Title: Distracted

Author: Robin

Disclaimer: All belongs to JE, I own nothing.

Rating: R for language and sexual situations

A/N: This is set in some nebulous future where Steph and Ranger are an item. Spoilers through EOT.

Lester's POV

My ass had been warming this hard, wooden stool and nursing this bottle of beer for the last forty-five minutes. I had long since peeled the label off the bottle, the contents were now room temperature and my back was starting to ache from sitting in this position for so long.

I'd been staking out this bar in anticipation of a high-dollar skip making an appearance. All in all, the bar wasn't that bad, a little nicer than the average hole-in-wall that our low-life targets frequented.

How it normally went was, when I made the ID, I'd let the team know and they were supposed to send in the distraction. The distraction, of course, consisted of Stephanie Plum in a non-existent outfit flirting with the skip and using her considerable feminine wiles to get him out of the bar and into the waiting arms of the rest of the team.

No fuss, no muss, no barroom brawl. It was cheaper to keep Stephanie in new shoes than pay for repairs to crappy bar furniture all over Trenton. And collateral damage in bar fights led to stupid law suits that just wasted time and money.

Usually it was a pretty quick and simple operation. I'd go in, the skip would be there, drowning their sorrow and I'd signal for Stephanie.

Tonight was a little different. I had signaled that the skip was here and nothing happened. He was sitting just a few feet from me, drinking a beer of his own and staring into the mug as if it held all the answers. I repeated the signal. Maybe there was a comm failure. I'd been about to abandon my post, when Tank's voice came through my ear piece.

"Stephanie isn't here yet, hold your position and keep him in sight."

That was over a half-hour ago.

So, I sat, trying to occupy myself in a bar, alone. Couldn't drink too much. Couldn't hit on anyone. Couldn't understand why they were showing curling on the television behind the bar. It had to be the least exciting sporting activity known to man, about as exciting as watching paint dry or beer get warm (which was my other option).

Finally, Tank reported, "Yo, Stephanie and the boss just pulled up. She'll be right in."

Thank God. If we didn't get this show on the road, I wasn't gonna be able to feel my legs when I went to get up. I drained the rest of my bottle, signaling the bartender for another. I had to force my eyes back to my bottle when I caught site of Stephanie walking through the door.

My throat got dry and my pants got tight and I wished I'd ordered something a little stronger than a beer.

Christ, she was beautiful normally... in just jeans and a t-shirt. But when she worked these jobs, she really knew how to play up her... uh... assets. You'd have to be a monk not to find her attractive tonight. She was wearing a black leather mini skirt, impossibly high shoes that made her legs look endless and a lace top in flame red that showcased her perfect breasts. But, it wasn't just that. There was a glow about her tonight, a bounce in her step, and a confidence in the toss of her hair. She looked like a woman who had been well-fucked and who had enjoyed it thoroughly. One guess as to what had kept her.

Ranger's a lucky bastard, I thought, as I swallowed a long draw of beer and tried to calm my body's natural reaction. If he knew what she did to me, he'd have my balls on a platter. He was like a big brother to me, I'd never violate his trust, but I couldn't control my dreams and every night after a distraction, Stephanie was bound to play a featured role.

I shook my head slightly, trying to clear away the images and focus instead on Stephanie here and now. The eyes of all men and a few women had followed her progress from the door to the bar. She took an empty seat next to the skip, not looking at him and ordering a drink. He was practically drooling.

She looked over at him casually and smiled. I couldn't tell what she was saying, but from her body language I could tell she was flirting heavily.

With my ear piece, I could only get communications from Tank in the truck. The take-down team and Tank could hear her, but the inside man, me in this case, was on a limited frequency. We'd started doing that after the first few distraction jobs that Stephanie worked. Some of the outrageous things that would come out of her mouth while she was doing her thing had caused me and other guys in my position to practically piss themselves with laughter and nearly blow their cover and the job.

So, I couldn't hear the words, but I knew the gist of what she was saying, and this guy was into it. Made it seem like a good idea to go FTA just so I could get Stephanie to press up against me like that and talk dirty to me.

After a few moments, she slipped off of her stool and held out her hand. The skip threw some bills down on the bar, took her hand in his and they walked toward the front door. I waited only a moment before reporting that the target was leaving with Stephanie. I left money for my own tab and followed them out.

By the time I made it through the door, the skip was on the ground with Bobby's knee in the small of his back and Stephanie was walking toward Ranger who was leaning against the side of Tank's Bronco. This had to have been the fastest distraction take-down in history.

I watched as she walked away from where I stood, her hips swaying gently and I thought again that Ranger's a lucky bastard.

"You've got that right, Santos," came Tank's voice in my ear. Fuck. I must have said that out loud. Which meant the entire team, except Stephanie, heard it. And if Ranger was wired, he'd heard it, too.

From the narrowed look Ranger was shooting my direction, I guessed he'd caught the comment.

Well, shit. Now I was in trouble. Ranger'd probably kick my ass on the practice mat for that and I'd no doubt be pulling the worst shifts and the crappiest surveillance posts for the foreseeable future. Beautiful.

Since I was done for the night, I removed my mic and ear piece, turning them off, and headed for my truck. I'd go home, alone, have that stronger drink, take a long, cold shower and hope that at least my dreams could be satisfying.

Hell, if she did visit me in my dreams tonight, I hoped she wore those shoes and nothing else.