Disclaimer: All credit goes to JE for creating her characters and writing the books. Original characters I've created are all mine (muahhahaha).

Warnings: It's a Babe story. Rated M+. Bad Language, Alcohol, Drunken Decisions, Sexual Situations, Attempted Sexual Assault, and a Happy Ending. Not cupcake friendly, but no brutal bashing…

Long A/N: The story is complete, so I will aim to post at least a chapter a week. The last JE book I read all the way through was Fearless Fourteen – I have the others, and even started fifteen but I haven't been able to bring myself to read them all yet. Soooo, this is set after FF. And for the sake of this story, let's pretend Steph hasn't admitted to herself that she loves Ranger.

Big thanks to Cara for having an initial look over and providing some great suggestions and feedback. As always, all mistakes are mine.

Additionally, please remember that this is a work of fiction, and I have taken a number of liberties with timeframes and possibly pain thresholds and memory/observational abilities. You'll see what I mean by the end of this chapter and the next. Also, I do not condone excessive drinking or making serious decisions when drunk, or driving when hung-over. You should always drink responsibly and make informed, sober decisions about any changes that may have repercussions. And on that serious note, please enjoy!

The woman jolted as the gun discharged, the sick and final sound of metal impacting flesh echoing in her ears. She fell to her knees, her fist shoved against her mouth to muffle the keening wail that was emanating from deep inside her. Her heart ached, her soul screamed. He was dead. Her lover was dead. She used the wall to brace herself as she staggered to her feet and silently made her way into the passage and down, down the rickety ladder. Tears streamed down her face as she inhaled short shallow breaths in deference to the tightness in her chest. The man responsible for this would pay and he would pay dearly. She'd seen his face, watched him land the final blow, and she would know his name before the end of the day. Then she'd find a way to make him suffer the same way she had before she slowly tortured him to death. Oh yes. He would pay, and she was patient enough to wait until she could make the revenge all the more sweeter.

Chapter One - SPOV

Oh God. What had I done?

I groaned, but the pounding in my head had me shutting up immediately.

Slowly curling into a ball, I willed the sloshing in my stomach to stop. The world underneath me seemed like it was spinning out of control. Sluggishly prying open one eye, I tried to squint around the room to figure out where I was. The blinding light was too much for my aching head, causing me to quickly close my eye.

What the fuck? Seriously.

My stomach rolled and I folded tighter in on myself. My mouth tasted like something had crawled in there and died. My tongue was so swollen it felt like it was stuck to the roof of my mouth. Laying absolutely still with my eyes tightly shut I dozed on and off. Waiting, hoping, and praying I'd feel better soon.

Hours seemed to pass before the world stopped spinning beneath me.

I cracked open my eyes. The light was not so blinding. Maybe the sun had exploded and I was forever plunged into wonderful darkness? I could hope anyway.

I peered at my surroundings and let out a relieved breath.

Thank God. I was alone in my bedroom. But damn did I need water, and some aspirin. Definitely aspirin. But that involved moving. Damn.

My memories were slowly coming back; all mixed up and jumbled around, but at least I knew this was self-inflicted and I hadn't gone through a night of torture thanks to a skip or stalker. Ladies Night, Lula, Connie, and Long Island Iced Teas. Shiiiiit.

Just thinking about all the Iced Teas I'd consumed last night reminded me my bladder was full to capacity. If I didn't get up right this minute, I was going to have to replace my mattress. I did not have enough money for that.

Groaning, I rolled off the bed, remembering to let my feet hit the ground first only at the last second. I stumbled upright and the world started spinning again.

Oh shit. At least I was up now.

I staggered to my bathroom on jelly legs, probably doing a very fine imitation of a newborn giraffe when I missed a step and found my hands on the floor along with my feet. I nearly didn't make it the last two yards to the toilet.

I managed to relieve myself, strip and sit down in the bottom of a pelting hot shower with my arms wrapped tightly around my legs and my head resting heavily on my knees. I was thankful I'd forgotten to turn on the light. The semi-darkness of the room made my head pound less. At least I wasn't as ridiculously nauseous as when I first woke up. Don't get me wrong, if I stood up too fast, I was unquestionably going to barf, but the sloshing was down to a minimum.

When the hot water started to run out, I carefully sat up and climbed out of the shower. I wrapped myself in a towel and sat down heavily on the toilet seat. That was as far as my legs managed to carry me.

I sucked in a couple of deep breaths and tried to take stock of what kind of condition I was in. Throbbing head, check. Aching feet, another check. My whole body hurt, but especially my side. Probably I'd just stumbled into something in my drunken wanderings and gotten a few more bruises to add to my collection for my efforts. The weird thing was, it kind of felt like I'd been burnt, but itchy at the same time. Maybe I had somehow managed to burn myself. I didn't know why Lula and Connie would have thought it was a good idea to let me near something hot enough to burn when I was drunk, but who knew what had happened? It didn't hurt too much more than the rest of my body or maybe some of the alcohol was still in my system and was dulling the pain. Either way, I didn't have enough energy to muster up the effort it would have taken to check it out.

Boy, this is going to be a long day.

I needed sugar, grease, salt, and caffeine, probably not in that order. First I definitely needed water. I reached over and grabbed a cup by the sink filling it full and slowly drinking the cool water.

It took me nearly an hour to get dressed in a baggy Rangeman t-shirt and black yoga pants. I pulled my hair up into a messy ponytail and put on enough makeup so that I didn't look like something out of a horror movie. By the time I made it into the kitchen to down a couple aspirin, some of my memory was back and I remembered how I'd ended up in this predicament.

It all started with Morelli.

Okay, that's not entirely true.

It all started with Jenny Ragucci.

Hmmm, that's not exactly right either.

It all started when Morelli mentioned something about having good luck with sluts, including one Jenny Ragucci, and smiling about it... and then looking at me. It wasn't just any old look, either. It was one of those... looks. The kind of look that makes everyone around you stare with raised eyebrows, wondering if you are also a slut.

This had happened eight days ago and I'd let it slide at the time. Joe and I had been getting along really well. We'd even been cohabitating mildly successfully. He'd actually mentioned the 'm' word. Not marriage! Moving in together on a trial basis. Cripes, we weren't cohabitating that well. So I'd shaken off my annoyance.

Until two days ago. When I'd found out Morelli had been seen chatting for two hours to Jenny Ragucci at the grocery store.

I'd casually asked him about it. But, when he'd launched into an account of the last thirteen years of her life, my heart sunk a little. Then when he started rambling about Jenny's adorably sweet six year old daughter, I'd started to get a tight pain in my chest. He told me Jenny's husband passed away four years ago while fighting over seas; I could barely breathe. Finally he'd told me Jenny was a teacher at the local grade school, and that she'd recently purchased a quaint three bedroom house. This news caused something to shift deep inside me and I just knew. Jenny Ragucci was perfect for him. Hell, there was a twinkle in his eye.

So I did what I thought would be best for both of us. I'd calmly told Joe that we weren't going to work out and that I'd probably never say yes to a proposal – any proposal that had us permanently cohabitating. It hurt, more than I thought it would. Joe was safe. There was history and comfort there and we were always there for each other. Even if he did complain along the way. Now he wouldn't be.

Saying he'd been blindsided might be a little bit of an understatement. He was angry and hadn't spoken to me since. He'd taken Jenny and her daughter, Lilly to Pino's for dinner the same evening. Hopefully we'd still be friends once he'd cooled off and maybe he'd even realize why'd I'd broken up with him. Only time will tell.

Yesterday afternoon, I'd confessed everything to Lula and Connie and by six-thirty we'd hit our first bar. After that it was a blur of dancing, drinking, walking, eating, and more drinking. There may have even been some crying at one point.

Which is how I found myself sitting in my kitchen, unbelievably hung-over, feeling sorry for myself. "You did this to yourself," I muttered.

It was time to get on with what was left of the day. I stood slowly, not wanting to press my luck, and grabbed my pocket book. One missed call from Connie and a couple of texts from both her and Lula.

A quick glance at the clock showed the time was around midday so I decided to head to the Bond's Office and at least read through the new files Connie had for me. I had a feeling I'd way overspent last night. I put on the darkest pair of sunglasses I owned and headed out.

Stepping outside of my apartment building made me flinch. It was like I wasn't even wearing sunglasses; the piercing light shot straight to my brain and increased the pounding there. My body ached and I swayed a little. Even my skin hurt. I took a large gulp of water and moped over to my car at the far side of the parking lot.

Just looking at my ten year old faded blue Ford Escort made me sigh. No air-conditioning to keep me cool, no tinting to lower the sun from excruciating to bearably bright.

The ten minute drive to the nearest McDonalds with my windows down made me feel a bit better. The large fries and coke helped me feel human again. Stepping into the air-conditioned Bond's Office improved my mood by around two hundred per cent.

"Hey Steph! We were getting worried." Connie greeted me. She looked none the worse for wear and was calmly filing her nails.

I gave her the death glare, but my sunglasses must have blocked its deadly effect.

"White gurl, how's your tattoo looking this morning? Mine's a little red, but Tankie said that's normal, but I should have left the Cling film on to keep the cream on it for twenty four hours."

Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit!

I didn't.

I couldn't have.

I wouldn't.

Would I?

I pulled my sunglasses off and fell down onto the couch as my legs gave out.

TBC...