legitimate part of the Rangeman team here in Atlanta.

"After dinner tonight, our team will drive the race routes several times. Commit it to memory as best you can. Tomorrow during the day, our team will assist Ximena's tech team with the installation of surveillance monitoring systems along the course," Ranger explained. "We will set up several mobile monitoring stations Friday evening, and we will drive the route again several times to familiarize ourselves with the terrain. While you're out, please keep your eyes peeled for suspicious persons or behavior, suspicious vehicles, and homes or businesses you think could pose a threat. Be cognizant of changes you see along the race route or at the start& finish areas between tonight at Saturday. Our latest intel indicates this threat is most likely from a foreign terrorist organization, but we're remaining open minded about potential threats. A bomb is the most likely danger, so as we discussed before, stay vigilant in your watch for suspicious backpacks or packages, or vehicles that seem modified, suspicious, abandoned, or out of place. Any questions?"

Ranger looked expectantly at the crew. No questions. He looked at the clock.

"We're going to break for dinner. Some food is available in the break room on the second floor, or you can explore Atlanta. Take this opportunity to check into your hotel rooms. Room assignments are posted in the hall on the bulletin board. Most of you will be rooming with your partner. Reconvene in the garage at 2000 hours. Be prompt. We will drive the race routes as four teams. Your team assignments are on the dry erase board. You will be working with your partner, plus another set of partners. Dismissed."

I searched the board for my name and found it next to Ranger's.

Team 3:

Hal & Lester

Ranger & Stephanie

I grinned at Lester. He winked at me and blew me a kiss.

I focused my attention back to Ranger and realized he was giving Lester a look that could freeze water. Lester blew Ranger a kiss too, and I laughed out loud. Hal & Lester laughed too, and Ranger smiled.

"I'm starving," said Hal. "I didn't get lunch. Are we gonna eat here, or you wanna go somewhere?" he asked the Trenton crew at the table.

Hal may have felt starving, but he didn't look starving. Hal was a huge guy. What he lacked in wit and intelligence he made up for with size and brute force. The guy was like a stegosaurus in Rangeman black fatigues. I'd known Hal for a whole lot of years. He'd worked for Ranger, and on several occasions, he earned hazard pay protecting my body.

"There is a place down the block that serves excellent Middle Eastern cuisine," Ranger said.

Fifteen minutes later, we entered a small restaurant with a sign on the front reading Baraka Shawarma. I had no clue how to pronounce the name, but the utilitarian set up seemed clean and orderly. The floor was tan tile, and the walls were bright shades of yellow, orange, and navy. Small, dark colored laminate wood tables filled the center of the room, metal chairs with brightly colored faux leather seats lining the sides. Dark wooden booths lined the walls, with tables sandwiched between the benches. Ranger led the way through the restaurant, and I walked next to him. His hand was in the small of my back guiding my way, and I could sense Lester's amused stare on my back.

Lester Santos had worked for Rangeman for a long time too, but he had known Ranger the longest of any of his Trenton employees. Lester was Ranger's first cousin on the Manoso side of the family, and I had it on good authority there were photos of the two in diapers playing house with their older, female relatives. Lester had yet to produce the photos, but I was still holding out hope that they'd surface one day. Lester a good friend to me, but I suspected other humans of the female variety couldn't say the same. He was a smooth talking, smooth operating ladies' man. Lester's theory on love was the leaving came immediately after the hot, passionate, naked form of love. At work, he got away with crap none of the other Rangemen could touch, and I suspected it was because he was related to the boss man. Still, it didn't stop Ranger from taking Lester to the mats in the gym for a good beating every now and then. And if I'm being perfectly honest, I think he needed it. Someone had to rein the guy in, right?

We slid into a booth and pulled menus from the rack at the back of the booth. A small woman wearing a white blouse, grey slacks, and sandals came over to take our order. Lester ordered a lamb gyro with vegetables and a beer. Hal ordered shish kabobs with basmati rice and vegetables, and a soda to wash it down. Ranger ordered a hummus plate with pita bread and fresh vegetables, plus a pot of hot tea. I ordered French fries, a chicken sandwich, a coke, and a double order of baklava for dessert.

Ranger grinned at me. "Babe."

In Ranger-speak, "Babe" could mean many things. It could be a question. It could be an exasperated exclamation. It could be a hello, or a warm, affectionate greening. It could be a sexually-driven, lust-induced utterance. Here, I'm pretty sure he meant, "How the crap can you eat that junk?"

The food was delicious, and we scarfed it down quickly, paying the bill before leaving. Hal and Lester left for Hotel Indigo to check into their shared room. Ranger and I headed back on the short walk to Rangeman. We had barely cleared the doorway before Ranger took my hand in his.

"Um…." I said, feeling uncertain.

"Babe," he sighed, letting go of my hand.

I did some mental palm-to-forehead action. What the hell was wrong with me? Ranger was one of my best friends in the entire world. Hell, I'd seen the man naked and done the dirty in his Porsche, his bed, my bed, his shower, my shower, and about fifteen other places. Why did holding his hand feel so wrong tonight? Obviously there was the Morelli thing, but I struggled to pinpoint what else was going inside my brain. When it hit me, I rolled my eyes so hard I almost fell over.

"I don't know how to act around you now that we're partners," I admitted. "I don't think I can protect your body if I'm having sexual hot flashes at your every touch. And I don't think I'm much of a protection detail if I'm standing around lusting over your body."

In a split second, Ranger's momentum changed from forward to sideways. Before I could react, he had pushed my back up against the brick wall of the building we happened to be walking by. His strong, muscular body was pressed to every inch of mine, and his leg was pressed between mine. He put his lips to my ear. "You have hot flashes?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

My eyes met his, and his pupils had dilated from chocolate brown to black. I tried to speak. "No…. well, yes… but, I… Um…" I stuttered.

Ranger moved his lips so close to my ear that they touched. I felt the heat of his breath in my ear, and I think I moaned.

"You lust after my body?" Ranger asked, his voice even huskier than before.

"Yes," I murmured, almost panting.

Ranger's lips met mine, and the kiss he gave was so intense, I think I got off standing against the wall. My knees went weak, and my eyes rolled back in my head. When I moaned into his lips, he pulled back.

"Babe."

Our eyes connected once more, and I felt the red flush cover my face and chest. I was blushing so hard I figured I looked like the Kool-Aid man.

Ranger's grip on me loosened and became softer, more affectionate. He spoke quietly, seriously. "You call the shots, Steph. You say when. I'll never force you to do anything you don't want to do." His eyes were sincere, and he cupped my face in his palm. "Stay with me tonight?"

He brushed his thumb over my cheek, and he kissed my forehead. I nodded, my eyes holding his. He grinned.

"Let's get back. You might want to consider showering," he admitted. "You're still carrying the faint smell of sewage."

Chapter 11

At 8:00 P.M., Ranger and I met Hal and Lester in the garage. I was freshly showered and wearing a clean Rangeman uniform. My hair was damp, so I had yanked it back into a ponytail. I didn't bother drying my hair. I knew the Georgia humidity wouldn't be kind to my unruly curls. Why bother, right?

I was shocked to find a shiny new black Porsche Cayenne S had materialized in the garage. Ranger motioned to the vehicle, walking to the driver's door. Lester and Hal chivalrously got in back, leaving shotgun for me. I slid into the seat and sucked in the new car smell. The car was sexy, and the interior was loaded with features. I relaxed into the leather seat, and I think I might have moaned a little.

"Babe," Ranger sighed.

"What?" I asked defensively.

He grinned, put the car into drive, and drove out of the garage. "As we discussed in the briefing, the marathon will begin and end at Centennial Olympic Park in downtown Atlanta. The park is four blocks from the Rangeman office, so we'll be able to run the majority of our surveillance operation easily from the Rangeman building. The runners will pass one block from the office, and will continue for twenty six miles, ending where they began at Centennial Olympic park."

The park came into view, and I studied the layout. It was an expansive green space lined with brick walkways, trees, and various a fountains. There was a Ferris wheel on one corner of the park, and people littered the walkways and green spaces.

"The park was built for the 1996 Olympic Games, and it has remained a popular destination for tourists and locals in downtown Atlanta. The park covers twenty one acres, and it is surrounded by popular tourist destinations like the Georgia Aquarium, the World of Coke, and Atlanta's CNN Headquarters. It's usually a busy place, but it will be so busy on Saturday that it will be inaccessible by car. That is why we will be covering the area on foot," Ranger explained. "The will call and check in will be located at the Hyatt Regency Atlanta, which is several blocks from here. We will have another team stationed there, and we'll have teams in cars stationed inside and outside the circular route."

"This is a logistical nightmare, boss," Hal said, studying the map he held in his hand. I looked back at Hal and saw his massive body was wedged uncomfortably in the back of the car. He really ought to be in the front seat, I thought. "It's too much turf. It's like finding a needle in a haystack. And we don't even know if it's a credible threat. How reliable is the intel?"

Ranger turned onto Marietta Drive NW heading east and glanced in the rear view mirror at Hal. "We're working on limited information from Homeland Security and the FBI. They're trying to keep the threat under wraps. They don't want to create panic. I have a contact in Homeland Security, but we're mostly in the dark. We were contracted by the race organizers, so we're working general security for the event. Homeland Security is doing the heavy lifting, and they've been coordinating some efforts with Eric here in Atlanta. The threat may not be credible, but we will work the event like it is."

We continued driving the route, Ranger sharing information along the way. We drove through Midtown, past Georgia State University 's campus, through the Little Five Points neighborhood, and into Decatur. By the time we cruised to mile thirteen of the twenty six mile route, I was so bored I was drifting off in my seat. We had been in the car for forty minutes in Atlanta traffic, and I wasn't feeling happy. I tried pinching myself, and I tried bouncing my leg up and down to get the blood pumping. I stretched my arms and my legs. I fixed my ponytail. I checked my lip gloss.

"Babe," Ranger exclaimed.

"What?" I asked, giving him my best Burg glare.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Trying to stay awake!" I exclaimed, trying to sound exasperated. "How the hell do people run this far? I'm going out of my mind, and I'm not running—we're driving."

Ranger looked like he was thinking about smiling, so I expelled a frustrated sigh and crossed my arms over my chest.

Lester chimed in. "Maybe you should try taking up running, beautiful. You might find out you like it. Plus, you could eat more doughnuts, French fries, Tastycakes, and Clucky burgers without committing to buying new pants. And it would give you more stamina," he finished, waggling his eyebrows up and down.

Hal and I laughed out loud, but Ranger stared daggers at Lester in the rear view mirror. That look would make most people wet themselves, but Lester seemed unaffected.

We continued driving, Ranger providing information about the route. We navigated through the North Decatur, Druid Hills, and Virginia Highland neighborhoods. As we drove, I ate a Snickers bar I found in the bottom of my messenger bag.

Ranger showed us where the water stations and refueling stations (which I learned meant snack stations) would be placed along the route. He indicated where the "cheer zones" would be placed, and told us which security teams would be stationed in them.

We dropped Lester and Hal off at the Hotel Indigo a little after 9:30 pm, and Ranger drove us back to Rangeman's Atlanta office. We parked in the reserved spot in the secure, underground garage and took the elevator to Ranger's on site apartment.

"I'm going to shower," Ranger said, heading for the bedroom. "Make yourself at home."

I took Ranger's words as an invitation to snoop through the drawers and closets. You know what's in your drawers and closets in your own home, right?

I began at the front door and started working my way back towards the bedroom. The coat closet was empty except for one black Rangeman windbreaker and a small vacuum. The kitchen drawers and cupboards were mostly bare, holding essentials like plates, bowls, glasses, silverware, and cooking utensils. One cupboard held a no-stick fry pan and a saucepan. Ranger's pantry was stocked with some basic food items, including plain granola, whole wheat crackers, a small tin of caviar, two cans of tuna, a packet of smoked salmon, honey, and raisins. The refrigerator held balsamic vinaigrette salad dressing, an apple, an orange, cream cheese, a small block of smoked gouda, a bag of plain bagels, a bag of baby spinach, a small tray of prepared vegetables, and a carton of unsweetened almond milk.

I scrunched up my nose at the thought of drinking unsweetened almond milk. Where the heck was the full-fat, whole milk? Or the Tastycakes? Or the peanut butter with worthless white bread? And no olives? Beer? Wine? I was starting to regret staying in Batman's apartment. There had been a Dunkin' Doughnuts a block from Hotel Indigo.

I pulled a glass from the cupboard and filled it with tap water, taking a drink before leaving it on the counter to snoop in the bedroom.

This bedroom was considerably smaller than the room he kept in Jersey. A queen sized bed filled most of the small room. It was made up in all-white, super soft sheets and covered in a white down comforter. Plate glass windows covered the wall behind the bed and on one side. Large, beige curtains were pulled to the sides, showcasing Atlanta's downtown skyline dotted with lights. The other two walls were soft white, and a variety of large, matted photographs were displayed on the walls. The photographs were outdoor shots of mountains, cotton fields, forests, a lake, and other outdoor images.

One wall had two dark wood doors. The bathroom door was closed, but the walk-in closet door was ajar. I pushed inside. The closet was much smaller than the closet in the New Jersey office, but Ranger had clothing stored here too. It was neatly folded or hung. There was a small chest with four drawers. The top drawer held socks. The next drawer held underwear—a pair of black silk boxers and two pairs of black boxer briefs. The next drawer held a pair of winter gloves, a black stocking hat, and a pair of black swim trunks. The bottom drawer was locked.

Guns, I thought.

I turned and was surprised to find my black Rangeman uniforms neatly pressed and hung alongside Ranger's. The clothes from the bag I packed at home had been unloaded and organized into two beige, fabric bins. They were neatly stacked into piles of underwear, socks, bras, and pajamas. I also had one casual outfit of jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie that was neatly folded on the shelf above my Rangeman uniforms.

I determined Ranger must have a housekeeper in Atlanta too, just like he has Ella in Jersey. Ranger wasn't domestic enough to unload my bags and hang my clothes.

I selected a pair of pink, fuzzy, fleece pajama pants with images of puppies on them and paired it with one of Ranger's black t-shirts. The pants had been a Christmas gift from Grandma Mazur last year. I wriggled out of my Rangeman uniform and dressed quickly. I yanked off my socks, leaving my feet bare, and I pulled the hair band out of my hair, letting it fluff out in every direction.

"Cute," I heard from behind me.

I jumped and put my hand to my heart. I hadn't heard Ranger come into the closet.

"Jeez Louise, you scared the crap out of me," I said. "Try announcing yourself next time."

Ranger grinned. He was naked except for the tan towel he had wrapped around his waist. Water droplets were dripping from his hair onto his shoulders, trailing down his perfectly toned chest and disappearing into the towel.

I felt my heart rate increasing, and I tried to focus on something else—anything to get my mind off the naked Cuban god standing before me. I broke eye contact with Ranger and played with the drawstrings on my fuzzy pants.

"Babe," Ranger said, sounding amused.

He closed the distance between us, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into him. "I like the pants. But I'd like them better on the floor." His lips made contact with the skin beneath my ear, and I felt my entire body shiver as he trailed kisses down my neck and under the collar of his black shirt I was wearing. He placed his hands on my back under the shirt, and I closed my eyes at the contact, exhaling the breath I'd been holding. I could feel Ranger's excitement pressing through the towel against my stomach.

I could tell I was in trouble. My mind and my heart were in direct competition. My mind was playing the Catholic guilt game, shrieking, "You just broke it off with your long-time boyfriend. What the hell are you doing, slut?" My heart, on the other hand, was feeling like it might have been returned to its rightful spot in my body. The once cold, empty void that appeared when I told Joe goodbye was feeling significantly improved, and I could feel my body stirring against Ranger's.

Ranger held my body tight to his with his right arm, and he cupped my face with his left, raising my eyes to meet his. His eyes had dilated black, and his face looked soft and relaxed. His lips made contact with mine, and I felt electricity run from the top of my head to my toes.

I wrapped my arms around Ranger, placing my palms across his upper back and running them down his body. Ranger's tongue touched mine, and I moaned into his mouth. I skimmed my fingertips under Ranger's towel then continued to press down, loosening the towel around his waist. I placed my palms over his toned butt, cupping it and pulling him even more tightly into me.

Ranger's slow pace increased, his hands becoming more urgent and his breath picking up. He bent slightly, placing his forearm beneath my butt and lifting me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and I felt his towel slip away as he carried me into the bedroom. Our lips connected one last time before he placed me on the bed on my back. He was absolutely beautiful and flawless, with the exception of one scar on his stomach. I had once believed this was from a childhood appendectomy, but learned a few years ago the scar was from a scary encounter with a Russian agent named Vlatko. It gave me a new appreciation for the scar, and for Ranger too.

He tugged my pants and underwear off in one swift motion, leaving me in nothing but his t-shirt, which had ridden up to expose my stomach. "Beautiful," he murmured, bending for our lips to meet again. He trailed kisses down my neck, passing over the shirt to continue the trail of kisses down my stomach, across my belly button, across my pubic bone, and down to…. Oh boy.

I'd done the deed with my fair share of men. Morelli was a great lover. He was fun and warm, and I was never unsatisfied. Ranger, however, was magic.

Chapter 12

I woke up disoriented, feeling like I was trapped in an inferno. I blinked away sleep, trying to right my sleep-clouded brain. The first hints of morning light were peeping through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and I remembered I was in Atlanta in Ranger's bed. I did a quick assessment of the situation and found I was snuggled into Ranger's side. He was laying on his back with his arm under my head, curling around my back. I was laying on my left side, my body pressed tight into his side with my right leg slung over his thighs. We were both naked covered with the white sheet, the down comforter being lost sometime in the night.

The guilt filled me almost immediately. I had just cut things off with Joe, and here I was, wrapped up in Ranger's arms. I was in his bed after a night of hot sex, and the situation was looking a lot different in the morning light than it did in the dark last night. My mother's voice filled my head, saying "Slut." My stomach churned, and I knew I had to get up, even if it was unreasonably early. I couldn't stay in the bed with the guilt.

I tried to roll away to get away from Ranger's suffocating body heat, but my attempt at rolling away woke Ranger. He pulled me tighter into him, turning his head so his lips could connect with mine. His kiss started soft and gentle, gradually becoming deeper and more passionate. I felt my body awakening, wanting him. My mother's voice in my head changed from a statement to a scream. "Slut!" I also felt other parts of my body waking, and they were telling me something very different too.

I pulled from the kiss, sitting up to put my feet on the floor.

"Babe?" Ranger asked, confused.

"Gotta pee!" I said, high-tailing it for the bathroom. I locked myself in, breathing a sigh of relief.

I heard Ranger laughing from the bed as did my business.

Two minutes later, my bladder was empty and my teeth were brushed. I debated whether to stay in the bathroom indefinitely, or whether to get on with my day.

I hesitantly opened the door and peeked out. Ranger was scrolling through e-mails on his phone. I sighed and flopped back into the bed, and Ranger picked up where he left off.

"Um…." I said, pulling away. I felt my eyes go wide, even if my body was responding in ways my brain couldn't control.

"Babe." He sounded exasperated. "Really?"

I laughed nervously. "You didn't get enough last night?" I studied his face.

He smirked. "I can never get enough of you."

"We went five rounds last night!" I exclaimed. "I'm tired. And it seems a lot more complicated this morning."

"It's not complicated. We're two people that care about each another. We're not committed to anyone else. This is an acceptable way to spend our morning. I thought we'd make it lucky seven… once in the bed, and once in the shower."

I felt my breathing catch, and I think I moaned a little as he ran his fingers down my legs and across my breast.

"Babe," he said before his lips crashed onto mine.

He had reasonable rationale. Who could say no to that, right?

An hour later, we were both showered, dressed in Rangeman black, and standing in the small kitchenette. I had swiped some mascara on my lashes and gloss on my lips, and I'd dried my hair, brushing it into soft curls that skimmed my shoulders. I was making coffee, and Ranger was preparing breakfast. He was toasting bagels, and he had opened a packet of smoked salmon and the container of cream cheese.

"That's awfully domestic," I said pouring two mugs of coffee. I handed one to Ranger.

"I've lived alone for a long time. I've only employed Ella for six years. How do you think I ate before I owned the Rangeman building?"

"Hunter-gathering?" I joked. "I guess I never really thought about it."

"If you think this is impressive, you should see me do laundry. I even sort my whites."

"You don't own anything white," I said, rolling my eyes.

Ranger flashed a 200-watt smile, and pulled the bagels from the toaster. He spread both with cream cheese, and he put smoked salmon on one. He handed me the plain bagel on a plate, and I took a seat at the bar to eat. Ranger took a seat next to me, chewing his bagel while checking his phone.

I realized I hadn't checked my phone for almost a full day, so I stuffed the last bite of bagel into my mouth and went in search of the device.

Most people are attached to their phones, but for me, a phone is a necessary evil. Lots of creepy people have my phone number, and it doesn't seem to matter how many times I change it. I still get weird calls and texts. I stay off social media, and I rarely get e-mails except work-related messages from Connie. My message box is a repository for Lula's antics, Morelli's requests for sex, Grandma's requests for a driver, and my mother's suggestions I find new employment. My voicemail box is best ignored.

I found my phone in my messenger bag and tried to turn it on.

Dead.

I fished around in the bag for a charger. Nothing. I slapped my palm to my forehead and let out the most exasperated noise I could manage.

"Babe," Ranger said standing behind me, rubbing my back.

"I forgot my charger. My freaking PHONE charger. I'm a disaster."

"You're not a disaster, Steph," he said, taking my phone. "You had a lot on your mind." He crossed to the bar, picked up his phone, and made a call.

"Yo." Pause. "I need a charger on six for an iPhone." He disconnected.

"You have excellent phone manners," I joked, crossing to the bar. I took a sip of my coffee, and I put my plate into the stainless steel dishwasher.

Two minutes later, I heard a knock on the door. Ranger crossed the room and opened the door.

Ximena stepped into the small foyer, white charger cord in hand. She was wearing a skin-tight, dry wick, long sleeved black Rangeman shirt with black cargo pants. Her ensemble was completed with pink bunny slippers. She gave me a giant smile, and for a brief moment, I could see the family resemblance. I smiled back and crossed to her.

"Good morning," she said, handing the cord over to Ranger. Ranger plugged it into my phone and walked to the kitchen, presumably to plug it in. "I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to officially meet you yesterday. I'm Ximena," she said extending her hand.

I extended my hand to hers and shook it. She smiled and pulled me into a giant hug. "I've heard so much about you from Lester. I'm glad I finally get to meet the woman who tamed Carlos!" she finished.

I laughed out loud. I could tell I was going to like her already. She was as gregarious as Lester, but smaller and prettier.

"That's me," I joked. "Ranger's keeper, badass bounty hunter, the terror of the Burg…"

I looked to Ranger. His eyes looked like he was thinking about smiling, but it didn't reach his lips.

"I better finish getting dressed, I've got to meet the crew downstairs in fifteen minutes. If you get sick of my cousin, I'm across the hall in 6C. You're welcome anytime you need to escape the excess testosterone and serious disposition," she joked. "You're with me today, right? Looking forward to it!" She turned around, swinging her ass out of the apartment and closing the door behind her.

"I like her!" I exclaimed to Ranger, crossing the room to him.

"I thought you might, especially once you realized we weren't kissing cousins," he said, his nose buried in his phone.

I playfully smacked the back of his head. He gave me a look somewhere between a glare and a playful gape.

I stuck my tongue out at him and turned on my phone. I watched as the texts, voicemails, and e-mails started rolling in. I gritted my teeth and started filtering through the texts.

Lula, 7:58 pm: Vinnie went and did it. He bonded out that weasel ex-husband of yours. I'm just sitting around waiting for him to skip. I know you don't wanna chase his sorry ass around Trenton, but I wanna pop that little prick like a pimple for doing Joyce Barnhart on your dining room table, girl.

I wasn't thrilled to hear Vinnie had bonded out the scumbag, but the thought of stun gunning him and dragging him back to jail was somewhat satisfying. He wasn't likely to skip anyway. He had a successful law practice and a woman in his bed every night. He had too much to lose by skipping town.

Mom, 9:16 pm: Where are you? Why aren't you answering your phone?

Mom, 10:38 pm: Stephanie Michelle Plum, are you ignoring me?

Grandma, 11:49 pm: For heaven's sake, turn on your phone. Your mother has been ironing all night.

I sighed a frustrated rush of air, and I pulled up the voicemails. There were five. They were all from my mother.

Mom, 8:18 pm: "Stephanie, call me immediately." Long, pregnant pause. "It's an emergency."

Fear resonated through me. My mother's voice sounded scared. Something was very wrong.

I didn't listen to the other voicemails. Instead, I dialed my mother. She answered on the first ring.

"Stephanie?" she nearly shouted into the phone.

"It's me, mom," I replied. "I'm sorry I didn't get your call, my phone…"

My mother cut me off.

"It's Joseph."

I sighed. "Mom, Joe and I aren't tog…"

"He was shot last night on duty."

I felt my eyes go wide, my jaw drop, and my heart stop. I couldn't speak. I felt like I might throw up.

Ranger was at my side in an instant. He sensed something was wrong.

My mother continued speaking, and I could hear the tears choking her voice. "He was first to respond to a domestic violence call last night. He normally doesn't respond to calls like that, but it was in his neighborhood, so he went. He was going to wait for backup, but then he heard screaming and entered the house. He was shot twice in the chest and once in his head." She began sobbing into the phone.

I felt the tears streaming down my face, but I couldn't speak. Cold terror was running through my veins. My hands were shaking, and my knees were weak. It felt like someone was standing on my chest.

Ranger pulled me into the nearest chair, pulling the phone from my ear.

He held it to his ear, and spoke into it. I tried to focus on his words, but I could feel myself falling away.

"Mrs. Plum?"

Pause.

"Did he make it?"

Pause.

"Where is he?"

Pause.

"Thank you."

He disconnected, and looked at me. "Steph?" he asked.

I couldn't respond. I couldn't move. I was suffocating. I saw black spots in my vision.

Ranger quickly dialed another number.

"I need a medic on six."

Disconnect.

Time stood still. I couldn't focus on anything. My brain kept conjuring images of Joe being shot repeatedly. My heartbroken Joe was shot in the head. Everything around me was spinning and out of control. Ranger was talking to me, but I couldn't understand him. I heard someone crying out and realized it was me. I was hysterical.

I began falling in and out of responsiveness. I could feel my body moving, being laid on the overstuffed sofa. My feet were propped up and I was wrapped in a blanket, but it felt like I was watching from outside my body. An oxygen mask was fitted over my face.

"Steph, stay with me," I heard a female's voice begging. "You're safe. You're going to be alright. Just focus on my voice."

I tried to focus on the voice, but I heard the sound of rushing water in my ears.

"You're going to get through this, Steph. Stay with us."

I heard Ranger's voice next. "He's alive, Steph. He's admitted to Saint Francis. They think he's going to make it."

I felt a poke and realized I was being hooked up to some kind of IV. I felt a sob escape my chest before the walls fell from around me, taking me into total darkness.

Chapter 13

I woke up slowly, painfully. I was on my back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. My head was throbbing, and my body felt like I had run a marathon. My mouth was dry, and my throat hurt like hell. The room was dimly lit, cool and quiet. I had no idea how long I had been laying here.

Memories of the phone call with my mother came rushing back, and the grief hit me like a rogue wave again. I was too exhausted to break down again. I felt a tear slip down my face, and I pulled an arm from the blanket I was wrapped in to wipe it. I noticed I still had an IV in my arm.

"Hey," I heard a warm voice say. "Welcome back."

I scanned the room for the source of the voice, and my eyes met Ximena's. She gave me a weak smile.

"I was worried about you. You went into shock. How are you feeling?"

I searched my brain to find a word that could adequately describe the pain I felt, but nothing came to mind.

"Rough," I said, my voice gravelly.

"Can I get you a pain reliever?" she asked, her eyes filled with concern.

I nodded in response, and she dug around in a black backpack at her feet. She produced a bottle of ibuprofen, poured two into her hand, and extended it to me.

I pulled myself more upright, taking the pills in my palm. She reached into her backpack again and pulled out a bottle of water, removing the lid to hand it to me.

I took the pills dutifully then sat quietly, studying my hands as they held the water. I could feel Ximena's eyes on me.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked quietly, her voice like velvet.

I shook my head no.

"I need to call Ranger," she said, pulling her phone from her pocket. "I was under strict orders to call when you regained consciousness. He's managing our teams until I'm no longer needed here."

I felt panic rising in my chest, and guilt began to fill every empty space in my body. Morelli was my ex-boyfriend. We were done. My entire world wasn't supposed to crash down around me when something happened to him. I wasn't supposed to feel this devastated, right?

More tears began cascading down my face.

I had spent the night in Ranger's bed, wrapped in his arms. I loved Ranger, even if I failed to tell him as much. For twenty four hours, I had been exclusively with Ranger for the first time ever. Now, I was back with Morelli, emotionally at least. My heart was broken for him, my body longing to hold him, protect him. I was already being cruel to Ranger, albeit inadvertently. The waves of panic kept crashing harder and harder as Ximena dialed.

"Don't!" I exclaimed as she raised the phone to her ear.

Ximena gave me a confused look, followed by an apologetic look. I heard a voice on the other end of the line.

"Report."

I put my head in my hands, trying to quell the panic. I was shivering in my blankets.

"She's awake and upright," she said.

He responded then disconnected.

"He'll be here in twenty," she said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. I'm just fucked up."

Ximena gave me an unreadable look. She rustled around in her bag, coming up with some tape and gauze.

"I can remove your IV fluids now," she said quietly.

I extended my arm to her, and she began working to remove the needle.

Part of me felt like I should be surprised that I had an IV in my arm. The other part of me knew the lengths Ranger went to regularly to protect me or to care for me. He bled money every time my life was threatened or in danger. Why should it be any different when my life turned upside down emotionally? Of course this would happen.

"I had no idea you were a medic," I said, trying to make simple conversation.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," she responded with a slight smile. "Hopefully we can change that sometime."

When the IV was out, I pulled myself to my feet and began walking in the direction of the bedroom. I was still wrapped in a blanket.

"Steph?" I heard Ximena ask behind me.

"Yeah?" I asked, stopping but not turning to face her.

"You have to have faith that everything will be okay." She paused, an expectant silence filling the space between us.

I felt my stomach turn, and I took off for the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

I threw up what remained of my breakfast into the toilet, then took a moment to compose myself on the bathroom floor. I realized my clothes were soaked through with sweat, so I stood and removed them. I turned on the water in the shower, and I brushed my teeth as I waited for the water to warm.

"Focus on the next task," I told myself in the mirror, pulling my hair into a messy bun. "Don't think about anything but the next logical step to your day. Right now, that's a shower. Then the next step is clean clothes."

I climbed into the shower and quickly washed my body, keeping my hair dry. I willed myself not to think about Joe or Ranger. I toweled off quickly, and I headed for the closet. I released my hair from its elastic, and it fell in soft curls around my shoulders once more.

I had pulled on black underwear, a black bra, and a black long-sleeved Rangeman shirt when the hair stood up on the back of my neck and I heard footfalls.

My eyes met Ranger's. He was leaning against the door frame, his arms at his sides. His eyes were serious, almost sad.

I stood there, unable to break the connection.

Ranger spoke first. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, unable to form words.

He studied me for a long time, as if assessing my condition. I became uncomfortable in my state of undress, so I grabbed a pair of black yoga pants and tugged them on.

"Let's talk," he said, motioning for me to follow him out of the closet. I did so obediently, crossing my arms across my chest as if to hold myself together. I padded barefoot across the flooring, out of the bedroom.

Ximena was gone, but the curtains had been pulled open, letting in the warm mid-day sun. It seemed a cruel stroke of luck that Joe would be fighting for his life, but the world would continue spinning on its axis, the day beyond the windows beautiful as if nothing had happened.

Ranger took a seat on a chair in his living room, and I planted myself on the couch, sitting with my legs crossed. I pulled a throw pillow into my lap, wrapping my arms around it as if it were armor for the news I was about to hear.

"Morelli is stable at Saint Francis. He took two bullets in his left lung, but they were able to repair the damage. He's on a ventilator. A bullet grazed the left side of his head too. It did some damage to the left temporal lobe of his brain. It's unclear what lasting effects it will have, because Morelli hasn't regained consciousness yet. They've got him in a medically-induced coma to give his brain time to heal. The temporal lobe controls functions like learning, language, hearing, and emotion. They'll know more when he wakes and can be evaluated."

We sat in silence as I processed the information I was given.

"His prognosis is good, Steph. He's going to make it. He's out of the woods."

There was a long pause before he spoke again.

"I'm getting regular updates from a contact at the hospital. I'll let you know if I hear anything else. I have a man outside Morelli's room. It was authorized by Trenton PD."

I was shocked to hear this news. I couldn't believe Ranger had a man on Joe's hospital room. They were already running a skeleton crew in Trenton with all of us here. What did Ranger have to gain by looking out for Morelli? Suddenly, the answer felt clear.

Me. My trust. My calm. The man wasn't for Joe, it was for me.

My eyes met Rangers, and I could see worry behind his unusually thin calm veneer.

Was he worried I was going back to Morelli? Was he worried about me? About Morelli? Was it the terrorist threat in Atlanta? Something else? So many thoughts were going through my mind it was making me dizzy. I needed to ground myself.

I got to my feet, crossed to Ranger, and crawled into his lap as if I were a small child. I rested my head on his shoulder, and I wrapped my arms around his neck.

Ranger's arms wrapped around my back, drawing me close. I felt his body relax into mine, and a feeling of safety began pushing away my unease. I felt my heart rate steady, then slow. Ranger's arms were a safety net.

I cleared my throat to find my voice, and croaked, "I'm sorry for how I reacted. I should have kept it together this morning."

Ranger released me, his hands wrapping around my arms. He drew back, holding me at arm's length so he could see my face.

"You have no reason to apologize," he said firmly, his gaze holding mine. "You have a long history with Morelli. Even if you two are not together right now, he is still a close friend." He wrapped his arms around me again, pulling me close.

"Right now?" I whispered into his neck. "'Right now', not 'anymore.' You think I'll get back together with him."

He didn't respond for a long time, obviously contemplating his response.

"The best predictor of future behavior is past behavior, Babe."

The guilt swirled in my belly. "He needs me," I said in a whisper. "I can't abandon him. He never abandoned me."

Tears welled in my eyes, and the words were catching in my throat. But I had to say it. I had to get it off my chest.

"You always push me back to him," I choked. "Always."

"I know," Ranger replied. "He can give you the things you need. The things you want."

"And you can't?" I countered.

He didn't respond to the question. Instead, he changed the subject.

"I will get you on a direct flight to Trenton in a few hours. The next flight leaves at 2:45 PM."

He was avoiding the conversation I tried to start. Typical Ranger.

I pulled away from him so I could look in his eyes. I gave him a half-assed Burg glare. "I won't go until tomorrow night. We have a job to do. I won't leave you without a partner. I won't abandon you either."

Tears streamed down my cheeks. Crap, why did my love life have to be so screwed up?

"Babe…" Ranger started.

I cut him off. "No. You said he's in a coma. We won't know anything more until he wakes up, right? I'm not leaving you without a partner. If something happened to you, I couldn't live with myself. I'm staying for now. I'll leave as soon as we finish tomorrow."

Ranger looked uncertain, a war raging behind his calm mask. "You're in no shape to work, Babe. It puts us all at risk if your brain is somewhere else."

I didn't think. I placed my palms on his cheeks, and my lips connected with his.

Ranger didn't return my kiss. I felt his body tense.

I pulled back to study him, and I saw the war in his eyes.

"I want to be here with you."

I kissed him again. The kiss started slow but grew more passionate. His lips began moving with mine, and I felt the tension is his body slowly release.

I broke from the kiss and got to my feet. Ranger rose, too.

"Take the rest of the day," Ranger said. "We'll drive the routes again tonight, and we'll have an early start tomorrow morning. You need to rest to be on top of your game."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to go along. But honestly, I was too exhausted. My head still hurt, and my body ached. I wanted to fall into a bed and stay there.

I nodded to Ranger, and he headed for the door. He put his Glock into the holster on his belt, and he pocketed his keys.

"I'll have Maria come check on you a little later. Maria and her husband Juan manage the Rangeman building here in Atlanta. If you need me, you know how to reach me."

And in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

Chapter 14

I woke alone in Ranger's bed hours later. The digital alarm clock by the bed read 5:54 PM. I had slept the entire day away. I did a quick self-assessment. My head was no longer throbbing, and I felt considerably better, though sadness still tugged at the edges of my composed exterior.

If being a bounty hunter has done anything for me, it's taught me how to be a resilient person. I've experienced a lot of bad stuff in my work, and I've never had the luxury to break down for long. I've been shot at by thugs, and I've even taken a bullet to the ass on one occasion. My apartment has been fire bombed on numerous occasions. I've been kidnapped and dropped off a bridge into the Delaware River. I've seen the men I love get shot. I've seen skips killed. I've been stun-gunned. I roll around in garbage and dog poop regularly. And to top it all off, I have bad car karma. I've had more cars exploded than I can count. In fact, so many of cars have been destroyed that Ranger has written cars for me into Rangeman's entertainment budget. The men place bets on how long a car will last before it gets firebombed, squashed by a garbage truck, dumped in the river, crashed into a building, compacted, or had a bomb detonated beneath it.

After living through all this crap, I'm resilient as hell. Give this girl a hot shower, a good cry, a nap, some Tastykakes, and a fresh pair of clothes, and I'm ready to roll.

I climbed out of bed and pulled on my black Rangeman clothes over my underwear and bra. I used the bathroom, then headed out to the kitchen to find food. My stomach was rumbling.

When I opened the fridge, I was shocked to find food that hadn't been there before. Good deal. The food that was in there before didn't have me excited. Four white plates covered with silver domed lids were neatly arranged. Maria must have stopped in.

I lifted the lid on one of the plates to find lasagna with a side of broccoli. I lifted a second and found a chicken Caesar salad. Another plate held pot roast and mashed potatoes covered in gravy with green beans and a roll on the side. The final plate held three pieces of coconut cake.

I pulled the cake and lasagna plates from the fridge. I looked around for plastic wrap to cover the lasagna, but could find none. I put a coffee filter over the top of the food, and I zapped it in the microwave for a few minutes. While it heated, I sat on a stool at the bar eating coconut cake.

Fifteen minutes later, I had devoured the plate of lasagna and all three pieces of coconut cake. I figured Ranger wouldn't miss it since his body was a temple and all. I was having some regrets about the third piece, but the sugar-laced carbohydrate coma I was in masked most of the immediate regret. I loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and wiped off the counter.

I grabbed my phone off the countertop and took it into the living room. I sat on the couch, and I dialed my mom's cell number. She picked up on the third ring.

"Stephanie?"

"Hi mom. How are you doing?"

"We're in the middle of dinner. We're having cabbage rolls and chocolate cake.

I heard my grandma's voice in the background.

"Is that Stephanie?" asked grandma. "Tell her she's missing all the Burg happenings while she's down South! Betty Luschek was spotted with Walter Ross last night at bingo at the firehouse! Walter separated from his wife last month, and turns out, Mrs. Ross isn't real happy with Betty for snagging her man."

could feel my mother craving a drink, even though the phone from one thousand miles away. She was determined to exude patience, grace, and manners, a lofty goal often made manageable by large quantities of liquor. My grandmother and I were a trial for her.

"Mom, have you heard any updates on Joe?" I asked.

I've heard nothing," my mother responded, sounding distraught. "The Burg is pretty quiet. I think everyone is holding their breath."

My mother was discussing the latest news from the Burg gossip circles when I heard the apartment door click into place. I turned and saw Ranger removing his gun and flashlight, laying them on the foyer table.

"I'll be home tomorrow night," I told my mother before disconnecting. "Love you."

I followed Ranger's alluring scent into the kitchen. Ranger's Trenton housekeeper, Ella, buys him Bulgari Green shower gel from Macy's. Her sister, who works at the department store, recommended it. It smells sexy, and the smell suits Ranger. I've showered with his shower gel a whole lot of times, but the smell never clings to me like it clings to him. It's intoxicating.

"Hey," I said, plastering half a smile on my face. "How'd today go?"

Ranger pulled the refrigerator open before settling his eyes onto me. His face showed no emotion.

"All the equipment is installed, and the marathon route is now under constant surveillance from a mobile unit and from Rangeman headquarters."

He extracted a covered plate, setting it on the counter and removing the lid. He had chosen the Caesar salad. He pulled a fork from a drawer and sat at the bar to eat.

"What time do we leave to drive the route?" I asked, taking a seat by him.

"Lester, Hal, and I were planning to leave around 7:00 PM. Are you thinking about going?" Ranger responded.

"Yep, I'm ready to get out there," I responded with as much gusto as I could muster.

Ranger studied me thoughtfully, chewing his salad. He looked like he didn't believe me, but gave a barely perceptible nod anyway.

I stood by the bar waiting for Ranger to say something else, but he was completely silent. The silence made me uncomfortable, so I went into the living room and flopped on the couch to play with my cell phone. I texted Lester.

"What's up? Ready for the grand tour of Atlanta again?"

I had one unread text from Lula, so I opened that next.

Lula, 6:10 pm: Did you hear about Officer Hottie? Connie heard the call for EMS on her scanner last night.

I figured I should text her back, so I responded quickly.

"Yep, I heard. I'll be home tomorrow night. Let me know if you hear any updates."

My phone buzzed with an incoming text from Lester.

"Ready, willing, and aiming, Beautiful. Grabbing dinner downstairs. Will meet you in the garage."

Ranger and I met Lester and Hal in the garage at 7:00 PM. We climbed into Ranger's Porsche Cayenne SUV, with me riding shotgun again. Ranger drove the same route as the evening prior, with most of the drive in total silence. Lester and Hal exchanged several words in the back about potential areas of concern, but no conversational chatter filled the SUV's cabin. Ranger was in the zone, and I think we were all afraid to interrupt.

We pulled back into the Rangeman garage a few minutes before 9:00 PM, and Ranger parked in his assigned spot.

"We will reconvene at 4:30 AM in the lobby," Ranger said, ambling out of the car. "Parking will be a nightmare, so we will walk to Centennial Park."

We rolled out of the car too. I must have involuntarily grimaced when I heard "4:30 AM", because Ranger's mouth tipped into an amused smile.

"Babe," he joked.

"What?" I said giving him my best Burg glare.

"Don't worry, I'll make coffee in the morning."

"With as little sleep as he's going to let you have tonight, better request a double espresso from my horndog cousin," Lester joked, elbowing Ranger hard in the ribs.

"Ranger moved so quickly that it caught us all by surprise. He snatched Lester up by the neck, holding his feet three inches off the ground. He slammed him against the side of the Cayenne so hard it cracked the rear driver's side window. Lester's face registered fear pain, and he was struggling for air.

"RESPECT!" Ranger roared at his face before throwing him to the ground.

"Lester laid on his back gasping for air, and Hal rushed to his side. I stood frozen in time, unsure what had just happened. I had never seen Ranger crack before, and it scared the hell of out me. I heard the door to the stairwell click closed and realized Ranger was gone.

"I'm alright," Lester said to Hal, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head.

Hal stepped behind Lester and scooped him up under his armpits. I stepped forward and brushed the dust off his uniform.

"What the hell was that?" I asked Hal and Lester.

"He's been in a bad mood all day," Lester said, testing out body parts to assess for damages. "He needs to act like the rest of the population and take a Xanax when he's stressed."

I had to crack a smile at that. The thought of Ranger popping a Xanax was amusing.

Hal, Lester, and I crossed the garage to the elevator and took it to the third floor. I followed them absentmindedly to a cubicle and stood fidgeting against the cubical wall. They collected laptops, papers, and a variety of tools from the area, packing it up in black backpacks.

Lester slung the backpack over his shoulder, his eyes meeting mine. "Better get some sleep, Steph. It's going to be a short night and a long day tomorrow."

"I nodded agreement, but my feet didn't move from their spot on the floor.

Hal shifted uncomfortably on the balls of his feet, sensing an emotional female in the room. Hal didn't do emotions.

"You uncomfortable going to the Batcave?" Lester asked.

I considered before giving a slight nod.

"I'm sure he's cooled down now. Besides, he'd never do anything to hurt you, Steph. The man would walk through a minefield to protect you. Hell, he threw me up against a car to protect you from a crap joke," Lester said, looking slightly amused.

I nodded agreement, but my heart wasn't in it.

Lester sighed. "I'd offer to let you crash with us, but Ranger would throw me off the top of the building if I shared a bed with you."

I considered laughing, but the threat of being thrown off the top of a building was real with Ranger. I'd seen his men throw a drug dealer out of a window before, and the aftermath wasn't pretty.

"Hey," said Lester, realization crossing his face. "Why don't you go crash with Ximena? She's on six too. She won't bite." He winked at me. "If you were in my bed, I might bite," he joked.

I cracked a smile and back handed him lightly in the arm. "Ximena's room it is!" I shouldered my messenger bag, hugged Lester, gave Hal a finger wave, and headed for the elevator. I fobbed my way to the sixth floor and rapped lightly on the door marked "6C". I waited sixty seconds, and there was no response. I rapped again, louder this time. I heard shouting from the other side of the door.

"Hold your shorts, I'm coming."

The door was wrenched open and Ximena stuck her head out.

"What?" she asked, looking only half awake. She was wearing black yoga pants, a pink dry wick girly cut t-shirt, and her pink bunny slippers. Her hair was mussed with sleep, and she had an eye mask on top of her head.

It took a moment for her eyes to focus on me. Recognition dawned on her face, and she smiled a groggy smile.

"Chica! Get your ass in here!"

She grabbed my hand and yanked me into the small apartment. She was shockingly strong.

The apartment was a small efficiency. It had a small entry foyer with a coat tree and side table that entered onto the main living space. The living room and kitchen were painted cream colored with dark hardwood floors. The lighting was dim and intimate. Large panel curtains covered the floor to ceiling impact glass windows. The living room was furnished with a cream colored, overstuffed couch and a leather armchair. A dark wood coffee table sat in the center of the area. The kitchen was simple with dark wood shaker cabinets and light granite countertops. The appliances were stainless steel. The living room and kitchen were divided by an island with two bar stools. A door led to a room off the living room, which I assumed was the bedroom.

"I didn't mean to interrupt your sleep," I said apologetically. "I can leave so you can crash."

"I wouldn't hear of it!" she exclaimed. "I'm stoked to came by. Sleep is for the weak anyway. Can I get you something to drink? Water? Beer? Wine?"

I shook my head no, and she smiled politely.

"Have a seat," she invited, dragging me into the living room by my hand. She plopped onto the cream couch and put her feet up on the coffee table. "This place is stuffy as hell. It needs some character, like leopard throw pillows or bullet holes in the drywall," she joked, winking at me.

I laughed. "If I hadn't been told you were related to Ranger, I never would have believed it. It's refreshing to find that someone in the family has a sense of humor."

Ximena's smile widened. "We're all pranksters. Well, all of us except Carlos. Hell, you know Lester. He's a bigger jokester than me. Carlos is constantly trying to tame him, but that's a beast that can't be tamed. Mi hermano is one of a kind," she said.

"I watched Ranger try to tame him tonight," I admitted. "It scared the crap out of me."

Ximena grinned. "He probably deserved it."

I shuddered. "Lester needed Ranger to break a car window with his body?"

Ximena froze. "What?"

I told her about the evening's events, and I could see rage simmering under her cool, calm exterior.

"What a fucking asshole!" she exclaimed. She got to her feet and crossed the room before I could register what was going on.

I scrambled behind her into the hall. I caught up to her outside of Ranger's door. She was pounding on the door and shouting loudly. I stood in hall behind her, unsure what to do.

"Get your precious, fancy ass out here, Carlos!" she yelled at the door. "Now!"

"Ranger's door opened slowly. He stood in the doorway, still wearing his Rangeman uniform. Before he could speak, Ximena shoved through the door into his apartment, swinging her ass and waving her hand.

"What the hell got in to you?" she shrieked at him, waving her finger in his face. "You don't go around breaking car windows with my little brother. I'll break your face!" Her face was red with the exertion.

When Ranger didn't respond, she laid into him again. In Spanish.

I did my best to blend into the wall, and I watched my shoes. By the time she was done, I was repenting for all the wrong I had done in my lifetime… and I didn't have a clue what she'd said.

Ranger responded to Ximena in Spanish, his tone repentant and his eyes gentle. Ximena's hands were still on her hips, but her face had softened some.

"Goodnight. See you in the morning, Carlos," she said, turning and swinging her ass out of the room.

My eyes met with Rangers, his eyes holding an unspoken question. I glanced at my shoes, his gaze growing uncomfortable.

"Babe," he said softly.

My eyes met his, and he extended his hand to me across the room.

Before I could respond, Ximena was back in the room. She grabbed my arm and drug me towards the door.

"Chica! Com'on," she said, dragging me out the door.

My eyes met with Ranger's, and a 200 watt smile crossed his face.

I mouthed "Help!" in his direction.

"I protect you from everyone but myself… and Ximena," he laughed as Ximena wrenched the door closed behind us.

Chapter 15

Ximena and I sat up for hours, laughing on the couch in her loaner apartment. We drank hot chocolate and got to know one another. Though I had only just met her, we quickly established a comfortable bond. I trusted her. She was lighthearted and fun, and while her cousin Manoso was the man of mystery, there wasn't much about Ximena that was mysterious. She was straightforward and honest.

I learned that Ximena Santos graduated from high school in Newark before going to the University of Massachusetts Medical School to get her Bachelor of Science and Master of Science in Nursing. She worked her way through college as a night shift EMT in Boston. After graduation, Ximena worked in Massachusetts General Hospital as an Emergency Room nurse. She was a thrill junkie, and the upbeat, hectic tempo of ER work was exactly what she needed to get career fulfillment. She began working for Rangeman in Boston several years ago when approached by Ranger. Previous leadership hadn't worked out, and he needed someone he could trust. Ximena was the woman for the job.

Ximena's love life was an open book too. She had dated some guys off and on, but she was more interested in pursuing her career than a relationship. She summed up her current status in one smooth phrase.

"I'm surrounded by macho men all day long, every single day. Once I get home, I need a break from the testosterone," she had said.

I could relate. I'd spent some serious time at Rangeman's Trenton Office, and it could get overwhelming. Not to mention with the exception of Lester, most of the Rangemen were men of few words.

I told Ximena about myself, too. I told her about my family and my career as a bounty hunter. I told her about my hamster, Rex, and about my friends Lula, Connie, and Mary Lou. I explained that I worked on an as-needed basis for Ranger, assisting with takedowns and research when my skill set was required. I told her about my tendency to roll around in garbage, get stun gunned by my skips who used my own gun on me, and destroy cars. She found the cars piece amusing and admitted Lester had told her about the cars previously.

I intentionally omitted any and all talk of my love life. I thought I was going to get off scot-free, but Ximena caught on pretty quickly.

"I'm so thrilled to finally meet the woman who tamed Carlos," she admitted with a grin. "I never saw it coming. I didn't think he'd ever find a companion."

"I wouldn't go so far to say I tamed Ranger," I said, picking at my fingernails and refusing to make eye contact. "Ranger doesn't do relationships."

"How the heck would you define your role in his life then, Chica? Anyone with eyes can see what's up between you two. Hell, he let you stay in his unit last night."

I thought about it for a minute before responding. Sure, Ranger and I had a physical relationship. And on more than one occasion, he had admitted he was emotionally involved. But he'd also told me the price was too high. He'd made it pretty clear he couldn't afford to have me in his life, and as much as I hate to admit it, I couldn't afford the heartbreak that was sure to follow whenever he decided he was done with me. Ranger wasn't long-term relationship material, and I wasn't sure I was genetically coded for anything else. My life wasn't on target for marriage, but I at least expected cohabitation & long term commitment at some point before my death.

"I'm like Ranger's pet. I provide companionship and entertainment at a low emotional cost. When his schedule doesn't allow, he farms me off to other caretakers until he's ready to resume his role as a pet owner." I grimaced at my own honesty, but hell, what did I have to lose at this point?

Ximena was thoughtful as she processed the information she'd received. She sipped her hot chocolate and pulled a giant marshmallow out of the bag on the couch between us, shoving it in her mouth.

"And who exactly does he farm you out to?" she asked, curiosity getting the best of her.

"Depends on the day. Tank sometimes. Any of the Rangemen from Trenton, really. Usually he farms me out to my boyfriend, Joe."

Ximena choked on her hot chocolate. She worked hard to regain her composure.

"Your boyfriend?" she asked. "You have a boyfriend?"

"Well, ex-boyfriend. Joe and I have an on-again, off-again relationship. We're currently in a semi-permanent off phase," I said.

"Define semi-permanent."

"I think it's finally occurred to me that Joe and I aren't compatible as long term partners in a relationship. We're great friends, and I've known him for my entire life. We're too tied up in a physical relationship to move back into the friend-zone right now, but I hope time can heal our friendship. I can't imagine my life without Joe in it," I admitted.

"You love him," she said openly.

"I love Ranger too," I said defensively. "I just don't think he loves me in the same way. Maybe I need to get both of them out of my bed and Go Fish," I admitted sadly.

"Don't count Carlos out yet, Chica. He's fiercely loyal, even if he doesn't know what the hell he wants. It's clear to anyone who has eyeballs that he loves you," she said.

"In his own way," I qualified, as Ranger had done many times.

"Is that what he told you?" she said, annoyed.

I nodded.

"What an ass," she sighed.

"In his defense, he seems to see more good in me than I see. He sees potential. I see a chronic fuck-up," I admitted. "I'm not sure I'd want to establish anything long-term with me either."

"Chica, I've been hearing about you for years from Lester. If you think you don't have anything long-term with my cousin, you're delusional. He's mentioned you at family gatherings a time or two, and he always smiles like you hung the moon talking about you."

I felt my heart stutter in my chest at that admission. Ranger talked about me? To his family?

"You're smiling like the Cheshire cat!" Ximena laughed. "Girl, you're smitten too. Why the hell are you in this apartment and not in his bed?" She waggled her eyebrows, just like Lester.

I shrugged, noncommittal.

"Seriously, what's up? Not that I'm not thrilled to have you here, but why did you land on my doorstep? And what was up with you earlier? Ranger was being Mr. Secrecy, but you were in a state. Spill, Chica."

I hugged a throw pillow from the couch to my chest. I wasn't sure where to start, so I started from the beginning.

I told Ximena about telling Joe it was over for good, and how Ranger had heard the entire conversation. I told her about coming to Atlanta to escape my feelings in Jersey. I omitted the parts about sex with Ranger, because who really wants to hear about their cousin's sex life? However, I did come clean about my feelings for Ranger. I told her about how Joe got shot on the job and about the unknowns of his condition.

"I think my reaction really bothered Ranger," I admitted sadly, blinking away tears that were threatening to spill. I wiped my nose with the hem of my shirt and sniffed. "I don't think he understands I meant it when I told Joe we were through. In my defense, Ranger has been part of the problem. He's always tried to send me back to Joe to patch up our relationship. He tells me he's a 'good cop', and that he can give me the things I want. Ranger takes what he wants, then he sends me back."

Ximena sat in thoughtful silence as I shoved my mouth full of marshmallows.

"Ranger has a lot going on in his life," Ximena said quietly. "Don't take his reaction too personally right now. Maybe give him some time and some grace. He'll eventually come around."

Her response caught me off guard. She knew more about the man of mystery than I did, and for some reason, that gave me a sick feeling in my stomach. I raised an eyebrow in question.

Ximena's eyes met mine, and some unknown emotion crossed her face.

"Ranger hardly talks about his life," I said bitterly. "I wouldn't know."

Ximena considered that. She seemed unsure whether to respond. She blew out a sigh.

"Carlos's mom is undergoing chemotherapy treatments for colon cancer. Her prognosis isn't great. He's taking it really hard. He's buying her the finest treatment money can buy, but sometimes it isn't enough," she admitted. "His brother is in some trouble again, too. From what I hear, it's grand theft auto, but we suspect he's taking drugs again. Carlos has had men tracking him down and keeping tabs on him for months, but you can't help the unwilling. Last I heard, he's out on bail but trial is coming up."

I sat dumbfounded. Ranger never spoke of his family or of his feelings. I felt like I was being introduced to a Ranger I'd never met before. I was speechless.

"Try not to take it too personally that he's a bit out of whack. He got an update on his mom's condition this morning, and that sent him into a state. I figure that's why Lester got the hulk smash treatment earlier. He's quiet when he shuts down. It probably has nothing to do with your ex-boyfriend cop, especially if he's got Rangeman monitoring the guy's room. He knows you care about him, even if you aren't together. He had a lot to deal with when he got out of the service. He needs to go see a shrink again to get his shit together. The one thing I'm absolutely certain about Carlos is that he's a control freak. If he can't control his circumstances, he's sure as hell going to make an effort to control Lester's behavior."

She winked and cracked a smile.

I smiled back too, but my heart wasn't in it. My heart ached for Ranger. I learned more about his personal life in five minutes than he'd divulged in the years we had worked together. I was absolutely certain he cared for me and trusted me, so why wouldn't he have shared any of this information with me? His poor mother, and the stress of his brother? Not to mention he'd evidently received some psychiatric care in the past.

"Shit, Chica!" Ximena exclaimed. "It's almost 1:00 AM. We have an early morning wake up call. We better get some sleep. You're welcome to crash on the couch here."

"Thanks for the offer," I said. "I'll have to take a rain check on the slumber party. I'm going to head next door. I'll see you bright and early."

"Night, Chica!"

I pulled the door to 6C closed behind me and fobbed my way into 6A. I was still in my Rangeman uniform sans shoes, which I was carrying. I padded through the bedroom to the bathroom and closed the door, flipping on the light. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and stripped out of my bra, pants, and socks. I slipped into bed wearing a tee and underwear.

In seconds, Ranger had pulled me into him, holding me close. He was warm and smelled wonderful.

"I missed you," he whispered, placing a kiss above my ear.

"I know," I said earnestly.

I knew Ranger well enough to know he was thinking about smiling.

"I love you," I said in a whisper.

"I know," Ranger said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

A laugh escaped my chest. I playfully hit him as I snuggled into his body. Within seconds, I was drifting into a dreamless sleep.

I woke to Ranger standing over me. He was fully dressed in Rangeman black fatigues with a utility belt strapped around his waist. The light on the table next to the bed was on, and the clock on the table read 4:02 AM.

"Urngh," I grumbled.

"Up and at 'em, Babe," Ranger said, setting a cup of coffee on the table. "I let you sleep as long as I could. You're going to pay the price today for hours of girl talk last night."

"Five more minutes," I whined, rolling onto my belly and shoving my face into the pillow. I could feel sleep luring me back when Ranger ripped the covers off the bed, exposing my bare legs to cool air.

"Eek!" I shrieked, huddling into the fetal position. "Cold!"

I shoved the pillow over my face, willing the light to shut off and Ranger to disappear.

I was drifting off to sleep when I heard the shower turn on. Ranger caught me off guard, ripping the pillow off my face and hauling me over his shoulder like a sack of sand. Before I could respond, he thrust me into the warm shower, clothes and all.

I shrieked, and Ranger smiled.

"You've got five minutes until breakfast. I suggest you use them wisely," he encouraged, hanging a towel over the glass shower enclosure.

I was conditioning my hair when the glass shower door opened, and Ranger set my coffee in the soap nook. "Two minutes," he said, tapping his smart watch and closing the door again.

I rinsed the conditioner out of my hair, shut off the water, swallowed my coffee in one giant slurp, and wrapped myself in a towel. Ranger came into the bathroom again holding muffin on a white plate.

"Breakfast, courtesy of Maria," he explained, setting the plate on the counter and watching me dry my hair.

I gave him a glare. "Privacy?" I asked, speaking loudly over the roar of the hair dryer.

Ranger shrugged. "Pretty," he said, smiling. He motioned to my body in the towel, then placed his hand on the back of my neck.

I felt heat travel from his hand to the tips of my toes before landing low in my belly. I think I inadvertently moaned.

"Babe," he said, stepping closer to me. In seconds, the towel was gone, and he was kissing me… everywhere.

I tried to be the voice of reason. "We have to be downstairs in ten minutes," I said, looking at my uneaten muffin and at Ranger on his knees before me.

"I'm up for the challenge," he said. "You can take the muffin with you." He smirked before going back to the task at hand.

Oh boy.

Chapter 16

Ranger and I met Lester and Hal in the lobby at 4:36 AM. Lester looked like he wanted to say something about our late arrival, but he knew better than to say a word. I winked at him, and he cracked a half smile that Ranger either didn't see or didn't acknowledge. Hal looked half asleep. Evidently the Halosarus wasn't a morning dinosaur.

Ranger distributed ear buds to each of us, and we checked our gear before bugging out. I was dressed in Rangeman black, including cargo pants, black long sleeved stretchy v-neck t-shirt with 'Rangeman' pocket-style logo, black CAT boots, and a black Rangeman windbreaker. My untamed curly hair was pulled unceremoniously into a ponytail since my critical hair time had been interrupted by more enjoyable activities this morning. I was wearing a black leather belt with a concealed carry holster attached. I also had clipped pepper spray, a flashlight, handcuffs, flexi cuffs, and my cell phone to the belt. I looked like mini-Ranger, except I had accessorized my gear with a disposable coffee cup & muffin courtesy of Maria and a 'just got boffed' smirk courtesy of Batman himself.

We walked on foot several blocks to Centennial Park where event organizers and volunteers were setting up tables, barricades, refreshment stands, gear check table, and other various stations for the runners and supporters who would begin arriving soon. I saw other Rangeman teams on site coordinating efforts for security. I recognized some of the men, but others were unfamiliar. Some were assisting with the set-up of equipment, and others were completing random bag checks. Another team was checking bags at the gear check table.

"It will be about an hour before we can expect heavy activity," Ranger said. "Keep your eyes open for suspicious individuals or happenings. If something is going to go down today, this is the logical location. Lester and Hal, stick together. Stephanie will stay with me. Relay any suspicious activity through your ear bud. You may occasionally be asked to monitor potentially suspicious activity observed initially by video surveillance. Ximena's team has been monitoring video feeds through the night, and they'll report items for follow up to us. Questions?"

Hal, Lester, and I shook our heads no, and we parted ways.

An hour passed and by 6:40 AM, Centennial Park was beginning to buzz with activity. Runners and their families were arriving by car, on foot, and on the public transit called MARTA. I scanned the crowd for suspicious activities like Ranger had coached, but it felt like an impossible task. Over ten thousand runners had signed up for today's activities, and that number didn't begin to quantify all the friends, families, and community supporters present too. The morning was cool in Atlanta, and people were dressed in heavy layers of loose fitting clothing. Many people carried backpacks, and gear was left strung about carelessly by amped up runners ready to hit the road route. Not only was the flurry of activity impossible to navigate, I was bored out of my mind by the tedium of people-watching.

"Babe," said Ranger, placing his hand on the small of my back. "Your heavy sighing isn't going to make this happen any faster. You've only been here an hour. We're here until at least four."

I rolled my eyes so hard I think I saw my brain. "Excuse me? I didn't say a word."

"You didn't have to, Babe. May I remind you that you're the one who volunteered for this activity?"

I sighed audibly again. "I had no idea this would be such a mess. There is so much gear littering the park it would be impossible to find a potential threat. So many people are roaming the streets who could easily hide a gun under their clothes. It's got me on edge even if I am bored," I admitted.

"You're right. It's not an ideal situation," Ranger admitted. "Eric, the head of Rangeman Atlanta, tried to encourage race organizers to ban bags and backpacks from the event, but they didn't feel it was necessary. Many runners come with extra clothes and food, and a backpack enables them to check it in at the gear table," he said, pointing across the park to the gear check station. "Homeland security wanted to bring in x-ray scanners and set up stronger security checkpoints, but this location is a logistical nightmare. The race organizers refused to move the race. We're doing the best we can, babe. Keep your eyes open."

Runners were beginning to congregate at the starting line for the 7:00 AM marathon and half marathon start. Onlookers had lined the running route as far as I could see, and they had filtered into aluminum bleachers. The sea of people was thickening, and I was having a hard time sticking to Ranger in the heavy traffic.

"You stay here," Ranger directed, pointing to a spot three feet from the starting line. "I'm going to cross to the other side so we've got eyes on both sides of the lineup. If you need me, use the earbud. It will take about twenty minutes for the flights of runners to get out of here, then we'll regroup before the 5k and 10k groups depart. Notify everyone immediately if you see anything out of the ordinary."

He grabbed the front of my shirt, pulled me to him, and planted a kiss on my lips that traveled all the way to my doodah. In an instant, he was gone, the crowd swallowing him up.

I felt considerably more uneasy without Ranger by my side, but thought it best to forge ahead. I tried giving myself a pep talk.

You're a professional, Stephanie. You've been taking down bad guys for years. What's a friggin' security detail, anyway? Standing around, looking important wearing black. Pfft. You got this. You've helped Ranger countless times before. You're a Rangeman… sort of.

I put my hands on my hips and straightened my back in an effort to look taller and tougher. I continued watching the crowd, feeling claustrophobic smashed in the sea of bodies.

An announcement was made that the gun would officially start the race in two minutes, and the runners stood at the ready, doing fast shoe lace checks and slamming down last minute paper cups of water.

Something caught my attention to my right, so I turned to look. A small statured, thin man wearing tiny running shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt had Mr. Happy in his hand, and he was taking a leak on the concrete next to me. The urine was pooling around my feet. I felt a spark of fury ignite in my chest, and I could feel the angry Italian part of my heritage take hold.

"What in the hell are you doing?" I shrieked, waving my finger in his face.

He finished, tucked Mr. Happy back into his running shorts, and shrugged apologetically.

"Twenty six miles is a long run, lady. You try holding it that long!"

"Port-a-potties!" I shouted at him. "For Christ's sake, use the facilities!"

"Facilities are reserved for ladies, and sometimes for men who have to take a dump. It's marathon runners' courtesy. Besides, I've got a great spot up front here to start the race," he said before turning and walking away, the crowd sucking him in so he disappeared from view.

I heard Ranger in my earbud.

"Babe."

At least he sounded amused.

"He's mine," I announced to anyone who was listening on their earbuds.

I let out an exasperated sigh. I pulled a pair of flexicuffs from my belt and took off after the guy to detain him for indecent exposure. I was security. I could do that, right?

I took two steps into the crowd before an explosion rocked the park, knocking me and others around me onto their asses.

My head made contact with the concrete and searing pain raced through my head. My ears were ringing and my brain was foggy, panic curling low in my belly. I fought to get to my feet, as did others around me. Someone stepped on my hand as I pushed myself up, and I clutched it to my chest, pain shooting through it. I still couldn't hear, but the looks on people's faces were sheer terror. People were scattering in every direction from starting line.

I stood frozen in place, unsure where to go or how to proceed. Then one solitary, overwhelming thought hit me like a ton of bricks.

Ranger. I had to find Ranger. The explosion came from the direction Ranger had traveled. Fear pooled in my chest.

In my job as a bounty hunter, I've too many terrifying encounters. I've found that channeling blinding terror into something more constructive is necessary to survive situations like this. I took a deep breath, shook my head to try to clear the fog, and pushed against the stampeding crowd. I had to find Ranger.

The roaring in my ears was beginning to die down, and I could hear cries and shrieks of terror from the thinning crowd around me. I could see dozens of bodies on the ground ten yards from me, litter strewn about from destroyed barricades and signs. Some good Samaritan runners were trying to provide aid for the injured in the street, but first responders had not yet arrived on the scene. I saw a few guys I recognized as Feds shouting into radios. It had been less than sixty seconds since the blast, but it felt like an eternity. I didn't see any Rangemen.

I remembered the ear bud in my ear and ripped it out, holding it to my mouth. I couldn't hear a thing being transmitted through the device, but I hoped the control room could hear me.

"This is Stephanie," I shouted at the device. "Bomb at the starting line. I'm fine, but I can't get eyes on Ranger. I can't get eyes on Lester or Hal either, but I don't think they were in the area. I'm experiencing some hearing loss from the blast. I'm going in to find Ranger."

I shoved the device back into my ear, praying my hearing would improve sooner rather than later. I raced across the macadam, moving around injured runners. I tried not to see their faces and the fear. I tried to block out the blood. I didn't have time to be sick. I had to find my partner. I was responsible for his safety, just as he was responsible for mine.

I glanced around frantically until my eyes landed on a figure clad in all black on the ground ten feet past the starting line. My heart skidded to a stop. I ran flat out towards the figure, tripping over a metal barricade that had been shredded and bent. I fell to my hands and knees. A foot was on the ground next to me, no body attached.

I fought back the bile in my throat. I pulled myself back to my feet and ran around the bodies in the street to the black-clad, face down figure on the ground. It was Ranger.

I ripped the ear bud out of my ear again and shouted into it. "Man down. Ranger is ten feet from the starting line. I need help now!"

I shoved the ear bud back into my ear and tried to get a handle on what I was seeing.

Ranger was laying on the ground face down, unconscious. A significant amount of blood was pooling below his lower body, and the lower portion of his left leg was bent in an unnatural way. I was afraid to move him, but I had to figure out where the blood was coming from. There was too much blood.

It took all of my strength to roll Ranger onto his back. I was quickly able to see where the blood was coming from. A large piece of metal was embedded in his upper leg, and he was bleeding heavily. Several smaller pieces were embedded in his legs, arms, and torso. I had to get the bleeding from his leg to stop, but I had no idea how. I did a quick assessment of the tools I had on my person and realized I could use my belt.

I pulled the cell phone, pepper spray, cuffs, and other tools off my belt, ripping it from the loops on my pants. I fed the leather end of the belt under Ranger's left leg just below his pelvis, and I pulled it through the buckle, yanking it as tight as I could to reduce blood flow. I held the belt tight with my right arm and reached to check for a pulse on his neck with my left hand. The pulse was there but weak.

"Ranger, stay with me," I said in a demanding tone, willing him to listen in his unconscious state. "I can't lose you."

I ripped the ear bud from my ear and shouted into it. "He's losing too much blood. Get someone here now!" I let the ear bud drop to the ground, and I two-handed the belt, praying for a miracle.

I was born and raised a good Catholic girl from the Burg, but now days, I mostly hit church on holidays. On my knees on the concrete with Ranger though, I made at least fifty promises to God. I'd go to church every Sunday. I'd stop swearing. I'd quit sleeping with two men out of wedlock. I'd put money in the collection plate in church. I told God I'd do almost anything if he would protect Ranger and pull us safely from this mess.

It seemed as though I'd been on the ground for an hour when I caught sight of Ximena and Hector sprinting to us, but it couldn't have been more than five minutes. They were running down the street that was littered with injured bodies, emergency personnel finally arriving to help them.

Ximena reached me and fell to her knees. "Carlos?" I heard her beg, lightly slapping his face in an effort to rouse him. She checked his pulse, then pulled his eyelids back to check his pupils. She did a quick body assessment before checking my makeshift tourniquet.

"We're going to have to move him," she shouted at me. "Hector, get him under the arms. I'll haul his legs. Stephanie, keep your belt as tight as you can. Ambulances are starting to line up one block west of here. Let's move!"

We began to lift Ranger when another blast rocked the park. The blast knocked us all to our knees. I held the belt tight and covered Ranger's body with my own. I felt a shower of small debris filter down onto us.

I felt a hand touch my shoulder, and I turned to face Ximena.

I couldn't hear what she said, but I could read her lips. "Move!"

Hector, Ximena and I stood, lifting Ranger's large, muscular frame. We moved carefully and quickly through the street, down the block. I could see the strobes from ambulances, and emergency personnel were running into the park. Ximena flagged down an EMT who had just angled out from the passenger door of an ambulance.

"This man needs to be transported now!" she shouted at the man. "Shrapnel injury to the leg. He's bleeding from his femoral artery. He's lost a considerable amount of blood. Possible head injury, pupils are unequal in size."

The man raced to the back door of the ambulance and wrenched open the door. Hector, Ximena, and I lifted Ranger into the back of the ambulance and onto a stretcher. The ambulance tech strapped him down.

"Stay with him, and hold that tight," Ximena said, gesturing to the belt. "I need to go back. People need help."

Ximena jumped from the back of the ambulance, and Hector followed.

"Be careful!" I shouted as the back doors to the ambulance were slammed closed and the ambulance sped into the street.

Chapter 17

The ambulance screeched to a halt and the back doors were wrenched open by a woman and a man, both wearing blue medical scrubs. The woman was blonde and small in stature, her fair skin standing in deep contrast to her navy blue uniform. The man was tall and rail thin with dark skin, brown hair, and chocolate colored eyes.

"What have we got?" the man asked, gripping the stretcher and rolling it out of the ambulance.

I held the belt tight with my right hand, holding Ranger's hand tightly in my left. His hand was limp and cool to the touch. I shuffled out of the ambulance and alongside the stretcher.

"Male bombing victim, name Ricardo Carlos Manoso. 34 years of age," said the EMT, dropping the stretcher's wheels. "Significant blood loss from the femoral artery. Serious shrapnel injury to lower extremities and possible head injury. Pupils are unevenly dilated. This guy needs an immediate blood transfusion."

The man and woman quickly studied Ranger's lifeless body, noticing the oxygen mask over his mouth and the belt I was holding around his leg.

"Move!" the small woman shouted, gripping the bed and shoving it toward the door.

More medical professionals in blue scrubs appeared, and I realized the dock where we were unloading was flooded with people and equipment. They were preparing for more victims to arrive. Another ambulance pulled up, and several of the doctors and nurses ran to its rear doors.

The hospital was a red brick structure. The ambulance unloading dock was in a horseshoe shaped area, surrounded on three sides by brick building. Two automatic glass sliding doors led into the emergency area.

The ambulance we had arrived in raced back onto the street, presumably to go retrieve more victims.

The man and woman pushed Ranger at a run, and I scrambled to keep up and keep tension on the belt. We raced through the glass doors into a sterile, white hallway lined by medical equipment. As we ran, we picked up other medical personnel. The blonde woman barked information and orders, but I couldn't focus on any of it. Instead, I tried to focus on holding the belt. We ran flat out, pushing through a set of light colored wood double doors, then through another door marked "Trauma 3".

The room was also sterile white and filled with medical equipment. The room was brightly lit and filled with people.

A man took the belt in his hand, holding it tight. The blonde nurse had begun cutting off Ranger's clothing, and out of instinct, I ripped his cell phone off his belt and pocketed it. My phone, earbud, and all my equipment was laying on the ground at Centennial Park.

A woman with caramel skin, dark eyes, and dark hair took me by the arm and pulled me to the side.

"You're going to need to wait in the waiting room, ma'am," she announced.

I felt my eyes go wide with fear. "No, I can't leave him…" I explained frantically.

I saw a nurse starting an IV in Ranger's arm, and another holding bags of blood.

"Ma'am, you need to let us do our job. There's paperwork at the front desk you need to fill out. Make sure to grab the clipboard labeled 'Trauma 3'. We'll give you an update as quickly as we can, but we've got to get him stable enough to go into surgery" she said apologetically, shoving me towards and out the trauma room door.

I stood in the hall looking in through the glass in the door, watching them hook Ranger up to tubes and shove tubes down his throat. I hated to stand and watch, but I was frozen in this place. I couldn't move. My body felt as if it was made of lead.

People buzzed around me, and bombing victims were carted through the hallway and into other trauma rooms, their cries cutting through me like glass.

Something drew my attention away from Ranger, and I realized his phone was vibrating in my pocket. I pulled it out to check the readout. Tank.

I answered the phone on the fourth ring, raising it to my ear.

"Tank?" I croaked in an almost whisper.

"Bomber, you alright?" Tank asked, not sounding like his calm and collected self.

I sat in silence on the line. Tears were threatening to fall from my eyes, and it felt like I had a softball lodged in my throat. My breathing was erratic, and it felt like someone was standing on my chest.

"Steph?" he asked. "Talk to me."

"I'm alive," I whispered. "Ranger…. He…"

I couldn't finish. I let out a choked sob, and I could hear Tank swear on the other end of the line.

"I'm on my way," he said, disconnecting.

I stood watching the nurses and doctors work. Eventually, a small, older woman took me by the elbow and addressed me. She was wearing a red sweater with blue jeans and brown loafers. She had steely grey hair cut into a sharp pixie cut, and her green eyes were assessing. She had a large name badge that read "Susan, Volunteer, Emery University Medical Center".

"My name is Susan," she announced with a thick Southern drawl. "Dear, I need you to come with me. You can't be out here."

I wanted to resist, but I felt like an observer outside my own body. She kept hold of my elbow, placing her other hand on the small of my back and guiding me through long hallways to a waiting room that was full of people. Some of the people's eyes drifted to me, staring.

To my surprise, she didn't stop in the waiting room. Instead, she shuffled me into another carpeted hallway and into a small room marked "Women".

The bathroom was sterile white with three stalls and two sink basins. The sink was tan granite, and the stall doors were tan. There was a small bench in the bathroom, which she directed me to sit on.

I closed my eyes, letting my chin fall to my chest. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, but it only grew. I tried to focus on taking slow, steady breaths. I tried to focus on happy thoughts of Ranger. His strong, warm arms. His velvet voice. His amused smirk. The way he put his hand at the small of my back. The way he brushed soft kisses across my lips and face.

As I sat, I realized the woman was washing my arms. I opened my eyes. The woman had put on medical gloves, and she was using warm, soapy paper towels to wipe down my blood-covered arms.

I hadn't even realized I was bloody. I did a quick self-assessment. My pants were covered in dried, caked blood. Ranger's blood. My windbreaker sleeves had been pushed above my elbows, and my arms and windbreaker were covered in the blood. One of my pants legs had been ripped in several places.

I heard someone sob and realized too late that it was me.

"Shhhh…." Susan cooed. "You're going to be alright, honey. I want to clean you up to make sure you don't have any injuries that need tendin' to," she explained.

"You don't have to…." I tried to protest, but she cut me off.

"Honey, I was a nurse for forty-one years before I retired two years ago. I may not be workin' in the trauma rooms anymore, but I've still got some skills left," she said, giving me a small smile. "Volunteer, my foot."

Susan finished washing my hands and arms before addressing my face. She got a clean paper towel and began working. I felt a stinging pain, and I winced. I chanced a look at the mirror, then hesitated. I had a cut running through my left eyebrow, and blood had trickled down onto my face and neck. In the chaos following the bomb, I hadn't even realized I had been injured.

"I think this will be okay," Susan said softly, "but some stitches would help the wound heal more cleanly with less scarring."

I shook my head no, and she proceeded with her work.

"You're a tough one," she said with a small smile. She helped me out of my bloody windbreaker and held it towards the trash can. I nodded approval, and she tossed it.

"Do you mind taking out your hair elastic?" she asked, her fingers at my scalp.

I latched my finger in the elastic and pulled it out. Susan tipped my head forward and separated my hair in several places, examining my scalp.

"Oh honey, you must have hit your head real hard," she said with concern. "You've got some pretty serious abrasions on the back of your head, but it's hard to tell much with all the dried blood. Do you have a headache? Do you feel dizzy?"

My head was throbbing, but I didn't want to fool with medical treatment. There were lots of people who needed help worse than I did, so I shook my head "no". I needed to get back to Ranger. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and sat quietly on the bench, feeling her assessing eyes on my body.

"Unfortunately we can't do much about your pants, but at least we cleaned you up a little," she said, smoothing a stray curl behind my ear. "Can I get you some water?"

I shook my head no again, and she sighed audibly.

"Well, please let me know if there's anything else I can do for you, hun. Again, my name is Susan. I'll be around all day. Let's get you back out to the waiting room so you can fill out paperwork for your friend."

She took my hand and hoisted me to my feet, leading me out the door and back into the waiting room. She sat me in a navy plastic chair by a window, then crossed to the patient registration desk. She returned moments later with a clipboard filled with paperwork.

"Fill out the top sheet first and return it to the desk. It's got the most important information on it. The other pieces may take more time to complete," she said, handing me the clipboard with a pen dangling from an attached string. "If you don't know some of the answers, leave them blank. We can deal with those later if necessary."

My eyes met hers and held.

"Thank you," I said on a whisper, the words catching painfully in my throat.

"Of course, dear," she responded, cupping my face in her hand and rubbing her thumb across my cheek. "If I can do anything else for you, let me know. The hospital is working to get grief counselors set up in the conference rooms down the hall. If you need to talk, you can stop in later. There's no charge for the service."

And with that, she was gone.

I sat in the plastic chair near the window trying to fill out the paperwork, but my hands were trembling so badly, I couldn't hold the pen. My adrenaline had burned off, and my body was struggling to adapt. I was shivering, and it felt like ice was running through my veins. I struggled to two-hand the pen and fill out the information requested on the front sheet.

I wrote in Ranger's given name, his address on Haywood, and his birthdate. I completed a brief section about his medical history and family history, but most of the boxes I had to mark "unknown". The form asked for two emergency contacts, and I was unsure who to write. On the first line, I decided to write "Pierre King, a.k.a. Tank". I pulled out Ranger's cell phone and looked up Tank's phone number, writing it on the line. On the second line, I wrote "Stephanie Plum", scrawling my phone number on the line before crossing it out to write Ranger's number.

I returned the form to the woman working at the desk. She was middle aged with light brown hair, wearing a white v-neck nurses uniform with white tights and white clog-style shoes. She marked something on the paper and thanked me.

I chanced a look at the clock. It read 8:16 AM. It had been just over an hour since the bomb had gone off at Centennial Park. It felt like a lifetime had passed.

I stepped into a corner and searched through the contacts on Ranger's phone until I found "Rangeman Atlanta Control Room". I hit dial and waited.

A stern voice answered. "Report."

"This is Stephanie," I said, trying to sound collected and calm. "I'm with Ranger at Emory University Medical Center. He's in a trauma room, they were going to try to get him into surgery."

Silence. The person at the end of the line said nothing.

"I just thought you should know," I said, my voice cracking before disconnecting unceremoniously.

There still weren't any Rangemen at the hospital. I assumed all available personnel were needed at the park. I was alone in a strange hospital in a strange town, and all I felt was terror.

I turned to cross back to my chair and ran directly into a mountain of a man. I began to fall backwards, and he grabbed me, pulling me close.

The man was tall and broad with messy blonde hair that cried 'surfer'. His grey t-shirt advertising Corona beer was painted onto his toned body, and his loose fit jeans were worn and soft. He was wearing brown biker boots and a soft, worn brown leather jacket. He had a brown leather messenger bag slung across his body. He held me at arm's length, doing a quick once-over of my body before pulling me in close again.

I exhaled the breath I had been holding and drooped in his arms, letting the tears fall that I'd been holding back.

It was Diesel.

Chapter 18

Diesel held me while I wept, my knees going weak and body trembling. He placed his arm behind my knees and scooped me up. He cradling me to his chest and carried me down the hall to a quiet corner away from the waiting room. He set me on my feet and steadied me, keeping an arm at my back.

"Hey sweetheart," he said, his voice warm and soft. "You alright?"

I shook my head no and struggled to find my voice.

"What… How… How did you find me?" I asked.

"I was in the area looking for someone," he said with a grim set to his mouth.

I gave him a questioning look wondering if he meant me, and he shook his head no.

"An unmentionable someone," he explained.

I nodded, knowing better than to ask questions about Diesel's work. He was a nice guy, but his job of "hunting unmentionables" was beyond weird. I also knew better than to ask how he found me. The guy had crazy abilities that defied human nature.

I had met Diesel several years previously. We've hunted some bad guys together, most recently taking down a drug cooker making Zombas in Trenton. Mostly, Diesel pops in and out of my life in Trenton like a thief in the night. One week he was there, then he'd disappear for months at a time. I never knew when, or even if, I'd catch Diesel sleeping in my bed like Goldilocks.

"Your pants…" he acknowledged, then opened his messenger bag. He dug out a fresh pair of blue jeans and a long sleeved, light blue stretchy girly cut t-shirt. He also fished out a hairbrush. I recognized them as mine, but I hadn't packed them for this job in Atlanta.

"How did you get those?" I asked, my voice faltering.

He shook his head, looking amused. He flashed me a wide grin and ushered me towards a family bathroom.

Ten minutes later, I emerged wearing the fresh clothes. I had stuck my head under the faucet in the bathroom and washed out my hair with hand soap in an effort to get the caked blood out of my hair, towel drying it using my trashed shirt. I had squatted under the hand dryer for six cycles to blast some of the moisture out of my hair before giving up, tying it back into a loose knot. I had thrown out my wasted clothes.

Diesel guided me back to the waiting room and pushed me into a chair. He took the seat next to mine, settling his arm behind me on the chair back. I leaned into him, resting my cheek on his chest. I let the silent tears trail down my face, crying myself into an exhausted sleep.

I woke up to Diesel shaking me lightly. I glanced at him, then the clock.

9:49 AM.

Then I heard why Diesel had woke me.

"Manoso?" a red haired woman asked. She was wearing seafoam green scrubs. Her skin was fair and freckled, and the color of her scrubs accented her green eyes. She was young, probably early twenties. She looked a bit shell shocked.

I lumbered clumsily to my feet and crossed to her. Diesel followed.

"Is he okay?" I asked, fear filling every pore of my body.

She gave a quick, polite smile. "I don't have that information, ma'am. I was asked to collect his family and take you to the surgical suite waiting room. Please follow me," she said, turning and walking down the hallway.

Diesel and I followed her through a maze of hallways and elevators before we were deposited in another waiting room. This room was painted grey with cherry wood trim and doors. The chairs matched the trim and were upholstered with tan fabric. The room had a large fish tank that consumed most of one wall, holding a variety of brightly colored fish.

"Someone will be with you shortly," the red haired woman said before disappearing down a hall.

Diesel flopped into a chair and opened his messenger bag. He fished around and pulled out a Snickers bar, handing it to me.

"Sorry, no Tastykakes in my bag today, sunshine" he joked with a smile.

I thanked him and ate the candy bar quietly, waiting for news on Ranger.

More families were escorted into the waiting room. The tension in the room was palpable. Families were waiting for news on their injured loved ones. No one had expected the day to turn to tragedy.

"Manoso?" A woman in light blue scrubs was standing in the room holding a chart. Her hair was under a blue net, and she wore a mask over her face.

Diesel waved to signal our location, and the woman crossed the room to us. She sat in a chair directly across from ours, extending her hand to us to shake.

"My name is Doctor Anne Marie Sullen, and I was Mr. Manoso's surgeon today," she said. "We were able to stop the bleeding in his leg and repair most of the damage. We also removed fragments from his torso and arms. He's received numerous blood transfusions, but he's still incredibly fragile. We're monitoring him for signs of internal bleeding from the impact of the blast."

"Can I see him?" I interrupted.

"No, not yet. I'm sorry," she said apologetically. "He's being transferred down to CT scan. We're trying to get a handle on the trauma that was sustained to his brain. Once he's finished up there, he'll be transferred to the intensive care unit, room 452. The intensive care unit is in the Powell section of the hospital. Follow the signs to Powell, then take the elevator to the fourth floor," she instructed. "You can wait there if you'd like more privacy. Do you have any questions for me?"

I thought hard but could come up with no questions.

"Your husband isn't out of the woods yet, Mrs. Manoso," Dr. Sullen said, "but he's in good hands."

I didn't bother to correct her. I only nodded. I was afraid I would quit receiving updates on his condition if they thought otherwise. I thanked her, and she excused herself before disappearing down the hall.

Diesel navigated the hospital halls and found Ranger's room. He guided me into a soft recliner and put up my feet before standing in a corner. He slouched into the wall and watched me through his lashes.

I removed Ranger's phone from my pocket and dialed Tank. His phone went straight to voicemail, so I left a brief message with an update and our new location.

I called the control room next.

"Report," a familiar voice said.

"Lester?" I asked.

"Beautiful!" he exclaimed, sounding relieved. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm alright," I said. I filled him in with details on Ranger's condition, promising to call back when I knew more.

"I'm glad you're safe," I told Lester. "I couldn't spot you or Hal at the park, but I couldn't leave Ranger."

"We're all safe," Lester said. "The only reported injury besides scrapes and bruises is Ranger's. We're all holding our breath over here," he admitted. "We're working to secure the park and check for other explosive devices. Once the area is secure, a couple of us will head your way."

Lester and I disconnected, and I dialed my mother's number.

"Hello?" my grandma Mazur answered.

"Hi Grandma," I greeted, "its Steph."

"We'll I'll be," said grandma. "Are you alright? The news has national coverage about a terrorist attack at the marathon you were working in Atlanta. Your mother is in a state. She's been trying to call you, but you're not answering your phone."

I told grandma I was safe and described the events of the day. I told her I lost my phone, and I gave her Ranger's phone number in case she needed to reach me.

"I love you. Tell mom I'm alright," I coached grandma. "She can call me if she wants to put down the iron long enough to talk."

"She's way past the iron, girlie! She's half a bottle of hooch in, and she's toast. But I'll relay the message," she said before disconnecting.

At 10:44 AM, two orderlies rolled a bed into the room containing Ranger's still figure. He was hooked up to countless tubes, wires, and devices. A tube had been placed down his throat, and a machine was breathing for him. The whirr of machines was loud in the small, dimly lit room.

They rolled his bed into place, and I crossed to the bed, taking his hand in mine. His skin was cool to the touch, and his hand was limp as before. He had a large lump on his forehead, and he had numerous abrasions and cuts on his face. His lip was split, and his hair had been shaved from his head in several locations so adhesive electrodes could be attached to his scalp.

The men went about their business, placing machines and bags on poles in the room. They plugged in machines. They placed a chart in the bin on the wall.

"Someone will be in to give CT results once they've been reviewed," said one of the guys before they left.

Diesel slid a chair up to the bed and gently settled me into it. I stroked my thumb over the back of Ranger's muscular hand, his mocha latte skin perfect and untouched. I placed a soft kiss on the back of his hand and rested my hand on it, careful to avoid the tubes in his arm.

At 11:55 am, Tank walked into Ranger's room and stood at parade rest by my side. He glanced at Diesel, but he didn't acknowledge him.

"I caught the first flight out of Newark," Tank said to me. "I got your message. Any updates since?"

I shook my head no. Tank's eyes fell to Ranger, examining his still figure.

Tank placed his hand on my back. "You saved his life," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you."

I looked to Tank and shook my head. "He's not out of the woods yet," I said, words catching in my throat.

Tank straightened, backed against the wall, and stood at parade rest once again.

A man entered the room wearing black slacks, a crisp white shirt, a maroon tie, and a white lab coat. He looked to be of Asian descent with almond shaped eyes and dark hair cut short.

"Hello, my name is Doctor Tso," he said politely, extending his hand to shake mine. "I'm a neurologist that practices in this hospital."

His eyes landed on Tank first, then Diesel. He looked a little uneasy at the sight of two huge men in the room, but he acknowledged them both with a polite nod.

"I have the radiology report to share with you. Ideally, we would have performed a MRI. They show considerably more detail, but they take significantly more time to perform and read. We wanted to see a quick picture of what was going on in Mr. Manoso's brain, so we opted for a CT scan" the doctor said. "The CT scan indicates there is some minor bleeding and minor swelling in the brain, but nothing that concerns me to the point to take more invasive action at this time. Mr. Manoso has a significant concussion. My best guess would be that the blast threw him some distance, and his head made impact with a barrier or concrete. This impact likely knocked him unconscious. He's got quite a goose egg on his forehead."

I glanced at Tank, and the look on his face was serious and unreadable. I chanced a glance at Diesel. He was still slouched against the wall, but he was scrolling through his smart phone looking disinterested.

"We'll keep monitoring his brain activity and we'll rescan in the morning to make sure there are no changes to his condition," the doctor continued. "Once Mr. Manoso regains consciousness, we can evaluate him for any sort of lasting neurological trauma."

"When will he wake up?" I asked the doctor.

"He's still somewhat sedated from the surgical procedures, but I anticipate he could regain consciousness at any time. If he wakes restless, they may have to sedate him until we're able to remove his breathing tube and machine. He was very fragile when he was brought in, and he's still fighting," the doctor explained. "We need to get another bag of blood in him. The machine is simply to help him conserve some energy by helping him breathe. I anticipate it will come off in a few hours to be replaced by an oxygen mask or nasal prongs."

I nodded and thanked the doctor.

Tank asked a few questions, then the doctor left.

Diesel pocketed his phone and crossed to Tank and I.

"I'm going to scoot out of here for a little bit," said Diesel, playfully ruffling my out of control hair.

I sucked in some air and tensed. My head was still aching, and Diesel's hand sent a searing pain through the back of my head.

I felt Tank's assessing eyes on me, and I tried to straighten, playing it off like it was nothing.

"You need to get that looked at, sweetheart," Diesel said, giving me a serious look.

Before I could protest, Tank had his phone out of his pocket, dialing.

I grimaced.

Diesel gave me a soft peck on the forehead. "I'll be back in a couple hours. I'll bring food," he said with a blinding white smile. And he was gone.

Twenty minutes later, Ximena strolled into Ranger's ICU room. Her Rangeman uniform was covered in dirt and debris, but it was intact. She had a black Under Armor backpack on her shoulders with "Rangeman Medic" embroidered on it. She looked exhausted.

She crossed to the opposite side of Ranger's bed and quickly examined him. She lifted the sheet, examining sutures, tubes, and bruises. She dug in her bag and removed a small flashlight, which she used to examine his pupils when she lifted his eyelids. She gave Ranger a gentle kiss on the cheek, said something in Spanish into his ear, then crossed to me.

"Hiya, Chica. I hear you have injuries that need tending," she said with a tight-lipped smile that didn't make it to her eyes.

I gave Tank a look that could freeze water.

"I'm fine," I told Ximena. "Tank is just filling in as Mr. Overprotective while Ranger sleeps."

"Let me be the judge of that," she said, her accent thick.

She dug out black medical gloves in her backpack and pulled them on. She first examined the cut through my eyebrow. I winced when she touched it.

"This really should have had stitches hours ago," she said flatly. She extracted alcohol wipes, liquid bandage, and butterfly bandages from her bag, and in a few minutes, my wound was pulled closed.

"Where else, Chica?" she asked.

I shook my head no, but Ximena didn't look like she believed me.

"Check the back of her head," Tank said, looking exasperated.

I sighed and leaned forward, placing my forearms on my thighs. Ximena removed my hair elastic and separated my hair to examine my scalp.

"Oh Steph," she said on a whoosh of air. "You've got a massive bump, and several sizable abrasions. It looks like you've got gravel embedded in one abrasion. We've got to take care of this. We need to run concussion protocol."

I shook my head no. "I'm fine," I said. "I've had concussions before. I don't think this is one. I haven't thrown up or been light headed. I feel totally fine, it just hurts."

"I've got to get the gravel out. We're going to need to go back to Rangeman to get some local anesthetic," she said.

"I'm not leaving," I said, holding Ranger's hand tighter. "I'm here 'til he walks out of here."

Ximena looked at me apologetically. "We've got to get that gravel out and clean up the abrasions, Steph."

"Go ahead," I said, acting braver than I felt.

Ximena hesitated before rummaging in her bag, coming up with tweezers and a bottle of sterile saline. She parted my hair with one hand, holding tweezers in the other.

"This might hurt a little," she said. "I'm sorry."

I felt the sharp point of the tweezers dig into my scalp but resisted the urge to cry out. I gritted my teeth together and exhaled sharply. After several prods, she declared she got all the gravel pieces. She crossed to Ranger's on suite bathroom and came back holding a white towel.

"I need to flush the area with saline to get out any dirt," she said. "Tip your head back."

I tipped my head back, and she squirted saline on the abrasions, letting the spent saline run onto the towel. Once she was satisfied the area was clean, she patted it dry and applied ointment that she retrieved from her bag.

"It's not ideal, but at least it's clean," Ximena said, packing up her equipment. "We can't do much to sutchre it unless you want me to shave your head." She winked at me. "Any other problem areas?"

"No, I just hurt," I admitted, relaxing back into my chair.

Ximena dug around in her bag and came up with several bottles.

"Ibuprofen or hydrocodone?" she asked.

I weighed my options, deciding to opt for the ibuprofen. I didn't think now was a good time to be knocked out by pain killers.

I went to the bathroom and swallowed three of the pills with water I scooped into my hand.

"Have a seat," I said to Ximena, gesturing to the chair I'd been sitting in. "You look beat."

"Thanks, Chica," she said, collapsing into the chair. Within minutes, she had fallen asleep.

I stood at Ranger's bedside for some time, holding his hand. I felt his hand twitch in mine, and I sucked in some air.

"Ranger?" I asked quietly, taking a step closer to the head of his bed. I cupped his face in my hand and stroked my thumb across his cheek. I felt his hand twitch in mine again, and I squeezed his hand in return.

Tank was studying Ranger but stayed in position by the wall.

Ranger's eyelids fluttered open halfway. His eyes registered confusion first, then panic. The beeping machine that kept pace with his heart increased sharply.

He began to struggle in the bed, and I felt panic settle low in my belly.

"Ranger," I said more firmly. "It's Stephanie. You're okay, try to relax."

I placed my hands on each side of his face stroking his cheeks. I stood directly over him so he could see my face with all the tubes and wires blocking his view. I locked eyes with him.

"Just breathe, Ranger. You're alright. You're in Emory University Medical Center. I'm here. Tank's here. Ximena's here. None of your men are hurt. You're going to be okay," I coached, trying to soothe him.

Ximena had stirred with the commotion. She pushed the call button on the bed and clasped Ranger's hand in hers.

I placed a soft kiss on Ranger's cheek. "They're going to remove the breathing tube soon," I promised.

Ranger's eyes still registered fear, and it left me feeling uneasy. He blinked twice at me, and I took it to mean he understood what I was saying. I squeezed his hand in return.

"Do you hurt?" I asked him. "Blink once for no and twice for yes."

I watched as Ranger blinked once, then watched as his eyes rolled back unseeing. His entire body began to stiffen and shake uncontrollably.

I sucked in air. Ximena was already on her feet heading out the door for the nurse's station.

I looked to Tank. His body language registered fear. His jaw was set, and he was holding his breath.

"Ranger!" I cried, holding his hand tightly as he convulsed. Tears welled up in my eyes, and the lump was back in my throat. I cried out to God, or anyone else who was listening. "Please, no!"

Chapter 19

Ranger's room was quiet. He had been resting peacefully for some time since his seizure. The medical staff had given him a dose of Valium to calm his episode, and the neurologist had come in to insert a small needle into his head to measure Ranger's intracranial pressure. Ranger was given a dose of medicine to reduce the swelling on his brain, the likely culprit of his seizure according to his neurologist. He was off the ventilator, now wearing a simple oxygen face mask.

I sat in the chair next to his bed, holding his hand in mine. The whirr of machines was strangely soothing, and I drifted in and out of sleep, resting my head on his mattress.

Tank had returned to Rangeman Atlanta to report on Ranger and assess the needs there in Ranger's absence. He had promised to return before nightfall.

Hal had replaced Tank. He stood at parade rest next to the door. He had showered and was in clean clothes, but he still looked like he'd been run over by a truck. He had deep, black circles under his bloodshot eyes. The distant, haunted look on his face told me he had seen too much horror today, and my heart broke for all the Rangemen who had to experience it. I had been there too, but my experience was short lived, thank god. Many of the Rangemen had completed previous military service in the Middle East. High stress situations were common at Rangeman, but this level of destruction of human life was typically only seen in war.

I was asleep when low conversation pulled me from slumber.

"How's he doing?" I heard Diesel ask.

"Stable," responded Hal.

"And her?" he asked.

"She's a champ," said Hal, sounding satisfied.

The smell of greasy fast food drifted to me, and I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hands.

The clock readout proclaimed it was after 4:00 PM. Afternoon sun streamed in between the blinds.

"Miss me?" Diesel asked, standing at my side. He gave me a smile that could ruin most ladies' panties. I had apparently grown immune or was too tired to be phased.

I gave him a half smile. "Hell yes, like a toothache," I joked.

Diesel gave me a playful, dejected look. "In that case, I'll take this Chick-Fil-A somewhere else…" He turned toward the door, then shot me a playful smile over his shoulder.

I snagged him by his jacket and yanked him to me, snatching the bag from him. He handed over a giant soda cup too. My stomach growled audibly, and Diesel gave me a smirk.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Starved, apparently. I've only eaten a muffin and a snickers today. Thank you."

"Sure thing, sweetheart."

I inhaled my chicken sandwich and drank the coke, pleasantly surprised at how tasty the sandwich was. I'd heard of Chick-Fil-A, but I'm a Jersey girl. We eat Cluck in a Bucket in Jersey.

Diesel took a seat in the comfy chair in the corner.

"Did you find who you were looking for?" I asked him.

He shook his head no, looking pissed.

"Does it have anything to do with the marathon bombing?" I asked.

He nodded his head almost imperceptibly. Hal's eyes cut to Diesel, and I could feel tension in the room.

"If you have information, you need to talk to someone at Rangeman," Hal said, sounding angry.

Diesel nodded once, then the room lapsed into uncomfortable silence.

A nurse came into the room wearing light blue scrubs and white clogs. Her curly blonde hair was up in a ponytail, and her fair skin was flecked with freckles. She offered a small, polite smile before taking some notes on a small pad of paper. She took Ranger's temperature in his ear and checked his blood pressure. She emptied his catheter collection container. She pulled back the sheet that covered his naked body, checking the dressings on his wounds.

As the nurse worked, I studied Ranger's naked form. His once flawless caramel colored skin was riddled with developing bruises plus cuts, scratches, and covered, bandaged areas. Seeing his injuries made my stomach turn and my heart sink once more. I began to wonder if I was ever going to accept his injuries as a lasting reality.

The first several years I had known Ranger, I imagined him to be invincible and indestructible. He was a mysterious man in black. He had been my mentor and protector. He was everything I needed to be but couldn't in my work as a bounty hunter.

Those fantasies were shredded when Ranger was shot by Edward Scrog, an insane stalker who not only tried to be Ricardo Carlos Manoso but also tried to assume his life by kidnapping his daughter Julie and me. That night my world was shattered. Watching Ranger take gunshots to the chest and crumple to the floor to protect Julie and me forced me to acknowledge he was mortal and human, not a cartoon superhero. It also forced me acknowledge I was irrevocably attached to Ranger in ways I had never been willing to admit out loud, even to the man himself.

Several years have passed since Scrog shot Ranger, and I have grown even closer to Ranger in that time. We've cohabitated on a few occasions, more by necessity than desire, and we've shared a bed on a lot of occasions. Today was the first day since Scrog that I've felt the same gut-wrenching terror for Ranger's life. My love for him has grown powerfully, but I've spent years denying the pull of his force field. Once again, near tragedy had served as a painful reminder of the love I felt for the man laying before me. I had no idea if or when he'd ever have room in his life for a relationship with me, but I knew he was it for me. I was in love with Ranger, and I was certain there would never be room for anyone else.

"Everything looks good," the nurse said to no one in particular. "Once he's able, we'll get a physical therapist in here to evaluate his needs." She gave me a polite smile, then she was gone.

I laced my fingers through Rangers and placed a kiss on the back of his hand. His hands had warmed, and it was comforting that he felt like the Ranger I knew and loved.

Tank entered the room and spoke softly to Hal.

"Diesel, I'd like you go back to Rangeman with Hal. If you've got information to share, we'd like to hear it," Tank said sternly.

Diesel gave Tank a smirk. "I suppose I could do that. I always wanted a bodyguard," he joked.

Despite looking exhausted, Hal cracked a half smile, but Tank didn't look amused.

Diesel crossed to me, took off his coat, and dropped it over my shoulders. He fished around in his jeans pocket and came out with a white business card. I had seen his cards before. They simply said "Diesel" and had a phone number. He handed the card to me.

"If you need anything, call me. I'll be in town a few days. I'm at your disposal," he said. Then he was gone.

"Would you consider going back to Rangeman with Hal?" Tank asked.

I shook my head.

"Figured," he said, taking his place against the wall.

Ranger's eyelids fluttered, and I felt his hand grasp at mine. I was on my feet in an instant.

"Ranger?" I asked, hovering above him in the bed. "Welcome back."

Ranger blinked several times. His eyes were glassy and out of focus. I squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. He made an effort to say something, but it came out as a whisper. I couldn't understand him through the oxygen mask.

"Hold on," I told him, pulling the mask down to his chin. "What did you say?"

His eyes held mine. "Babe," he exhaled in a gravelly whisper.

I couldn't help it. When he spoke, I could feel myself beaming from ear to ear. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I tried to blink them away. He didn't need to see me being a blubbering idiot right now.

"Do you hurt? Can I get you anything?" I choked.

He tried to move his body, and he grimaced. "Hurts," he whispered, a lingering look of pain on his face.

I pushed the call button on Ranger's bed, and the blonde, curly haired nurse arrived sixty seconds later.

"Hi honey," she said to Ranger, giving him a small smile. "How are you feeling?"

Ranger repeated himself. "Hurts." He grimaced again as he tried to move in the bed.

The nurse told him about his injuries, and she explained his throat probably hurt from being intubated. "Can I get you something for the pain?"

Ranger gave a small nod, and she exited the room. His body language screamed pain, but Ranger is a tough guy. I was thrilled he accepted the offer, and I felt relief again.

I moved to slide the oxygen mask back onto Ranger's mouth, but he spoke again.

"You… okay?" he asked.

I nodded, gnawing on my lower lip.

"Yes, I'm fine now that you're okay," I said, still fighting back tears.

"Everyone… okay?" he asked.

"Yes, everyone else is fine too. You're the only Rangeman employee that got hurt," I explained. "Tank came. He's here." I stepped back from the bed still holding Ranger's hand in mine, and I waved Tank over.

Tank crossed the room to stand at bedside.

"You gave me a scare," said Tank, sounding more emotional than I had anticipated.

Ranger gave a slight nod.

"Did you see anything before the blast?" Tank asked Ranger, his brow furrowed.

Ranger thought about it for a while before responding.

"No…. remember nothing," he admitted.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Tank asked him.

Ranger thought again. "Walk… to park," he croaked.

Tank gave a nod, patted Ranger on the shoulder, and returned to the wall to stand.

The nurse came back with a syringe and injected its contents into Ranger's IV port.

"This might make you drowsy," she said, "but you need to rest. Your body needs to heal."

She flushed the port with more solution.

"We'll get an appointment with physical therapy to get your husband up tomorrow," the nurse said to me, dropping the spent syringe into the sharps container on the wall.

I nodded, and she left. I turned back to Ranger, and he looked slightly amused.

"Babe," he said, his grip tightening on my hand.

"What?" I said, sounding indignant. "I'm not going to tell them any different and risk being kicked out of here. As long as you'll have me, I'm here," I admitted.

Ranger tried to speak, but no sound came out. He tried again and whispered, "Flight."

I furrowed my brow, trying to figure out what he meant by 'flight'.

Tank spoke up. "Ranger had arranged for you to fly into Newark tonight. Your ticket is at the office."

The pieces fell together, and I remember Joe was in the hospital in Trenton. I was supposed to go back tonight to be with him. How was it possible that both of the men I cared about most were in the hospital at once? What a cruel twist of fate.

"No," I said to Ranger. "I'm not leaving you. I can't. I won't."

I could see Ranger fighting sleep, his eyes becoming more unfocused. I extended my hand to cup his face, and I stroked his cheek with my thumb.

"Sleep. You need it. We'll be here when you wake up," I said. I bent to place a kiss on Ranger's cheek, but he turned his face to me so the kiss was on his lips. I felt the fear that had been lingering in the pit of my stomach dispel, butterflies filling the space instead. Ranger was going to recover. He was going to be okay. We were going to be okay.

"I love you," I told him softly as his eyes fluttered, heavy with sleep.

"Love…." he whispered as his eyes closed and his breathing grew even.

I pulled the oxygen mask back over Ranger's nose and mouth. I glanced to Tank, and he quickly looked away.

I could feel the emotions trying to surface that I'd been choking down all day. I didn't want to break down in Ranger's room in front of Tank. I shoved my arms into Diesel's leather jacket and walked to the door.

"I need a minute," I told Tank.

He nodded, and I exited the room

I wandered without purpose and without direction. I walked away from Ranger's room with hot tears burning my eyes and rolling down my face. I didn't know where to go or what to do. I wanted privacy, but I was in a hospital that was filled with patients, their families, their friends, and medical professionals. Privacy was an unavailable commodity.

I roamed the halls and corridors until I found myself back in the emergency room waiting room. I wasn't sure how I'd arrived here, but I was certain I couldn't find my way back to Ranger's room without assistance. I sighed.

"Hi honey," I heard behind me.

I turned around and was face to face with Susan again.

"I thought that was you," she said. "I'm glad you found a change of clothes so you could get out of what you were in."

I gave her a small smile, but she noticed my tear streaked, red face. She gave me a motherly look of concern.

"Thank you for helping me earlier," I said, finding my voice.

"Of course, hun," she said. "How is your friend?"

"He's going to be okay, I think" I said. "It was hairy for a while, but things are looking up."

She nodded, satisfied. "Good, glad to hear it. Did you come down to visit the crisis counselors? They've got some openings now."

As a Jersey girl, I'm not exactly the type to talk about my feelings, even if they are a little more than I can handle. In Jersey, we manage crisis with lasagna, spaghetti, ziti, crumb cake, raspberry torte, chocolate cake, pineapple upside-down cake, and gallons of liquor. My typical crisis routine consisted of loading up on sugary food and spending time in the land of denial only to break down in a cereal aisle six or eight months down the road.

I shook my head. "No, I just needed to take a walk. The ICU was feeling a little overwhelming."

She nodded. "I understand. There's a blood drive down the hall if you'd like to check it out," she said. "The blood bank is experiencing a shortage after all the patients who were treated today. Many are still in surgery, so the need is great."

I considered that for a moment. Ranger would have lost his life if it hadn't been for blood donors.

"That's great, I'll check it out," I said.

It was after 7:00 PM when I finished up with my blood donation. I walked the hospital halls eating a cookie and sipping a can of Coke. Spending some time outside the ICU had helped me ground myself again, and despite being exhausted, I felt stronger.

I decided I needed to check in with my mom, so I pulled out Ranger's phone and dialed her cell number. She didn't answer, so I tried the home number. Grandma answered.

"'ello!" she chirped into the phone.

"Hi grandma," I said. "How's mom?"

"Sleepin' it off in the living room," she said. "She kept drinking even after she heard you were alright. She's trashed. We ordered in pizza for dinner, but she slept straight through."

I called Lula next.

"Girl, I was wondering what was goin' on with you. I called you a bunch of times, but it went straight to voicemail," said Lula. "I thought I was gonna have to come identify your exploded body."

The mental image I got wasn't pleasant, especially considering the atrocities I'd seen today. I gave her the details of the day.

"I can't believe Batman almost got blown up," Lula said, sounding sad. "I didn't think superheroes got exploded."

If only, I thought.

"When are you gonna be home?" Lula asked.

"I don't know," I admitted. "I was supposed to fly in tonight to check in on Joe, but I'm not leaving here. Not without Ranger."

There was silence on the other end of the line.

Finally, Lula spoke. "Girl, you've got it bad for Mr. Tall, Dark, and Mysterious. That man is fine. You need to nail him down and take his name."

I did some mental knuckle cracking before I responded.

"I don't think Batman is the marrying type," I said, noncommittal.

"Good thing he's not Batman after all," she said, then disconnected.

I returned to Ranger's room where he slept peacefully. Tank had given up his position by the wall and was relaxing in the recliner. I wasn't used to seeing Tank relax, but I was glad he seemed more at ease.

"The doc came by when you were out," Tank said. "Since Ranger is stable, they're going to move him out of the ICU into a private room on the third floor. I think they need the space here. Someone should be by inside the hour."

I nodded.

"They brought by his personal belongings bag," Tank continued. "They were going to toss his clothes, but since he had so much stuff in his pockets, they put it all in the bag. They said we should go through it."

I nodded again, spotting the bag on the window ledge. I shuffled over to it and began sifting through the items. Pepper spray, gun in concealed carry holster, knife, gun in an ankle holster, smart watch, two black socks, black boots, cuffs, flexi cuffs, shredded windbreaker, bloody cut t-shirt, shredded cargo pants.

I threw out the t-shirt and windbreaker, then returned to the pants. I began meticulously emptying pockets. Slim jim, pocket knife, something that appeared to be a tracking device, small black notebook that contained notes about today's security detail, a silver ink pen, wires, extra bullets, panic button, more flexi cuffs, a rosary with silver and black beads, stun gun, wallet.

The rosary caught me totally off guard. I knew Ranger was a Catholic, but I also knew his professional demands kept him from attending church very often. Something about finding them in his pocket was comforting. I tossed the pants in the trash, then opened the wallet. Okay, so maybe I didn't really need to go through his wallet, but hey… curiosity killed the cat. And you only live once, right?

Ranger's wallet was pretty typical man wallet. Bills in various denominations, medical insurance card, dental insurance card, vision insurance card, business cards, black American Express card, business VISA, and a few business cards from contacts he had made. I shuffled around the cards and noticed two small photographs in the wallet. I pulled them out.

The first photograph was of his daughter, Julie. Julie was the spitting image of her father. She was beautiful, with a genetic 200 watt smile, chocolate eyes, and light caramel skin. In the photo, her glossy black hair was pulled into a loose braid that cascaded over her shoulder. She was wearing a black blouse, go figure.

Julie was a teenager now. She lived in Florida with her mom Rachel and stepdad Ron. Ranger had met Rachel while he was active duty military, and after one night together found out she was expecting. Ranger did the chivalrous thing and married her, supporting her financially through Julie's birth. They divorced shortly after, having never lived together or loved one another. Their relationship had always been amicable, and Ranger was in Julie's life as much Rachel and his professional obligations would allow. He supported Julie financially, and he flew to Miami several times per year to spend time with her.

I slid Julie's photo aside and stared down at the second photo. To my great shock, the worn photo was of me.

I felt my breath hitch in my throat, and butterflies filled my stomach. I had never seen the photo before, but could pinpoint its origin. The photo was taken a few years ago at Robert Kinsey's wedding rehearsal dinner. My unruly brown hair had been tamed into soft, sexy curls. I was wearing light, natural makeup and a sexy black dress that was tight and low cut in all the right places. I wasn't looking directly at the camera. Instead, I was looking at the person standing to my left. Though the person was cut from the photo making it small enough to fit in a wallet, I knew that the person to my left was Ranger.

The look on my face was clear. It said, This chick is head over heels. I had to admit, love looked good on me. I ran my thumb over the photo of myself and smiled at the memory before placing it behind the photo of Julie again, sliding them both back into the wallet. I collected Ranger's items back into the personal belongings bag, then returned to my place at his side.

Chapter 20

Ranger was moved to room 318. The room was slightly larger than his ICU room. The floors, trim, and chair rail were light colored wood. The walls were white above the chair rail and seafoam green below. A large window opened to a view of the city, lights twinkling in the evening twilight. The room had an on suite bathroom with walk in shower, a chair that reclined, and upholstered wood frame chairs.

I drug the reclining sleeper chair as close as I could to the bed, put my feet up, and settled in for the night.

A nurse named Debby arrived shortly after our arrival, announcing she was the seven-to-seven night nurse. Debby was middle aged with short cropped brown hair, black framed glasses, and tiny feet shoved into brightly colored tennis shoes. She wore black scrub pants and a scrub top covered with emojis. Debby reminded me of a Chihuahua than a nurse. She was barely five feet tall and tiny everywhere. She was vibrating with nervous energy. I couldn't determine if this was her normal, or if having a hospital full of recovering bombing victims had tipped her over the edge. Either way, it was a sight to behold.

Debby brought Ranger a styrofoam cup of water and a ceramic mug with chicken broth. He was still resting, but she told us he was allowed to have liquids once he woke.

Tank was relieved at 9:00 PM by Hector. Hector was looking relatively fresh in clean clothes. He brought a huge black duffle bag with him, which was passed to me.

"From Maria," Hector said.

I rose and gave Hector a bone-crushing hug.

"Thank you," I said, setting the bag on my chair and shuffling through it.

The bag contained a soft microfiber throw blanket and a pillow from Ranger's bed. I smelled the pillow, and it smelled like Ranger. It was soothing and intoxicating all at once. Ten points for Maria.

The bag contained three small stacks of new clothing, tags still attached. The first stack contained a pair of black yoga pants, black bikini underwear, a pale lavender long sleeved t-shirt, and white fleece half-zip sweatshirt with Rangeman embroidered on the left chest. Sleep clothes, I thought. The second stack included black jeans, black socks, a black long sleeved Rangeman t-shirt, black lacy bra with matching underwear, and a new Rangeman windbreaker. Uniform clothes for tomorrow, I thought.

The third stack of clothes was for Ranger. Sweat pants, t-shirt, Rangeman fleece jacket, boxers, socks. All black, of course.

Maria had included other necessities in the bag. Black Nike tennis shoes for Ranger and me. Toothbrushes, toothpaste, hair brush, a shower towel, makeup remover towelettes, ibuprofen, deodorant, travel size Bulgari shower gel, travel size shampoo with conditioner, a variety of snacks, a few cans of Coke, my phone charger, and Ranger's phone charger. God bless Maria.

I plugged in Ranger's cell phone, placed extra clothes in the closet, and placed care essentials in the bathroom.

"I guess this is garbage," I said to Hector, holding up the charger for my cell phone. "I lost my cell at the park today."

Hector fished around in his pocket. "I almost forgot," he said, extending the phone to me. "Your other gear is back at Rangeman."

"Hector, oh god. Thank you!" I said, taking the phone from him. I gave him another embrace, and I swear I saw him blush to his ears. The phone was dead, so I plugged it in to the wall to charge next to Ranger's.

I set the pillow and blanket in my chair, then shamelessly dug into the snacks. Hector pulled up a chair next to me, and he ate snacks too.

"How are you holding up?" I asked him.

"Long day," he admitted, eating barbeque chips. His eyes were sad.

"Did you get any sleep?" I asked him.

"A few hours," he said, his mouth full of chips. "Lester is relieving me at 1:00 AM, hermana. No worries. Ximena is coming with him to check on you."

I sighed audibly. I hated being 'checked on'. We finished our snacks, and despite the sign that said 'For Patient Use Only', I took a fast shower in Ranger's on suite bathroom.

I painfully washed the last of the blood out of my hair and cleaned all traces of the day from my body. I towel dried my body and hair, brushing my hair out and tying it back into a loose braid. I brushed my teeth and removed the light makeup I had applied this morning. I took three more ibuprofen for my pounding headache and achy body. I dressed in the clothes Maria sent before settling into the reclining chair.

Hector was working on a laptop, engrossed in whatever he was doing. I didn't interrupt.

I held Ranger's hand in mine and drifted into a fitful, nightmare filled sleep.

I was shaken awake by Hector. My heart was racing.

"Estephania, wake up," he said, his voice thick with concern.

I glanced first to Hector, then to the clock. It was 11:55 PM.

"You were having a nightmare," he explained. "You were crying out in your sleep."

I tried to remember what I had been dreamaing, but nothing came to mind. The only remaining trace of the nightmare was my racing heart.

"You woke Ranger," Hector explained.

Ranger's eyes were open but still glassy and unfocused. I turned my body to him, sitting on my knees in my chair.

"Hey," I cooed, pulling his oxygen mask down to his chin. "How are you feeling?"

Ranger grimaced before responding. "Alive." His voice was stronger than before, less hoarse.

"I'm sorry I woke you," I apologized. "Are you thirsty? I've got ice water."

Ranger nodded his assent, and I used the buttons on the bed to sit him up enough to drink from the cup. Before I could get him upright, he cried out.

I stopped. "Crap, I'm sorry," I said. "What hurts?"

Ranger's face was tense. He had worry lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth, and his forehead was lined. Purple bruising was prominent on his forehead, fading into his hairline. "Everything."

I pressed the call button for the nurse, who came in and explained to Ranger he could use a small handheld button to administer pain medication for himself up to twice per hour. He pressed the button and waited for relief. The nurse brought in a cup of red Jello and a plastic spoon. She switched out his oxygen mask for nasal prongs, then left.

I went to the small kitchenette two doors down from Ranger's room to grab a straw and used it to give him some small sips of water.

"Do you want some Jello?" I asked Ranger.

Despite his discomfort, his eyes showed amusement. "Babe."

I took that as an affirmative, so I tore the foil lid off the container and spooned some up for him.

He took the Jello and moved it around his mouth thoughtfully, but he didn't say anything. He studied me.

Over the years, I had grown comfortable with Ranger's silence. I did my best to make small talk to fill the quiet space tonight, though. I spent the morning thinking I'd never have another conversation with Ranger ever again, and I wasn't about to waste the opportunity.

"I'm impressed. Maria is almost as good as Ella," I told him. "She sent us a giant care package tonight. Clothes, snacks, and everything else we need while we're here. I don't know where you find these women, but they're ten times the woman I'll ever be." I grinned down at him, and he looked like he was thinking about smiling.

"Lester is taking a shift in an hour. Excited to see him?" I asked, trying to waggle my eyebrows in the way only Lester could successfully muster.

Ranger cracked a half smile at that. "I need my gun," Ranger said.

"Why is that?" I said, waiting for the punch line.

"Because someone needs to shoot him if he lays his hands on you," Ranger said, grinning wider.

I belly laughed, and Ranger looked pleased with himself. Ranger's jokes were few and far between, so this was a golden moment.

I fed Ranger another spoon of Jello and chased it with a sip of water. We continued this process until the Jello was gone and the water needed refilled. Ranger was looking drowsy again, the meds clearly taking effect.

"Can I lay you back down? You need to rest," I told him.

He was hesitant, but finally agreed. I used the button to lower the bed gradually.

"Tell me when to stop," I said, squeezing his hand in mine. I eased him down until he was nearly flat, and he motioned for me to stop.

I gently perched myself on my hip on the edge of Ranger's bed, resting my palm on the other side of the mattress so I was hovering over his body. I used my other hand to chase a stray hair away from his forehead, then placed a feather light kiss across his lips.

Ranger looked at me through hooded eyes. "Pretty," he said in a low, sensual voice that sent electricity through my body.

I cracked a playful, sexy smile. "How hard did you hit your head?" I asked.

"Good question," he asked, closing his eyes and grimacing. "I don't remember. It hurts."

I brushed one last kiss across his lips, then placed one hand lightly over his heart, allowing myself to feel the life pumping through him. I stayed like this until he had fallen into a deep slumber.

I slid off the bed, and Hector motioned me over.

"I was able to pull footage from cameras near the blast site," he said, motioning to his screen.

I hesitated. I honestly wasn't sure I wanted to see. I worried my lip between my teeth.

He noticed my hesitation. "Only if you want, hermana," he said.

I nodded, sinking to my knees on the floor next to his chair. He tipped his screen in my direction.

I could see the frozen frame of runners, waiting for the start gun. Hector pointed out Ranger in the image. He was standing on the outside of the barricades about five feet in front of the start line banner. It was hard to see much detail, but he was easy to pick out since he was wearing all black.

Hector typed several keystrokes, and the video began playing in slow motion. I kept my eyes on Ranger's form. I watched as he walked along the running course in the opposite direction from the start line. He appeared to be scanning the crowd. He paused, turned, and then the blast hit.

Debris flew through the air, and bodies were pushed in every direction by the energy of the blast. Debris hit Ranger, and his limp body sailed through the air six or eight feet. His head made contact with the concrete street, and he lay face down, unmoving. I saw a dark puddle begin to form beneath his body.

I now knew the answer about how hard he hit his head. Really fucking hard, I thought.

A sick feeling grew in the pit of my stomach, and my head swam. I heard rushing water in my ears.

Hector rewound the footage and played it again. I watched in silent horror as the scene played out again. I wanted to beg him to stop it, but I was frozen in place. He let it continue to play, and I saw myself enter the frame. I watched my efforts to save Ranger. I saw Hector and Ximena move into view of the camera.

I felt my body wretch, and I was on my feet headed for the bathroom in an instant. I made it just in time, falling to my knees to empty the contents of my stomach into the bathroom toilet.

I felt a warm hand rub my back and another pull my braid back. I continued to throw up.

"Shhh…." soothed a familiar voice. "You're alright. Deep breaths."

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and turned to see Diesel kneeling behind me. I did some deep breathing, noticing Hector standing in the bathroom doorway.

"Lo siento, Estephania," he said, looking remorseful.

"It's not your fault," I told Hector. "I'm fine. Give me a minute."

Diesel scooped me up under my armpits and set me on my feet. He rummaged around on the sink, finding my toothbrush and paste. He squirted some toothpaste on the brush, extending it to me.

"I'll go grab you some water," he said, then he was gone.

I brushed my teeth and washed my face and hands. I went back to my chair, and Diesel returned with a Styrofoam cup of water for me.

"Thank you," I said, taking a drink. "How did it go at Rangeman?"

"Fine," said Diesel, taking a seat in a chair next to me. "I thought finding this guy would be easy, but now with all the three letter agencies in the picture, it's a nightmare."

I nodded acknowledgment. I thought about asking him for more information, but decided against it. After all that had happened, I was in Atlanta for Ranger, not for Rangeman. I think Diesel realized that too, because he didn't share any more.

Diesel slouched in his chair and rested his head against the wall. In minutes, he had fallen asleep.

Twenty minutes later, Ximena and Lester arrived to relieve Hector. Hector left without a word, taking a set of keys from Lester.

"Hey Beautiful," said Lester quietly.

I gave him a smile. "When Ranger heard you were coming in tonight, he requested his gun. Said if you laid a finger on me, he'd shoot you. Lucky for you, I didn't oblige him. You owe me."

We all laughed quietly together. Somehow, Diesel was managing to sleep.

Ximena dropped her backpack and fished around in it.

"I want to check your head again," she said, holding a tube of ointment in her hand.

I released my hair from its braid, and she proceeded to smear more ointment on my broken skin. Once she was finished, she re-braided my hair and tied it back.

"How does your head feel?" she asked.

"Okay," I said, only fudging a little. "Maria sent me ibuprofen, so I took a dose a little earlier."

Ximena looked pleased. She took a few minutes to examine Ranger before packing back up.

"I'm headed in for the night," she said. "I got a shower earlier, but I haven't slept yet. Call me if you need anything," she said before exiting the room to return to Rangeman.

My sleep continued to be fitful between nightmares and the constant in-and-out traffic in Ranger's room. I woke to Ranger's phone vibrating at 6:45 AM.

Lester stood by the door looking dead on his feet. Diesel was gone. I stumbled to where the phone was plugged in and read the readout. I recognized the number as my mother's.

"Hi mom," I said softly so as not to wake Ranger.

"Stephanie Michelle Plum. What in God's name has gotten into you?" my mother asked, sounding outraged.

"What?" I asked, caught off guard. I shuffled into Ranger's bathroom and closed the door so as not to disturb his slumber.

"First, Joseph gets shot doing his police job, and you can't bother to fly home to check on him. He's your boyfriend, for God's sake Stephanie. He's lying in the hospital bed without anyone to fluff his pillow or hold his hand. To make matters worse, he's in a coma! It's not like you're missing out on him passing a kidney stone. He needs you!"

I was dumbstruck. My mother had officially gone off the deep end.

"Then you make matters worse by almost dying in a bombing, and you don't have the good sense to call your mother to let her know you're alive," she continued, sounding complete outraged. "And now I learn you're shacked up in another state with some gangster who dresses in all black and wants you for your body. Who the hell does he think he is? Zorro? That man isn't right. Something is wrong with him. He isn—"

"Mom," I said firmly into the phone. "You need to take a breath."

"I need to take a breath?!" she shrieked into the phone. "You need to reevaluate your life!"

I stood in silence doing some deep breathing. She wasn't wrong about me needing to reevaluate my life, but the reevaluation had nothing to do with Joe or Ranger. For years, I've been like a ship stuck out at sea. I haven't found something I'm passionate about for a career, so I continue to half ass my bounty hunter gig. It pays the bills—so long as I mooch some meals from my mom a few times per week. It would be impossible to count the number of times I've been shot at, rolled in garbage, been assaulted, or someone had made an attempt to kidnap me. If I didn't like working with Lula, Connie, and Ranger so much, I'd probably make a change. But hell, even if Lula was a terrible bounty hunter assistant, she was an excellent friend, and we almost always agreed on a lunch destination. Don't fix it if it's not broken, right?

"Mom," I started, working to keep my voice calm. "First of all, Joe and I aren't together. We have been broken up for months. You know this, so don't you dare go starting something. I feel terrible that I'm not there to support him right now, but it doesn't change that we're not together."

There was silence on her end of the line, so I continued, my voice ramping up with frustration.

"Second, I didn't call you yesterday because I lost my phone after the explosion. I was there, mom. I saw people die yesterday. I called as soon as I could, but you were drunk by the time I was able to reach the house."

"Meredith Sunnucci's daughter doesn't have a job that includes explosives. She works at the personal products plant. She's a nice girl. She recently got married and settled down. They even bought a house! And Rosalie Tha—"

"MOM!" I shrieked into the phone. "Listen to me!"

I was used to being misunderstood and insulted by my mother, but this took the cake. Today was the day I was going to be done putting up with this crap.

"I lost my phone because I was busy trying to save 'that gangster's' life!" I mocked my mother's words, my voice thick with tears and raw emotion. "He almost died yesterday. I rode in an ambulance with him, covered in his blood. I sat in a waiting room for hours, unsure if I'd ever see him smile again. I'm here in the hospital with him now, and I'm not leaving until he walks out of here. That will give you plenty of time to come to terms with reality. I'm in love with Zorro. I have been for a long time. Deal with it, Mom!"

I disconnected and fell to the floor, letting my tears roll unchecked down my cheeks.

Chapter 21

I cried in the bathroom for a long time, until my lungs burned and my head ached. When I had no more tears to cry, I washed my face with cold water and brushed my teeth to prepare for the day. I knew it was going to be a long day. It had been a restless night with little sleep. I took some ibuprofen to fight off my headache. It was almost 8:00 AM when I finally cracked open the door to peek out.

I shuffled out of the bathroom and found Ranger still asleep. Lester was still standing by the wall, dead on his feet.

"When are you getting relieved?" I asked him quietly.

He shrugged.

"Don't know," he said. He studied me for a long moment. "You alright?"

"Of course, why?" I responded, playing dumb.

"Beautiful, the walls are paper thin here. And even if I hadn't heard you, your face is splotchy," he explained.

I could feel the red flush of embarrassment creeping up my neck to my cheeks. I should have left the room. I was stupid to think the bathroom would offer any sort of privacy. My stomach turned as the question formed in my head.

"Did he hear?" I asked, glancing to Ranger.

Lester shrugged.

I felt my eyebrow hitch skyward. "What does that mean?"

"He might have been awake for part of it," he responded. "He fell asleep again eventually."

My shoulders slumped. I turned, snatched clean clothes out of the closet, and went back into the bathroom to change into a Rangeman uniform. I tried to do something with my hair, but it was fright night. I gave up and pulled it up into a ponytail.

I exited the bathroom, dumping my pajamas into the closet.

"I'm going to run down to the cafeteria and grab breakfast," I told him. "Can I get you anything?"

"Nope," he said, shaking his head. "I'm holding out hope to be relieved soon. Thanks anyway."

I gave Lester a finger wave and exited the room. I weaved my way through the mazes of hallways and elevators until I was in the cafeteria.

The cafeteria was painted light blue with a white tile floor. There were two hot food lines, one on each side of the area. One side was an omelet bar, with a man in a white chef's coat preparing custom omelets for several medical professionals in scrubs. On the other side was a serve yourself line with scrambled eggs, sausage links, pancakes, biscuits, bacon, grits, and waffles. In the center was an island with a refrigerated display containing fresh cut fruit, yogurt, half pints of milk, and other goodies. Beyond the island was a soda fountain and coffee carafes with cups.

I wasn't thrilled about the prospect of eating cafeteria food, but my stomach was rumbling. I grabbed a blue tray and headed for the hot food line. I loaded my plate with scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, and sausage links. I crossed to the drink station and poured myself a cup of coffee, loading it up with cream and sugar. I poured a second coffee into a disposable Styrofoam cup for Lester, then headed for the cashier.

The cashier appeared to be in her fifties, and she was dressed in blue jeans, non-slip shoes, a white t-shirt, and a white apron. Her nametag read "Jean". Her hair was cut into a blonde mullet, and her face showed no trace of makeup, wax, or tweezers.

She rung up my breakfast on her cash register.

"Nine dollars and fifteen cents," she drawled, giving me a small, polite smile.

I shoved my hand into my pocket. No money.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," I whined. "I don't have any cash on me."

The woman gave me an apologetic look. "Sorry honey," she said.

I turned to walk away and ran straight into Diesel.

"Oof!" I expelled air. Running into Diesel was like running into a brick wall.

"Morning, sunshine." His smile was huge and white under the incandescent lights. His blonde hair was even shaggier than yesterday. He was wearing ratty blue jeans and a green shirt with a clover that announced "I'm Lucky". He was still wearing his brown biker boots.

"Jeez, watch where you're standing," I said, noticing the laughter in his eyes. I might have been able to muster mad feelings if he hadn't been so damn attractive.

He pulled some cash out of his pocket and handed it to the woman. He picked up my tray and carried it into the dining area, plopping down in a booth.

"Gee, thanks for breakfast," I said. "How do you always know where I am?"

He gave me a wicked grin, and I rolled my eyes in response.

"You're a freak, you know that?" I asked, tearing into a slice of bacon.

"Yeah, I know," he said, sounding despondent. He ate a sausage link. "Normal people don't get hired to do my job."

"Any luck finding your man yet?" I asked, forking some eggs into my mouth.

He shook his head no, cutting into the pancakes.

"He's here somewhere. He's leaving cosmic dust. I seem to be two steps behind every time I think I've found him," Diesel admitted.

"Cosmic dust?" I asked skeptically.

Diesel nodded. "I can track unmentionables by following their trail, but this guy is a hard one to find."

I had a hundred other questions, but I was too tired to ask them. I put my head down and ate.

"How's your boyfriend?" Diesel asked, changing the subject.

I crooked one eye at him. "Boyfriend?" I asked.

"Ranger," he clarified.

"Improving," I said, eating more eggs. "No more seizures, thank god."

He nodded. "Glad to hear it. Since when are you two together? I thought you were dating the cop."

"I broke up with Joe," I said, "but I'm not dating Ranger."

Diesel looked amused. "Yeah, and I'm the pope."

I gave him my best Burg glare. "Suit yourself," I said.

He gave me a huge grin. "So if you're not dating Ranger, does that mean I get a shot at you?"

I choked on my eggs, and Diesel's smile widened.

"You've got it bad for the man in black," he announced.

"And?" I asked, annoyed.

"Does he know?" asked Diesel.

I considered the question, chewing thoughtfully. On one hand, Ranger definitely knew I loved him. I had told him as much. On the other hand, Ranger didn't do relationships. Not in the traditional sense, anyway. Bad men on the streets of Trenton may consider me to be Ranger's woman, but Ranger wasn't likely to be the Burg's most eligible bachelor this year. Or any year, for that matter.

Our eyes held, but I couldn't muster any sort of meaningful response. I gave a slight nod.

The corners of Diesel's mouth tipped up into a grin.

"Liar. If you change your mind and don't want Batman anymore, you know how to reach me," he said.

"That's a lie!" I scoffed. "You're around one minute, then you're gone the next. You're like smoke."

I sucked down my coffee, and Diesel drank the cup I got for Lester.

"So you're thinking about us?" he said, winking.

I exhaled a frustrated sigh. Diesel put up his hands in surrender.

"Sorry, I didn't realize you were so sensitive about your love life. It always seemed pretty causal with the cop," he said, actually managing to look sincere.

"Morelli and I had different goals," I said flatly. "It wasn't going to work out."

Diesel looked thoughtful for a moment.

"And Manoso?" he asked.

"Similar goals, different trajectory," I explained. "Ranger doesn't do relationships."

"Honey, you both may be too dumb to realize it, but you've been in a relationship for years. I've seen the way he looks at you. And I know what you two did in the Turbo."

Once we finished eating, we walked back up to Ranger's room. To my surprise, Lester was gone. He had been replaced by Cal, who was standing at parade rest by the door.

Cal was a big, bald, jug headed guy. He was a neckless mountain of a man with a flaming skull tattooed on his forehead. People didn't mess with Cal. They were afraid of Cal. Normal people didn't get flaming skull tattoos on their face. Therefore, Cal wasn't even close to normal. Cal looked like Steroidasarus.

"Hi," I said to him, giving him a finger wave.

Cal nodded acknowledgement, but he didn't say a word. Words weren't high on Cal's list of favorite things.

Ranger was mostly awake in the bed, tilted slightly upright. His body language made it clear he was fighting the effects of the pain medicine. A CNA was taking his blood pressure and temperature. His color was better than it had been the day previously, and he looked more alert. Evidently the drugs he'd received for surgery had worn off, his brain now only muddled with pain meds.

Ranger's and my eyes connected, and I gave him a giant, goofy grin with a finger wave. He returned an amused look.

Diesel snagged his leather jacket from the closet and shoved his arms into the sleeves.

"I'm out of here," he announced. He gave me a peck on the cheek, then left.

I crossed to stand by the head of Ranger's bed.

"Is he going to live, or will I have to put him down?" I asked the CAN. "I really hate putting Sparky down."

The CNA gave me a look that was a combination of annoyed and aggravated.

"Everything looks good," she responded in an aggravated tone. "A physical therapist will be in to get him up in about half an hour, and a nurse will be by to remove his catheter any time."

She scribbled something on her notepad and exited the room.

"How do you feel?" I asked Ranger, taking his hand in mine.

"Fine," he said, pain visible in his eyes. His eyes were bloodshot and tired.

I gave him a knowing look, but he said nothing.

"When was the last time you hit your button for pain meds?" I asked.

"A while ago," he responded, noncommittal.

"Can you at least try to keep yourself comfortable? Toughing it out isn't helping anything," I admonished.

"Babe," he responded, his tone edging on annoyed.

A blonde nurse wearing pink scrubs and a ponytail came in with a syringe and sterile pad.

"My name is Molly," she said. "I'm here to remove your catheter."

Cal exited the room without a word, closing the door behind him. I stayed put.

"Babe?" Ranger asked.

"I won't look," I said, turning my back. "I don't want to leave you."

The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, so I interpreted that as approval to stay. I held his hand as the nurse gave him instructions to relax and breathe.

The whole process only took a few minutes, but Ranger seemed relieved to have it behind him. Not that I can say I blamed him. I don't think I'd want to have a tube shoved up my junk either.

"Anything else I can get for you?" nurse Molly asked him.

"No, thank you," Ranger responded, then she was gone.

The physical therapist arrived promptly at 9:15 AM. He was wearing a white lab jacket over black slacks, black pointy toe shoes, and a light blue button down shirt. Nurse Molly accompanied him. He had a belt slung over his shoulder, and he was pushing a walker.

"Hi, my name is David. I'm a physical therapist here at the hospital." He extended his hand to Ranger, and Ranger extended his hand back, wincing with unspoken pain. I could feel the tension building in my body. I hated to see him hurting.

"Today, I want to get you up to evaluate your therapy needs," David said. "Molly will help get you up and to the bathroom."

Ranger nodded acknowledgment.

Molly went to the closet and returned with two gowns. She pulled the covers down and helped Ranger into one gown. I fastened the ties in the back as she secured the snaps over the shoulders.

"You'll wear this gown over the back," Molly explained, showing him the second gown. "I'll help you get it on once we've got you up."

"Too bad," I said to Ranger, giving him an evil smile. "The view might be better without it."

Ranger gave me a full 200 watt smile, but Molly and David both looked embarrassed. I considered apologizing, but thought better of it. Cal, who was still at the door, was trying to hide the grin that was plastered on his face.

"Let's get you up," Molly said, changing the subject. David used the controls on the bed to lift Ranger to a seated position. Pain crossed his face several times as his body moved, but he said nothing. David wrapped the belt around Ranger's waist and tightened it.

"This is a safety belt," he explained. "It's a tool that helps us avoid falls."

David positioned the walker in front of Ranger and made some adjustments to the height. He gave Ranger instructions to hold the handles, then Molly & David lifted him to his feet from under the arms. Molly placed the second gown over his back side so his butt wasn't hanging out, much to my disappointment. I had a fleeting thought that told me, Jesus Steph, you're just like your grandmother, but I brushed it away.

The tension was visible in Ranger's face, and a few stray beads of sweat were gathering on his forehead. His teeth were clenched, and his breathing was heavy.

"Are you okay?" I asked him, the worry evident in my wavering voice.

"Fine," he spit out, leaning hard on the walker handles. His body wobbled.

David kept one hand on the belt and the other behind Ranger's back.

"Do you feel good enough to head the bathroom?" he asked Ranger.

Ranger nodded, a trickle of sweat running down the side of his face. He took several shuffling, limping steps with assistance before his face turned clammy and his eyes became unfocused.

I grabbed the trash can by the wall and lifted it to Ranger's mouth as he heaved, spilling the liquid contents of his stomach into the trash can. He heaved until his stomach was empty, and continued dry heaving. David held him upright using the belt and one hand around his waist. Molly grabbed a chair and slid it behind Ranger's knees.

"Do you need to sit?" she asked when the heaving had stopped.

"No. Just dizzy," Ranger explained, trying to catch his breath. He looked dead on his feet.

"You have a fairly severe concussion, Mr. Manoso," David said. "It may cause dizziness. You may be experiencing vertigo from your injuries. We can give you some anti-nausea medicine to help with the symptoms."

David helped Ranger into the bathroom, and they exited several minutes later.

"Do you feel strong enough to walk into the hall?" David asked.

I studied Ranger. Anguish seemed to be rolling off his body. His shoulders and back were tense, and his face was pinched.

"You don't have to do this," I said, standing before him. "Quit torturing yourself."

He gave me a look that said 'piss off' before responding to David. "Let's do it."

I felt my heart contract. If looks could kill, I'd be dead on the floor. I knew Ranger was capable of giving that look, but I'd never been on the receiving end.

I swallowed down the lump that had appeared in my throat and blinked back a tear as I watched Ranger limp out of his room followed by David, then Molly, then Cal.

I crammed myself into my windbreaker and pocketed my cell phone before fleeing Ranger's room, walking away from Ranger, Cal, and the entire physical therapy procession.

Chapter 22

I exited the hospital and walked to the nearest patch of green grass I could find. I sat in the grass with my face to the sun, and despite the chill in the morning air, I sat soaking up the warm morning rays like a cat. If I'd been in Jersey today, chances are it would be below freezing with sleet or snow, so I decided to take the fifty-something degree temperatures in Atlanta without complaint. As I sat, I could feel the tension leaving my body.

Two nights with little sleep had left me exhausted, and what I really needed was sleep. On top of physical exhaustion, I was emotionally tired. The last few days had been an emotional roller coaster for me, and I hadn't had time to come up for air yet. Between breaking things off with Joe, learning of Joe's injuries, navigating my mother's disappointment, and coping with the marathon bombing with Ranger's resulting injuries, I was fried.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and pulled up Google Maps. I searched for directions back to the Rangeman building and was pleased to learn it was only a mile from the hospital.

Walking would do my head and my heart good, I thought.

I laced my boots up tightly and climbed to my feet, taking off in the direction my phone indicated.

Downtown Atlanta was abuzz on a Sunday morning. Cars sped down the busy streets, but foot traffic was light on the sidewalks. High rise buildings and parking garages lined city blocks, and pay by the hour macadam car lots filled the spaces in between the structures.

I had traveled five blocks when my phone began ringing. I checked the readout. I didn't recognize the number, and it consisted only of ones and zeros. My spidey senses were telling me this was not good. I hesitated before lifting the phone to my ear to answer.

"Hello?" I answered tentatively.

"Good morning, Ms. Plum," I man's voice murmured on the line. His tone was velvet and eerie. "Looking beautiful as always. I've been looking forward to seeing you again."

The hair stood up on the back of my neck and goosebumps covered my skin. My heart rate spiked. I recognized the voice on the phone.

It was Gerwulf Grimoire, or "Wulf".

"What do you want?" I asked, trying to mask the terror in my voice. My eyes scanned the sidewalks and roads around me, searching. Was he here? On the street? Now? What did he want with me?

Wulf was Diesel's cousin, and he, too, was unmentionable. Except Wulf was the definition of evil. He was over six feet tall. His look reminded me of vampires in movies, with paper white skin that was almost translucent and black, shoulder length hair. His features were sharp, and his gaze took my breath away in an unpleasant, horrifying sort of way.

I turned on my heel and began jogging back in the direction of the hospital.

"You are standing between me and something I want, Ms. Plum."

"What could that possibly be?" I said, winded.

I crossed the street at a run. I continued scanning the street around me, but saw no one I recognized as Wulf. I chanced a glance behind me and ran square into something that knocked me on my ass.

I sat for a moment, stunned. Then I glanced up and met Wulf's intense stare. He pocketed his phone and gave me a wicked smile.

"That's a conversation for later. Let's go," he said.

He extended his hand, grabbed me around the neck, and I felt the electricity shoot through every inch of my body. It was lights out Stephanie.

I came around slowly. My world was fuzzy and out of focus. My body felt tingly and tired. I tried to recall what had just happened and began piecing the puzzle together. I had no idea how long I had been out.

I forced myself to open my eyes. My eyes met with Wulf's.

"Welcome back, Ms. Plum. I was quite afraid I had used too much juice. It took longer than I had anticipated," he said.

I took in what I was seeing. I was laying on a cold, hard concrete floor in a windowless stairwell. My hands were bound in front of me. I couldn't get a read on where we were. An industrial building? A factory? A parking garage? A basement?

Wulf was sitting on the metal and concrete stairs. To his left was his partner, Hatchett.

Hatchett was also unmentionable, but not the brightest bulb in the tanning bed. He followed Wulf around faithfully as a servant. Hatchett was short, maybe 5'1". He was soft in the middle, and often dressed in outrageous clothes. Today, he was dressed as a medieval knight with a metal chest plate, red cape, and wooden sword.

I tried to speak, but I couldn't seem to make my neurons fire.

"I hadn't planned on your apprehension being so simple, but you assisted by walking out of the hospital. Thank you," Wulf continued.

"Why?" I managed to spit out.

Wulf's grim smile widened, exposing blinding, pointy teeth.

"Your boyfriend and his GI Joes are standing between my associate's and my progress," he responded.

"Boyfriend?" I choked out, trying to force myself into a sitting position.

"Do you prefer another title?" Wulf asked arrogantly. "Lover? Employer? Boss?"

He means Ranger, my mind finally responded.

Wulf could see the understanding cross my face. He stood.

"Yes, it is quite unfortunate we find ourselves here. Manoso has a set of skills I could utilize if he would cooperate, but it seems he plays for his own team," Wulf explained.

"Leave him alone!" I blurted out. My blood pressure was rising, and I could feel tension building.

"I won't hurt him," Wulf said with a wolf's grin. "It will be quick and painless. He must be neutralized. You're just the unfortunate casualty of the fallout, just like all those marathon fools."

I felt my heart stutter in my chest and bile rise in my throat. I fought it back and tried to focus on my breathing. I had to get out of here. I had to survive this. I had to warn Ranger. I had to save him… again.

"Why do you need me?" I asked. I needed more time. I needed Wulf to talk.

"Your disappearance will draw him out," Wulf said. "I had planned to finish him in the hospital, but he has you and an armed guard on him at all times. My cousin isn't helping, either. I've had an easier time breaking into the Federal Reserve than getting Manoso alone and unprotected."

The rational part of my brain said I should be terrified. The irrational, angry feminist female living in my brain didn't get the memo. I was getting really friggin' tired of being made into the damsel in distress to draw Ranger out. This was at least the third time, maybe fifteenth. I was tired of watching this re-run.

"You pompous ass!" I said, getting to my feet and getting into Wulf's face.

I raised my hands above my head.

"I've had it up to HERE with being kidnapped by people trying to get to Ranger. You've got the wrong girl. I am a strong, independent, single woman who doesn't need a man to—"

Wulf's hand slapped me across the face, and I saw lights explode behind my eyes. I cried out and crumpled to the floor, holding my face with my restrained hands. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I held them back, refusing to be weak.

Wulf pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed, holding it to his ear to wait for an answer. When he spoke, the venom in his voice was thick.

"Your presence is requested. I've got the lovely Ms. Plum. You've got four hours to get yourself released and come retrieve her, or she's mine to do with as I please."

Hearing his ultimatum made my stomach turn. Ranger needed to be in the hospital. He had almost died yesterday, and he was too weak to take on Wulf. One thing became clear to me. I had to do everything I could to protect Ranger and keep him away from Wulf, even if that meant hurting him.

Wulf was silent for a moment, and I assumed he was listening to Ranger speak. The corner of Wulf's mouth curled into another wicked smile.

"As you wish," he responded before extending the phone to me.

I removed my hands from my face and tried to sit.

"Ranger?" my wavering voice answered.

"Babe, are you hurt?" he asked, his tone unreadable.

"I'm fine," I lied.

"I'm coming to get you. Hold on," Ranger said, his voice thick with unnamed emotion.

"Don't come for me," I said, working to keep my voice steady and certain.

Be brave, I told myself.

"I'm staying with Wulf."

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. My heart ached in my chest and my head throbbed. I didn't want to die today, but dying to protect someone you love is an honorable death, right?

"I'll never let him have you," Ranger said, his voice cold and terrifying.

I opened my mouth to speak again, but before I could form the words, Wulf's hand grabbed my throat.

I screamed, then felt the electricity surge through my body again. Then everything went black.

Chapter 23

I had no idea how long I'd been out when I began to regain consciousness. My neurons had been scrambled one too many times today, and I was really struggling trying to resurface. The floor was hard and cold beneath me.

My first thoughts were of Ranger. I said a silent prayer to God, begging him to find any excuse to keep Ranger in the hospital so as not to walk into certain death. I wasn't a very good Catholic, but I could usually muster some faith in crucial moments like this. My second thought was of Diesel. I was feeling pretty let down. Diesel hadn't swooped in to save me yet.

My stomach was rolling and my heartbeat felt irregular. My skin was clammy, and my pants were wet. I'd seen guys I'd stun gunned pee their pants before, but this was a discouraging, humiliating first for me. I forced my brain to send a message to my fingers. Wiggle, already! I tried to open my eyes, but couldn't.

When I had been zapped, I had four hours to live. There was no way to tell how much of that time had elapsed in an unconscious state. Maybe it's for the best, I thought. Less time to panic and less time to think about my regrets.

"The bellibone looks to be waking, sir," I heard Hatchett say.

I was shocked when there was no response. I begged my eyes to cooperate.

Open, I told them.

My eyes fluttered half open, and I tried to take in my surroundings.

Hatchett was sitting on the stairs in his medieval getup with a cell phone to his ear. He was studying me and listening to a one-ended conversation. Wulf was nowhere in sight. I guessed he was on the other end of the phone line.

"Aye, sir," said Hatchett, then disconnected.

I lay on the floor, making an extreme effort to fully regain consciousness. I wiggled my toes, my fingers, and my nose. I tried to push away the fuzzy, tingly feelings left from getting zapped.

"How long was I out?" I asked Hatchett.

"Around an hour, maiden," he responded, looking uncomfortable.

I struggled to sit up, but managed after several attempts. I tugged at my restraints, but they were tight.

"Now is not the time to be teenful, m'lady," said Hatchett, studying me. "Wulf will be back 'fore the morrow. Do not force me to rip your intestines from thy body and gift them to my master."

I had no idea what eighty percent of his medieval speak meant, but I interpreted his statement to mean I had a few more minutes without Wulf in the stairwell. If I was going to escape, now was the time to bolt. I knew Wulf was a threat, but I was having a hard time accepting Stephen Hatchett as much of a threat. His wooden sword was the least of my worries, and I doubted he could run well in his armor plate, scabbard, and tabard.

I sat quietly, waiting for an opportunity. I stretched out my muscles and feigned boredom. After ten minutes of quiet sitting, Hatchett decided he was bored with playing bodyguard and he pulled his phone from his pocket. I couldn't tell what he was doing, but based on the sounds coming from his phone, I was guessing a game. I let him play long enough to get really enthralled, then I jumped to my feet and bolted for the door.

"Stop, serf!" Hatchett yelled.

I reached the handle, wrenched it open with my tethered hands, and bolted into a parking garage. I broke into a dead run, willing my feet to stay under me.

This is the same parking garage I got snagged from, I thought. Hidden in plain sight.

I ran out the front entrance into the street, and continued running in the direction of the hospital down the center line of the one-way road. I heard the sound of thundering feet behind me, but I continued running.

"Stop, wench!" I heard from behind me.

Cars honked, and someone in a red Chevy Malibu gave me the finger. I made it to the first intersection, and I cut back onto the sidewalk.

I took a chance and glanced behind me just in time to see Hatchett get hit by a silver Mercedes sedan in the middle of the road. His body rolled onto the hood of the car before being thrown ten feet forward onto the pavement. Cars screeched to a stop, and a truck honked its horn.

I stood in open-mouthed horror for a few seconds before my brain registered to run again. I couldn't afford to be caught by Wulf. I sprinted up the three additional blocks to the hospital, instructing myself to keep breathing and not to stop moving. I charged into the emergency room entrance and bent at the waist, sucking in air.

When I glanced up, I realized a dozen people in the waiting room were staring at me in horror. I checked myself out, realizing my hands were still tied in front of me and my pants were still wet. How the hell does somebody explain that? I figured I'd go for practical rather than explanatory.

I walked to the ER administrator's desk.

"Do you happen to have some scissors?"

She stared at me with a blank look.

"If you do, would you do me a solid and clip this?" I asked, extending my arms to her.

It took her a minute, but she dug around in her desk and came out with a pair of orange-handled scissors.

"Do you need help?" she managed to ask.

"Nope, I'm fine," I said. "I just need you to cut this, please."

She cut my restraints, I thanked her, and I bolted into the hospital.

"Ma'am?" she shouted after me, but I kept running.

I reached the stairs, taking them two at a time up to the third floor. I sprinted towards room 318 and almost ran down a herd of medical staff in the process.

"Sorry!" I shouted over my shoulder. I made it to Ranger's room, gripping the door frame and pulling myself in wordlessly.

Ranger was sitting on the bed, dressed in black cargo pants and boots. Lester was struggling to assist Ranger into a black shirt, but Ranger's pain and limited mobility seemed to be an issue. The shirt had made it over his head and halfway onto one arm. Ranger's brain monitor had been removed, and his hair was wild man of Borneo with bald patches intermingled with wild patches of dark, unruly hair.

Dr. Tso was standing next to the bed in a white lab coat, and he didn't look happy. Two nurses were also in the room. I recognized one as Molly.

"Mr. Manoso, I can't advise you leaving. You are still unstable. You need two more days' minimum, and you require significant physical therapy. You have an MRI scheduled this hour. I cannot in good faith…" said Dr. Tso.

I figured I might as well put his mind at ease since no one had noticed my thundering entry, so I interrupted him.

"He's not going anywhere," I said, crossing to the bed in three steps.

All eyes were on me as I stood at bedside. Horrified looks crossed everyone's faces. I assumed I didn't look great.

I placed my hand lightly on Ranger's shoulder.

"Babe," Ranger said, sounding relieved but looking concerned.

"Can we have a minute?" I asked of the doctor.

He looked like she wanted to respond, so I saved him the trouble.

"He'll be staying. I need to talk to him in private, though."

He nodded, and he left followed by the nurses.

Lester gave up trying to wrench Ranger's uncooperative arm into his shirt and went to stand by the door. He pulled out his cell phone, dialed, and held it to his ear for a low conversation. I assume he was calling off the search parties who were undoubtedly scouring the streets of Atlanta to find me.

"Are you okay?" Ranger asked, extending his arm to touch my side with his warm hand.

"Yes, Wulf snatched me on the street. I got away when he left me alone with Hatchett."

He studied me for a moment with an exhausted expression, the bruises on his face fully bloomed to purple and black. He looked like hell.

"You have a burn on your neck shaped like a handprint," Ranger finally said. "And did you wet your pants?"

"Crap," I sighed. "It's a long story."

"Babe," Ranger sighed.

I had known about the urine incident, but I didn't realize I had Wulf's handprint on my neck. It's no wonder the people in the emergency room looked at me like I had grown trees out of my ears.

"I'm sorry about the phone call earlier. I didn't want you to come for me. I wanted you to stay somewhere safe," I admitted.

Ranger nodded. "I never could have left you," he said earnestly, his expression serious. "I'm sorry about earlier, with the physical therapist. The sooner I'm moving, the sooner I'm out of here. It hurt like hell though."

"I know," I said, stroking his cheek with the back of my hand. "I need a minute."

I crossed to the closet and pulled out my jeans from yesterday at the black bikini underwear I'd worn overnight. I stepped into the bathroom, shucking my black Nike tennis shoes, cargo pants and underwear before slipping into the dry clothes.

I stepped back into the room and crossed to the bed, sitting on the edge next to Ranger.

"Did you know Wulf wants to get his hands on you?" I asked hesitantly.

Ranger's face grew cold and hard. He have a small nod.

"Why?" I asked, reaching to take his hand in mine. I stroked the back of his hand with my thumb, trying to coax a response from him.

"He thinks I can help him."

"With?" I asked, trying to coax more information from him.

"The way I understand it, he's on a quest to find some historic charms," said Ranger. "He's having a hard time convincing the individuals who own those charms to give them up."

"And you would help…. How?"

Ranger didn't answer, sitting in silence on the bed.

"Earth to Batman?" I asked.

He turned his neck to look me in the eye, his eyes asking an unspoken question. It made my heart stutter around in my chest a bit, and I assumed this was the answer to a question I'd held for a long time.

"You're unmentionable," I stated rather than asking. Somewhere deep down, I knew it had to be true. What else would Wulf want with him? And Ranger has always seemed to possess skills outside of normal.

He held eye contact with me, looking for something. He didn't speak.

I squeezed his hand and gave him a reassuring smirk.

"If you think that's going to scare me off, you've got another thing coming."

The tension Ranger had been carrying in his face and shoulders seemed to ease.

"Are you like Diesel? Do you find people?" I asked, curious.

"No," Ranger said, finally speaking. "I wouldn't need to put trackers on your cars and in your purse if I was like Diesel."

I guess he had a point there.

"I haven't done much to explore or exploit my unmentionable talents," Ranger said, "but I am told I have the power to be very persuasive."

I turned that thought over and over in my head to digest it, and it became very clear it was true. Ranger had a gaggle of men in black who followed him faithfully and without question. He wasn't exactly a charismatic leader with an abundance of words, but he had always come off as a strong leader with a faithful following. He had also amassed a fortune selling services as a business man, attracting clients and persuading them to purchase services. Plus, he had always had finesse taking in skips that I could only dream about.

"I smell burning, babe," Ranger said, his voice tired but amused.

"Just thinking," I explained.

A frightening thought crossed my mind, and it slipped out before I could hold it back.

"You never used your power of persuasion to get me… into your bed?" I blurted out.

"No, babe," he said, squeezing my hand. "That would have been wrong. Like I've always said, you say when and for how long I am in your bed."

The relief I felt at that was palpable, and this knowledge reinforced that Ranger was a good guy, even if his exterior screamed 'mercenary'. I really did love him.

I stood and wrapped my arms around Ranger's neck. I placed my finger beneath his chin, lifting his face to meet his lips with mine. The kiss started off gentle, but it heated up quickly. I heard Lester clear is throat from the doorway, and I broke from the kiss, panting. Ranger actually looked a little disappointed.

"Sorry," I whined.

Lester laughed.

"Can we get you into something more comfortable since you're not leaving the hospital to go save the world now?" I asked Ranger, studying his pants & half-on shirt.

He nodded, and I bent to my knees, removing his boots and socks. I stood and tugged his shirt off his head and his arm out. I studied his sutured chest and grimaced. It looked awful.

"I'm sorry I caused you worry," I said, feeling incredibly guilty he'd gone to the trouble to get unhooked from all his medical equipment and get man-handled into clothes in an effort to rescue me. I touched my fingertips to the bandage on his chest, then to the bandage on his arm.

"It's my fault," Ranger said, looking frustrated. "Once again we're in a situation where being close to me has you in danger."

A wave of worry hit me.

"Don't go getting ideas," I said to Ranger, my tone severe. "I'm not going anywhere."

He nodded acknowledgment.

"Let's get you out of these cargo pants. They have to be killing your leg. Plus, I'd love an excuse to undress you."

Chapter 24

Thirty minutes later, Lester and I had Ranger out of his clothes and settled back into bed wearing black boxers. Nurse Molly had returned to hook Ranger back up to his IV drip, drain tubes, pain medicine, and heart monitor. Lester had left, and he was replaced by Tank. Mid-afternoon sun shone in the window, warming the room and giving it a cheerful glow. We were awaiting a transport for Ranger's MRI.

Ranger had taken a dose of pain meds and collapsed into an exhausted sleep, the stress of the day's events finally taking their toll. I know Ranger is a strong guy, but his body was broken. He needed time to recuperate and heal, and I was feeling guilty I put his health in danger by wandering off to get snatched. The stress had finally caught up to me too after the adrenaline had worn off. I was sitting in the recliner by the bed looking half-awake holding Ranger's hand. I was covered in blankets, but I couldn't stop shivering.

Diesel strolled into the room looking disheveled. Worry lines creased his face near his eyes and mouth, and his clothes were wrinkled.

"Hey," I greeted him.

He crossed the room to me and tussled my hair. I sucked in some air, my tender head not liking his touch.

"Hey yourself. I'm glad to find you in one piece. I was worried sick. I had to see you with my own eyes."

He wrapped his arms around me and drug me from the chair to my feet, pulling me into a bear hug.

"Steph, you're shaking."

"Adrenaline burn-off," I explained. "Happens all the time."

"Only to you," he said. "Most normal people don't get into hairy situations as often as you. For most people, this would be the once-in-a-lifetime experience."

He held me out to study me, and his mouth formed a straight, angry line. His eyes dilated black, and if it was possible, I suspect flames would have shot out of his ears.

"Your neck," he said, venom in his voice.

"It's fine," I said. "It will heal."

"Doesn't it hurt?" he asked.

"No," I said, trying to convince myself it was true. It actually hurt like hell.

"Liar."

"Well? Where the heck were you earlier?" I accused, feeling pretty pissed off. "I figured you'd come storming into the parking garage to retrieve me. Instead, I got zapped twice, kidnapped, and chased through the streets of Atlanta by Wulf's medieval moron."

The frustration faded from Diesel's eyes, and it was replaced by hurt.

"I'm sorry," he said, his tone earnest. His shoulders fell a bit, and his brown eyes melted into pools of chocolate.

My stomach churned uncomfortably, and I think Diesel sensed my unease. He held my shivering body close, wrapping the blanket tightly around me. He rubbed circles on my back with his palms. His touch was warm and soft, and I melted into him, unable to stay mad for long.

"We were looking, but we couldn't find you."

"You were working with Rangeman?" I asked, surprised.

"Not exactly, but I was in contact with Tank."

"Then who is 'we'?" I asked.

"My partner is in Atlanta helping this weekend," Diesel said.

"Flash?" I asked.

"No."

A blank look must have registered on my face, because Diesel gave a nod, then continued speaking.

"Her name is Lizzie Tucker. She's from Massachusetts. She helped me search for you today. We were frantic, but Wulf led us on a wild goose chase. I figured you'd be with him, but he apparently left you alone with Hatchett."

I stood in his arms, open mouthed. Diesel had a partner? He seemed like the lone wolf type. And a woman, no less. Just when I thought I was figuring Diesel out, he hits me with another unexpected twist. Was she a business-only partner or a romantic partner too?

The expression on Diesel's face had changed, and so did the feel of his airspace.

"You love her," I said with certainty, a goofy grin spreading across my face.

"It's not what you think," Diesel said as if he'd read my mind. "We're not together. We can't be together. It would screw up our working partnership."

Something changed in the way Diesel held himself, and I could have sworn I felt disappointment radiating off of his body. He wanted her—bad. I wanted to be nosey and ask more about his mysterious lack of love life, but I managed to stop myself.

"I didn't know you had a partner. Why haven't I met her?" I asked, uncertain what to say.

"She's a pastry chef in Salem," he explained. "I try not to drag her out unless it's absolutely necessary, but I needed her help to find something here this weekend."

"And she's…. where?" I asked.

"She hasn't come into the hospital because she's keeping Carl outside in the car. Hospitals frown on visiting monkeys."

That thought caused me to laugh out loud, but I squashed it down quickly so as not to wake Ranger, who was still sleeping peacefully. Diesel smiled his flawless smile.

"You finally stopped shaking. You going to be alright, sweet thing?" he asked.

"Yep. Did you find what you're looking for yet?"

"No. I'm hoping we find the person carrying it around soon, because I don't think he'll be in Atlanta much longer," Diesel explained. "When he moves on, so do we. Chasing him around the continental U.S. is making me cranky."

"What exactly are you looking for?" I asked, curious.

"Nothing that should concern you," said Diesel, unwrapping himself from around me. I grabbed the corners of the blanket and held it tight.

"I can't be trusted with the information?" I asked, giving him a dirty look.

"More like you wouldn't believe me if I told you, so I'm not going to waste my breath, honey. I need to get back to Lizzie and Carl. Call me if you need anything," he said, turning to leave.

"Wait!" I said in a loud voice, then cringed when I remembered Ranger. I glanced over to his sleeping form in the bed, and noticed his eyes were fluttering.

"Crap," I muttered. "Sorry, Ranger. I'm fine. You're fine." I rubbed Ranger's arm with my hand to soothe him, since I'd probably scared the crap out of him shouting at Diesel.

"Babe," he muttered in a drug-induced state of relaxation, closing his eyes once again.

I turned back to Diesel, and he was giving me a grin. His eyes were dancing with laughter.

"Do I get to meet Lizzie?" I asked Diesel in a whisper.

"Later," he said. "She's been asking to meet you too. She wants to learn more about the badass bounty hunter chick I know from Trenton," he said winking at me. "I'm almost afraid to put you two together. Oh, and by the way, you won't have to worry about Hatchett any time soon. He's in a full body cast downstairs." Diesel grinned, then he was gone.

Ranger was carted downstairs for his MRI, and I took a nap in his room while I waited. I felt relatively safe since Tank was standing guard in the room, and I thought it was unlikely Wulf would make an appearance in the hospital room. I woke up to the sound of Ranger's bed being wheeled back into the room around 5:30 PM. Ranger was still looking drowsy, but his eyes were open. Ximena was in the room with me, having snuck in while I was sleeping.

"Buenos noches, amiga," she said, giving me a finger wave.

"Hey," I said, stretching and yawning. "What's up?"

"Here to check on the boss man, then to collect you for dinner."

"You didn't need to do that. I'm not hungry," I lied. "I need to stay here."

As if on cue, my stomach rumbled. Ximena laughed before turning her attention to the orderlies moving Ranger. They were wearing navy blue scrubs, and they looked exhausted.

"When will we hear results on the scan?" she asked.

One shrugged, but the other responded.

"Probably won't hear 'til morning," he drawled. "They'll stop by sooner if they found something serious, but everyone is pulling double shifts right now."

Ximena thanked them, and they left.

I got to my feet and perched on the side of Ranger's bed. Ximena stood as well.

"How are you doing?" I asked him.

"Fine," he said, sounding non-committal. Tension was obvious in his face, but he wasn't going to admit to being weak.

"I'm going to give you a quick check," Ximena told Ranger before pulling back his sheets.

Ranger nodded his assent, and she began studying his wounds and dressings. She pulled a flashlight from her bag and checked his pupils.

"How's your pain?" she asked.

"Under control," he said.

"On a scale from one to ten?"

He thought about it before responding. "Four."

"So at least a six, Mr. Tough Guy," Ximena said, winking at him.

He didn't look happy.

"They're talking about keeping me two to four more days," he said. "Can I get out of here sooner?"

"Depends on your MRI results," Ximena responded. "If everything upstairs is safe, you could conceivably leave earlier under the proper care and supervision provided by yours truly." She grinned, tapping her temple. "If the results are inconclusive or concerning, you really need to stay here. I can manage your wound drains, dressing changes, and physical therapy, but I'm not a neurologist. Your brain is important. Even if you do get out of here, it'll be at least a few more days before you're well enough to fly to home to Jersey."

Ranger seemed to accept her assessment. I squeezed his hand, and his eyes shifted to meet mine. Affection was apparent in his eyes, and I felt heat travel through my hand and into my chest. The corners of my mouth turned up, and my eyes fell to my shoes when I felt red creeping up my neck to my face. Even in an injured, altered state, Ranger could give me a hot flash.

"Okay, love birds, I hate to break this up, but I'm hauling Stephanie out of here for a while," Ximena said, stuffing her flashlight back into her bag. "She's been cooped up here for too long. She needs real food, more sleep, and a hot shower. Hector will come pull a shift with Tank here at the hospital."

"I'm fine, really," I said to Ximena. "I don't want to leave…"

Ranger cut me off. "She's right, babe. You've been here more than twenty four hours. Did you get lunch today? You need a good night's rest."

"Listen to el jefe," Ximena said. "You're going to make yourself sick if you don't do some self-care. Tank and Hector will take good care of him tonight, and I will take good care of you. You can come back in the morning refreshed."

I wanted to protest, but I was exhausted. My feet felt like bricks, and my body ached. My head was still throbbing too, though I hated to admit it.

"Fine," I said, pulling Ranger's hand to my lips and kissing the back. "Be a good patient tonight, mister. I don't want to hear about you chasing nurses or flirting with doctors." I winked at him, and the corner of his mouth tipped up ever so slightly.

"Scout's honor."

I heard the door to the room open and glanced over my shoulder. David from physical therapy walked in first, pushing a walker. He was followed by nurse Molly, then Hector.

"It's getting pretty crowded in here," Ximena lamented. "Let's roll."

I bent over the bed and gave Ranger a soft kiss, my hand caressing the side of his face. He laced his fingers into the front of my shirt, pulling me closer and deepening the kiss. I felt electricity move through my body, landing low in my belly. I'm pretty sure I moaned.

I heard Hector clear his throat, and I broke from the kiss, pausing with our foreheads touching.

"Take care of yourself," I said in a whisper. "I wouldn't know what to do if I lost you."

"Babe," Ranger responded. Based on the tone of his voice, I interpreted it to mean, "You too."

Ximena grabbed the back of my windbreaker and drug me to the door.

Ranger spoke. "Ximena, get her phone replaced."

I turned to stare at him.

"What?"

"Isn't your phone missing?"

I hadn't thought about it, but apparently the answer was yes. I had been using it for navigation back to Rangeman, and I hadn't seen it since I'd been zapped. Ranger was so drugged he was flat on his ass, and he still managed to keep tabs on me. I couldn't even manage to keep track of a cell phone. I was failing at adulting.

I sighed. "Crap."

Ranger nodded. "Handle it," he told Ximena before she drug me from his room, down the hall, and to the elevators.

Ximena and I buckled into a black Range Rover and exited the hospital parking ramp into the city. Ximena was at the wheel, looking ultra-cool in her Oakley sunglasses and black Rangeman uniform. She made a phone call to the control room to request a new phone for me, then turned her attention to me.

"Where to?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Rangeman?"

She pursed her lips. "What about food?"

"Maria will feed me, right?"

Ximena stopped at a stoplight, tipped her sunglasses down, and peered at me over the top of the lenses.

"You look like you could use a little happy," she said with a smirk.

She wheeled the SUV through traffic and a few minutes later, was pulling into a McDonalds drive through. She was a woman after my own heart.

Ximena ordered a Big Mac meal with fries and a coke for herself, giving me time to contemplate my order.

"What do you want?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

"A big mac, large Coke, large fries, shamrock shake, and ten piece chicken nuggets—no, sorry, make it twenty."

Her eyes got wide and she laughed. She placed my order, paid the cashier, collected our food, and parked before distributing the food.

I sunk my teeth into my Big Mac and moaned out loud. This was exactly what I needed to fill the happiness void in my chest.

"So, how are you holding up, chica?" Ximena asked, breaking the companionable silence.

"Eh…." I uttered, my mouth full of food. I swallowed. "I'm alright. This weekend wasn't all I had hoped it would be."

"What were you expecting?" she asked.

"I don't know. I guess a simple security job, and time to clear my head."

She rolled that thought around in her brain, chewing her fries.

"I'm grateful you were here," she admitted. "If you hadn't been here, I might have lost my cousin. I'm indebted to you."

I felt emotions try to bubble to the surface that I'd been working hard to hold at bay, so I shoved them back down with another bite of Big Mac. Some women bury their emotions with liquor, cigarettes, or prescription pain pills. I bury mine with doughnuts and drive-thru food.

"I'm glad I was here too," I replied with a full mouth.

We sat in companionable silence, eating and thinking. We finished up our food, put our wrappers into the empty food bag, and made our way back onto the street.

"Where to now?" Ximena asked.

"Home," I said. "I'm beat. I'll worry about tomorrow once it comes."

Ximena navigated through the busy streets of Atlanta. Apparently even Sunday nights were busy in downtown Atlanta. The sun was setting behind the skyline, and headlights were beginning to burn. Ximena steered the Range Rover into the secured, underground parking garage and parked it near the elevator.

I dragged my aching body out of the car and walked with Ximena to the elevator. She fobbed us up to the sixth floor and fobbed Ranger's door open, ushering me inside. She shimmied her backpack off her shoulders and onto the kitchen counter.

"Sit," she said, pointing to the bar stool.

I did as instructed, too tired to argue. Ximena let my hair down and checked my head. She asked me to follow her finger with my eyes and asked me to squeeze both of her hands. She pulled up my pant leg to check my knee, and finished by examining the handprint on my neck.

"Go take a quick shower, then I'll apply medicine to your scalp," she said. "If I put it on now, it'll wash off when you shower."

I showered, brushed my teeth, and hit my hair with a hair dryer. I could feel exhaustion tugging at every fiber of my body, and my head was screaming. My reflection in the mirror revealed dark, baggy circles under my eyes and red, bloodshot eyes. Whatever adrenaline & courage kept me running for the past two days was spent, and I needed to regroup. I pulled on bikini underwear, leggings, and one of Ranger's black, long sleeved t-shirts, then trudged to the kitchen.

"You look like hell, chica," Ximena said.

"If I'm being perfectly honest, I feel like hell," I admitted, plopping down onto the stool.

She examined my neck.

"How did this happen?" she asked, her eyes registering disbelief at the hand-shaped burn.

"Long story. It will heal," I said in explanation.

"Is it a burn?" she asked, trying to gain understanding.

"Yep."

She pulled some salve from her medic bag and smeared it on my neck. It provided some cooling relief, and I was grateful for her effort.

"You going to be okay alone here tonight?" Ximena asked, parting my hair to smear ointment on my scalp.

I sucked in air at her touch, the pain radiating through my scalp and head.

I hadn't really considered being alone tonight, but the thought wasn't a comfortable one. I'd seen too much the past two days. The memory of exploded bodies made my stomach turn, and visions of Ranger bleeding out in the middle of an Atlanta street were burned onto the back of my eyelids.

"Yeah," I spit out between erratic breaths. "Fine."

She stared at me, unconvinced. "It still hurts that much?"

"Yes," I said, grimacing as much at the memories as her touch.

She dug around in her bag, retrieving a pill bottle. She filled a glass with water and set it before me. She shook two pills into her hand and extended them to me.

"Take these pain pills," she instructed.

I complied without question.

Ximena spent several more minutes doctoring cuts and abrasions on my body.

"I think you'll live," she announced, a goofy smile on her face.

"Oh boy," I replied, beginning to feel the effects of the pills. "Things to look forward to."

Someone rapped on the apartment door, and I crossed to the foyer to open it. Eric was standing at the door. He passed me a shiny new Apple iPhone.

"I pulled your data off the cloud. It should be ready to go," he explained.

"Holy cow, thanks!" I exclaimed. "That was fast."

He gave me a small smirk before taking the door into the stairwell. I heard Ximena walk up behind me.

"Go to bed, chica. I'm across the hall if you need me."

I turned to face her and nodded, trying to put something brave on my face. I thought being alone would be fine, but as the moment was approaching, I could feel myself dreading the moment.

Ximena's face grew concerned. "You sure you're going to be alright, chica? You seem off."

My heart skipped around in my chest a little, and I decided it was now or never.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" I asked, my voice cracking. I was embarrassed to be so needy, but better to as Ximena than any of the dozen men residing in the building, right?

"Of course, chica," she said, rubbing her eyes. "Give me ten minutes to shower and change, then I'll be back."

"Thank you," I said on a whisper, giving her a small smile.

She exited the apartment, and I closed the door behind her. I glanced at the new phone in my hand and cringed. The readout already displayed a number of texts, missed calls, and e-mails. I didn't have the energy to fool with them tonight, so I switched the phone to silent, set it on the side board table, and headed for the bedroom.

Maria had made the bed with new, clean bedsheets. I chose the side that had been Ranger's on our first night here and buried my exhausted body under the covers. I tried to close my eyes, but I couldn't shut off my brain. Thoughts of Ranger wouldn't stop flooding my mind. After five unsuccessful minutes of trying to close my eyes, I went back out the foyer and got my phone from the sideboard. I took it back into the bed, buried myself once more, and glanced at the time readout.

7:19 pm. Still early.

I dialed.

"Babe," Ranger answered on the third ring. His voice was thick with sleep.

"Hi. I'm sorry I woke you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay," I confessed in greeting. "Are you doing okay?"

Silence.

"Ranger?" I asked.

"I'm ok," he said. "Can't sleep?"

"No," I admitted. "Ximena is going to stay with me tonight."

He took a moment to process that thought before responding. "Good. Let her take care of you."

"Can I bring you anything tomorrow?" I asked, yawning.

"Only yourself, safe and sound," he responded.

Ranger wasn't much for words. He expressed caring with actions, namely by protecting my body. His simple statement said volumes about his feelings for me.

"Of course," I said, my voice tight with emotion. "I'm sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

I moved to disconnect, but his voice stopped me.

"Babe?" he asked through a yawn.

"Hmm?"

"I do love you," he said.

I sat in dumbfounded silence for a minute before snapping out of my trance. "Really?" I asked, my voice coming out more disbelieving than I'd intended.

Ranger let out an airy chuckle on his end of the line.

"Babe," he admonished.

"I thought so," I declared before quickly taking it back. "I mean…. I love you too, Batman."

We sat in silence on the line for almost a full minute before I finally spoke again.

"I'm going to disconnect now. Goodnight."

"Night, Stephanie."

I ended the call, dumping the phone onto the night stand. I sat in silence processing the conversation I'd just had, working hard to convince myself it had actually happened. I resisted the urge to pinch myself. The pain medication tried to tug me into sleep, but my brain was spinning too fast to relent.

Ximena shuffled into the bedroom hauling a mountain of pillows. She was wearing her pink bunny slippers with pink sweat pants and a grey hoodie. She had removed her light application of makeup, and I could see dark circles beneath her eyes too.

"Yo," she greeted, tossing her pillows onto the bed. She threw back the covers, jumped into the bed, and tugged them up to her chin.

"You look exhausted," I told her.

"We're all running on empty fuel tanks right now," she said, her eyes finally connecting with mine. "It's been one hell of a weekend." She paused. "What the hell, chica? You're wearing a shit-eating grin." She looked amused.

I gave her my best innocent look. "Am not," I said.

"You talked to Carlos," she said, a goofy grin growing on her face.

I released a bark of laughter, and her smile only grew wider.

"You're smitten, chica. Head over heels," she said.

I shrugged, so she persisted.

"He is too," she said, winking at me.

We both busted into a ridiculous fit of girlish laughter. It felt good to genuinely laugh after the weekend we'd had. Once we'd finally settled down, Ximena spoke again.

"I'm glad he found you," she admitted. "I never thought he'd let anyone in."

"Me either," I replied. "Part of me is ecstatic he's admitted his feelings for me, but the skeptical part is waiting to be sent away again once the OxyContin wears off."

Ximena rolled that around in her head for a while before responding.

"Have faith, Steph. He's going to figure it out."

I nodded, closing my eyes and rolling onto my stomach.

"I know," I said on a whisper.

Ximena rolled onto her side, propping herself onto one elbow.

"Get some sleep," she said, reaching to rub circles on my back with her free hand. With the pain meds rushing through my veins, I had no choice but to comply. I could feel the world getting hazy around the edges and my body slowing at the medications beckoning.

"Night, Ximena," I whispered.

"Night, Steph," she responded, soothing me into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Chapter 25

I drug myself from sleep and out of the bed to the bathroom. Mother nature was urgently calling, and I had no choice but to respond. My sleep had been long and dreamless, a result of the pain medicine I had taken, and I had no concept of the time. We had gone to bed incredibly early, our bodies craving long hours of much-needed sleep. I did my business, brushed my teeth and did a quick self-check. My head seemed to hurt a lot less, and my scratches and scrapes appeared to be mending nicely. Good deal.

I exited to Ximena sleeping like the dead on her stomach in the bed. In the faint glow of light from around the curtains, I could see her hair was fanned out around her head like a dark chocolate halo and her mouth was wide open, a small trickle of drool sliding down her face and dampening her pillow. She was snoring lightly. I smiled to myself, remembering the first impression I had of her. Shot that to hell, I decided. Pink bunny slippers would do that.

I crept silently to the bedside table, grabbed my cell phone, and headed for the kitchen. The digital clock on the microwave announced the time as 6:25 AM. Early for me, but hey, when a girl goes to bed before 8:00 PM, anything is possible, right? I started a pot of coffee and rummaged through the cabinets for something edible. I found bagels and cream cheese in the refrigerator, so I threw one into the toaster. I slid my body onto a stool and started sifting through messages on my phone, feeling re-energized after a full night of uninterrupted rest.

I had a handful of text messages from Lula and my grandmother, keeping me up to date on general bonds office and Burg gossip. I had two messages from Connie listing a handful of skips who'd gone FTA since I'd been out of town. In bail bonds speak, FTA stands for "failure to appear", meaning someone accused of a crime failed to show up for their court date. Bad news for Vinnie, but good news for me since their capture fees were my primary source of income. Looks like life would be busy once again when I returned to Trenton, and lord knows Lula would be chomping at the bit to ride along after days cooped up in the office playing file clerk.

Since the office burned down a few years ago, there are no longer files to be filed in cabinets. The original files went up like tinder in a magnificent blaze of glory. The bonds office moved to an electronic filing system, so truth be told, Lula should be out a job. I guess Vinnie keeps her around to keep me alive. After all, it's challenging to replace a perfectly ordinary, mostly okay bounty hunter. I imagined Connie would be thrilled to get Lula out of the office soon, too.

My bagel popped, and I doused it with half a gallon of cream cheese. I contemplated the merits of eating the bagel standing over the sink instead of placing it on a plate like a civilized person. Eating over the sink had its merits, namely not dirtying a plate. And as far as I was concerned, the calories don't count if you eat them standing over the sink, right? In the end, I opted for the plate since Ranger had a dishwasher. Am I a domestic goddess or what?

I checked my voicemails next. Mostly drivel from Mary Lou and grandma. One from the cable company with a disconnect warning. I needed to pay my bill. Crap. Finally, I had one message from my mother. Since my gut reaction to her messages typically fell somewhere between 'dread' and 'I'd rather be dead', I had saved it for last.

"Stephanie, it's your mother," the message began.

Go figure. As if I could forget what her voice sounded like in the three days I'd been gone from Jersey. I rolled my eyes so hard I'm pretty sure I saw hair growing.

"Joseph is awake. He's in a private room at Saint Francis. Since you're unable to make it for a personal visit, you really ought to give him a call."

She continued the message by reciting a phone number, stating she loved me, and explaining she was making a nice chicken for dinner on Friday if I wanted to come. "Invite Joseph."

I sighed audibly and took another bite of bagel. I rummaged around in kitchen drawers until I came up with a message pad and pencil, listening to the message again to scribble down Joe's hospital number. It was too early to call, so I shoved the number in my messenger bag for later.

I heard shuffling footsteps and turned to find Ximena shuffling into the kitchen, eyes half-mast.

"Coffeeeeeee," she croaked in a voice more frog than human.

I scrambled to my feet and slopped some coffee in a mug, setting it in front of her. She collapsed onto a stool and sucked down half the cup. I filled it to the top again, then returned the carafe to the warmer.

"You're an angel," she said, giving me a drowsy smile over the rim of her mug. "Sleep well?"

"Yep," I said, taking a bite of my bagel. "You?"

"Like a corpse."

I nodded, recalling her sleeping form.

Ximena gave me a look. "What?" she said, indignant.

"Nothing."

"You looked amused," she said, resting her chin on her fist.

"You drool," I announced, bursting into a fit of giggles.

She scowled at me, then burst out laughing herself.

"Did I snore?" she asked.

"A little, but I only noticed once I woke up. Didn't keep me up."

She shrugged. "Fair enough."

I placed a bagel in the toaster for Ximena, smeared it with cream cheese, and set it on a plate in front of her.

"What's the plan for today?" I asked.

She took a bite of bagel, then talked through the wad of food in her mouth. "Check in at the control room, then go check on Ranger. Possibly bring him back here depending on his MRI results."

"You really think he might come home?" I asked, trying to hold my hopeful thoughts at bay.

"If by home you mean here, then yes. He probably can't go back to New Jersey for a few more days, even if the MRI is good. He's going to need physical therapy and pain management. We've got to get him mobile enough to get home on a commercial flight."

I nodded my understanding.

"It's Monday. I need to call Boston and clear my schedule. I had intended to return yesterday, and I had scheduled a full week of client meetings. I'll stay here until Ranger is well enough to go to Trenton. Most of the Boston and Trenton guys are going home today."

"Is everyone from Trenton going home?" I asked.

"It's critical Tank returns to resume normal business operations with Ranger out of commission. Lester is staying for security detail and for transport, but everyone else is leaving. I'll escort Ranger back to Trenton before flying back to Boston. There's not much more we can do here. Homeland security & the FBI have locked us out of the bombing. It's now a matter of national security. We've given them the footage we have, so we're done."

Ximena returned to her room to shower and dress, and I did the same in Ranger's, dressing in a black Rangeman uniform. I did an inventory check on my messenger bag, making sure I had money, pepper spray, and a stun gun. I had no intentions of running into Wulf, but I wanted to be prepared in case. We poured ourselves to-go coffees in the break room, checked in at the control room, then hopped into the Range Rover to head for the hospital.

Monday morning Atlanta traffic was hellish. In Jersey, driving on the turnpike is a high-speed, thrill-seeking experience. It's a perfect opportunity to practice creative four letter word combinations and proper use of Italian hand gestures. In Atlanta, rush hour traffic is door-to-door, bumper-to-bumper bedlam. Atlanta rush hour embodies the phrase going nowhere fast.

I impatiently sucked down coffee as we hit every red light on the mile of road between Rangeman and the hospital.

Two Rangeman guys I didn't know stood outside Ranger's room door. I gave them each a polite nod, and Ximena gave one a playful punch in the arm.

When we walked into Ranger's room, it was clear that he had improved significantly. His color was better, and he was more alert than he had been. He was wearing his black boxers with a black, long sleeved Rangeman t-shirt. His wounded leg was heavily bandaged, but the bruise on his head was fading from purple to green. I'd had enough bruises to know the transition to green was a step in the right direction.

"Morning, Batman," I said, walking to stand by his bed. I gave him a light peck on the cheek, and he brushed a stray curl from my forehead. "Sleep well?"

"Babe," he said, looking content.

"Have you got your MRI results yet?" Ximena asked, falling into a chair.

"Not yet," Ranger said, his eyes never leaving me. "How's your head?"

"A lot better," I admitted. "I see they took your IV."

Ranger nodded. "They've finished running antibiotics. Now it's time for healing and therapy."

We sat around making small talk. Ranger's breakfast was delivered a little before 8:00 AM. He had oatmeal with blueberries and almonds paired with a small carton of skim milk and a cup of coffee. He was halfway through the bowl when the radiologist arrived. He was short and heavyset in the middle with thin, bird-like legs. He was wearing brown loafers, khaki pants, a navy polo, and a white lab jacket.

"Good morning, Mr. Manoso. I'm Dr. Tallman, and I read your MRI results from yesterday. I've been consulting with your neurologist."

The irony wasn't lost on me, and I bit my lip to hold back the cackle that was trying to escape. Ranger cut his eyes to me, sensing my amusement. His face showed no expression, but his eyes sparkled with a mischievous glimmer.

Ranger and Dr. Tallman shook hands before the doctor continued.

"The MRI shows you've got a moderately severe concussion, but I found nothing that concerns me enough to warrant more invasive testing or treatments. The bleeding has stopped, and your body will reabsorb it. You haven't had a seizure for almost 48 hours on the low dose of Topamax that was prescribed. I'd like to keep you for another 48 hours for observation, and then you'll need to schedule a follow up appointment in a week. We'll keep you on the medication for three months, tapering it at the end. It takes some time for the brain to heal. If you remain seizure free, you'll be off the medication for good."

Ximena and Ranger were listening intently, but I was studying their reactions. Both seemed happy about the news.

"Do you have any questions or concerns I can address?" Dr. Tallman asked.

Ranger looked thoughtful before responding. "I will be checking myself out today. I will receive private care in Atlanta for several days before relocating to New Jersey. I need a referral for a neurologist there."

My breath hitched in my chest. I glanced from Ximena to the doctor. Ximena smirked, knowing this was coming. The doctor, on the other hand, looked horrified.

"Mr. Manoso, it is not advisable to leave our care until we've cleared all your injuries and provided an adequate amount of physical therapy. You're still weak, and…"

Ranger's face transformed from pleasant to stone cold. "This is notice. I am leaving against medical advice this afternoon. Please make preparations."

Dr. Tallman stood in utter disbelief, unmoving. Clearly he wasn't used to disobedient patients. He should have had a conversation with the physician from yesterday. He finally spoke, his face pale.

"There are forms you'll need to complete, Mr. Manoso. And you'll still have to go through the discharge process. We'll have to show you how to care for your wounds, and the physical therapist will want to provide exercises for home."

Ximena stood as if on cue. "I am Mr. Manoso's private care provider. Ximena Santos, ARNP," she announced, extending her hand. "I will be providing one-on-one care for his wounds and therapy needs from his home. I will be here during the discharge process to consult with the therapist and physicians. I also have a private physical therapist on call should it become necessary."

Again, Dr. Tallman was speechless. He stuttered for a moment before responding.

"Yes, ma'am. I will notify the nurses' station." Then he disappeared out the door into the hall.

I cut my eyes to Ranger.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to leave so soon?" I asked, taking his hand in mine and stroking the back with my thumb.

Ranger nodded, his face devoid of emotion. "It's safest for everyone. We have more access control at the Rangeman building."

The unspoken reality here was that it was a heck of a lot harder for crazies to access Ranger's building, and I would be safer from Wulf there than staking out in his room at the hospital. I sighed.

The discharge process began, and Ximena worked diligently with nurses, doctors, and the therapist to ensure continuity in Ranger's care. Ranger's lunch arrived just before twelve, which he ate before one last neurological evaluation. He suffered through another brutal physical therapy session in an effort to regain strength and mobility in his leg while I trailed along behind him, the therapist, Ximena, and a Merry Man. The second Merry Man followed behind me. We were way past 'crowd' territory, threatening 'parade'.

An hour later, Ranger was sitting in a wheelchair dressed in sweats, tennis shoes, and his long-sleeved black t-shirt. He had a ball cap on, covering the shaved patches of hair on his head. Much to his dismay, he'd be headed back to Rangeman in the wheelchair. His face advertised a new brand of exhaustion after his physical therapy session, and we were scrambling to get him out the door and to the safety of Rangeman to rest.

Diesel arrived as we were packing Ranger's things into a duffel bag.

"Hey," he said, stepping into the room and crossing to flop into a chair. He was wearing his typical boots, jeans, and leather jacket paired with a heather red shirt advertising Big Red gum. He looked exhausted with a three-day beard growth and dark circles under his eyes. Something seemed off about him. "I didn't expect you to get out of here so soon."

We explained we were headed back to Rangeman. Diesel didn't seem surprised by the news.

"Any progress?" Ranger asked Diesel.

Diesel didn't speak. Instead, he looked to Ximena.

"I can take a cue," she said, shuffling out of the room to close the door.

Diesel cut his eyes to me as well.

"If you think I'm leaving, you're going to have to take a ticket and wait in line," I responded, folding my arms across my chest and sitting on Ranger's vacant bed.

Ranger looked like he was thinking about smiling.

"Babe, I never said I wanted you to leave."

I rolled my eyes at him before looking back to Diesel.

"There has been some progress," Diesel said, staring at his shoes. "Wulf got to Clarke first, and he got the stone. He killed him to get it so the bomber has been eliminated."

Bomber? The Atlanta Marathon bomber eliminated? Relief coursed through my veins. The nightmare had ended. Dozens of questions began to form in my head, but I chased them away to focus on the exchange between Ranger and Diesel.

Ranger was stoic, absorbing the information. Ranger seemed to have more background on the situation.

"If the stone is in Wulf's care, your work here is finished," Ranger said, his voice icy. "Why are you here?"

"I need your help."

Chapter 26

We sat in strangled silence, Diesel's cry for help echoing in the silent room. Ranger's face grew hard, his mouth forming a straight line.

"No," Ranger replied, his voice filled with ice.

"I know how you feel about my asking, and I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

I could hear Diesel's voice waver, and a softball size lump settled into my throat. I was pretty sure it was my heart. Sure, Diesel wore his emotions on his sleeve more than Ranger or even Joe, but to hear Diesel's tough exterior cracking was doing awful things to my heart and my stomach.

"You know I don't believe any of this stone—"

Diesel cut Ranger off.

"Wulf took Lizzie last night. I searched through the night, but I can't find her." He paused, taking a breath. "I have to find her."

I sat in stunned silence. That meant Wulf had snatched both Lizzie and I in less than twenty-four hours. He must have snatched her once I got free from Hatchett. What the heck was his problem? He needed a new hobby.

As if Diesel had read my mind, he responded. "He's getting desperate. Lizzie shares the same unmentionable skill as Hatchett. She can identify empowered objects. With Hatchett playing on Wulf's team, he was satisfied to leave Lizzie alone. Hatchett better served his needs. With Hatchett out of commission, Wulf needs a replacement to find the next stone. I don't think he wouldn't physically hurt her, but she's there against her will."

"Have you notified local authorities of the kidnapping?" Ranger asked.

"No," Diesel said.

A pregnant silence sat between the two men.

"I'm not going to devote resources to find her so you have an advantage hunting those stones," Ranger said, a hint of frustration in his voice.

"This has nothing to do with the stone of ira, or any other stone."

This stone business was getting weird. Why is Diesel looking for rocks?

"I want her safe, out of harm's way," Diesel said, his voice thick with emotion. "It's all I want. She never should have been brought into this in the first place."

He loved this Lizzie. That was glaringly clear now. My heart ached for him.

I knew Ranger could identify with what Diesel was experiencing—feeling responsible for dragging a loved one into harm's way. We'd been there ourselves years ago with Scrog. Hell, we'd been there yesterday with Wulf.

"You're sure they haven't returned to Salem?" Ranger continued.

"Unlikely," said Diesel. "Wulf isn't leaving without you. He wants to add you to his menagerie." The grim set on Diesel's face grew darker.

Ranger took a moment to absorb that piece of information, his face devoid of expression.

"He knows I won't assist him," Ranger said.

"He's a little gonzo under the influence of the stone of wrath. And he sees the opportunity," Diesel replied.

Silence.

I didn't like 'gonzo'. Diesel's take on our predicament concerned me. A lot. And sure, I was missing lots of pieces to the Diesel & Wulf puzzle, but I had to assume the opportunity Diesel was speaking of existed because Ranger was injured. I could feel my blood boil.

"If he thinks he can snatch Ranger out from under Rangeman, he's got another thing coming," I said, getting to my feet, my voice harsh. "Wulf's going to have to go through all of us."

A knock sounded at the door, and Ximena stuck her head in.

"It's time," she announced.

Ranger gave a barely perceptible nod, then turned his attention to Diesel. The door clicked back into place.

"Come to Rangeman with us. I'm in no shape to help, but we have resources to help you find your partner," Ranger said, his voice growing weary with the exertion of the conversation.

Diesel breathed an audible sigh of relief.

"Thank you."

"I can help too," I said.

"No," Ranger said, his eyes wide and his voice laced with venom.

I turned to face Ranger, hands on hips.

"No?" I asked, a look of shock playing on my face.

A shadow of something crossed Ranger's face, but it was gone in an instant. I took Ranger's hands in mine, willing him to understand.

"Ranger, I've worked with Diesel before. And we've established Wulf's not going to hurt her, he wants you. There has to be something I can do to help," I pleaded. "I have to keep you safe. We can use me as bait."

Ranger's face wrenched up in pain. "No."

"She has a point," Diesel said. "Wulf thinks he can get to you through her. If we let him grab her again, he'll take her to Lizzie. Then we can-"

"No," Ranger pleaded, dropping his head into his hands.

I could see that stress and exhaustion combined with his injury were cracking Ranger's usually calm exterior. I had never seen him so visibly shaken or upset. I dropped to my knees in front of him and stroked his cheek with my hand, shushing him.

"Can we have a minute?" I quietly asked Diesel over my shoulder.

He nodded, then exited the room.

"Look at me," I said to Ranger on a whisper.

He didn't move.

"Ranger, please," I begged, taking his hands in mine.

His bloodshot eyes connected with mine. He looked old beyond his years, exhausted and worried.

"I'm not going to do anything irrational or exceptionally dangerous," I explained. "We'll make a plan. You can have me tracked and followed. Rangeman can control everything. I'm not going off on my own. And Diesel won't let anything happen to me."

He shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"Like he didn't let anything happen to her?" he asked solemnly.

I hated to admit it, but he had a point. I know Diesel never intended for anything to happen to Lizzie, but he was stretched too thin. He was chasing some lunatic bomber, chasing Wulf, working with Lizzie, caring for Carl, and trying to hold me together when I was threatening to unravel at the edges. There was only one Diesel, and he couldn't do it all alone.

Before I could form coherent words, Ranger spoke again.

"I've kept you at arm's length for years for precisely this reason. The life I lead isn't normal. Because of your connection to me, you're continually being dragged into situations where people try to get to me through you. I can't let this continue," Ranger said. "I don't want you helping Diesel."

The rational part of my brain understood where Ranger was coming from, but the part of my brain driven by hormones, rage, and sheer female drive lost its cool in an instant.

"Is this the part where you tell me you love me in your own way? Or where you tell me you don't do relationships? Or maybe this is the part where you send me back to Morelli." I snapped, jumping to my feet.

Despite Ranger's fatigue, his voice was like a warning shot.

"Stephanie."

Ranger tried to speak, but I continued, unwilling to hold back the flood of emotions.

"No, Ranger. You listen. I love you. I have loved you almost as long as I have known you, even though it scares the crap out of me. I don't want to play this game anymore. And as much as I want to hash out whatever is going on between us, right now, Lizzie's life is the most important thing."

Ranger took a minute to process my words, studying my face.

"I appreciate that you want to protect me, but you're going to have to trust your men. I'm not asking you to trust Diesel—just trust your men to follow orders and do their jobs. Your job right now is to rest and heal," I said, my voice pleading. "Right now, we need to protect you. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you on my watch."

For the first time ever, I realized Ranger looked defeated. His shoulders had slumped, his eyes sad.

"It shouldn't have to be this way," he said, his eyes not meeting mine.

"You're right," I agreed. "It shouldn't. But we've got to work with the hand we're dealt, and right now, our hand sucks. Let's make the best of it."

Suddenly, a wave of pure emotion crashed over me. It was hard to identify, but right now, nothing mattered besides staying with Ranger, helping him to heal and keeping him safe. I smiled, longing to do nothing more than spend long hours relaxing in his company.

Something tickled the back of my brain. Hadn't I just been arguing with Ranger? A warning bell clanged in my head for just one second, before something silenced it.

I gazed down at Ranger and calm flowed over me, indescribably connecting me to this man. I couldn't wait to get him back to Rangeman and stay there with him.

Ranger spoke, his voice sad and quiet. "Babe, can I have a minute with Diesel?"

"Of course," I replied perkily. "But then we're taking you home, okay?"

It was late-afternoon by the time Ranger, Ximena, and I were safely nestled into a black Suburban, escorted front and back by other Rangemen SUVs. Ximena drove with Lester riding shotgun. I sat in the third row with Ranger seated sideways in the second row, his injured leg laying across the seat. Diesel rode in one of the other SUVs. We drove the mile to Rangeman Atlanta and parked in the secured underground garage.

We wrestled Ranger's muscular frame out of the SUV and into his wheelchair, which I pushed to the elevator. Ximena and I got him settled into a hospital bed, which had magically materialized in the small living room of his sixth floor unit since I'd left this morning. Ximena truly worked magic.

Ranger was asleep in minutes, the stress of the day taking its toll on his injured body. Ximena continued to fuss over Ranger, so I changed into pajamas before wandering into the kitchen to scrounge for food.

"I'll be back every hour or so to check on him," Ximena said, straightening various medical equipment on a folding table. "If he needs anything before that though, let me know. I'll let him nap for a few hours before we do another round of physical therapy."

I nodded my understanding, rummaging through cupboards and coming up with a jar of peanut butter. I grabbed a spoon and headed for the couch, sitting with my legs folded under me.

"You alright?" Ximena asked, staring at me like I'd sprouted daisies out of my head.

"Yep! Excellent." I announced before shoving a full spoon of peanut butter into my mouth. I flipped on the television, turning the volume low and scrolling through channels of garbage shows.

She didn't speak and didn't leave, so I turned to look at her. She had cocked her head to one side, looking at me like I'd totally lost my mind. Her look made my stomach feel uneasy.

"I figured you'd be at the meeting downstairs in ten," she said, studying my pajamas.

"What meeting?" I said, scooping up more peanut butter.

She looked totally dumbstruck.

"Never mind," she said, turning to leave.

"See you later," I said, flipping through more channels.

I heard her pause before she left, so I turned and waved goodbye over my shoulder, giving her a goofy smile. She gave a wave but didn't smile, then left.

As it turns out, Ranger's Atlanta apartment was primo for Netflix and chill. Netflix, because his smart TV had hundreds of channels, plus Netflix and Hulu apps. Chill, because he had a comfy couch, cozy blankets, soft throw pillows, and snacks that filled the cupboards, courtesy of Maria. I'd never been much of a television girl, often watching one or two shows before falling asleep or giving up for more stimulating activities. However, I started binging Orange is the New Black on Netflix as if I was a woman possessed.

I was well into the third episode by the time Ximena checked on Ranger, and I was on episode five when she woke him for therapy.

I dutifully paused the show to assist, helping Ranger out of the bed to his walker. I gave him a smile, a peck on the cheek, and a light swat on the butt. His only response was a sad smile.

"Cheer up, buttercup! You've got this!" I chirped at Ranger, hoping to lighten his mood before a strenuous physical therapy session.

Ximena put a belt around his waist and helped him to the bathroom. I straightened his sheets and fluffed his pillows before shuffling off to the kitchen to refresh his glass of water.

Maria entered the room minutes later with several covered dishes that smelled wonderful. I helped her to set the table, laying out silverware and glasses of iced tea. Ranger completed his therapy before he, Ximena, and I sat down to dinner. After, Ranger and I watched a Monday night basketball game, Ranger fading in and out of sleep.

The next day progressed in much the same way. Ranger rested and healed. Ximena changed his wound dressings, and he took the drugs she gave him. He did physical therapy several times, pushing himself to the limit each time to improve his strength and mobility. His physical progress was astounding, and he was soon able to limp around the apartment with the assistance of only a cane. However, he didn't seem to be acting like himself. I tried to push it aside. He'd had a long week. He was taking a lot of medication. He needed time to heal, right?

I watched a lot of television and ate a heap of snacks courtesy of Maria. I chatted with Connie, Lula, grandma, Mary Lou, and my mother on the phone.

By Tuesday afternoon, I decided to call Joe while Ranger was sleeping. I shuffled into the bedroom and closed the door so as not to disturb Ranger. I flopped onto the bed, laying on my back.

"Hello?" I female voice answered. I recognized the voice. It belonged to Joe's mom, Angie.

Angie Morelli was the definition of Burg housewife. No one's home was cleaner than Angie Morelli's, and no one's Italian food was finer. Sure, with the exception of Joe, her sons were a drunk, bar brawling embarrassment and the scourge of the Burg, but she was a good Catholic woman.

"Hi Mrs. Morelli, its Stephanie."

"Stephanie! What a pleasant surprise! We've been expecting a call from you," Mrs. Morelli announced, her voice tense.

"Can I talk to Joe?" I asked.

There was a long pause before she responded. I heard whispering in the background.

"Yes, but I have something I need to talk to you about first." She lowered her voice. "I hear you're out of town. When will you be back in Trenton?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," I said. "Hopefully in a week. Maybe sooner. Why?"

She whispered into the phone. "I need you to take Bob."

I resisted the urge to laugh out loud. Bob was Morelli's giant orange, shaggy dog. Bob was part golden retriever and part prehistoric woolly mammoth. Bob was a lot of fun, but he was full of energy, pooped mountains of dog doodie which required a snow shovel for clearing, and ate everything, including shoes, bedding, and furniture. I had originally been Bob's guardian, but Bob had chosen life with Joe. Joe had a yard.

"I'd be happy to take him once I get back to Trenton, but I'm not a lot of help here in Atlanta," I said.

"It's going to be some time before Joe can manage Bob on his own, but I don't know if I can do another week of Bob-sitting," Angie whispered into the phone. "It is my understanding Bob is your and Joe's dog. Together. Like a child, only with fur."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Great, Joe and I had a fur baby.

"Let me see if I can work something out, Mrs. Morelli. I'll call you back in a minute." Then I disconnected.

I pulled up my contacts and dialed Mooner.

The phone was answered on the second ring.

"Moondog speaking."

I went to high school with Walter "Moonman" Dunphy. He was a nice guy with a big heart, but he'd smoked a lot of weed in his lifetime. We'd experienced a lot together in the past couple of years, and he'd always been a good friend despite his shortcomings in the 'adult' department. More often than I liked to admit, Mooner caused me to experience maternal urges. Mooner was always getting into some kind of hair brained venture. One of his last ventures was dog sitting, so he seemed like an easy fit for temporary Bob care.

"Hi Mooner, its Stephanie."

"Dudette! Long time, no see! How's life on the Battlestar Gallactica?"

"Things are good, but I'm out of town."

"Excellent," he said.

"I need a favor," I said. "Do you remember Bob, Morelli's dog?"

"Sure, dude. He's, like, coooooooool," Mooner responded.

"Morelli got hurt on the job, and he needs someone to keep Bob for a week. I'd step in to help if I was in Trenton, but since I'm out of town, I was wondering if I might be able to pay you to keep him until I'm back in town."

"Far out," Mooner said. "Only problem is, the love bus is sort of out of commission, and my new apartment doesn't allow pets."

I sighed. Of course this would be my luck.

"Would you do it if I let you stay in my apartment?" I asked, sighing inwardly. I'd never be able to get the smell of weed out of my furniture.

"Sure, dudette. That would be, like, totally rad. The Bob dog and I can hang out with the little dude."

"Little dude?" I asked.

"Like, your rat," Mooner said.

"Rex is a hamster," I corrected. "Rex is staying with my parents, so it will only be you and Bob. You can go pick up a key to my apartment at my parents' house any time. I'll text you the address to pick up Bob and his food, plus the phone number to coordinate. Thanks, Mooner. I owe you one."

"No problem, dudette. Bob and I are on the job. Live long and prosper," he said, then disconnected. I texted him Angie Morelli's address and cell number.

I dialed Morelli's number again, and Angie answered again.

"Stephanie?"

"Hi Mrs. Morelli. I got the Bob issue taken care of. Walter Dunphy will pick him up tonight. He'll call you to coordinate pick-up."

"Thank you," she said, sounding like a heavy weight had been removed from her shoulders. "I do appreciate it. Would you like to speak with Joseph?"

"Yes," I said, feeling like I was stating the obvious.

I heard shuffling on the receiver, then quiet breathing.

"Joe?" I asked hesitantly.

"Hi Cu… cu… cupcake," he responded weakly, stuttering into the phone. His voice was dry and gravelly.

I was struck speechless. I hadn't been sure what to expect, but I certainly hadn't anticipated a stutter. Did the bullet he took to the head do that much damage to his speech?

I took a breath to compose myself, then made an effort to make light, friendly conversation.

"I was worried about you," I admitted. "How are you feeling?"

"Been bet…. Bet…" He paused, and I heard him take a deep breath to compose himself. "Been better," he said confidently.

"I bet," I said, a hint of sadness in my voice. "Bullets will do that to a person. Are they feeding you total garbage at Saint Francis, or is your mother smuggling in Pino's?"

We talked for ten minutes, making polite small talk. My heart ached for Joe's misfortune, but I actively worked to emotionally distance myself from him. We had broken up, and we were in the friends-only zone. I didn't ask about the extent of his injuries, and he didn't say anything about our relationship—or lack thereof. We disconnected, agreeing to talk again soon and wishing one another well.

By Thursday, I had finished every episode of Orange is the New Black and was feeling antsy. I'd spent too much time sitting on the couch, and I'd eaten too much junk food. I was starting to feel very unlike myself, and I didn't like it. Plus, my pants were too tight. Things were awkward with Ranger too, with only polite small talk between us. I hadn't left the apartment in days, and I was feeling ready for a change.

"I'm heading downstairs for a while," I said to Ranger, lacing myself into boots. I was wearing black Rangeman fatigues. "I'll take my cell. You can call if you need anything."

"Stay here, babe," Ranger said, sitting on the sofa with his leg up.

"Why?" I asked, getting to my feet. "I'm going stir crazy in here, Ranger. If nothing else, I need to roam the halls for an hour. My butt is numb from sitting around for so long."

Ranger rolled that thought around in his mind for a full minute, his face expressionless.

"I'll go with you," he said, starting to push himself upright using the arm of the sofa.

"You really don't need to do that," I said, scrambling to his side to help him up. "I'm perfectly safe in your building. I don't need a chaperone."

His only response was, "Babe." I sensed a hint of amusement in his tone, but something else was there, too.

I pointed at the pile of assistive devices—a wheelchair, a walker, a cane. "Which will it be, Batman?"

A humorless grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

"The chair, Alfred," Ranger said, limping in the direction of the wheelchair. I laughed out loud and scrambled to the chair, helping him into the seat.

I strolled out of the apartment, pushing Ranger through the halls of Rangeman Atlanta. Ranger gave the full tour, sharing information about the facility and its occupants. We explored the fourth and second floors, touring the gym and control room. The control room was buzzing, and it was refreshing to be part of the energy.

I pushed the elevator button to take us to the third floor offices and conference rooms, Ranger in tow. The doors to the elevator opened, and inside stood Diesel.

I hadn't seen Diesel in a few days. I was surprised when I realized I hadn't even thought about him. What the heck was up with that?

Diesel looked like hell. His usual scruff had grown into beard territory, and his eyes were dark-rimmed and bloodshot. His shoulders hung low, his back slouched. He looked completely defeated.

"Diesel, what's wrong?" I asked, scrambling to his side. I placed my hands on his chest, my heart faltering in mine.

He didn't speak. Instead, his eyes met with Ranger's and held.

I looked back and forth between the two men, neither speaking. It was a silent stand-off. I struggled to put pieces together in my brain, a mental fog lingering between the puzzle pieces I was trying to fit together. Something was off with me, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I wasn't sure if I'd had a stroke, if I was losing my damn mind, or one of the unmentionables in the room was messing with me.

I broke the silence, turning so a man was on each side of my body.

"What the hell is going on?" I said, anger rising in my voice. "Why can't I put this together?"

No one answered, so I spoke again.

"What's wrong with my mind?"

Ranger's eyes connected with his shoes, and Diesel's mouth formed into an angry line. The elevator doors began to slide shut, so I smashed the hold button.

"Diesel?" I asked, venom in my tone.

"I didn't do a thing to you, sweetheart," he responded, his face sad. The implication here was that Ranger had something to do with the mental fog I seemed to be experiencing.

The anger I had felt began to rise into panic.

"Ranger, what have you done?" I spit, turning to face him.

He refused to look at me.

"Diesel, please," I pleaded, my back to him.

The silence in the elevator was deafening.

Ranger spoke first.

"Don't," he said, his voice sad.

"She has a right to know," Diesel returned, his voice low.

Ranger nodded, but said, "Not now. Not here."

"No," I insisted, my voice two steps below shouting. "This is my life," I yelled, emphasizing the word 'my'.

I turned to face Diesel.

"What did he do?" I asked again.

Diesel opened his mouth, then closed it again. He considered for a long moment before speaking, his voice wavering.

"He persuaded you to forget about searching for Lizzie. He persuaded you to stay with him instead."

Suddenly, the pieces snapped into place as I recalled the odd feeling that had overcome me in Ranger's hospital room.

Lizzie was kidnapped by Wulf on Sunday. Diesel had spent days looking for her, and judging by the look of him, he hadn't had any luck tracking her down.

For the first time ever, Ranger had used his unmentionable talents on me.

Or had it been the first time? Not knowing was gut-wrenching.

Tears began to prickle at the corner of my eyes, and I began gasping for air. I looked back and forth from Ranger to Diesel. Diesel's face radiated sadness. Ranger wasn't making eye contact.

I tried to blink back the tears that were threatening to fall, but they came like a tsunami, rolling in waves past my eyelashes. I ran from the elevator, down the hall, and into the stairwell, leaving Diesel and Ranger behind.

Before the stairwell door closed, I could hear Ranger's pleading voice as I thundered down the stairs.

"Babe."

Chapter 27

I burst through the stairwell door and into the secured Rangeman parking garage. Hot, angry tears streamed down my cheeks as I sucked the cool air into my lungs, trying to calm myself enough to contemplate my next move. Sure, I wanted to be far, far away from Ranger until I could emotionally sort this out. That said, I wasn't suicidal. I wasn't going to go running onto the street for Wulf to grab. Death by the dragon claw didn't sound appealing. I needed to start thinking rationally before I did anything stupid.

The touch of a warm hand at the small of my back frightened me. I turned to see Diesel standing close, a small, humorless grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You alright?" he asked, pulling me close. I didn't have the energy to resist, so I let him, relaxing into his toned body.

"Ask me again tomorrow," I said ruefully, wiping tears away with my shirt sleeve.

We stood there for what felt like hours, but was probably more like ten minutes, my body held tight to his. It wasn't a romantic touch; rather, it was the touch of two friends inexplicably bonded like family after a multitude of strange, sometimes life threatening experiences together. Life didn't give me any brothers, but if it had, I hope they'd been like Diesel.

I shivered against the cool air, and Diesel motioned toward the Turbo.

"Shall we?"

I raised an eyebrow, but he pushed me in the direction of the car anyway. I walked to the passenger side door and pulled the handle.

Locked.

I gave Diesel a questioning look, and he returned a megabucks smile. He grabbed the driver's door handle, and the door popped open.

I couldn't help it. Even in my distressed state, I rolled my eyes.

Diesel unlocked my door, and I slid into the soft seat of the Turbo next to Diesel, where the air was warmer and the conversation more private. I wiped the tears from my face with my sleeve one last time and clenched my jaw, steeling myself against any more.

"Did he ask you to go after me?" I asked softly.

"No," Diesel responded. "He started shouting orders to his men in black to secure the exits, and that you were not to leave the building."

I sighed.

"I'd make a joke about being held prisoner here, but this isn't really an appropriate time given the gravity of Lizzie's situation," I said. "I know he wants to protect me, but he's taking it too far. Locking me down here? Brainwashing me into staying in? Ranger needs to take a chill pill."

Diesel smirked. "For the record, he didn't brainwash you. He persuaded you to make up your own mind to stay here."

Great. That made me feel so much better about the situation.

"Steph, we've worked together plenty of times, but there's still a lot you don't know."

I nodded. I was fully aware there was a lot I didn't know, and when it came to the world of unmentionables, I was mostly okay not knowing.

"I work for the Board of Unmentionable Marshalls, or the BUM. You know that I track down unmentionables who are using their talents in troublesome ways and extinguish their abilities if tasked to do so. But what you don't realize is that Ranger got this job offer long before I ever got it, and he turned them down."

I sat in stunned silence, so Diesel continued.

"Ranger learned at an early age he had the power of persuasion, but he didn't use it. Not intentionally, anyway. Because of his abilities, people are naturally drawn to Ranger. He's a natural leader, and people trust him or follow him easily. He's not one to intervene like he did with you this week, though. He doesn't really buy into the unmentionable thing, even when he can see the talent he possesses."

I had a dozen questions racing through my brain, but I tried to select one.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"It wasn't my information to share," he said honestly.

I contemplated my next question, worrying my lip between my teeth.

"Why did he turn down the job offer?" I finally asked, curious.

Diesel shrugged.

"The way I understand it, he got the offer maybe five years ago. At the time, he was working as a badass bounty hunter for your cousin and working government contracts, but he was interested in getting his own business off the ground. He wasn't willing to give up his goals for a job with no pay and no room for advancement."

I could feel my eyes go wide.

"You don't get paid?" I asked, completely flabbergasted by this piece of information.

"All my needs are met," Diesel said. "What do I need paid for? Plus I get to see the world, and I have a flexible work schedule. And it's fun."

I tried to process the information I'd just been given, but I was still hung up on Ranger's role in this.

"Anyway, Ranger got offered my job shortly after he met you, but he turned it down. Then I got hired," Diesel explained. "He's always lived off the radar in my world. He's on our books, but we hardly ever interact with him. And he doesn't use his abilities."

"Except this week," I said, frustration obvious in my tone.

Diesel thought for a moment before responding.

"Steph, it would be stretching the truth for me to stay Ranger and I were friends. We've talked a handful of times before, and when your safety has been at risk in the past, we've cooperated. But we're not adversaries, we're just different."

Diesel sighed and slouched into the soft leather seat.

"Even disclosing that much, I know enough about Ranger to know that keeping you out of harm's way is always his number one priority. He may be unwilling to admit it most of the time, but that guy loves you fiercely. With all your past outrageous schemes or hair-brained ideas, Ranger was able to protect you with his innate skills and physicality. Without his body and mind operating at peak potential this week, he panicked. He saw you offering yourself up as the sacrificial lamb to get Lizzie back, but he had no power to protect you in the scheme. The rest of his cards were on the table. He had to play the only card he had left to ensure your safety, even if it was a card he was ashamed to play."

"That doesn't make what he did right," I countered.

"I'm not defending him," Diesel explained. "I'm just calling things the way I see them. He's never tried anything like that with you before, and I can almost guarantee he won't try it again."

"How the hell would you know that?" I asked Diesel, crossing my arms over my chest.

Diesel gave me a shit eating grin.

It took a minute, but the pieces finally fell into place.

"You really can read minds," I said, disbelieving as I said it. "That's why you made the comment about the Turbo."

I swear my nipples got hard just thinking about that single, magical sexual encounter in Ranger's car.

"Jesus!" he exclaimed. "You two think about that time in the Turbo entirely too much. I can't read all minds at all times, but I am better tuned in to some minds. Some people are more forthcoming with their thoughts, too. I tend to do better reading unmentionables since we're on the save wavelength."

"You seem to do okay reading my thoughts," I said.

"Honey, everyone can read your thoughts. You plaster precisely what you're thinking on your face every time. Don't take up poker."

Touché.

"So what do we do about Lizzie?" I asked, changing the subject.

Diesel stared ahead, his eyes unseeing.

"I don't know," he finally admitted. "I've tried everything I know to try. "

"Except dangling me as bait," I said.

"Yeah, except that."

We sat digesting that thought.

"I'm game," I finally said, breaking the silence.

"Hell no!"

I glared at Diesel.

"Huh? What?" I was feeling truly perplexed.

"I'm not doing anything without Ranger's blessing. You're his woman," Diesel explained. "Plus, I feel compelled to protect you too, and I'm not sure I can with Wulf acting so unpredictably right now."

"Wait, hold the phone. We'll go back to Wulf, but I want to address the 'Ranger's woman' crap first. I am not, nor have I ever been, Ranger's woman," I said.

Sure, I wanted to be Ranger's woman, but we'd done the 'no relationships' drill enough times to know our stolen kisses and dancing between the bedsheets wasn't headed in the direction of commitment and blissful matrimony.

Diesel grinned at me. "Keep telling yourself that, sunshine."

I rolled my eyes again. If I kept this up, chances were my eyes were going to roll out onto the Porsche floor.

"Back to Wulf," I redirected. "You said he's acting unpredictably. Explain."

"Wulf is under the influence of an empowered object that was identified by Hatchett. The object is a stone empowered with the deadly sin ira, which is Latin for wrath," Diesel explained. "The keeper of the stone is influenced by the stone's powerful pull. Since wrath embodies emotions like anger, hatred, and rage, Wulf isn't acting his usual, stable self, which only underscores my concern for Lizzie. The stone of ira is one of seven stones empowered by the seven deadly sins-pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath and sloth. This is the fourth stone we've identified and collected."

I tried to compartmentalize the information I'd just absorbed into logical, rational compartments in my brain, but I couldn't make room for any of it. Instead, I decided to store the information under the 'folklore and crazies' category where Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and Sasquatch lived.

"Anything else I should know?" I asked, almost afraid to ask.

"How much time do you have?" Diesel joked, jabbing me in the ribs with his elbow.

"Ow!" I cried out, playfully grabbing my ribs and giving him a smirk.

He smirked at me, but his demeanor grew serious again quickly.

"We've got to find her," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

"We will," I replied. "Let's go hash this out with Ranger. I'm going to help you find her."

I opened my door and placed my right foot onto the parking garage floor.

He gave me a sad smile. "Unless you decide not to."

"If he helps me decide not to help, you need to be even more persuasive than him," I said, hauling myself up and out of the car.

"How do you propose I accomplish that?" Diesel asked.

"By connecting your fist to his face until he restores my free will."

Chapter 28

"We need to talk," I said, approaching Ranger in the control room. "Now." Diesel walked behind me wordlessly.

Ranger was seated in a wheelchair in front of the bank of monitors, presumably watching Diesel and me. Worry lines creased his forehead, the corners of his eyes, and his mouth. It occurred to me that his time in Atlanta had aged him, and my heart ached for him. He was flanked by two other men whose names I didn't know. They didn't make eye contact.

Ranger gave a barely perceptible nod, rising from his wheelchair. He motioned a "follow me" gesture and began limping away from his chair, strain evident on his face.

"Will you let me push you?" I asked, putting my hands on my hips and raising one eyebrow.

Ranger ignored my offer, continuing the limp toward a bank of small conference rooms.

I glanced at Diesel, who was giving me a devilish grin.

"Can't keep him down for long," he said, gesturing for me to follow Ranger.

I rolled my eyes and shuffled after Ranger, catching up to walk close behind in case he needed help.

"Can we have a minute?" I asked Diesel as we reached the conference room door.

He nodded and slouched against the wall to wait.

I closed the conference room door behind me and turned to face Ranger. He was sitting on the edge of the conference room table with his arms crossed across his chest, his face devoid of expression.

"No," I said, my voice rising in anger. "We're not going to do this today. I refuse to let you shut down on me. We can't work through this if you check out emotionally."

He stared at me, studying me as I stood in front of him.

"First of all, ground rules," I stated. "Number one. We're shooting straight today. That means no lying and no bullshit."

Ranger nodded his consent.

I gave Ranger my best Burg glare. "Lying by omission still counts as lying."

He gave me a smirk, and I saw his guard falling. I sighed a relieved breath, then continued.

"Second rule. You so much as think about changing my mind about anything ever again, and I'm walking out the door for good. Do you hear me?"

Tears were welling in my eyes again. I sucked in air and blinked them away, refusing to fall victim to more angry tears today. My threat felt pretty hollow since the man held my heart, but the thought of staying with someone who would manipulate me was more than I could stand.

Ranger didn't respond, but his shoulders drooped a few inches. He didn't make eye contact.

"Ricardo Carlos Manoso, do you understand me?" I asked, pointing an angry finger in his direction.

He snapped his head in my direction, his eyes glowing with amusement.

"This isn't funny!" I said, throwing my arms into the air, frustrated tears threatening to fall.

"Babe, you just called me by my full name," Ranger said, his tone amused. "You sound like my mother."

A rogue tear slid down my face, and I swiped it away quickly. Ranger opened his arms to me, but I shook my head no.

"I thought I could trust you with my heart," I whispered, his eyes holding mine.

A pregnant pause sat between us before he finally responded.

"I'm sorry."

"Have you ever done this to me before now?" I asked. If this was a pattern of behavior, I had to know.

He shook his head no.

I felt myself relax slightly.

"It's going to take some time to rebuild trust," I admitted.

He opened his arms to me again, and this time I went to him. He slid back on the table and I sat in front of him, his chest to my back. He wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me close with his chin on my shoulder. I laid my arms over his, my hands atop his with our fingers intertwined. He placed three butterfly-soft kisses beneath my ear, and I felt myself relax into him.

"I swear to you, I'll never do it again," he whispered in my ear. "If I could make these abilities go away, I would. I didn't ask for them. I don't want them. I hope you understand I'd do anything for you."

Ranger's words took my breath away. He'd give up his abilities for me? Memories began to race through my mind.

Ranger handing me the keys to his Porsche after one of my cars met its untimely end.

Ranger jumping off a bridge into the Delaware River to save me without a second thought for his safety.

Ranger walking into certain death in my apartment when Edward Scrog had kidnapped Julie and me.

Ranger kissing me senseless in the alley by the bonds office after yet another nasty breakup with Joe.

Ranger pulling me from the burning building of one of his Rangeman clients.

Falling into Ranger's arms from a cupboard in Spiro's house when I'd been kidnapped by Constantine Stiva.

I did understand. Ranger had proven time and time again he'd do anything for me. He showed his affection with actions rather than words.

"I know," I said quietly, "but you can't take away my free will. That's a non-negotiable."

Ranger sat quietly for a long time holding me. I rubbed my thumb along the length of his, willing him to say something.

"Living with you the last few days only reaffirmed that what I did was wrong," he explained. "I love your strong will and your sharp wit. Your independence draws me back to you every day. By convincing you to be something you were not, I took those things from you. You were a different person. I could never do that to the woman I love again. I'm sorry things got so desperate that I felt it was my only choice to protect your body."

He brushed his lips along my collar bone, and I felt electricity flow through my body and settle low in my belly.

"You have to trust me," I said to Ranger, trying to focus on our conversation rather than the urges I was feeling. "I know I haven't always been the most rational person, but I promise I'm working on it. I'm eager to help Diesel, but I'm not suicidal. You have to trust me."

"I do," he said so quietly I almost didn't hear him.

He continued his assault on my shoulder with his lips as one hand slid under the hem of my shirt, settling on my stomach.

"With my life," he continued. "And my love."

Ranger inched his hand upward, his hand exploring gently and raising goosebumps on my heated flesh. He brushed his thumb over my nipple through the fabric of my thin lace bra, and I felt it harden at his touch. He touched it again, and I moaned softly, shuddering against his body. I could feel him pressing against me from behind.

Ranger's arm untangled from me. He fumbled in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a key fob.

"Scrambling the feed," he said in explanation, setting the fob on the table and getting back to business with both hands. He popped the button on my jeans before slipping one hand inside my panties.

My brain was shouting "no, no" but my body was screaming "oh yes".

"Wait," I said breathlessly. "You're not trying to persuade me not to help again, are you?"

Ranger chuckled, and I felt his hot breath against my ear.

"No, babe. This is my feeble attempt at makeup sex. Normally when guys screw up in relationships, we apologize and offer makeup sex."

My breath hitched, and I slid off the table, turning to face Ranger.

"Relationship?" I asked, resisting the urge to hyperventilate. "We're in… a relationship?"

I took a step toward the door in retreat.

Ranger smirked, his eyes alight with amusement.

"Babe."

He grabbed my upper arms and pulled me to him, his lips crashing onto mine. Our tongues touched, and I moaned into his mouth. My heart beat quickened, and my body quickened with it. I pressed my body into his while carefully avoiding his injured leg, and I felt his hardness pressing into me. When we finally broke from the kiss, we were both out of breath.

"Relationship?" I squeaked once I finally caught my breath. "You're sure?"

"Only if you're ok with it," Ranger said, giving me a questioning look. "Your reaction doesn't indicate acceptance."

I stood blinking at him.

"You don't do relationships," I said matter-of-factly.

Ranger twisted me around, pulling my back to his chest again. I slid my butt onto the table, and his hands slid back up my shirt and into my panties.

"It's about time I make an exception for the woman I love, don't you think?"

Ranger touched me, and I gasped.

"You realize Diesel is standing right outside the door, right?" I panted.

"He'll wait."

Oh boy.

Ranger, Diesel, and I settled around a round wooden table in the conference room. Ranger sat to my right, and Diesel sat across from us. Ranger had exhaustion written across his face, so I gave his hand a small, reassuring squeeze under the table. He held my hand in his, stroking the palm with his thumb.

Diesel gave us a shit eating grin.

"Took you long enough," he joked.

I could feel myself blush from my hairline to the tips of my toes, my ruined panties uncomfortably damp in my pants. Ranger somehow managed to stay stoic.

"Diesel," Ranger acknowledged, "how can Stephanie and I assist you?"

"We need to find Lizzie, and soon. Wulf is unpredictable with the stone of ira," said Diesel, his palms flat on the table before him. "But I think it's unlikely he leaves Atlanta without you too. He's assembling a team of powerful unmentionables, and he wants you on it."

I glanced at Ranger. Only now did I understand how powerful Ranger could be in the world of unmentionables. I tried to imagine all the things Ranger could do if he set his mind to it, but it boggled my mind. If I were to believe what I'd been told, he could persuade any person on Earth to take any action he wanted. It sent a shiver down my spine.

"We can't use you as bait," I told Ranger. "It's too dangerous with you injured. Wulf thinks he can get to you through me, so I'm the bait."

Ranger shook his head no.

"I'm not comfortable with that," he said in explanation. "I'd rather be his target."

"Ranger, I don't think…"

I tried to speak, but Ranger cut me off.

"A few days ago, I would have agreed with you, but I'm a lot stronger now. Besides, I'm told I can be very persuasive," he explained, the corner of his mouth turning up a bit.

"Are you sure you're comfortable with that?" Diesel asked. "You've never been willing to use your skills before."

Before Ranger could respond, a thunderous crack reverberated through the building followed by security alarms. The lights flickered then went out, replaced only by emergency lights.

I felt my heart lurch in my chest. Adrenaline seeped into my veins as my body prepared for fight or flight.

"It's Wulf," Diesel said, getting to his feet to wrench open the conference room door.

"Stay with me," Ranger said, holding my hands in his.

I nodded and helped Ranger to his feet, and he slung an arm over my shoulders for support. We crossed the room into the hall, where Rangemen in black fatigues were scrambling through the halls. I saw Lester and flagged him down. He ran to Ranger's side.

"Beautiful, you alright?" he asked.

"We're fine, he's just weak. I assume the elevator is out with the power. Can you help?" I asked.

Lester nodded, and Ranger slung his other arm over Lester's shoulder. We continued toward the bank of monitors on the control room floor.

Eric, the head of Rangeman's Atlanta office, was standing at the monitors barking orders. Diesel was standing next to him.

"What happened?" Ranger shouted to Eric over the bedlam.

"Someone drove a SUV through the front windows and into the lobby," Eric shouted. "Code black."

"Stand down!" Ranger shouted to the men who were scrambling toward the stairwell.

The men froze in place, waiting for their next move.

"No one goes down but the team I assign. Lester, Steph, and Eric, you're with me. Everyone else stays put," Ranger said. "Brad, give Steph your sidearm and flack vest."

A tall, slender young man with red hair stepped forward without question and handed me his Glock. I thanked him and tucked it into the back waistband of my pants as he undid his vest. He slid the vest over my shoulders, and I adjusted it to fit better.

"Diesel, you're with us," Ranger said. "We're taking the stairs to the lobby. Once we get down there, everyone hang back. I'm going in first."

Ranger turned to me next. He placed his hand on the small of my back and drew me to him.

"Be careful," he whispered, his lips close to mine. "I love you.

Our foreheads connected, and I breathed in his scent before our lips connected in a sweet, short kiss.

"No, you be careful," I said in response, my gut wrenching. The fear I felt on the streets of Atlanta the week before gripped me, and I pulled him closer. "I love you too."

Ranger turned his attention to Diesel.

"I need you to take Steph's spot to help Lester get me down the stairs."

I took my cue and moved away from Ranger's side, allowing Diesel to assist instead. We took off toward the stairwell, Ranger, Diesel, and Lester in the lead with Eric and I trailing behind. Eric had his Glock drawn, so I followed his cue and pulled the Glock from my pants. It felt heavy and awkward in my hands, but I held it as Ranger had instructed me years before.

Once we were in the stairwell, I understood why Ranger had Diesel swap me spots. Lester and Diesel carried Ranger down the three flights of stairs to the lobby door. Ranger took off his Glock and handed it to Diesel.

"Protect her," Ranger said, gesturing towards me.

Diesel stared at the gun he held awkwardly in his hands. It was clear the gun made him uncomfortable.

"What about you?" Diesel asked Ranger.

Ranger shrugged. "I'm only worried about her. I don't care if he is your cousin. If he tries to lay a finger on her, you shoot."

Diesel swallowed hard but nodded. Diesel moved to my side and gave me a tight smile that didn't travel to his eyes. Lester dutifully stood on my other side.

Ranger moved for the stairwell door but turned back to us before opening it.

"None of you will speak of what you witness here today. Understood?"

We all nodded, but a confused look passed over Eric's face.

I gave him a tight-lipped grin. "It's going to be okay," I told him, working to convince myself more than him.

Ranger limped forward and opened the door to the stairwell, exiting into the lobby. Eric followed first, followed by Lester, then me, then Diesel.

The lobby was trashed. Glass, drywall, insulation, and pieces of waiting room chairs were scattered across the tile lobby floor. A navy suburban sat in the middle of the lobby, debris covering the hood and the windshield shattered. Light from outside shone into the lobby windows, but a thin dust hung in the air. I presumed it was from insulation and drywall, which had been busted to pieces when the SUV had crashed through the entryway. The drivers door to the SUV was open, and Wulf stood to the side of the vehicle.

Wulf had always been a scary guy, but the look on his face today sent chills of terror through my veins. He looked truly insane. His unearthly white skin looked nearly translucent in the late afternoon sun. His dark hair framed his face in wild disarray, but the untamed look in his eyes was even wilder. He was wearing black pointy toed dress shoes, crisp black dress slacks, and a black cashmere sweater with the sleeves pushed to his elbows. Fine dust had settled onto his once perfect clothes, adding to his eerie ghostly effect.

"Grimoire," I heard Ranger say between clenched teeth. "Why are you here?"

"Manoso," Wulf said, a lilt of humor in his tone. "Let us not play games. You know I'm here for you."

Ranger cocked his head to the side ever so slightly, and something about Wulf's expression changed.

"I need you to bring me the girl," Ranger said softly. "Where is she?"

Wulf blinked several times, his expression confused.

"What do you want with her?" Wulf asked, clearly working to thwart Ranger's attempt at persuasion.

"I care only for her safety," Ranger responded, taking a step toward the SUV. "Is she in the car?" he asked.

Wulf's expression softened. "Yes, she's in the passenger seat."

I chanced another look at the car, fear settling in my stomach. The car was trashed. If she was in the passenger seat, she was hurt. I glanced at Diesel, and the look on his face told me all I needed to know. He was thinking exactly what I was thinking.

I stood behind Lester and pulled my phone from my pocket. I texted Ximena. We need you in the lobby now. Come armed and in a vest with gear.

"Can one of my associates check on her?" Ranger asked, glancing over his shoulder to me.

Wulf seemed to be getting more frustrated with the situation, his instincts making every effort to fight Ranger's power of persuasion.

"Yes," he spit out between clenched teeth, his eyes closed.

Diesel took three steps toward the car before Wulf lashed out.

"No!" Wulf shrieked. "Not you! You can't have her!"

Ice raced through my veins at his tone. He'd gone mad. He wouldn't hesitate to eliminate someone who crossed him.

"How about me?" I said, raising my voice so Wulf could hear me. "Can I check on her?"

Wulf's eyes met mine, and recognition crossed his face. It was as if he was noticing me in the lobby for the first time.

"So we meet again, Ms. Plum," he said taking a step toward me.

"May I check on Lizzie?" I asked him, taking a step toward the car.

Ranger's gaze held on Wulf, and I saw a string of emotions cross his face before confusion settled there.

"You may," he responded, his voice devoid of emotion.

I took steps through the debris on the floor, willing my feet to carry me safely to Lizzie. I looked into the car through the shattered passenger side window, and my heart stopped.

A pretty blonde girl was unconscious and strapped into the front seat, her hands bound in front of her with zip ties. She was wearing jeans, a lavender hoodie, and Doc Martens. The deployed airbag lay limp in her lap, and debris was scattered in the vehicle. She was slouched in her seat, blood trickling down her face from several abrasions. Her arm was bent at an unnatural angle.

I placed my hand on the door handle and tried it, but it was locked. The window of the door was mostly broken out, so I used my gun to knock away more glass before placing the gun at the small of my back. I stood on the running board and reached into the vehicle, opening the door with the interior handle.

"Lizzie?" I asked, touching my fingers lightly to the skin of her cheek.

She didn't respond, so I touched my fingertips to her pulse point on her neck. I felt a strong pulse.

"I think she's going to be okay," I announced, "but she needs medical attention."

I stood up on the running board, my eyes meeting with Ranger's. He nodded, then glanced to Wulf again, tilting his head to the side.

"Call for help," Wulf said in a monotone voice.

As if on cue, the stairwell door opened and Ximena entered the lobby. She was wearing jeans, a grey sweatshirt, pink running shoes, and a flack vest. It was apparent she'd been off duty.

Shock registered on her face at the sight before her.

"Over here," I said to Ximena, motioning her in my direction.

She scrambled through the debris to my side.

"What's going on?" she asked on a whisper.

"We found Lizzie," I whispered, pointing to the young woman in the car before us.

"Shit, chica," Ximena breathed, dropping to her knees to dig in her medic bag. She came up with a handful of supplies and began to evaluate Lizzie.

I took a step away from the SUV so I could see Ranger again, and our eyes met. I nodded to him, and he gave a barely perceptible nod in return.

Ranger's attention returned to Wulf.

"This ends right here, right now," he announced.

Wulf's face broke into a hideous grin, and insane laughter bellowed from his chest.

"You will stop collecting unmentionables for your collection," Ranger said, his voice calm and even over Wulf's laughter. "You're through with Lizzie. You're through with me. Do you understand?"

Wulf's laughter stopped abruptly, and his hands flew to his head. He tangled his fingers into his hair and clenched his teeth, the expression on his face a soundless scream.

"Do you understand?" Ranger asked again.

"Yes," Wulf said through clenched teeth.

I heard Ximena's soft voice, and I glanced to the SUV. Lizzie's brown eyes were fluttering open, struggling to focus. Pain was written across her face.

"Lizzie, my name is Ximena. I'm here to help you. I know you're in pain right now, but I need you to focus and breathe through it until I can evaluate the extent of your injuries. Can you tell me what hurts?"

"My arm," she choked out, tears mixing with the blood on her face. "Head. Ribs."

Ximena dug in her pack, coming up with a small flashlight.

"Follow the light with your eyes," she said to Lizzie, moving the flashlight across her face.

"Stephanie, will you come here please?" I heard Ranger ask over Ximena's conversation.

I glanced in his direction and saw Wulf on his knees in front of Ranger. I approached apprehensively, uncertain why I was being asked to assist.

"Mr. Grimoire has something for you," Ranger said as I drew closer. "Will you give him your hand?"

I hesitated. Everything about this situation seemed like a bad idea, but I trusted Ranger to protect me. I extended my hand to Wulf, my palm facing upward.

"Mr. Grimoire, the gift you had for Ms. Plum, please," Ranger said, tilting his head.

Wulf's face was devoid of all emotion, his skin smooth and pale like ice. His long, bony fingers reached into his pants pocket, retrieving a tan stone that looked like a large river rock. He held the rock in front of his face as if studying it before dropping the smooth stone into the palm of my hand. It looked like an ordinary rock, but a voice in the back of my mind said this had to be one of the special stones Diesel had been hunting.

I placed the rock in my pocket and resumed my place between Diesel and Lester. Both watched Ranger with unchecked awe.

"Please leave my place of business, and do not return," Ranger said to Wulf. "You're not welcome here. Go home."

On cue, Wulf stood, turned, and exited the building through the hole the SUV had punched into the entry glass. Sirens wailed in the distance.

We all stood in disbelieving silence.

Ranger turned to face us, and he began barking orders.

"Eric, stay here and handle this. The driver fled the scene, and our cameras are out with the electricity off. We can't identify him."

Eric nodded his understanding. "Yes, sir."

Ranger continued. "Diesel, ride to the hospital with Lizzie. Ximena will accompany you."

Diesel nodded his understanding and crossed to Ranger.

"Thank you," he said, extending his hand to Ranger. They shook hands.

"Do you want the stone now or later?" Ranger asked Diesel.

Diesel thought about it. "Keep it safe. I'll come back for it."

Finally, Ranger turned to me, his face disclosing his exhaustion. "Lester and Steph, help me get to six."

Chapter 29

Lester and I managed to assist Ranger into the stairwell and drag him up three stairs before we realized what a challenge dragging him up six flights of stairs was going to be. Not that Lester was the weak link in this equation. That honor was bestowed upon me. I was average in height, and I'd like to think I was slightly below average I weight. That said, I wasn't above average when it came to strength, and Ranger was a muscular man of almost six feet.

I felt the sweat breaking aross my forehead and on my upper lip as I tightened my grip under Ranger's armpit, lifting with all my might.

"Up!" I said, and in unison, Lester and I lifted while Ranger hopped up onto the next stair with his good leg.

I stopped for a moment to catch my breath, bending at the waist.

"What's plan B, boss?" Lester asked, recognizing the futility of the situation at hand. "Should I go get someone from the control room?"

Ranger's lips formed a hard line as he contemplated our next move. He lowered himself onto the stairs to a sitting position, stretching his injured leg out before him.

"Go pack a bag, babe," he said. "And grab the keys to the Cayenne."

"We're not staying here?" I asked uncertainly.

Our eyes held before he spoke.

"I can't get upstairs, and there's no telling how long we'll be without power with the damage to the building. We're getting a room for the night," he explained, fumbling in his pocket and tossing me his key fob.

I nodded my understanding and began ascending the stairs. When I got to the top of the first flight, I happened a glance back at Ranger.

"You going to be okay?"

Ranger flashed me his two hundred watt smile, but the lines at the corner of his eyes and dark circles beneath them betrayed him.

I hoofed it up six flights of stairs with only the emergency battery lights to light the stairwell. I could barely catch my breath once I made it to the fourth level, and I was vowing to lay off the doughnuts and take up jogging by the sixth floor. I hunched at the waist and sucked in air before bursting into the small hallway to the three sixth floor apartments.

I fobbed my way into Ranger's apartment and went to the walk-in closet. I took the stone from my pocket and studied it for a moment. It looked pretty ordinary to me, but Ranger had promised Diesel he'd keep it safe, so I hid it in my black CAT boots on the floor in the closet. I stripped out of my Rangeman uniform, instead opting for clean underwear, a grey girly cut t-shirt, jeans, tennis shoes, and one of Ranger's black hoodies.

I grabbed a black Under Armor backpack from the corner and shoved in two pairs of panties, a clean bra, a pair of yoga pants, a tank top, a pair of jeans, a Rangeman t-shirt with long sleeves, and some clean socks. I added sweats, a clean shirt, silk boxers, and socks in the bag for Ranger before grabbing necessities from the bathroom—toothbrushes, toothpaste, razors, shower gel, birth control pills, hair brush, hair products, and hair elastics. I did one last bag check before deciding I was satisfied with what I'd packed.

I carried the backpack to the kitchen where I unplugged Ranger's and my phone chargers an shoved them in the front pocket of the backpack. I set the bag by the apartment door and grabbed my messenger bag from the sideboard. I did a quick assessment of the apartment and realized I hadn't packed any gear for Ranger's medical needs.

"Stupid, stupid," I said aloud, thunking my forehead with the heel of my hand.

I wandered into the living room with my messenger bag slung over my shoulder, and I assessed the pile of gauze packages, medical tape, pills, bandages, creams, ointments, and other equipment I couldn't identify. I considered selecting a few items to take, but knowing I had zero medical knowledge, I opened my messenger bag and scooped the entirety of the small table's contents into the pack. I shook the bag to settle the contents and tugged the closure shut, clicking the clasp into place. I grabbed the cane Ranger had been using for physical therapy the last few days and added it to my collection. I walked to the foyer, pocketed the Cayenne keys, and slung the backpack over my shoulders. I was ready to roll.

Twenty minutes later, I had ambled clumsily down the stairs to the underground garage and loaded Ranger's black Porsche Cayenne Turbo. Lester and I had wrangled Ranger into the passenger seat, and I settled behind the wheel. I started the vehicle, and the high-performance engine purred to life. Classical music played lightly over the car's sound system.

"Where to?" I asked Ranger, glancing his direction.

"Take a left out of the garage. I'll give you directions," he responded, rubbing his eyes and relaxing into his seat.

I wove the Cayenne through the streets of downtown Atlanta. Traffic was door-to-door in evening rush hour, but the drive was surprisingly hypnotic and relaxed. Ranger gave directions, and in fifteen minutes, we were pulling into a busy underground parking garage.

"Where are we?" I asked, parking in a spot near the elevator and unbuckling my seatbelt.

"The Marriott Marquis Hotel," Ranger responded.

I ambled out of the car and assisted Ranger to his feet, handing him the cane I'd brought. He studied it intently, his lips tight.

"What?" I asked.

Ranger sighed uncharacteristically.

"This thing is a real mood kill," he admitted. "It's hard to look suave with a cane."

I laughed out loud, not at his predicament but at his honesty.

"I still think you're hot," I said, wrapping my arm around his waist and stepping close enough that our bodies touched.

I felt electricity shoot from my chest to my toes, and I heard Ranger's breathing change. I planted a soft kiss on Ranger's cheek, then brought my lips to his ear.

"Be patient a little while longer," I whispered. "You'll be good as new soon."

We took the elevator to the lobby level and exited into a massive, open atrium. The floor was marble, and the décor was modern. Glass and gold accents made the hotel look rich and luxurious, and cream leather armchairs lined various waiting areas. A medium tone wooden check-in desk sat at one side of the room. Glass elevators consumed the center of one wall, and a partial mezzanine level restaurant and bar hovered above the lobby. There had to be fifty floors above us. The hallways of the floors were open to the atrium, each level a swirly lit pathway above us. It felt as if we were inside the hotel's giant ribcage.

I studied the room around me, taking in the golden, cream, and taupe tones. The hotel was incredibly familiar, but I knew I had never been here before.

"Babe," Ranger said studying me, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"This place is incredible," I breathed, watching various people walk through the lobby. "Why do I feel like I know this place?"

Ranger's smirk turned into a full grin.

"Part of the Hunger Games movie franchise was filmed here," he explained, moving toward the desk.

As soon as he said it, the pieces clicked into place.

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "That's it!" I paused. "Wait… you've seen the Hunger Games?" I asked incredulously. Ranger didn't seem like a teen dystopian romance type of guy.

"No, Rangeman's Atlanta office provided security for Lionsgate Films when they filmed in Georgia," he explained. "I wrote up the contracts and met with representatives from the company to hammer out details. As you know, the actors in the film were well known, and protecting their bodies and privacy was critical to keeping them happy on set. The movie industry is booming in Georgia right now, and Rangeman is one of the few security firms in the area equipped to handle the complex challenges of set security."

The more you know.

Ranger and I settled in to our Ambassador Parlor Suite on the forty ninth floor and ordered room service for dinner. I was starving, having missed lunch with the Wulf debacle. Ranger was exhausted, and I wasn't sure he was going to be awake long enough to enjoy his chicken de burgo with a side of asparagus. I got him settled at the eight-man, dark wood table with camel leather chairs before I went snooping around the room.

The suite he had secured for us was luxurious but tasteful. Floor to ceiling windows showcased Atlanta's skyline at dusk. Dark wood floors ran throughout the bedroom and common room. The walls were white and chocolate, and a dark wood accent wall was tastefully placed behind the flat screen television. Two camel colored leather sofas covered in throw pillows sat facing one another, and a white overstuffed arm chair completed the seating area. A mini bar consumed one wall of the suite. A powder room and coat sat just inside the door.

The bedroom was through a door off the living room, and its décor matched that in the living room. The room was consumed by king sized bed dressed in crisp white linens with giant pillows. Two large dressers sat opposite the bed, and a flat screen television was mounted between them. The wall behind the bed was another wood accent wall. A bath decorated with warm earth tones adjoined with the bedroom. The floor was slate, and the countertops were caramel colored granite. The bathroom had a jetted tub and a shower with a glass enclosure. His and hers sinks sat on one wall, and a toilet was in an adjoining private room. Two fluffy white robes hung on the wall—his and hers.

I unpacked the bag, placing clothing in drawers and toiletries on the bathroom vanity. I kicked off my tennis shoes in the bedroom and pushed the sleeves of Ranger's sweatshirt I wore up to my elbows. I went into the bathroom and washed my face and hands before heading back out to Ranger, who was checking e-mails on his phone. His mouth had a grim set to it.

"What's new?" I asked, flopping into a chair across the table from him.

"An initial assessment of the damage to the Rangeman building shows it is structurally sound, but significant damage was done to the electrical panel," he explained. "Eric has a guy coming to work on it, but it looks like they'll be without power into tomorrow."

"Any word on Lizzie?" I asked.

Ranger shook his head no, so I pulled my phone out of my jeans and dialed Diesel. He answered on the second ring.

"Hey, Catwoman," he answered, his voice playful.

"Huh?"

"You know, Batman's love interest. Catwoman. The superhero? Saving Gotham City, one villain at a time?"

I had to crack a smile at that.

"Since you're in the mood to joke, I take it Lizzie's going to be okay," I said with a smile, finding his positive mood contagious.

"Yep," he said. "Broken arm, some cracked ribs, a few stitches to her face, and a mild concussion, but nothing that won't heal."

"Thank god," I said. "Are they keeping her tonight? I still need a formal introduction, by the way."

"You can have the formal introduction tomorrow, sweetheart," Diesel said. "She's going to be released tonight. We'll find a place to crash for the night, then we'll meet up with you to collect the stone tomorrow so she can get back to Salem. Lizzie has been gone from work too long already. Her boss Clara is pretty generous with her so called 'save the world' days, but I suspect her patience is running out after a week with no Lizzie."

I heard a voice in the background and assumed it was Lizzie.

"My baking is going to be limited with one good arm," the voice said.

"Your cupcakes will still be magic," Diesel said in response to Lizzie.

I smiled at their exchange. Hard to believe Diesel could be tamed by a cupcake baker. But hey, stranger things have happened, right? I mean, look at Ranger and I. Apparently Lucy Ricardo could tempt Batman too.

I woke up to daylight streaming into our forty ninth floor windows. I was wrapped in Ranger's arms like the little spoon and covered with a soft white bedsheet. Ranger's breathing was slow and even, indicating he was still asleep. It was clear the stress of yesterday took a lot out of him. He had fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow the night before, and we had both managed to keep our clothes on all night. It wasn't often that the day started without Ranger, but today was one of those days. The bedside clock announced it was after eight thirty, and mother nature was calling.

I slipped out of Ranger's arms, being careful not to disturb his slumber. I used the bathroom then ordered room service breakfast. For Ranger, I ordered a two-egg cheese and mushroom omelet with a side of plain yogurt with granola. For me, I ordered pancakes with bacon and completed the order with a carafe of hot coffee. The food arrived before Ranger woke, so I poured two cups of coffee and padded barefoot into the bedroom.

I sat his mug on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed, sipping steaming liquid from my cup.

"Rise and shine, badass," I said softly, rubbing his back with the flat of my hand.

He sucked in a deep breath and his sleepy eyes fluttered open.

"Babe," he exhaled, his voice thick with sleep.

"Have a good sleep?" I asked.

He rolled onto his back and placed his hand on my thigh. He gave an affirmative nod.

"Want some breakfast?" I asked, sipping my coffee. "It's in the other room, but I can bring it to you in bed if you'd like."

"Give me a few minutes, and I'll join you," he said, sitting up slowly in the bed. He grimaced with pain, gripping at his injured leg.

"You okay?"

He nodded, pulling back the sheet to examine his leg.

"I overdid it yesterday," he acknowledged.

I helped him out of the bed and to the bathroom before retrieving my messenger bag and a glass of water. I set the glass on the bedside table and dug through my bag, discarding Ranger's medical flotsam onto the bed. I read the instructions on the two pill bottles, finding one to be an antibiotic and one a pain killer. The antibiotic indicated it was to be taken twice per day, meaning he'd missed his dose last night in our haste to get some rest. He hadn't taken any pain killers either, but I assumed that had been intentional. Ranger wasn't one to be under the influence of anything to slow his mind unless absolutely necessary. None the less, I dumped the prescribed dose of both drugs into my hand and as he exited the bathroom and extended the pills to him.

"Take these."

He stared at the pills in my hand, then turned his attention to the clutter on the bed.

"You packed all that stuff?" he asked, surprised.

"Heck yes. Now take these, or I'll call Ximena."

He gave me a small grin before accepting the pills. I handed him the glass of water, and he washed them down.

"What do we need to do with this stuff?" I asked, pointing to the other items on the bed.

"I'll have to change my dressings after I shower," he said. "Let's eat first while breakfast is hot."

We ate breakfast in companionable silence. I showered first so I'd have time to tame my hair. I opened the door in my towel.

"Do you mind if I dry my hair in here while you shower?" I asked, raking my fingers through my unruly, wet curls.

"No," he said, stripping out of his long sleeved black t-shirt to expose his toned chest and abs. His warm skin was flecked by several small bandages and pink scars that marked healing wounds. "I'll only be a minute."

I put a small amount of product in my hair and combed through the tangles in my hair. I noticed Ranger removing his bandages, and I watched as I began blow drying my hair, running my fingers through to separate my curls.

Ranger stripped out of his black sweats revealing the large gauze dressing on his injured leg. Just below his knee, a clear pouch was taped to his calf with a small tube that snaked out from under the gauze. It contained a small amount of reddish fluid, which I recognized as bloody wound drainage. I swallowed hard, willing myself to look away as he worked. Unfortunately, curiosity got the better of me, and I continued watching.

Ranger seemed unfazed by my gaze, gingerly peeled the tape off from around the gauze and sucking air through his teeth several times when the pull caused pain. He pulled the gauze away, revealing his horrific leg injury. Stitches crisscrossed across his thigh, creating puckered trails over his once perfect skin. The edges around his wounds were pink and irritated, the skin in varying states of healing. The drain tube snaked out through a small opening between stitches, presumably draining fluid from the injured site. My stomach did a hard turn, and I swallowed back bile, sucking in some deep breaths. I looked away from Ranger to try to focus on drying my hair.

Ranger showered quickly and dried with a white, fluffy towel. He wrapped the towel around his waist before brushing his teeth and shaving at the sink. I finished drying my hair and went into the bedroom in search of clothes.

I was dressed in jeans, tennis shoes, and a long sleeved Rangeman t-shirt by the time Ranger limped into the bedroom in his towel.

"Are your pain meds helping?" I asked.

"Some," he said, sitting on the bed and turning so his leg was elevated before him. He pulled the towel away to study his wound more closely.

I swallowed hard as my heart broke for him, then crossed the room to stand by his side.

"How can I help?" I asked, uncertain with the situation. I fidgeted the ends of my hair between my fingers nervously.

Ranger's eyes met mine and held in wordless silence.

I finally broke the silence.

"Can I help somehow?" I tried again.

"You don't have to," he said, studying his leg once more.

"I want to," I said quietly, thinking back to yesterday's conversation. Ranger had done a lot to protect and care for me over the years. Helping with this bandage change seemed like a minor thing, even if it caused me some minor discomfort. No price, right?

"I'd do anything for you," I said even more quietly, my eyes locking with his trying to convey the emotion I felt. His eyes dilated black, and the corner of his mouth turned up into the hint of a smile. I brushed a soft kiss across his lips, and he returned it, placing his palm against my cheek.

I grabbed the box of large gauze pads from the bed and followed Ranger's instructions to cover is wound.

Ranger and I arrived back at Rangeman's Atlanta office shortly before noon. The power had been restored to the building not long before, and Eric had notified Ranger the building was now accessible by elevator. I parked the Cayenne in Ranger's spot by the elevator and angled out of the SUV.

"Call Diesel to arrange the exchange," Ranger said, limping toward the elevator with his cane. His wheelchair had been placed in the garage by the elevator, and he eased himself into it before pushing the up button.

I dialed Diesel, and he said he'd bring Lizzie by within the hour.

We got to Ranger's apartment where we found Ximena waiting.

"Hey!" I greeted her warmly.

"Hey chica," she said, giving me a smile. "Ready to head for home?"

"Home?" I looked to Ranger, and he nodded.

"We have a flight scheduled for 7:15 tonight," he explained. "We're done here. It's time to go back to Trenton and resume our lives."

"Right now, it's time for your physical therapy session," Ximena interjected, extending his cane to him. "We're going to work in the gym today. You ready?"

Ranger pulled himself to his feet and steadied himself with the cane.

"Maria can help you pack if you'd like," Ranger said to me. "Just press three on the phone."

"I've got it under control," I said.

"I'll meet up with you and Diesel later," he said before giving me a light peck on the lips and heading for the door.

Diesel pulled into the underground Rangeman garage with Lizzie in tow thirty minutes later. He was driving a red Jeep Wrangler 4x4. The plastic zip out windows had been removed, and mudding tires with giant tread and a lift kit had been added to the monster machine. He was dressed in motorcycle boots, worn out jeans, and a brown hoodie advertising a surf shop. Lizzie was dressed comfortably, sporting jeans, purple Nike tennis shoes, a pastel pink long sleeved girly cut t-shirt, and a white Columbia vest. The cast on her arm was hot pink, held in a blue sling across her chest. Her blonde hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, and she had several bandages on her face which I presumed covered stitches. She jumped down from the lifted Jeep and gave me a big smile, her brown eyes alight with charm.

"You must be Stephanie. I've heard so much about you," she said, walking toward me.

"The same could be said about you," I said to her, extending my hand to her.

She ignored my hand and pulled me into a big hug.

"It's so good to meet you," she said, holding me in the embrace for longer than I was comfortable. "And thank you for helping Diesel."

I broke from the embrace and gave her a kind smile.

"I didn't do much," I said, "but I'm glad you're safe. Does it hurt?" I asked, gesturing toward her arm.

"Nah," she responded, lifting her casted arm to study it. "They gave me some pretty sweet pain medicine, so I feel great."

She laughed, and it was contagious. Diesel and I laughed too. Diesel slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close, placing a kiss on her temple.

"Where is Carl?" I asked, surprised to find Diesel didn't have the monkey in tow.

"I called in a favor for a babysitter," he said. "Ranger doesn't seem like a monkey guy to me."

"Let's head upstairs," I said, moving toward the elevator. "Maria made lunch if you'd like to join us."

Diesel and Lizzie settled in around the small table in Ranger's Atlanta apartment, and I brought them tall glasses of sweet tea garnished with lemon courtesy of Maria. We carried on light conversation, and I learned about Lizzie Tucker, the pastry chef for Dazzle's bakery who sat before me. She'd grown up in Virginia, only recently moving to Marblehead, Massachusetts after inheriting her great aunt Ophelia's saltbox style home. She told her about her unmentionable skills, which included the ability to identify empowered objects and bake unmentionably good cupcakes. Diesel told her about my love of all baked goods, and Lizzie promised to bring me cupcakes next time she saw me.

As Lizzie spoke, I noticed Diesel studying her, a twinkle in his eye. His touch was affectionate, and his demeanor was tamer and more refined. Diesel, the smart assed, sarcastic, cynic, had fallen in love with a sweet, pretty blonde girl from Massachusetts. What the hell? Maybe there was hope for all of us dysfunctional people after all.

I began plating grilled salmon, vegetables, and rice on places when the apartment door opened, and Ranger entered from his physical therapy session. He was freshly showered and dressed in black fatigues, walking without his cane. If it wasn't for the limp to his gait, you'd never know anything was amiss. Despite the dark circles beneath his eyes that betrayed exhaustion, he looked strong and healthy, not to mention sexy as hell with his still damp hair. His shirt was perfectly tight across his chest, exposing his ripped arms. Seeing him sent a flush into my cheeks and a rush straight to my doodah.

Ranger made eye contact with Diesel and gave him a polite nod. Lizzie took one look at Ranger and choked on her sweet tea. She coughed, struggling to compose herself. She gave me a brief look of panic, and I winked at her.

"He has that effect on most women," I joked, placing plates on the table for Diesel and Lizzie.

An uncomfortable look crossed Diesel's face, and it occurred to me he could be reading Lizzie's mind. Most women undressed Ranger with their eyes, and I suspected Lizzie was no exception. A thrill rushed through me when the thought, "He's mine," crossed my mind. I found myself grinning from ear to ear.

"Ms. Tucker," Ranger greeted, extending his hand politely to her. "I'm Carlos Manoso, but my associates call me Ranger."

"Pleased to meet you," Lizzie said, shaking his hand. "I'm glad to see you're back on your feet. I heard about what happened. I'm so sorry."

Ranger gave a polite nod.

"I'm on the mend, thank you."

He sat at the table, and I set plates for him and me. I set a glass of water for him and a glass of tea for me. We all dug in to our meals engaged in polite conversation.

As we finished up, Ranger slid his chair back from the table and I began taking dishes to the kitchen.

"I'm ready to negotiate an exchange," Ranger said to Diesel, making an open-handed gesture.

"Negotiate?" Diesel asked, clearly confused.

"You don't think I had Wulf hand over the stone for your benefit, do you?" Ranger asked, his face serious.

An intense silence sat between the two. I stood awkwardly at the kitchen sink waiting for one of them to speak.

Lizzie broke the silence between the men.

"Let's hear him out," she said, taking Diesel's hand in hers.

Yeah, I thought. Let's hear him out. Where the hell is this going?

"I am willing to give you the stone in exchange for a favor," he said, steepling his fingers in front of his face.

The favor remained unspoken between them, but the look of horror that crossed Diesel's face gave away his secret—that he'd read Ranger's thoughts and didn't like them.

I, on the other hand, was in the dark. I hated being in the dark. I began rinsing the plates and loading them into the dishwasher as quietly as possible so as to listen to their ongoing exchange.

"You know I can't do that," Diesel said. "I'd lose my job."

"If that's what you call it," Ranger said, making an unnecessary jab at Diesel.

Diesel nervously ran his fingers through his hair, tussling his mangey locks.

"What's the favor?" Lizzie said. "Enlighten me."

I felt my lips curl into a smirk. At least I wasn't the only person who didn't like being left in the dark.

Ranger sat up straighter in his seat, channeling his inner businessman.

"I am willing to relinquish the stone to Diesel if he will pull the plug on my unmentionable abilities."

Chapter 30

I was so shocked by what I was hearing that I accidentally dropped a glass into sink, shattering it into dozens of pieces.

Diesel uncharacteristically raised his voice at Ranger. "You know I can't do that!"

"Shit," I muttered under my breath, scrambling to clean up the mess I'd made.

I scooped up several pieces of glass to throw away and, in the process, sliced my finger open. Blood dripped down my fingertips into the sink.

"Double shit," I whined to myself, holding my injured hand up for inspection.

Ranger was at my side in an instant. He glanced at my bleeding hand before grabbing some paper towels.

"It's not bad," he said, turning on the water in the sink. His voice was steady, his hands certain. He rinsed my hand and cleaned the affected area with soap. He patted the area dry with the paper towels, holding pressure to the area.

"Thanks," I said sheepishly. "Sorry I'm such a klutz."

"Babe." He looked like he was thinking about smiling.

Diesel and Lizzie sat wordlessly at the table. Lizzie's face registered surprise, but Diesel's face conveyed one emotion. Pissed off.

"I'm going to take Steph to the bathroom to get her bandaged up. Make the calls you need to make to authorize the transfer. Let's do this," Ranger said to Diesel, dragging me in the direction of the bedroom. I glanced back and saw Diesel sitting in open mouthed horror, his brows furrowed.

Ranger lifted me onto the countertop in the bathroom to sit while he dug bandages out of the cupboard.

"What do you think you're doing?" I hissed.

He stared at me, his expression questioning and innocent.

"Finding the right size bandage?"

I rolled my eyes so hard I almost fell off the sink.

"Not that. Jeez Louise. Diesel isn't going to take away your abilities, what are you thinking?"

"It's his job. It's what he's commissioned to do. He travels all over the world doing it."

"For people who are out of control, not for people who don't use their abilities," I argued.

Ranger continued digging through the drawer, coming up with two bandages and a tube of ointment. He pursed his lips before speaking.

"I meant what I said yesterday. I don't want these abilities. I never asked for them, and I've spent years trying to control them. It's exhausting, Steph. It's like they leak from my pores."

I studied his face. It was deadly serious. His eyes were honest, pleading. It made my heart ache for him.

"I had no idea they caused you to suffer," I said sadly. "I'm sorry."

He crossed to me, taking his place standing between my knees. He peeled open a bandage and smeared ointment on it.

"I'm not suffering, Steph. But no one should possess this kind of power," he said, wiping my finger one last time before placing the bandage in place and securing it with the adhesive strips. "I could influence world leaders by simply crossing their path. I could control entire military units by standing nearby. I could change the course of the future, change paths, ruin lives."

"You could do good with it too," I said quietly, trying to make him understand what he perceived as a curse could also be construed as a blessing. I mean, the organization Diesel worked for had wanted to hire him to do good with his abilities. Why couldn't he do that independently?

His eyes met mine and held, doubt lingering there.

"You could persuade the wealthy to support charities. You could stop wars. You could close the wage gap. You could convince scientists to work harder to find the cure for cancer," I said, imaging all the good Ranger could do with this unmentionable talent. I knew I was barely scratching the surface.

"I'm a selfish man. I don't want those things," he said, throwing away the bandage wrappers.

He placed his palm on my cheek and touched his forehead to mine, his lips close enough to my lips that I could feel his breath. My heartrate quickened, and I fought to control it. I was hopelessly in love with the man standing before me. Sometimes it made me physically hurt, and his touch was maddening.

"I have simple aspirations, Steph. Nearly dying did a lot to clear up any uncertainty I may have felt about my life's trajectory."

He paused, his chocolatey gaze cutting into me, willing me to understand.

I did understand. Watching his lifeblood drain from his body as I begged God to let him live was enough to change my life, too.

"Steph, I want to be a businessman. A security professional who excels in his field. I want to drive fast cars and blow money on extravagant things. I want to be a better father to Julie. I want to spend more time with my parents. I've neglected my family for my business too long, and it's been at their expense." He paused, his eyes growing warmer with some unnamed emotion before speaking again. "And if you'll have me, I want to be your partner in this life."

He brushed his lips across mine, and I felt myself go light headed. His words spun around furiously in my head.

Life partner? Was this a marriage proposal? I stared at him in open mouthed shock, unsure what to say or how to respond. I swallowed back the rising bile in my throat.

"Breathe, Steph," he said, his thumb caressing my cheek.

I focused on my breathing, sucking huge gasps of air into my lungs. Don't throw up, I mentally coached myself. Find your words.

Ranger's brows furrowed with concern, his hand gently rubbing my back.

"Life partner?" I squeaked, my voice wavering.

"It's not a marriage proposal, Steph," he said apologetically. "I don't know if either of us is programmed for marriage. Maybe one day that will change, but for now, I can't imagine my life without you in it. I want to wake up next to you in the morning, and I want to hold you every night as you fall asleep."

"You do?" I squeaked, trying to pull away.

Ranger pulled me to him once more and nodded his assent. When I didn't respond, Rangers face began to change from a look of hope to one of rejection.

"If you don't want to be with me, I understand. I've pushed you away too many times, and I've been…"

I cut him off.

"It's not that."

It could never be that. Of course I wanted to be with him. I had always wanted to be with him. Deep down, I suspected that's why I could never make things work with anyone else. That said, I feared discussing long term commitment would give me hives.

"Steph, I need you to understand something. Partners are supposed to be equals. If I can't be stripped of these abilities, we'll never be equals. Can you trust me after what I did this week? There will always be the voice in the back of your mind wondering if I'd influenced you somehow, manipulated you. Why do you think I never shared this information with you before?" he pleaded.

I considered what he was saying and regretted to admit there was some truth to it. I trusted Ranger with my heart and with my life, but how could I learn to trust him unconditionally with my free will? It's something I'd never had to consider before, because it's something that, in theory, cannot be taken away from a person. Ranger's powerful unmentionable ability was the only caveat I had ever encountered to this rule, and it was hard to digest.

On the other hand, how much of Ranger's unmentionableness created the man I fell in love with? How much of the man he'd become was inexplicably linked to his hidden abilities? I had no way to know. He was a natural leader who people followed. He was a wildly successful businessman. Women tripped over their feet and choked on their food with only a glance. He was more persuasive with FTAs than anyone I'd ever met.

"How much of you are you willing to risk?" I asked Ranger, trying to verbalize my thoughts.

He furrowed his brow, not understanding my question. I tried to rephrase.

"How much of your success as a bond enforcement agent or as a businessman stems from your abilities? Do you know? Are you willing to risk that success?"

Ranger didn't have to think about it long.

"It's a risk I'm willing to take," he admitted unabashedly. "I'd give up most anything for a chance at a normal life."

The silence that sat between us was deafening, but Ranger's face was earnest and certain. He'd made up his mind. He knew what he wanted. I wasn't going to change his mind, but did I have a right to interfere?

"I've spoken with several individuals who have been stripped of their abilities," he finally said. "They are still the same person. They have the same personality and ordinary abilities. Diesel only strips their unmentionable abilities. In the big picture, it's hard to separate learned ability and natural ability from unmentionable abilities. I've practiced my skills as a businessman and bond enforcement agent for enough years they should be learned abilities by now, even if I had enhanced success in the early years due to my unmentionable abilities. Normal people do these jobs successfully, too."

I studied the bandage on my finger, my stomach feeling sick over this strange twist of events. This wasn't how this day was supposed to go. Guilt was eating at me, and I tried to understand the feeling. Then it dawned on me.

"Please don't do this because of me," I said so quietly I was afraid he wouldn't hear.

"Babe," he sighed, pulling me into a tight embrace. "I really would do anything for you, but I need you to understand that this is for me. I don't want to live with this burden anymore. I'm ready to move on with my life."

His cheek was warm against mine, and I considered his words. I believed him. The decision was for him. I had just needed to hear him say it out loud. I didn't want to harbor any guilt about this later.

"Okay," I said. "If you're sure, then let's do it."

His embrace ended, and he lightly gripped my arms in his strong hands.

"I meant every word I said earlier. I want to spend my life with you, Stephanie Michelle Plum. But I need you to tell me what you want. What you're comfortable with. I'm not Diesel. I can't read your mind. But I need you to know, I'm afraid I'll run you off by making the wrong move. And I'm not afraid of much," he explained, his eyes sincere.

He means every word, a little voice inside my head said with glee. The mental panic attack I had been having subsided very suddenly, and the urge to break out into a happy dance took its place.

His lips connected with mine, and fire raced through my veins. His kiss was gentle and longing, conveying some deep meaning with every stroke of his tongue. I tried to suppress my longing, but a moan escaped from my mouth.

When he broke from the kiss, his face was serious. "I'm not going to ask you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. If one day you decide our love should come with a ring, you need to tell me. If you want to move into my apartment, I'll empty half my closet tomorrow. If you want me to move into yours, I'm going to need a neon sign and a drawer or two," he said, smirking.

"You'd move into my craptastic apartment?" I said, shock registering on my face.

"I'd buy you a mansion at Point Pleasant and a custom 911 Turbo if you asked, Steph."

I let that sink in for a beat.

"You love me," I said, a wide smile settling onto my face. It was a statement of facts, not a question.

The tension in Ranger's face melted away, and he broke into his signature two-hundred-watt smile.

"Babe," he said, laughter in his tone. "I love you."

I sighed, remembered why we were having this conversation.

"Ok then," I said. "Let's get this over with."

I slid off the counter, and Ranger took a step back. I took two steps toward the door before Ranger snatched me by the back of the shirt, pulled me to him, spun me around, and kissed me with enough passion to ruin my panties.

"Get the stone," he said. "I have plans for you after we make the transfer."

"What happens if Diesel won't do it?"

Ranger thought about that for a beat.

"Then we pay a visit to Wulf."

Chapter 31

I snagged the stone out of my boot on the way out of the bedroom. I studied the rock closely, finding it hard to believe such a small, inconspicuous item was worthy of the price Ranger had set. It looked perfectly ordinary to me, but what did I know?

Diesel was on his feet when Ranger and I entered the living room. Lizzie was sprawled out on the couch, looking like she didn't care how this went down. She seemed like a pretty laid-back person, and this wasn't going to ruffle her feathers. Finding the stones was Diesel's cross to bear, she was just along for the ride.

"Lizzie, check the stone," Diesel said, his voice angry.

Lizzie gave him a dirty look, clearly not one to be bossed around.

"Excuse me?"

Diesel sighed. "Please?" he asked, his tone more pleasant than before.

A satisfied look crossed Lizzie's face, and she crossed the room to me.

"Do you mind?" she asked, extending an open palm to me.

"Have at it," I said, placing the rock in her hand. "Not my gig."

"It's the stone alright," she said, her eyes growing wide. "I can feel the energy."

The line of Diesel's mouth grew grimmer. He turned to Ranger.

"You know I can't do this. I don't have the authority. You're going to have to go above my head," he said, his voice betraying his frustration.

I realized that Lizzie had grown agitated, a look of chaos on her face.

"All shall be mine!" she hissed, the stone held in front of her face. "Those who shall stand in my way shall perish!"

I held my breath and glanced to Diesel.

Diesel sighed.

"It's the power of the stone. It's affecting her. It affected Wulf too. Luckily Lizzie's abilities don't include shooting fire from her extremities or burning handprints into people's flesh. It would make this situation a whole lot messier."

"Why didn't the stone affect me?" I asked, confused.

"Don't know," Diesel said. "Want to do her a favor and take it off her hands for a minute?"

I tried to take the stone from Lizzie, but her eyes grew even crazier.

"No!" she shrieked, and I backed away.

"I'd be happy to have this conversation with your cousin instead," Ranger said. "I'm doing you a favor."

"Some favor!" Diesel exclaimed, color rising in my cheeks. "I'll lose my job!"

"Not if you don't have a choice," Ranger said, tilting his head ever so slightly.

A look of confusion crossed Diesel's face, then it relaxed.

"Alright. Where do you want to do it?" Diesel asked.

It took me a minute to catch on, but I realized Ranger was using his abilities to get Diesel to do his bidding. Two points for Batman.

I stood frozen in place, landing somewhere between horror and awe at this strange, twisted turn of events. Even I hadn't seen this coming, but clearly Ranger had thought this through. Wulf was truly a last resort—one that would be rendered unnecessary.

Whenever Diesel realized what had happened here today, he was going to be seriously pissed.

I felt a brief pang of guilt. Diesel was my friend, and as his friend, I felt an obligation to protect him. He had done as much for me on lots of occasions. However, Ranger was my... what? Boyfriend? That sounded too casual for the bond we shared. Mentor? Friend? Significant other? Partner? No matter, I told myself, Ranger's needs had to come first. I'd apologize to Diesel later, meanwhile hoping our friendship wouldn't be damaged beyond repair after this encounter.

"We'll do it here," Ranger responded to Diesel. He turned his attention to Lizzie and me. "Ladies, Maria has refreshments in the break room on the third floor. Please help yourself. Diesel and I will be with your shortly."

Lizzie grew agitated, concern blooming across her face. She seemed to regain a bit of sanity.

"Wait, what are you doing to him?" she asked Ranger. "He wasn't going to agree to this. What have you done?"

"It's no problem, Lizzie," Diesel responded, his face serene. "Let's make this exchange. We'll take the stone home. Glo and Clara will be glad to have you back."

When Ranger didn't respond, she took another step in his direction. Her eyes grew wide, and her face grew red with anger.

"You insolent…"

He held up a finger to silence her.

"We're doing this my way," Ranger said, the line of his mouth firm.

Lizzie didn't look like she was buying it. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. She dropped the stone onto the floor and quietly shuffled back to her place on the couch as if spellbound. Her facial expression relaxed.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked Ranger, my voice barely above a whisper.

He responded with a single nod.

"Will you please escort Ms. Tucker to the break room? We'll join you momentarily."

I willed my feet to move from their spot, but I was planted in place. My face must have registered concern, because Ranger crossed to stand by me. He placed his hand on the small of my back and kissed my temple.

"I'll see you in a few minutes," he said, his eyes conveying the finality of his decision.

"Will it hurt?" I asked, afraid he may experience physical pain as a result of this choice.

"It might tickle a little," Diesel said ambling over. He bent, picked up the stone, and pocketed it. "It will just take a minute. We'll be right down."

Lizzie and I ate oatmeal raisin cookies and drank coffee in the breakroom. The floor was quiet, business as usual at Rangeman Atlanta.

I tried to focus on anything but what was happening upstairs. I had no idea what stripping someone of unmentionable abilities looked like, but it didn't sound pleasant. The visions I'd conjured made me sick to my stomach. I tried to distract myself by chatting with Lizzie. To pass the time, I told her about my family and my work as a bounty hunter.

"So spill the beans. How'd you wind up with the hottie?" she asked, her brown eyes sparkling.

I couldn't help but smile at her question. How did I end up with the hottie?

I considered, unsure how much I wanted to share with this woman I'd only just met.

"He trained me when I started working as a bounty hunter. He taught me how to shoot a gun and how to trace a skip. We became fast friends, and he saved my life too many times to count. It eventually grew into something more."

"How long have you been together?" she asked through a mouthful of cookie.

"About twenty-four hours," I said, trying not to sound like a smart ass.

Lizzie choked on her cookie, but I smiled.

"What?" she asked incredulously.

"We've only recently formalized our relationship," I explained, fiddling with my coffee stir. "Labels are… complicated."

"How long have you been in love with him?"

I could pinpoint with certainty when I finally admitted to myself I was in love with Ranger. A life-altering encounter years ago with Edward Scrog had finally forced me to admit to myself that I was in love with two men. But if I was being honest, when did I actually fall in love with the man in black?

I wracked my brain, trying to pinpoint the exact moment our love story began.

"I guess it's hard to say with certainty. It sort of snuck up on me."

"Fair enough," she said, refilling her coffee cup.

"What about you and Diesel?" I asked Lizzie.

"Nothing to tell," Lizzie said. "I'm just his partner for work. He's a heartbreaker."

"Uh huh," I said, a knowing smirk on my face.

Lizzie blushed.

I knew Diesel wanted Lizzie to be more than his partner, but they had physical limitations because of their unmentionable abilities. He'd have to be the one to tell her he wanted more. Not my place.

Lizzie quickly changed the subject.

"So what's the plan when you go home tonight?"

"Get back to my life, I guess," I said, shrugging. "I'll head to the bonds office in the morning to pick up the giant pile of skip files that have piled up and play catch-up for a month. Maybe two."

Diesel ambled in looking pissed.

"What's up?"

He glared at me.

"Oh. That. How long did it take for you to figure it out?"

"Just until the deed was done. Then the power of suggestion was broken, and I realized what I'd done." He sighed.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Diesel pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"This damn thing hasn't stopped ringing. I'm screwed." He turned to Lizzie. "Let's get out of here before I hurt that prick."

"It was nice to meet you," I said to Lizzie. "I hope we cross paths again sometime."

"I'll bring the cupcakes," she said, giving me a warm smile.

Diesel took two cookies from the tray and gave me a bear hug.

"If he breaks your heart, I'll break his face," he whispered in my ear.

I laughed, giving him a finger wave as they left the breakroom. I'd miss him until he wandered into my life again.

I scampered into Ranger's sixth floor apartment. He was setting our bags by the door, looking cool as a cucumber.

"Are you alright?" I asked, the worry palpable in my voice.

"Better than ever," he said, grabbing me by the front of my shirt, dragging me to him, and kissing me. Ranger's eyes looked more playful than they had earlier that day, his worry lines seemingly erased from his handsome face.

"Do you have any regrets?"

"Only about not making you mine sooner," he said, his hand sneaking under the hem of my shirt. "I intend to spend a lot of time making up for my stupidity."

He unclasped my bra and pushed me up against the wall in the small foyer.

"We've got some time to kill before we catch our flight," he said, tugging my shirt over my head.

Oh boy.

Lester, Ximena, Ranger, and I landed in Newark just after 11:00 PM. Tank picked us up from the airport in a large black SUV. Ranger rode shotgun, with Ximena and I in the second row and Lester in back. Lester was asleep in minutes, snoring loudly in the back seat.

"My family wonders why I don't move to Trenton to be closer to them and Lester," Ximena said. "I had to move to Boston to get away from his snoring."

We laughed together and carried on light conversation the rest of the way to Trenton. Tank spent the ride filling Ranger in on Rangeman Trenton business he'd missed while off duty in Atlanta. I thought it seemed a little early for Ranger to be getting back to work, but I knew it would be hard to hold him back.

As we pulled onto Route 1, Tank turned his attention to me.

"Where do you want me to drop you?"

I considered my options. Staying in Ranger's apartment sounded incredibly tempting, but I had Mooner dog-sitting Bob at my apartment and my parents hamster-sitting Rex at their house. It seemed irresponsible to abandon the pets for a steamy night with Ranger.

"Can you drop me by my parents' house so I can pick up Big Blue?" I asked.

"Big Blue?" Ximena asked.

Big Blue is a powder blue and white 1957 Buick Roadmaster that my great uncle Sandor left my Grandma Mazur when he went to heaven's all you can eat shrimp-and-prime rib buffet. The car drives like a beluga whale and sucks gas like a shop vac. Since my grandma drives like Tony Stewart, the state of New Jersey won't give her a license, rendering the car unnecessary for her use. My parents keep Big Blue n their garage in case of automotive emergency. Hypothetically speaking, if I wasn't their child, they'd probably never need it. Since they were strapped with a child with bad car karma, it was used more frequently than I'd like to admit. The good news was the car seemed to be indestructible.

"You don't want to know," I sighed to Ximena, mourning my Corolla. I hoped an insurance check would be waiting in my mailbox once I got back to my apartment.

I texted my grandma to let her know I was coming for the car. I knew she'd be awake watching late night TV, and she was glad to oblige.

Tank let me out in the driveway after midnight, and I thanked him. Ranger gave me a chaste kiss and told me he'd see me in the morning. I gave Ximena a goodbye hug and woke Lester up with a parting smack to the head.

Grandma let me into the dark, quiet house. The living room was dark except light from the television. We wandered into the kitchen, where she had set out milk and cookies on the table.

"How was Atlanta?" she asked, wanting to know all the details.

"It was a crappy assignment," I said. "I don't think security is my cup of tea at Rangeman. I think I'll stick with bond enforcement and distractions on the side."

"How's Ranger doing?"

"Healing. Except for a limp, you'd never know he was hurt. I imagine even that will eventually go away. What have I missed while I was gone?"

"Mildred Fasano was laid out at the funeral parlor last night after she croaked from a heart attack doing the deed with her husband's best friend, Larry Barker. Larry and Frank, her husband, got into a huge fist fight during the viewing and knocked the flowers over, spilling water into Mildred's casket. They had to call the cops to break it up. Mildred was left to fend for her poor, dead self in a wet dress after they hauled her husband and boyfriend off to the clink."

"Wow," I said through a mouthful of cookie. "I'm actually sort of disappointed I missed that."

"It was a pip," said grandma. "I wish I'd had my iPhone, I'd have captured the entire thing on video."

I'm not sure that's something the deceased's family and friends would want to remember forever, but to each his own, right?

"My social security check came in, so I went shopping with Lula and got my nails did."

She extended her hands to me so I could examine her lavender fingernails with white orchids painted on them. Each ring finger had a small cubic zirconia embedded in it.

"Pretty." I sucked in a breath, then asked the question I'd been dreading. "How's Joe?"

Grandma brushed come crumbs off the table into the palm of her hand, depositing them onto her plate.

"He might be released tomorrow if everything checks out okay," she said. "He's got a lot of therapy ahead. Rumor has it his days as a cop are over."

"What?" I choked out through a mouth full of cookie.

"Yeah, he's got a long road ahead," she said. "His speech is pretty rough, and his coordination is messed up. His lungs are weak after all that damage too."

This was news to me. Morelli not a cop? My brain couldn't digest this new piece of information. I could feel my heart breaking again.

"Who the hell shot him? I never heard."

"Hank Harmon."

I gasped.

"As in Carol Cantell's soon-to-be ex-husband?"

"Not anymore," grandma said. "She's dead as a doornail now. He shot her dead the same night he shot Morelli. Domestic dispute. She died married to that asshole."

It was almost 2:00 AM by the time I parked Big Blue and stumbled into my apartment with Rex in tow. I dropped my bags in the foyer and put Rex in his rightful place on my counter. Bob bounded out to see me, doing his happy dog dance at my feet. I rubbed his ear and told him he was a good boy. I was dead on my feet, so I collapsed into the couch and was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

I woke up screaming when the first hints of morning light were peeking through my living room curtains.

"Babe," I heard a voice say, thick with sleep.

I sat up blinking my eyes to clear the tears. My throat felt raw, and my heart was racing out of my chest.

Ranger was sitting in the armchair in my living room, looking rumpled from sleep.

"Are you okay?" he asked, rising to his feet, crossing the room, and kneeling at my side.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling myself into him. I let wild sobs escape my chest. Ranger held me in his strong arms, shushing me and rubbing my back. Bob climbed onto the end of the couch, snuggling into my feet.

Once I finally quieted, he spoke again.

"Nightmare?"

I sniffed back the snot that had accumulated during my meltdown.

"You were dead," I choked. "I couldn't save you."

The sobs escaped from my chest once more. Ranger held me until I quieted, relaxing into him. The clock read 5:38 AM.

"When did you get here?" I asked.

"Around three," Ranger replied.

"Why?"

"Couldn't sleep."

Mooner stumbled out of my bedroom a few minutes later.

"Dudette! I thought I heard someone out here."

He noticed Ranger and took a step back.

"Whoa, I see you brought Batman home with you."

I gave Ranger a small smile.

"Batman is my newest accessory. How was Bob? Was he good?"

"Yeah dude, he was like, chill. We had a great time pickin' up ladies at the park."

"I'm sorry we woke you," I said apologetically. "You can go back to sleep and catch a few more hours. I don't expect you to leave yet."

"No problem-o. Things to do, people to see."

Mooner headed back into the bedroom, and Ranger walked into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. Mooner emerged a few minutes later with a backpack.

I stumbled to my feet to grab my wallet from my messenger bag, but Ranger got to Mooner first. He removed four crisp $100 bills from his wallet and handed them to Mooner.

"Will this cover the fee for services?" Ranger asked.

"Whoa man," Mooner said, looking a little shell shocked. "That's too much." He tried to hand Ranger two of the bills, but Ranger shook his head.

"Thank you for helping Stephanie in a pinch," Ranger said, pouring two cups of coffee.

Mooner thanked Ranger, pocketed the money, and left.

Ranger passed me a cup of coffee, which I gratefully accepted.

"You shouldn't have paid for my dog-sitting," I said.

"I wanted to," Ranger said, studying me. "I want you to let me take care of you."

My stomach turned at his words, and my expression turned grim.

"Ranger, no. I—"

He cut me off.

"I know you're an independent woman, Steph. I'm not trying to take that away from you. Keep working. Keep skip tracing. Keep your apartment and buy your cars. I don't care if you want those things. But when I want to help you, please let me. Don't question my motives."

I considered his words. I didn't like receiving help, and I certainly wasn't one to ask for it. I was brought up in the Burg, and Burg women don't ask for help. The only Burg women who receive help are those tied down in marriages with 2.5 children and a house.

"I don't want to be your charity case," I said flatly.

"You're not, Stephanie. You're my companion."

I swallowed back the nausea this conversation was causing.

"Please. I don't want to argue about this," Ranger said with finality.

"Okay," I said with resignation. "But only because you said please."

Chapter 32

I strolled into the bonds office a little after eight. I was dead on my feet but determined to return my life to some sort of normal. I was wearing my usual outfit of jeans, t-shirt, and tennis shoes with the addition of one of Ranger's black hoodies to combat the early spring chill.

Connie was sitting at her desk painting her fingernails high-gloss red. She was wearing a red v-neck sweater and a grey pinstripe skirt with black platform heels. The door to Vinnie's inner sanctum was closed, and Lula hadn't arrived.

"I didn't know to expect you today. Thank god you're here," Connie said. "I've got a whole pile of skips that have been stacking up on my desk, and Vinnie's totally lost it. Harry's been putting the pressure on, and I think his nuts are in a vice. He's got Joyce out hunting for some of these guys, but I've tried to load her down with the untraceable and crazies. I saved the regulars, high dollar bonds, and run of the mill criminals for you. They are in this pile," she said, gesturing to a stack of file folders.

"There have to be at least fifty folders there," I protested.

"You were gone for more than a week. Vinnie's been writing more bonds lately trying to pay for Lucille's new Cadillac. Besides, word got out that you and Ranger were out of town, and I think the clientele took advantage."

"Ungh."

I sat in one of the orange plastic chairs in front of Connie's desk and began sorting the pile into four piles: convenient captures, moderate effort, homicidal maniacs, and 'over my dead body'.

"Has Joyce brought in any skips?" I asked.

"Two. She's not very resourceful. How's Ranger? Maybe he can help you clean up this stack."

"He's healing, but I don't think he's up to skip chasing right now," I said.

"I'll give him a call to see if Tank could lend us a hand," Connie said.

The door slammed open and Lula swung her ass into the office. She was wearing a hot pink tube top, a black denim mini skirt, and cheetah print Via Spiga spike heels. A giant pink shoulder bag was hanging from her shoulder, and she had a box of doughnuts in her hand.

"Hey girl!" she said, dropping the doughnuts on Connie's desk. "It's about time you got home. How's Mr. Tall, Dark, and Hot?"

"He's good," I said, selecting a Boston crème doughnut from the box. "He'll be good as new in no time."

"I couldn't help but notice you're wearing his sweatshirt, on account of its halfway to your knees," she said, selecting a pink frosted doughnut with sprinkles for herself.

I glanced down at the sweatshirt. Okay, so it wasn't exactly glamourous, but it was comfortable and smelled heavenly just like Ranger. What wasn't to like?

"And?"

She was serious, her expression inquisitive. "Did you get some?"

"Jeez Louise," I said. "He slept over last night, but I didn't 'get some'. Mooner was at my apartment in my bed. I was on the couch, and Ranger was in the chair. Nothing happened."

Lula rolled her eyes.

"Damn girl, I was waiting for a juicy story," she said.

I tried to contain my smile, but I couldn't hold it back entirely. My mouth upturned slightly, and Connie caught it.

"What aren't you telling us?" Connie asked, raising an eyebrow.

I considered not telling Lula and Connie, but I figured they'd find out soon enough. Better to spill the beans on my terms.

"Ranger and I are sort of…. Together now," I said as explanation.

"Together?" Connie shrieked, dropping her red fingernail polish. The lacquer leaked onto the file in front of her, and she scrambled to wipe it up with a Kleenex.

"As in a relationship," I clarified, biting into my doughnut.

"You go girl!" Lula exclaimed. "You're gonna be Mrs. Batman!"

"Doubtful," I said through a mouthful of doughnut. "Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Marriage gives me hives."

Lula looked doubtful, but she didn't say anything.

I grabbed the eleven files I'd placed into an easy captures pile and shoved them into my messenger bag.

"I'm going to try to clear up some of these easier captures first, then I'll do some research on these others tonight," I said by way of explanation.

"I'll go with you," said Lula, grabbing another doughnut from the box and making a beeline for the door.

I wanted to protest, but I hadn't packed my gun or pepper spray, and I knew Lula came with all the critical bounty hunter accessories.

"Take this," said Connie, handing me a file box. "Might make that pile easier to move around."

I thanked her, dropped the remaining files in the box, and went to the car with Lula.

"Why the hell are you driving this car?" she asked.

"My Corolla was murdered," I said by way of explanation. "You were there. You should know."

"No, I mean why aren't you driving one of Ranger's cars? His cars are hot. They're better for my image."

"I can get my own car. I don't need a babysitter," I said, a hint of anger in my voice. "I can take care of myself."

"Sorry, didn't realize it was such a sore subject," Lula said, slipping onto the passenger seat. She sat in silence for a beat, then changed the subject. "Who's ass are we hauling back to the clink first?"

"Hershell Goodwin," I said, putting the car into gear.

New Jersey had rid Hershell of the responsibility of his driver's license years ago as a result of poor vision, but he was undeterred, taking his 1987 Pontiac Bonneville for occasional spins around the Burg. These jaunts often left light poles, mailboxes, and parked cars damaged beyond repair but left his indestructible car only minimally worse for the wear.

I'd been hunting skips for a long time, and I'd hauled Hershell back to jail at least twenty-five times. The pick-up had become routine, and Lula knew the drill. I knew he'd come willingly as long as I brought a slice of French silk pie from Baker's Square, so I pointed the car in the direction of Route 1.

When we got to Baker's Square, the lot was full of Mercury Grand Marquis, Buick Le Sabres, and Lincoln Towncars presumably belonging to senior citizens enjoying a late breakfast. Since there was nowhere to park, I gave Lula a twenty and sent her in for the slice. I idled at the curb, watching the lot for a space to open. No one vacated their spot before Lula jogged back to the car five minutes later carrying three pies.

"Three?" I asked.

"One for you, one for me, and one for Hershell," she said, opening the lid to a coconut cream pie. She dug around, coming up with a plastic fork. She shoveled a bite of pie into her mouth before offering me a bite. I hesitated before finally accepting the bite. It was heavenly.

We parked in the lot of Hershell's retirement apartment complex and trudged to his door wielding his pie. Lula knocked, and he answered wearing an olive polo, khakis, and suspenders that held the pants just below his armpits. He accessorized the outfit with thick, large frame glasses and the quintessential comb-over.

"Good morning, Mr. Goodwin," I said, giving him a warm, friendly smile. "I'm sorry to interrupt your morning, but I was wondering if you had time to go downtown to reschedule your court date with us. I know it's an inconvenience, so we brought pie," I said, gesturing to the pie Lula displayed like Vanna White from Wheel of Fortune.

"Oh dear. I missed my court date?"

"Yep," I said, "but it's no problem. We'll go get it cleared up."

"That pie does look delicious," he said, glancing in Lula's direction.

"You can't beat this chocolate pie," Lula said, studying the delicacy in her hands. "Those little chocolate shavings on the top are like sprinkles of happiness. I even asked for a pie with extra shavings. Did you know at Christmastime, the chocolate is red and green? Fucking festive."

"I've got a fork in the car. If you want to grab a coat, we'll take you downtown. I can give you a ride back home later today if that helps," I said politely.

"Okay little lady," he said, taking a step back into his small foyer to collect his jacket from the wall hook.

We shuffled him out to the Buick and buckled him into the backseat, where he happily ate pie all the way to the police station. We had him booked with body receipt in hand in under thirty minutes.

"We're on fire," Lula said, buckling herself back into the Buick. "Where to next?"

"We're going to go grab Sharonda Blake so we can bond her back out before the lunch rush," I said, pointing the Buick toward Stark Street.

"You're awfully generous today."

I was on the first block of Stark when I noticed I was being tailed by a black Rangeman SUV.

"Son of a bitch," I said under my breath, pulling into a parking spot on the third block.

"What's up girl?" Lula asked, unbuckling.

I jerked my thumb in the direction of my shadow and extracted my cell phone from my pocket, dialing Ranger.

"Yo."

"Yo yourself. Why do I have a shadow?"

"Babe," was his response.

I sighed and rolled my eyes so hard I got dizzy.

"You're not in a friendly neighborhood, babe. The control room saw you cruising that way, so I asked Hal and Manuel to find you. They were in the neighborhood."

"That's so comforting," I said, spreading my words thick with sarcasm.

Ranger had the unfortunate but sometimes convenient habit of tracking my cars and my purse. He'd saved my ass more than once thanks to a tiny electronic tracker. Since Big Blue was my de facto spare car, I wasn't surprised my progress was being monitored.

"Your safety is my priority," Ranger said, his tone all business. "If you've got a problem, take it up with me tonight, but don't hassle my guys. They're following orders. Be safe. Love you."

And he disconnected.

"Did I just hear what I thought I heard?" Lula asked, her eyes wide.

I cut my eyes to her. "Huh?"

"Did Batman just use the "L" word?"

I tried to fight back the smile, but again, it crept onto my face like a giddy school girl.

"Girl, you're in love!" Lula exclaimed. "You lucky bitch!"

We sat in silence, studying Sharonda's apartment building. No activity was apparent in the building or on the street, so we climbed out of the car. Hal ambled over to us while Manuel stood guard over the vehicles. Unattended vehicles had a way of disappearing on Stark Street. Better to leave someone with them. All the better if he looked like Thor and wore a gun at his hip.

"Morning, big guy," I said to Hal, giving him a wide smile. "Sorry you got called for Stephanie duty."

"No problem," he said. "When Ranger says to guard his woman, you guard his woman."

My eyes grew wide.

"He said that?"

"Yes."

"Jeez Louise…."

Lula wrenched the door to the apartment building open, and we trudged up the stairs to the second floor to knock on 2B.

A woman opened the door with the security chain still in place. She was small, maybe 5 feet tall with perfect chocolate skin, chocolate eyes, and a blonde weave. She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, looking comfortable in her time away from work.

"What?" she asked.

"Sharonda Blake?"

"Who wants to know?"

"My name is Stephanie Plum, and I represent your bail bondsman…"

Click. The door slipped shut.

"Damn it," I said, kicking her door.

"Stand back, and let me do the talkin'," Lula said, pounding on the door. "Sharonda honey, it's Lula. Open up, girlfriend."

The door opened a crack again, and Sharonda looked out.

"Lula! What the hell are you doing with this stupid white ho?"

"She ain't no ho," Lula said. "She's a badass bounty hunter, and I'm her bounty hunter assistant. Wanna go for a ride with us?"

"Hell no," Sharonda said, trying to close the door.

Lucky for me, I had my foot in the way.

"Move," Sharonda said, kicking at my foot.

"We'd really like to take you to reschedule your court date," I said as politely as I could manage. "We'll get you back before you have to go to work. We can have Connie meet us to re-bond you."

"Re-bonding takes money that I don't have," said Sharonda.

"Okay, how about this," I said, my tone hinting at frustration. "You come downtown with us willingly, or I send Hal in to get you and drag you out."

Sharonda peeped over my shoulder to Hal, who stood well over six feet and looked more like Hulk Hogan than Mr. Rogers.

"Well, when you put it that way… let me get my purse," she said, stepping away from the crack in the door.

"Nice," Lula said, fumbling around in her purse. We're two for two. We're hot!"

After ninety seconds, Sharonda didn't return. I listened for movement in the apartment, but only heard a faint sound coming from within. I tried to place the sound and realized it was the sound of a window being opened.

"She's going down the fire escape!" I shouted.

Hal was on his phone in an instant, probably dialing Manuel on the street. Lula ran flat out for the stairs in her heels.

I put my foot to the door. Nothing. I tried again, and the security chain popped with a zing!

I raced into the apartment, spotting the open window off the bedroom with Sharonda's retreating form outside. I ran flat out with Hal behind me and hurdled through the window onto the fire escape. I made it two steps before losing my footing, tripping Hal in the process. Hal and I went ass over teakettles down the stairs, knocking into Sharonda halfway down. We landed with an "oof" with Sharonda on the bottom, then Hal, then me on top.

I rolled off Hal, and Hal rolled off Sharonda. We laid on the macadam for a moment catching our breath, Manuel standing over us.

"You alright?" he asked.

My body ached and my head hurt, but now wasn't the time to complain. Time to suck it up and forge ahead.

"Crap," I croaked, getting to my feet and examining myself. The knees were torn out of my jeans, my knees bleeding. I'd ripped the front of my shirt, and the palms of my hands were skinned.

Hal was on his feet next, brushing himself off and examining himself. His elbow was bleeding and his clothes were dusty, but he appeared to be mostly intact.

Lula joined us in the parking lot, and we stared down at Sharonda, who stared blank faced up at us.

"Is she dead?" Lula asked.

"No," said Hal, hauling Sharonda to her feet. Manuel used flexicuffs to secure her, then hauled her to the SUV.

"Where would you like her delivered?" Manuel asked.

"Take her to the station unless Hal needs a Band-Aid first. We'll follow you."

"That place gives me diarrhea," said Lula. "Cops give me the runs."

"So take Big Blue back to the bonds office," I said, handing her the keys. "I'll have the Merry Men drop me off when we're done."

I arrived back at the bonds office at lunch time with two body receipts in hand. Hal and Manuel had gone back to Rangeman to accept their hazard pay, and I was in the mood for lunch.

Lula and Connie were eating subs from Giovachinni's. Lula offered me half of her sandwich, but I snagged a few of her chips instead.

"Two skips in one morning, you're on a roll," said Connie. "Who's up next?"

"I haven't decided yet," I said, sinking into a chair to examine my knees. "I think I'm going to head home to clean up and change first."

Connie cut me a check for my capture fees, and I pointed the Buick in the direction of my apartment. I took Bob out to tinkle and gave him some doggie crunchies. Then I showered, bandaged, dressed, and was back on the road in twenty minutes. My stomach was rumbling, so I headed to Cluck in a Bucket.

My phone rang as I pulled out of my neighborhood. It was my mother.

"Hello?"

"Stephanie? Your grandmother said you're home. I'm making a nice roast chicken for dinner tonight with peas, new potatoes, and pineapple upside-down cake. I thought maybe you could join us."

My mother was pulling out all the stops by tempting me with my favorite dessert, but even pineapple upside-down cake couldn't tempt me to suffer any more verbal or emotional abuse at her hand. I wouldn't soon forget the early morning phone call I'd received in Atlanta.

"No thanks mom, but have a nice dinner," I replied, then disconnected.

My phone rang again ten seconds later.

"Stephanie Michelle Plum, don't you dare hang up on me."

I sighed. This conversation wasn't going anywhere I wanted to be.

"I'm not hanging up on you mom. I'm busy," I explained, pulling onto Olden.

"Joseph is home," my mother announced. "Maybe you could bring him with you to dinner tonight."

"I'm glad to hear he's home, mom. I'll stop by," I said. "I can't make dinner tonight though. I'll talk to you later. I need to go."

I disconnected, then changed trajectory, pointing the car in the direction of Pino's instead.

I arrived on Morelli's doorstep thirty minutes later carrying two meatball subs, a tub of coleslaw, a tub of potato salad, and a two-liter bottle of Coke. I tried the door. It was unlocked, so I cracked it a tad before knocking on the frame and shouting.

"Hello? Joe?"

"In here," was the response I received, so I let myself in and headed for the living room.

Joe was sitting on the couch wearing green plaid pajama pants, a grey long sleeved t-shirt, and slippers. He was scruffy with significant beard growth, and I noticed a few grey hairs mixed into his beard, making him seem older. His face was handsome, but his head was bandaged. He was watching the History Channel.

"Hey, stranger," I said, spreading the food out on the coffee table. "I thought maybe they hadn't been feeding you at Saint Francis, so I wanted to bring by something edible." I gave him a wide grin, and he made an effort to return it, only one side of his mouth responding.

"Th… Th…. Thanks," he said, shutting off the television.

"How are you doing?"

"Fi… Fine."

I went to the kitchen to retrieve two glasses with ice, plates, and silverware. I poured Joe a coke and set it on the table next to him.

"Your ha…. Hands?" he asked.

I didn't understand what he meant, so I glanced at my hands, seeing the ragged tears from today's capture.

"Oh. Yeah, I scraped them up capturing a skip this morning. It's no biggie. They'll heal."

Joe moved to pick up his Coke, but his hands trembled and his movements were awkward. My stomach twisted into an uncomfortable knot, and my heart crept up my throat.

I wasn't sure what to do. Ask if he wanted help? Let him do it himself? Put the drink in a different cup? I noticed a water bottle sitting on the table next to him that had a built-in straw, a handy contraption for a man who's extraordinary hand-eye coordination had recently been trashed by a bullet. I finally decided to ask, willing myself the strength to do hard things.

"Would it be better for your Coke to be in the water bottle?" I asked, gesturing to the bottle.

"It's okay," he said. "I g…. Got it."

He took a deep breath, two handed the glass, and lifted it to his mouth. He took a sip, spilling a small amount on his shirt before setting it back on the table. My heart constricted in my chest once more.

I busied myself preparing plates.

"How does it feel to be home?" I asked.

"Comfortable," Joe said. "Glad to… to… to have you... you home."

I smiled. "It's good to be back in Jersey. I'm not cut out for Southern life, and my hair was even more displeased."

Morelli gave me another lopsided smile. "Love yo…. Your hair. It has at… attitude."

I laughed, and Joe joined in. I placed the plate in his lap, regretting buying him messy side dishes. His coordination did seem royally ruined.

"Did your family drop you off at home to fend for yourself?" I asked, scooping into my potato salad.

"N—n- no," he said. "Mom is co—coming back so— soon. Moo—Mooch will st—stay tonight."

He took a bite of his meatball sub and sighed with pleasure.

"How's Bo- Bob?"

"He's good," I said, telling him about Mooner's dog sitting job. I assured him I'd keep Bob until he felt ready for the responsibility. We ate and visited, carrying on light conversation.

"Surpris—sed to see yo—you," Morelli announced when we'd lapsed into companionable silence.

"Why is that?" I asked, stopping with my fork halfway to my mouth.

"We broke up," he said, clear as day.

I put my fork down and set my plate on the table. I took a deep breath, working to channel all the honesty and kindness I could muster.

"Joe, you're still one of my best friends," I said, placing my hand on his knee. "I care about you. Nothing changed that. Why wouldn't I come here?"

Morelli looked away from me, studying his plate.

"Joe, talk to me."

Our eyes connected, and I saw Joe's eyes were sorrowful, tears collecting at the corners.

"My fau—fault," he announced. "I was… wasn't good… to you."

"Joe…" I began, but he kept speaking.

"I wa… was too bu…. Busy with work. Did… didn't put you fi… first. Now I'm… ruined."

"Joe, stop," I said, scooting to the edge of the sofa. "It's not your fault. It's no one's fault. We gave it everything we had for years. It's not that we didn't try. It's not that we didn't love each other. It's not that we don't…"

I stopped, unwilling to finish the thought. I still loved and cared for Joe very much, but was I in love with him? The answer was overwhelmingly no. Maybe I'd made the wrong choice by coming here. Maybe I'd made things worse for both of us.

A single tear slid down Joe's face, and my heart shattered into thousands of pieces. The man who I'd loved was broken not only physically, but emotionally. His blank cop face was gone, replaced now by raw emotion. I did the only thing I could, scooting across the couch to his side and wrapping my arms gently around him.

He leaned into me, letting the tears and emotions flow freely. He rested his head on my chest, and I leaned back to accommodate his trembling body. His hands trembled, holding me softly. My heart wrenched in my chest, and tears threatened to spill from my own eyes. This Joe was not the Joe I'd left when I traveled to Atlanta. This was a damaged, fragile version of the man I'd loved. I felt helpless, unable to repair his damaged body, mind, or heart.

As usual, I fought back my tears, refusing to be weak. Being weak was perhaps my greatest fear in life, conditioned and groomed by past life experience. How many times had I been here in the past five years? It seemed refusing to be weak had been the story of my life ever since I left Dickie. I'd spent an impossible amount of time being strong, overly independent, and refusing to trust again. After all, isn't that what it all boiled down to? Refusing to trust anyone but myself?

I thought about the times I'd refused to trust Joe, always fearing the worst of his intentions. Believing Terri Gilman might be lurking in the nearest closet, waiting to take Joe on my dining table just like Joyce had taken Dickie. Not only that, I'd refused the stability Joe promised when offering to support me so I could quit my job at the bonds office. Did I really love my job, or was I afraid to drastically alter my life and income stream for someone who could shatter it later? I thought about all the horrible experiences I'd had as a bond enforcement agent and all the time I'd spent living hand-to-mouth, barely scraping by because I'd been too proud.

I had lived to protect my heart.

Then there was Ranger. My heart seized once again as I thought of the man who currently held my heart. My love for Ranger was unplanned, sneaking up on me as I fought through my daily grind. He was a faithful friend and generous lover. He'd been unfailingly kind, never questioning the crazy decisions I made or the irrational way I lived my life. He was continually a stabilizing force, offering me protection, cars, faith, and affection when I always needed them most. For years, he'd given me every reason to trust him but had made it clear a relationship wasn't possible. Then everything changed in Atlanta. This week alone, he'd offered to buy me a mansion and put marriage on the table. Now that he'd altered his life enough to make room for me, could I alter myself enough to trust him? To make room for him?

Frankly, I was exhausted. I'd been strong for too long. Something had to break the cycle. Ranger was more than I deserved. Could I learn to accept happiness in lieu of fierce independence?

My mind raced as I held Joe, him crying and me rubbing his back. We sat like that for a long time. He eventually relaxed into me, slipping into sleep. I held him until his sleep was deep, then slid out from beneath him, settling him onto the couch. I laid a blanket over his body and placed a kiss on his cheek.

Joe stirred slightly, his voice a whisper.

"Love you, cupcake."

"Love you too, Joe," I said, brushing an unruly hair from his forehead.

I bagged up the leftovers, placing them in his fridge. I tore a piece of paper from a notepad on the counter and scrawled a note for Joe.

Joe,

I'm only a phone call away. Call anytime. I'll be here in a jiffy.

Yours,

Stephanie

The sun was setting behind me as I walked onto the deserted sandy beach at Point Pleasant. The early spring air was cold, so I pulled my hands into the sleeves of Ranger's sweatshirt. After I'd left Joe's, I decided I was done chasing skips for the day. I silenced my phone, pointed the Buick east, and began driving. I drove until the road ran out. I walked halfway to the water before settling into the sand, sitting with my legs stretched out before me. I let the breeze blow my hair around my head like an unruly halo, inhaling the scent of my strawberry shampoo mingling with the salty sea air.

I'd had nearly an hour to calm my thoughts on I-195 behind the wheel, and a calm had settled over me by the time I'd reached Allentown. A small voice somewhere deep within myself had spoken, shouting over the fears and doubts. It said, "You've spent years finding yourself, and you've finally found her. Care for her fiercely, forgive her often, and let her run free. Live with hope, not fear."

I watched the grey waves crashing into the sand before me, their musical rhythm piecing together my battered heart. Point Pleasant was my escape, the one place on earth I felt I could truly run away from all my problems to be alone with my thoughts. It had been a long time since I'd visited this beach. Too long, and I vowed to come back sooner next time. I deserved that much.

I'd sat for almost thirty minutes examining my life. I made promises to myself, and to the bankrupt, broken girl who had conned her cousin into a job so many years ago.

Twilight had turned the sky from pink to lavender behind me when I heard tires on the gravel parking lot. A figure approached, outlined by the night's artistry. I pulled my legs to my chest, willing myself to become small. To disappear into the sand. I'd hoped for more time alone.

"Stephanie?"

I glanced over my shoulder, and our eyes connected. He closed the distance between us, and I gave him a hand to settle into the sand beside me. I leaned into his shoulder. He kissed my temple, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

We sat in the quiet, and minutes passed before he broke the silence.

"Are you okay? I was worried when you didn't come home tonight."

I nodded.

"I'm alright. I just need some time."

"Anything you want to talk about?"

I shook my head no, pulling my arms farther into the sweatshirt.

Strands of twilight illuminated his thoughtful brown eyes and handsome face, highlighting wrinkles he wore like a badge of honor. His dark hair was washed with grey. He took a deep breath, then began speaking.

"When you were born, you changed my life, Stephanie. I held you in my arms, and I promised to protect you from everything. I did when you were a kid, but I've failed you as an adult."

"Dad, stop…"

"Hear me out," he said, fingers digging into the sand. He stared out at the water, watching the waves crashing onto the sand.

"I let you marry that prick Dickie without a word, and he crushed you. I knew he wasn't good for you, and I did nothing to stop it. He was a womanizer and a cheat. I didn't step in to put the pieces back together either, and I let your mother destroy your confidence."

He took a deep breath, then continued.

"I let you pursue a dangerous career when I could have supported you financially to give you time to get back on your feet. I thought Joe was taking care of you, but I realized a few years ago you were both struggling. I didn't intervene, telling myself you wouldn't want me to. When I began to realize how much I'd failed as a parent, I checked out mentally and emotionally instead of getting my shit together to help you. I'm your father. I should have protected you. I'm sorry."

My dad and I were a lot alike. We weren't touchy, feely people. This situation, which was as improbable as any I'd ever experienced, was surprisingly comforting. I reached across my dad's body, taking his hand in mine to squeeze it.

"It's not your fault, dad. It's no one's fault. But thanks for loving me."

He kissed my temple again, and I let a single tear roll down my face. It wasn't a tear of sadness or grief, but a tear of relief. Having my father in my corner was something I'd needed for a long time.

"I'm going to spend the rest of my life making the last six up to you, Stephanie. I'm going to be the dad you've deserved all along. I started tonight by talking to your mother. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out. Fearing I'd lost you in Atlanta forced me to relive all the wrong I've done. I couldn't live with it if I'd lost you."

I leaned into him harder, and he rubbed my arm.

"You're frozen, Steph. Let's get you somewhere warm."

He wasn't wrong. I was frozen to my bones, but I found the water too tempting, unable to draw myself away.

"How did you find me, dad?"

He removed his arm from behind my back and folded his hands in his lap.

"When you didn't come for dinner, I drove to your apartment. You weren't there, but your friend Carlos was waiting there for you. He made a few calls, then we came here. He said you'd be here. I guess he was right."

I heart stuttered to a stop in my chest. Had my dad just called Ranger 'Carlos'? Had hell frozen over?

"Ranger is here?"

"He's sitting in my car in the lot. He said he couldn't drive yet, that his friend had dropped him off at your place."

I felt hope bloom in my chest once more, and I knew everything was going to be okay.

"He loves you, you know," my dad stated matter-of-factly.

"I know, dad."

"Do you love him?"

"Of course. With everything I have," I said without hesitation.

"He's a good man, Stephanie. He'd do anything for you. He'd never ask you to change who you are. He loves you for the free-spirited wild child you are," he said, a smile tugging at his narrow lips. "Don't let your mother's perverted sense of love ruin this for you."

"I won't, dad. Thanks."

My dad struggled to his feet, then reached his hand out for me. He pulled me to my feet, and I gave him a kiss on his cheek. We brushed the sand from our pants before making our way to the parking lot.

As Ranger saw us approach, he slid out of my father's Buick. He took several steps in my direction, opening his arms to me. I collapsed into him, his strong arms holding me to his chest.

My father climbed into his car and started the engine. He gave us a wave over the steering wheel then pulled out of the parking lot, leaving me alone with Ranger.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his face concerned, the tension palpable in his voice.

"Yes," I whispered, holding him close. "I'm good," I said.

I really meant it, too. I felt more in touch with myself than I had for a long time. Not that all this emotional self-exploration wasn't exhausting, because it was. Unfortunately, it had become a necessity.

"Are you okay?"

He pulled away from me slowly, holding me at arm's length. His face was serious and guarded, his eyes filled with an emotion. Worry, I thought.

"Are we okay?" he asked, his voice low.

"Of course we're okay. Why wouldn't we be?"

He ran his fingers through my hair, separating the curls with his fingers. He pulled my face to his, our lips brushing against one another's in a soft kiss. I tried to deepen the kiss, but he pulled away.

"I thought you'd changed your mind," he said, his voice thick.

"What?" I felt my forehead crease with concern.

"About Morelli," he said. "About us."

The tracking device, I thought. Someone in the control room saw me at Morelli's.

"No," I explained. "How could I? My mind is already made up about you."

He studied me, his face emotionless. Fear began gripping at my seams. Had I hurt Ranger?

He removed his coat and wrapped it around my shoulders. He held me close to him once more, his lips placing soft kisses in the center of my forehead.

"I'm sorry I went to Joe's," I said, my voice quiet. "I'm sorry if it hurt you. It's just… he's one of my best friends, Ranger. I had to make sure he was okay."

"I know."

"I won't go back if it's a problem. I…"

Ranger cut me off.

"It's not a problem, babe," he said. "Visit him every day if you'd like."

He paused, collecting his thoughts before speaking again.

"Why did you come here?"

"To think."

"About?"

"Me."

He held me at arm's length again, a smile playing at his lips. Apparently that wasn't the answer he'd been expecting. Stephanie Plum, full of surprises.

I took a deep breath and gripped his hands in mine.

"You need to understand something about me," I began. "I've spent a lot of time being strong. Being independent. I've refused to trust anyone but myself for so long that I almost forgot why."

I shifted my weight from foot to foot. I was out of my comfort zone. Sharing my thoughts and feelings wasn't one of my strengths, but I was going to have to start if we were going to make things work between us. It was time to grow up.

"I was stubborn. I lived in fear, and I forgot to pursue happiness," I said, rubbing my thumb along the back of his warm hand. "I'm sorry you were caught up in the crossfire. Joe too. I've been awful to both of you, and I owe you both apologies."

"Babe," he said, his tone gentle and understanding.

"I had a lot of time to think tonight," I explained, gesturing toward the beach. "About what I want for myself, for my life. I don't have it all figured out yet, but I know it includes you. It took us a long time to find our way to this point," I said. "I don't want to miss my chance."

His face relaxed as he pulled me into an embrace, caressing my body. Electricity flowed through my core and into my limbs like lava, taking my breath away.

"I love you so much," I confessed, breathing in his intoxicating scent. "I swear, I'm going to fight to make this work. I've never wanted anyone so much in my life."

In an instant, Ranger's mouth was on mine, our tongues exploring, our hands frantic. He backed me into the Buick, pressing himself in to me as we held and loved one another. I broke from the kiss, gasping for air and heart racing. He did the same.

"Should we head back?" I asked, studying his face.

He gave a simple nod before placing one last kiss on my lips. He limped around the Buick and settled himself into the shotgun seat. I slid in next to him, turning the key so the car rumbled to life.

Ranger gave me a wide, infectious smile, and I found myself returning it.

"What?"

"This car looks good on you, babe."

I scrunched up my face in disgust, but I had to fight the smile. Big Blue and I had been through a lot. It wasn't a sexy car, or really even a practical car considering the gallons of fuel it sucked, but the car was indestructible, just like my fighting spirit.

I put the car into drive, pointing the car west toward the interstate and Trenton.

"I suppose I should replace my Corolla tomorrow," I sighed. "I hate car shopping. I really liked that car, too."

Ranger studied me for a long moment, nothing but street lights illuminating the interior of the car. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. Sweet.

"I'd be happy to get you a suitable replacement," he said, taking my hand in his. "That is, if you'd let me."

My emotions immediately went into defensive mode, my body's long-conditioned response to stress. I paused, taking a breath to calm my emotions. Ranger had proven time and time again that his only desire was to care for me. I knew his offer came with no strings attached.

I glanced to my right and realized Ranger's face showed trepidation. I felt my heart soften.

I adjusted my grip on the steering wheel, glanced his way, and gave him a nod.

"Okay," I said. "But nothing ostentatious, please. Like I said before, I really liked my Corolla. And let's not forget, I'm hard on cars."

He visibly relaxed, settling deeper into the seat. He gave my hand a friendly squeeze.

"What did you do today?" I asked, making friendly conversation as I pulled onto the interstate.

"Ximena took me to see my parents and aunt & uncle in Newark," he said.

"I bet they were happy to see you."

"I think they were more thrilled to see Ximena," he said with a smile. "She's been busy in Boston. She hasn't been home for a while. They're excited to have her home soon."

"She'll be back again soon?" I asked, the excitement palpable in my voice.

"I offered her a position in Trenton this morning," he said. "I'm exploring business opportunities in Newark, and I think Ximena would be the ideal fit to run a Rangeman operation there. In the meantime, you might prefer her following you all over the city instead of Cal."

"What?" I asked, annoyance apparent in my voice. I hated having a babysitter.

"Connie called me today to ask if Tank could provide additional BEA coverage for the bonds office. She told me you've got a box of folders that need cleared up, and she told me who some of the skips are. I don't want you going after some of those guys alone."

I thought back to the piles I'd sorted in the bonds office earlier that morning. As far as I was concerned, Tank could have the 'over my dead body' pile. I wasn't sure how I felt about Ximena going after them with me.

Ranger continued. "Tank is tied up in Newark business negotiations. Plus, I'm on light duty for at least another month, so Tank is covering a lot of double shifts. We could use the help, and you could too. I imagine Ximena would be more pleasant as your shadow than Cal, and I know she'd enjoy spending more time with you. Hector or Lester can assist when necessary."

I thought about the snake tattooed on Cal's forehead, and smiled. Ranger was right. Cal wasn't exactly incognito on a takedown.

"I'm willing to try it," I said. "I'm not thrilled about having a partner, but I'm willing to negotiate if it's with Ximena."

"Babe," Ranger laughed lightly. "You've had a partner. Her name is Lula. I'm only adding one more person to your posse temporarily."

"Fine," I sighed. "Thanks. That pile really is insane," I said, gesturing to the box in the back seat.

He looked over his shoulder and visibly cringed.

"Are you going to have any free time?" he asked.

I sighed. I honestly wasn't sure. Any given week, I might pick up ten to twenty skips. Almost fifty posed an insane challenge, especially when more skips would come in daily at the office.

"Maybe," I said. "Probably not."

"Do you think you could make some free time Saturday?"

I glanced over to him.

"What's up Saturday? Do you need help with a job? I can make time," I said, my voice sincere.

I really did want to make time for Ranger. Even if my job was about to be insane, I was committed to making time for us.

"No, babe. I was wondering if you'd go to dinner at my parents' in Newark."

We pulled into Trenton after 9:30 PM. My stomach was rumbling, and I knew Bob would have his doggy legs crossed needing to tinkle.

"Do you mind if we stop by my apartment before I drop you off at home?" I asked, turning Big Blue on to Hamilton. "Bob needs to go outside."

"I don't mind," Ranger said. "I had planned on sleeping over tonight anyway, as long as you don't mind."

"Really?" I squeaked.

"Of course," he said. "Where else would I be?"

In your heavenly bed in your luxe apartment, I thought, though I didn't say it out loud. My small efficiency apartment with an outdated bathroom wasn't exactly first-class accommodations.

"And Bob went outside before your dad and I left for Point Pleasant. I fed him, too."

I stared at him as if corn was growing out of his ears. He didn't notice, continuing the conversation.

"I brought something to your apartment for dinner, but if you'd rather stop somewhere for dinner on the way home, it's your call."

"You took out the dog and brought dinner? Who are you?" I asked, only half joking.

"Ella made dinner," Ranger clarified. "I'm just trying to take care of you, if you'll let me."

I let that sink in for a beat. I fought the urge to argue or make a sarcastic remark. A small voice somewhere in the back of my brain reminded me how kind he'd been.

"Thank you," I said, willing myself to accept his attention and be grateful.

I parked in the back of my lot, and we trudged to the elevator and into my apartment. I unlocked the door and pushed it open. Bob greeted us in the foyer, doing his happy dog dance. I stroked his ears and told him he was a good boy, then hung my messenger bag on its hook.

Ranger wandered into the kitchen and began sorting through items in the fridge. He pulled out a bottle of beer, popped the lid, and passed it across the counter to me. I thanked him and took a long pull. He reached into the fridge again, bringing out a carrot, which he set into Rex's bowl.

My heart fluttered in my chest to see Ranger's human side. His sensitive side. The man who cared for my furry menagerie. The man who was caring for me. Batman, meet Bruce Wayne.

Rex emerged from his soup can, wiggled his nose in thanks, shoved the carrot into his cheek pouch, and scurried back into his soup can.

"Are you sure your parents will like me?" I asked hesitantly.

"Of course they will," Ranger said. "I like you. In fact, I love you, so they will too. Don't worry about it."

Ranger continued sorting through the fridge. I was dumbfounded by all the racket he was making. When I'd left this morning, my refrigerator had been empty. I was even out of olives. What the hell was in there?

I glanced over his shoulder and saw that my refrigerator had been stocked full. I could see oranges, apples, cold cuts, a bag of carrots, a head of lettuce, milk, pickles, olives, juice, beer, a cucumber, a dozen eggs, several brown paper packages that presumably contained cuts of meat, various condiments and dressings, a plastic carton of cupcakes, and piles of food I couldn't identify in the back. Three covered dishes sat on the top shelf, and he pulled them out.

"Wow," I said, "Ella went all out. She really shouldn't have."

A smile tugged at the corner of Ranger's mouth, but he didn't say anything.

"What?" I asked curiously. "What's so funny?"

Ranger removed the lids from the containers, exposing two plates with lasagna and one bowl of salad.

"I went shopping," Ranger announced.

I was speechless.

Ranger set one plate in the microwave and pushed the "go" button. The lasagna twirled on the rotating plate.

"Close your mouth, Steph," Ranger said, a smile playing at his lips. "You're going to let in flies."

I closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around him, his back to my front. I inhaled his scent, splaying my hands across his abs. He placed his arms over mine, interlocking our fingers.

"I love you, babe. I hope you know that."

It had taken years of work, frustrations, failed relationships, and steamy sexual encounters to get us to this point, but it seemed that Ranger and I had suddenly settled into a new normal. I was okay with that. It was time for a change in my life, and I couldn't have asked for a kinder, more generous, stabilizing force.

"I love you too."

Ranger turned to face me, hoisting me onto the counter with his hands at my waist. At this height, Ranger and I were eye-to-eye. He leaned into me, his forehead resting against mine, his eyes locked with mine. He placed his lips softly to mine, his kiss starting gentle but becoming more eager. I returned his enthusiasm, my tongue begging for entry to his mouth.

Ranger broke the kiss, his hands finding the hem of my shirt and lifting it over my head. His lips returned to mine, then traveled down my neck to my collarbone. His hands were everywhere, sparking electricity everywhere he touched. He laid me back on the counter, stripping me of my jeans, socks, and shoes, leaving me in nothing but a pink lace bra and panties.

He planted a trail of kisses starting at my ankle, up my calf and thigh, across my hip, and up to my navel. I trembled with excitement and pent up energy.

Unfortunately, my stomach refused to cooperate in that exact moment. It let out an angry rumble as Ranger kissed my navel.

"Crap," I whined. "That's so embarrassing. I'm sorry."

The microwave beeped, announcing the lasagna was officially reheated.

"Lucky for you, dinner is served," Ranger said, turning to remove the plate from the microwave.

I moved to get off the counter, but Ranger was back in an instant, the plate on the counter and his hands on my body.

He pulled a fork from a nearby drawer, cut a piece of the pasta dish, and carefully fed it to me. I moaned with pleasure as the bite melted in my mouth, savoring it.

"Don't worry," he said. "I'm a man of many talents. Multi-tasking is one of them."

He pushed me onto my back once more and hooked a finger into my panties, removing them in one swift tug.

"I'm going to meet all your needs tonight," Ranger said, trailing kisses up my thigh.

He gave me a playful grin, his head between my legs.

"And tomorrow, I'm buying you a car."

He teased me briefly with his tongue before giving me a truly wicked grin.

"And next week, I might buy you a house. That is, if you'll let me."

Then he kissed me… there… and fireworks exploded inside me.

Oh boy.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Plum Sweet Series