Notes: You don't know his actual age, but my Ranger is a little older than in the books. Maybe 33-35ish. Steph is still 30, of course.

Good Enough

Stephanie assesses the situation

My name is Stephanie Plum, and tonight I have outdone myself.

There are times in a woman's life when she knows, I mean really knows that she looks good. And by that I mean very, extremely good. For a 30-year-old, 5'7" Italian-Hungarian brunette who spends most of her days rolling around in garbage and trying not to look ridiculous, those times often feel like they're few and far between.

After some careful negotiation, I'd kind of agreed to go back to working for Rangeman. Theoretically, I was still tracing skips for Vinnie, too. The plan was that I would divide my time however best suited me. What can I say? I'm a fence sitter—choices have never been my strong suit. But it turns out, there were some situations when Ranger actually needed someone of my—talents—on the payroll. And, turns out I was really in need of a steadier pay check. No surprise there. Plus I was hoping the potential for flame throwers and exploding beavers would be less working for Rangeman than working for myself.

The rules this time had changed a little, and instead of just doing searches, Ranger had promised that he'd let me help out with a "variety of assignments." His words, not mine. I requested that the assignments he assigned me not require that I visit any third world countries—either to work or avoid extradition. Hey, I'm no dummy. I've heard people talk about the big needles they use to vaccinate you before you go to those places. Thanks, but no thanks.

He agreed.

I'm not sure how the whole thing is going to work out. It hasn't been long enough for me to tell yet. Actually, tonight was my first official "day" back on the job. I have to say, though, that things were looking good. Any job that let me use a company credit card to buy this dress and these shoes was definitely appealing.

My on-again, off-again boyfriend, Joe Morelli, hadn't been thrilled per se when I told him about my change in employment status. Not that he'd done too much yelling or arguing about it, mind you. He'd just kind of sucked in his breath and said, "Thanks, Cupcake. That's just what I needed to hear to round out the perfect day. I think I'll walk Bob. I have a thing late tonight, but you can dial dinner if you want." Then he'd grabbed Bob's leash and headed out the back door without waiting to hear my answer.

To some this might seem like not such a bad response. But I've known Morelli my entire life. He fingered me in his father's garage when I was six and talked me out of my virginity at sixteen. I knew exactly what this reaction meant: The calm before the storm. Now, I'm a pretty smart girl if I do say so myself. I managed to graduate in the top 98% of my class from Douglas College, and I knew that when Mt. Morelli erupted, I didn't want to be anywhere near the fallout zone.

I figured telling him that I had a job of my own tonight would be just enough to push him over the edge. So instead of hanging around, I grabbed my bag and dashed out the door, off to my own apartment to get dolled up for my distraction gig. Some important military type once said something like, "Retreat is the better part of valor." I have no idea who it was, but I think he was probably a smart cookie.

I showered, shampooed, shaved, exfoliated, and otherwise groomed myself in the safety of my own apartment before shimmying into black lace panties and silky black thigh highs, the edges of which peeked through the twin slits on my deceptively simple red sheath. The dress had skinny spaghetti straps and was sprinkled liberally with sparkling little crystals that shimmered whenever I moved. It was way too low cut to even think about wearing a bra with, so I blew out a resigned breath and stuck on the small adhesive circles the woman in the dress shop convinced me to buy to help preserve a little bit of modesty. I guess pasties were a small price to pay for a job with a health plan.

Miracle of miracles, my hair had cooperated without too much protest and fell just like I wanted it to in a riot of loose curls down my back. My make up was light but sexy with the exception of bright red lipstick that coordinated with my fingers and toes. Strappy black high heel sandals completed my ensemble.

My first clue about just how good I was looking came when I glanced at myself in the mirror. Huh, I thought. Guess Ranger dragging me out of bed three times a week to jog the last few weeks was actually making a difference. Will wonders never cease?

My second clue came when I heard the locks on my door tumble around 10 o'clock that night, and I looked up to see Ranger starring at me, rapt. Ricardo Carlos Manoso, Ranger to most of the world, is my boss and quite possibly the sexiest man alive. He's also my friend and my mentor. Oh yeah, and I'm pretty sure I'm in love with him. Best not to think about that. Ranger is Batman, and we all know Batman can't have a relationship because he's too busy saving Gotham City. In Ranger's case, I think the problem might be even bigger. Batman just has one metropolitan area to worry about. I'm pretty sure Ranger is occasionally responsible for saving the whole world. It's just a feeling I have.

Right now, though, his superhero responsibilities were the last things on my mind. I could see his eyes darken to black where he stood, still as a statue, in my foyer. The look in them froze me in my tracks. Sometimes when Ranger looks at me like that, I feel totally get why deer find themselves hypnotized by the headlights of oncoming tractor-trailers. The muscles across my lower abdomen tightened along with my nipples, and I was inordinately grateful to the pushy sales lady who convinced me to buy the pasties.

In a heartbeat, though, the moment passed, and Ranger moved. He crossed the room to me in three long strides. Just over six feet tall, Ranger is built. The Rock has nothing on him. Warmth coursed through me as he laid his rough palms on my bare shoulders.

"Looking good, Babe."

"Th-thanks," I said shakily. "You don't look too bad yourself." Yeah. That was an understatement.

Ranger causes women to walk into walls with a glance on a normal day. Tonight he was dressed in black jeans and a black t-shirt, painted on of course, with the sleeves ripped out dance club-chic style. Very convenient for showcasing the smooth, mocha latte skin of his very large, defined biceps. A black hemp braid with what looked like an arrowhead dangling from it was wrapped tight around his throat. It was totally unlike anything I'd seen on him before but combined with the ripped t-shirt was dead sexy nonetheless. I felt myself involuntarily lick my lips as I watched it move against his Adam's apple. He didn't miss the action.

"Babe," his voice was husky and his gaze was fastened on my mouth. "Don't do that."

"W-why not?" Funny, I never knew I had a stammer. You'd think they would have caught that when I was a child.

He growled—yes, I said growled—low in his throat and pulled me against him. "Because it makes me crazy."

Our bodies were pressed together, and I could feel just which parts of him were going crazy at the moment. Ok, so I know it was wrong. Technically, I'm with Morelli, even though the idea of us as a forever kind of couple gives me a weird, hinky feeling. But I couldn't help it. When I'm in Ranger's arms and his smell is surrounding me, the rest of the world just sort of drops away. Believe it or not, it's the closest thing to flying I've ever actually felt. Well, the second closest, but making love with Ranger was not something I allowed myself to think about, ever.

This was definitely one of those flying times. My fingers slid up his chest without bothering to ask my brain for permission. Dimly, I registered the texture of his t-shirt over rock hard pectorals before my fingertips crossed onto the warm, slightly rough skin at the side of his throat. I gently traced the outline of the necklace.

"What's this?"

"Just a prop, Babe. I'm going as a bouncer tonight." His coolly delivered explanation was belied by the slight shudder I felt in his breath. I continued the light caress, fascinated by the texture of his skin, trailing my fingertips back and forth across the side of his throat, outlining the hemp chording, and his eyes drooped closed. I was somewhat amazed to feel him move his head to the side, giving me better access. "Jesus Christ, Babe, you're killing me."

"Do you want me to stop?" Huh, wonder who that was talking? That sexy, husky whiper sure didn't sound like me.

"No. God no." I think he may have purred. It wouldn't have surprised me. Despite the image he portrayed, I knew from our one night together that Ranger really, really liked to be touched. And I didn't think this kind of human contact was an indulgence he gave into very often. "You never…" He trailed off as I leaned up to press a soft kiss at the edge of his jaw.

He was right. I never initiated things like this with him. In our relationship, Ranger pursued, and I let myself be swept along until I managed to remember that I was supposed to be faithful to Morelli. Morelli. Shit.

I knew the instant he felt me tense in his arms. He backed away from me suddenly, and his mouth tightened, his blank face snapping down like a window blind.

"God, Ranger. I'm sorry."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Gonna be late, Babe. Let's get you wired."

I knew he wasn't quite as unaffected as he seemed, because instead of wiring me himself, he just handed me the unit and turned his back so I could secure it in my underwear and underneath my breast.

Moments later, we were out the door and walking toward his Porshe Turbo. Like all his cars, it was low and black and looked dangerous. I loved it. I particularly loved the cockpit feel of it when he drove it in the dark. Neither of us had said anything since we left the apartment. He probably would have been fine with that, but I require background noise. Ranger isn't much of a talker, especially when he's in his driving zone, but he'll almost always talk about a job if he thinks I need to know about it.

"So, wanna fill me in on the details?"

He nodded toward the glove box. "File is in there."

I pulled it out. It seemed really thick. Flipping it open, I studied the pictures. Huh. Tony Soprano.

"Don't let the image fool you, Babe. This isn't HBO. No warm fuzzy center to this guy." Damn ESP. I shot Ranger a dirty look and thought I saw his mouth move. Slightly. Guess I was back to being amusing. Better amusing than frustrating, all things considered.

I held up the file. "You want to summarize?"

"Charlie Sorrell is a hot-shot dealer here in Trenton who got a little too big for his britches on a more regional level and is now the center piece of a turf war."

"Gang?" I asked, my stomach clenching. I occasionally still had nightmares about the Slayer thing, and I wasn't eager to get myself involved in any other gang messes.

"Nope. Branches of law enforcement. Sorrell went FTA on a minor charge four days ago. His bond was set high because of priors. Locals want to give him some rope, let him hang himself, and take him out of the picture long-term with a bigger charge they can make stick."

"So what's the problem with that?"

"Here in Trenton, Sorrell is a big man. But in the grand scheme of things he's nothing. What he does have is information, though, on some big players in Philly. The DEA wants him brought in immediately and turned over to them so they can make a deal."

I was confused. "So why aren't they working together?"

"The deal is very unattractive to the locals. The way they see it, if he turns state he'll do time, but it'll be a slap on the wrist essentially, and then he'll be out again. Trenton cops' responsibility in the end is Trenton, and their priority is to get him off the streets here."

"So what are we doing?"

"We've been contracted by the DEA to bring him in. Once he's in custody, TPD will have no choice but to hand him over to the big boys, and they'll take it from there."

Suddenly, I was feeling a little nervous about this plan. Joe was working vice. I wondered just exactly how he was going to feel about this, but I didn't want to bring it up. What to do. Luckily, Ranger was able to read minds. My mind, at least.

"Babe, TPD knows this guy is FTA and that Rangeman has been authorized to bring him in. It's nothing personal, and all parties know that."

That took some of the worry off my mind, but I still felt a little odd about helping to make a Trenton drug dealer's life easier, and felt like I needed to make sure we weren't doing something that was going to keep me awake at night. "So, how is it not a bad thing that he'll be back on the streets here in Trenton?"

"Normally, it would be, but in this case TPD is acting shortsighted. Once word gets out that Sorrell turned state, he'll lose any street credit or reliability he has. He'll have much bigger things on his mind than dealing here in Trenton."

I still wasn't totally convinced. "Like what?"

"Staying alive. A short stint in jail will be a choice, but not his best one. If Sorrell has a lick of sense, he'll go into witness protection, which will be option two. He's smart enough to know he won't last a month back on the streets. People in his line of work lose power quickly when word gets out they can be turned."

I was frowning. "But what's to keep him from just letting himself be prosecuted for the minor charge he's FTA on right now? I mean, he could run his little empire from behind bars for awhile, right?"

"Good catch, Babe. Proud of you. You're right. But in this case, Rangeman has secured evidence of another sort. Seems Sorrell has a bit of a spending problem. He's been dipping into company petty cash, so to speak, and if he doesn't turn, we'll make that intel public knowledge. That's something his higher ups in Philly really won't appreciate. In comparison, turning state will look like a much better alternative. At least that way, he'll have a chance."

I thought about that for a minute. "So either way, TPD is going to end up with what it wants—Sorrell off the street—no matter what? And your way, the DEA gets to take out a big East Coast drug cartel player, too?"

"Got it in one."

"Well then, why not work together?"

"Not my call, Babe. I just fill the terms of the contract. But that goes both ways. In my capacity as an adviser, I did suggest that, but I was ignored. This way, at least I know the problem is handled even if it's not exactly to my satisfaction." I obviously looked confused, which I was, because he continued. "It's nothing I haven't run into before, Babe. When the Trenton PD contracts Rangeman, we fulfill the terms of their agreement, too. I always have the option of saying no if the agency I'm working with goes too far away from what I think should be done. In this case, it's important enough that it go down the DEA's way that I'm willing to overlook some upper management stupidity. Having Rangeman involved guarantees that things will go according to plan. It's a reliable system." With that he eased into a parking spot in front of The Blue Oyster, an alternative lifestyle club that opened recently north Trenton. I was surprised. It felt like we'd hardly been in the car a minute. "So, you ok with all this, Babe?"

I thought about it for a couple of heartbeats. "Yeah, actually I am. I feel like I'm doing something good here tonight."

"You are."

"So how am I supposed to get this guy to notice me?"

Ranger chuckled. "Oh, he'll notice you." He opened his door and I followed suit. I hadn't noticed at first, but Tank, Hal, and Brett were waiting in the parking lot for us. I figured I could have a pass on the miss since their black clothing worked well as camouflage in the dim lot.

Ranger continued as we walked toward them. "Sorrell likes to dominate women, but he wants them spunky first. You go in acting like you own the place. He'll be drawn to you like a moth to a flame. As you talk to him, try to throw in some challenge. You just have to get him to leave with you. I'll be working the room as a bouncer. Ram is tending bar, and Lester is circulating inside. I'll follow you out the door, and Tank and Hal will be 15 feet outside the exit for the takedown. They'll intercept when you're about halfway to the parking lot. Brett is going to cover the back door, just in case."

We stopped in front of the men, and I was flattered to see the way Brett's eyes widened looking me up and down. Apparently, he hadn't seen me at my best yet.

"See something you like, Brett?" I teased. He flushed and stammered, flinching backward at the look Ranger shot him.

"N-no Ms. Plum. Er, I mean, yes." Ranger narrowed his eyes, Brett winced. "I mean no. Nothing." He sucked in a breath. "What I mean is, you look very nice tonight Ms. Plum," he finished lamely.

Tank burst out laughing.

"Jesus, Brett, stop acting like an idiot." This from Hal.

"Right, Hal. Keep talking. No one here is buying it. The first time you saw her in person she talked you out of your own stun gun. And she wasn't even wearing a dress," Tank said with a smirk.

Hal blushed. Tank chortled. And Brett looked somewhat vindicated. I just rolled my eyes. Then Ranger cleared his throat, and the moment of levity was over. The three men snapped to attention. It was kind of fascinating, actually. I thought I saw Brett move to salute. Guess he wasn't long out of the military.

"Brett, you and I are going in the back way. Babe, you come in alone in five minutes."

"Yes, Sir," I said, teasing him again.

"What did I tell you about being a smart ass?"

I decided I felt brave and waved my hand with a grin. "I can't remember."

"Babe. Stay with Tank and Hal until it's time to go in. Remember, Sorrell is a mean sonuvabitch, so you need to be careful with him." Without warning, Ranger yanked me to him and pressed firmly on my lower abdomen before dropping a kiss to my lips. I think I may have had a mini-orgasm.

"Wha?" I asked, dazed.

"Just turning it on."

I narrowed my eyes at him, the fog clearing. That was absolutely not appropriate in front of his men. I opened my mouth to tell him so, but he interrupted me.

"The receiver. It's a toggle switch setup wired on a shared frequency. Had to press it to turn it on. We'll all be able to hear you, so no matter where you are help will be at most seconds away." He said, shooting me a grin. I was still flustered, and he knew it. "Paybacks are a bitch, remember?"

I made like a fish and watched Ranger and Brett walk away. Trying hard not to feel the weight of two sets of eyes boring holes in my back, I willed the blush to fade from my cheeks, but it didn't seem to be working. Goodie. Five whole minutes to spend with Tank and Hal. And after that little display, I just couldn't imagine what they'd want to talk about. Right.

* * *

The Blue Oyster hadn't looked particularly large from the outside, but appearances seemed to be deceiving. Inside, it was cavernous. I'd been circulating for about 10 minutes now. I hadn't seen Ranger yet, but Lester Santos caught my eye not long after I walked in, and it was impossible to miss Ram behind the bar. He was decked out in black leather doing bottle tricks that would make Tom Cruise proud.

I was carrying a Cosmopolitan, which I'd ordered from Ram during my first pass of the bar. I figured it went with the image I was going for. He'd made it himself, and I assumed he'd gone light on the alcohol. I'm not known for my ability to hold my liquor. Actually, that's not entirely true. I am kind of known for it, in an infamous rather than famous sort of way. I was nursing the drink anyway, just in case.

And I was starting to get a little frustrated. After the details of the job finally sank in, I had started to feel like an honest to God member of the team. I was doing something important and really helping, and I was pumped enough about it that I was ready to get started. It was kind of euphoric, actually, feeling like I wasn't a complete screw up.

If I'm being entirely honest with myself, I'm not actually that good at my job. In fact, about the best you could say for me is that I'm tenacious and creative. That's not to say I don't sometimes end up with happy results, but most of the time it's because I bumbled into the solution. This time, I was a woman on a mission, and I was liking the feeling. I scanned the room again, wishing I could see Ranger. I knew he was there, and not just because he'd told me he would be. I don't know exactly what it is, but I get this buzzy vibration thing under my skin whenever that man watches me. The closer he gets, the stronger it gets. I could barely feel it now, but it was there. Distracting, yes. Comforting, definitely. Confidence inspiring, oh yeah.

I was doing my super-sexy-kitten walk, and I'd just rounded the corner of the bar, when I met the surprised eyes of Joe Morelli.

Oh shit. Damn. Fuck. And any other curse words I could think of. Why me, God? All at once I knew, just knew, that the "thing" he had tonight was a job, one that involved my target. And here I was, ready to mess it up for him. Jesus, Mary and Tastykake Makers deliver me; my boyfriend was going to kill me. I could see it in his eyes. I inadvertently backed up a step and felt myself bump into a chubby form close behind me.

I instinctively turned around to apologize and just like that, I got my second shock of the night. Sorrell. Talk about timing. Who knew I'd be grateful to the dirt bag for saving me from having to deal with Joe? Sometimes the Lord (and the purveyors of sugary, fatty goodness) works in mysterious ways.

I forced myself to slip back into my sex kitten persona, and I giggled a little up at Sorrell. From the corner of my eye, I saw Joe sink back onto his bar stool. I could feel his eyes on me, and I had to work hard to ignore them.

"Oh! I'm so sorry. I've had a little too much to drink, and I didn't notice you there." I made a show of looking him up and down, then licking my lips. "Can I make it up to you."

"Sure you can, baby girl," Sorrell gave me a greasy smile. Surprisingly, even his voice sounded a little like Tony Soprano. I wondered if he was doing it on purpose. "Why don't you let me buy you a drink?"

I tossed my hair, using the motion as a distraction to give me a second to decide on my next move. Ranger had said he liked a spunky girl he could break down.

"I don't know if it's smart to go accepting drinks from strange men," I said coyly. "How about if we dance, instead? After all, if I let you get me drunk I wouldn't be much of a challenge, now would I? And you look like a man who's up to working for it," I said suggestively, tossing back the rest of my drink.

Sorrell's eyes were a little dilated, and I thought he'd probably been sampling some of his products. He reached out and grabbed my arm roughly, and I worked hard to make my startled gasp of pain sound a little excited. I think I probably pulled it off, because he leaned his face close to mine and said, "I think you're a very good judge of character, Miss…"

I put my hand on his chest, pushing him toward the dance floor. My plan was to dance him to the door, then convince him to go outside with me. "I liked it when you called me 'Baby Girl.' Let's stick with that. What should I call you?"

He pulled me to him, grinding his crotch against me. Our heights were similar enough that his erection pressed between my legs. Ewww. "Why don't you just call me Big Daddy, Baby Girl," the way he said it made it obvious that he was telling, not asking. And I had to swallow a wave of nausea at the idea. Ok, this guy wasn't just a dirt bag. He was a pervert, too. The really icky kind. I was totally doing a service to society. And I was apparently a kick ass actress to boot, because he couldn't seem to tell how really grossed out I was by him.

I let him lead me onto the dance floor, where he proceeded to grind against me, pull my hair, and dig his fingers into enough of my various body parts that I was pretty sure I should have asked Ranger for a raise. I was definitely going to be bruised in the morning. On the bright side, we were in sight of the door when the song ended.

I affected a breathless tone of voice, attempting to look turned on. I'm telling you, I could be Academy Award material. "Wow, you sure are some dancer Big Daddy."

"Glad you could keep up with me Baby Girl."

"Oh, I think I can handle you," I purred, throwing out a mild challenge to see if he would latch on to it. Big, dumb man that he was, he lapped it up.

"You're a little cocky, aren't you Baby Girl."

"Sometimes. I'm lucky I found you tonight to help reign me in." I fluttered my fingertips across my cleavage. "Sometimes a girl like me needs a little help to stay disciplined."

It was like an electric charge went off behind his eyes. He grabbed me again, digging his nails into my shoulder blade. It took all I had not to yelp and jump back. This time, my gasp was pure pain, and I could see how much he liked it. Ok, time to get out of here. This was getting a little too deep for me. "How about we go someplace private to continue this conversation, Big Daddy?"

That's all it took. He tugged me toward the door and outside. I felt a flash of triumph right before things went to Hell.

I was fully expecting to be drug across the macadam toward the lot before Tank and Hal descended from the wings and took Sorrell down. I was not expecting Sorrell to slam me into the side of the building as soon as we stepped out the door. My head cracked against the bricks. I saw stars and felt warmth rush down my back. Things were still spinning when he slapped me hard across the face. I tasted blood and felt my eyes roll back in my head. A roar of fury penetrated the fog just before I passed out.

* * *

Nurse Agatha doesn't take any crap

St. Francis Hospital's Emergency Ward waiting room had a full house tonight, I thought as I surveyed the room from my position behind the Nurses' Station Desk.

I loved being a nurse, which was a good thing because it had been my life for almost 35 years now. If anyone asked me why I loved my job, I'd tell him or her without hesitation that it was because I got to help people. And that was the truth. From the time I was little, I could remember my Mama saying, "Agatha you may never be the prettiest girl, but you can always be the kindest." Since I looked just like Mama, I didn't take offence. What I wouldn't tell them, though, was my second reason for loving my chosen career. The people. I loved to watch people, and few jobs gave you as much exposure and interaction with such a wide variety of souls as nursing did.

As third shift director of nursing, I floated between all the hospital's departments. I just happened to be in the Emergency Room when the ambulance carrying Stephanie Plum arrived. Until then, things had been very quiet in the ER. Although I didn't know Ms. Plum personally, I would have recognized her anywhere. I read the paper religiously, you know, and that Ms. Plum did get into some adventures.

Ms. Plum was brought in on a stretcher clutching the hand of the most attractive man I'd ever seen in all my 68 years. When I caught sight of him, I actually pressed my hand to my chest, wondering if the fluttering there was the beginning of a heart attack. Mama died of a heart attack, and I always figured that's how I'd go, too. I'd never approved of the casual, ripped up look the kids wore these days, but the arms on that fellow certainly had me rethinking it. Then I caught sight of the look on his face, and sympathy immediately replaced my stupor.

That was one upset young man.

They were rolling the gurney into triage, and I stepped up to its side. The man was bent over the stretcher now, obviously whispering something to its occupant. I noticed right off that Ms. Plum was awake, but barely so, fading in and out. Even with one side of her face swollen and blood matting her hair, I was surprised at how much more attractive Ms. Plum was than her pictures in the paper led you to believe. Hmph. Trust the paper to make an obviously beautiful woman look plain. I had her picture in the paper once, for my 30-year anniversary at St. Francis, and I'd been so embarrassed about the way it turned out I bought every copy at the newsstand near my apartment, hoping my neighbors wouldn't see it.

I finished listening to the ambulance driver's run down of the situation and was about to tell him to wheel Ms. Plum into a treatment room since we were still in the Emergency Room's open triage area, right next to the main entrance. Ms. Plum was starting to look a little more aware, I noticed, and it would probably be a good idea to get her situated and out of the path.

"Young man, I'll need to ask you some questions," I said crisply.

The man in black straightened up and opened his mouth to reply when all Hell broke loose. The ER entrance doors slammed open and a flood of people rushed into the building. In front was another handsome man, this one was obviously Italian. He was wearing jeans and a green button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I recognized him as a police officer who visited the hospital regularly but couldn't remember his name. Detective something. Oh bother. I hate forgetting names. Makes a body feel like she's getting old.

Behind him were a middle-aged couple, dressed in their pajamas, and a woman about my age. Three more huge men, each of them wearing black, too, made up the end of the parade. The man's attention shifted to the door half a second before Ms. Plum caught sight of the influx. She tried to sit up, but obvious dizziness over came her when her head was no more than six inches from the stretcher. She gasped, and the man in black turned immediately back to her, smoothing the hair across her forehead.

"Lay still, Babe," he said softly. "You've got a little bump, and it's making you loopy. No fast movements."

The ghost of a smile played across my face when he said "little bump," and I decided all at once that I liked him. Handsom and caring. I hope Ms. Plum knew what a lucky girl she was. Before I had time to think much about that, the commotion caught my attention again and had me frowning.

"Oh my God!" The middle-aged woman screeched. "What in the world happened? Stephanie, what's going on? And look how you're dressed…" Personally, I thought Ms. Plum's clothing was the least of anyone's worries right now. Call it my professional opinion.

"That's a pip of a dress," the old woman interrupted. "To bad about all the blood. Course, it's red, too, so maybe Marty at the dry cleaner can get the stains out."

"Mom—" Ms. Plum started to say, but Detective Whats-His-Name cut her off, obviously deciding to answer the screecher, who I assumed was Ms. Plum's mother.

"She got in over her head again, that's what happened!" he said angrily. Two of the black clad muscle men didn't take to well to that and started to argue with him. I felt myself starting to frown. This was getting ridiculous. Ms. Plum's eyes flew open, and she was obviously searching for something to say. The man behind her was tense, but he was still concentrating on Ms. Plum. I noted with approval. Good thing someone was. Enough was enough. Stress was not what Ms. Plum needed right now, and I refused to tolerate chaos in my hospital.

"All of you hush," I announced in a tone that had been known to send fear through the hearts of surgical residents. "Time enough for talking later. This bickering isn't doing my patient a bit of good," I said firmly, then turned to the gurney and its occupant and let my voice soften. "Let's get you into a room, Ms. Plum." I didn't miss the grateful looks shot my way by either Ms. Plum herself or the man in black. A good firm hand was obviously needed in this situation, and I was just the woman for the job. I motioned an orderly over. "Jimmy, lets get Ms. Plum settled in Room C."

Jimmy, who lived in fear of me much like all of the orderlies, nodded and started to push the gurney away. I saw Ms. Plum's hand tighten convulsively on the man in black. His jaw set and he opened his mouth. Gently heading off the obvious mutiny in the works, I laid a hand on their joined ones and reassured them both. "I'm just going to get Ms. Plum settled, then she'll be able to have one guest at a time back with her." I turned to Ms. Plum and said softly, "Your young man can come back then, Dear."

I was gratified to see Ms. Plum relax and nod very slightly. It took the man in black a moment longer, but he acquiesced, as well. "You can wait in the lobby with the others. I'll just be a few minutes. I might send a nurse named Erica out to ask you a few questions and take care of some paperwork while you wait."

The man in black nodded.

I motioned to Jimmy to get pushing, and with a whoosh the three of us disappeared behind the Emergency Room's swinging doors.

* * *

Ranger controls his temper

When Sorrell swung her into the club wall, I saw red. Literally. A haze of fury clamped down over my eyes, not exactly a common occurrence for a man who was supposed to have some sort of legendary control, but Stephanie Plum has always managed to burn through years of government training and bring out the raw emotion in my brain. I don't clearly remember what I did next. I know I got to Sorrell about half a second after he slapped her, and I know Tank managed to pull me off before I killed him. I probably wouldn't have let him, but he was talking urgently about Stephanie while he tried to hold my arms, and that penetrated my conscious. Shaking the big man off, I turned to where she was lying on the ground. Ram was already kneeling beside her, assessing the situation. He was on his cell phone, obviously calling an ambulance. I dropped to the macadam, and Ram stood up and walked to Tank. He finished his conversation and snapped the phone shut.

"Babe," I said roughly, and picked her up off the ground to hold her in my arms, leaning against the side of the building.

"How is she?" Tank steph close and asked. Sorrell was unconscious. Hal had him slung over one shoulder, heading toward the truck.

"She's probably has a concussion." I ran the tips of my fingers over her cheek, and narrowed my eyes at Hal's back. "You shouldn't have stopped me."

Before Tank could answer, the door to the club slammed open, and Morelli stormed out into the night flanked by several other vice cops. Across the lot, I could see the door slide open on the blue surveillance van. Its occupants were clearly looking around for Sorrell. Too late, Morelli, I thought to myself as I watched the lights in Hal's truck come on. Brett had hauled himself up in the passenger seat beside Hal, and they were motoring off to the where three DEA agents were waiting to take custody of the perp. They were gone before the TPD on sight even realized what was happening.

"What the Fuck is going on?" Morelli demanded, his eyes landing on Tank. He still hadn't seen Stephanie and I sitting beside the door.

"Day late and a dollar short, Morelli," Tank answered softly. "Sorrell is on his way to the DEA as we speak."

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! Do you overpaid thugs have any idea what you're messing with?" He was yelling, and the other squad members around him were backing him up. Tank took a threatening step forward, Ram at his shoulder, Lester appearing llike magic at his other side. Normally, I would have let it play out, but I heard Steph moan softly. She was still unconscious. The noise was obviously bothering her, and that was unacceptable.

"Quiet, all of you." I said from the ground in a soft voice that brokered no argument. I knew the tone I was using. It was one that people didn't ignore. I could hear sirens in the background.

My men snapped to attention and fell silent as ordered. The cops quieted, too, then looked around and noticed us for the first time. A murmmer went through the group, followed by Morelli shoving his way back and dropping down at Steph's side. "Of course. This is just what I needed tonight," he shot me a tight look. "How is she?"

Well that's typical, I thought. As usual, Morelli's first concern was how the situation affected him. I would have liked to ignore him, but even though I didn't always like it, he had a right to ask. I kept my reply succinct. "I think she has a concussion, definitely a gash at the back of her head. Ambulance is on its way."

He sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. "Of course she does. I'm not even surprised." He paused and said, "I'll take it from here."

Under normal circumstance I probably would have faded into the background and let Morelli fall into the role of bealegured boyfriend, but tonight for some reason I just wasn't in the mood. "No."

Morelli was surprised into silence for a second, then he errupted, "Damnit, Manoso, get your hands off of her!"

I gave him my full attention for the first time. I didn't say anything, just looked at him levelly. His met mine, and our gazes locked in a silent battle. He and I work together out of necessity, and most of the time there's a healthy level of respect between us. But there are still territory issues. Even if you're dealing with two Alpha Dogs, one of them has to dominate in the end. And that one was me. Morelli looked away first and sat back on his heels. The sirens were close now.

"I'm calling her parents," he said, fury clear in his voice. He was probably as angry at having backed down in front of his men as he was about me keeping Steph in my arms. "I don't want them hearing about this from someone else. The Burg grapevine doesn't always worry about things like clocks and decent hours."

I nodded dismissively and turned back to Steph. Morelli didn't actually need to do that. Ram would have made sure to tell the dispatcher to keep the identity of the injured party confidential, but if it would get him out of my way it was fine. Her face was already swelling, and I could still feel blood leaking from the back of her head onto my chest and arm. Morelli stepped away. Good. I felt a change in Steph where she lay in my arms. Her muscles were tensing.

"It's ok, Babe. I've got you." I said softly to her.

Her eyes cracked open, and I was relieved to see her even slightly awake.

"R-Ranger?"

"Shh…be still. We're going to the hospital."

She started to struggle. Stephanie hated hospitals. "Noooo…"

"Calm down, Babe," I smoothed back the hair on her forehead. "You just need a Band-Aid." I bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, and she settled in my arms.

"D-did we get him?" She asked shakily.

That made me smile against her skin. "Never a doubt, Babe. You always get your man."

I felt her relax fully, and realize she was going to slip into unconsciousness again. "Good," she said on a breath, almost too softly for me to hear. I thought she was out, then, "Ranger, don't leave me."

"I won't, Babe."

* * *

Morelli plays it close to the vest

"Hello." The voice was rough, obviously having been asleep. I glanced at my watch. No wonder, it was after midnight.

"Mr. Plum, this is Joe Morelli." I could almost feel him snap to attention and spoke quickly. "It's Stephanie. She's going to be fine, but there's been an accident."

Equal parts relief and worry were almost palpable through the phone lines. "What happened?" Mr. Plum asked, no longer sounding the least bit sleepy.

"She was…" I trailed off. I still wasn't actually sure exactly what she'd been doing at The Blue Oyster. She'd been with Ranger, though, so probably she was working. At least, pretending to work. I clamped down my irritation. Now was not the time. "…on a job, and there was an incident. She's a little bruised and might have a concussion, but we're taking her to the hospital just to make sure everything's alright."

I could hear Ellen Plum in the background, and knew that she was awake, too. I half listened as Frank relayed my words to her and continued when I heard him finish. "We're taking her to St. Francis. I wanted to tell you myself so some idiot listening to their police scanner didn't call and wake you up without knowing any details."

Frank passed that on, too, and I heard a clatter and then Ellen's voice. She'd obviously snatched the phone. "Joe, this is Stephanie's mother." Like I didn't know who it was. "We're on our way to the hospital right now. We'll meet you there."

"That's really not necess—"

"Don't you tell me what's necessary! My baby is hurt, and I'm going. We'll see you there."

Most of the time I considered Ellen Plum a staunch ally, her opinion of Stephanie's job matched mine exactly. One thing she did have in common with her daughter, though, was the fact that once she made up her mind, there really wasn't much use arguing with her. "Ok, Mrs. Plum." I said, resigned, and clicked my phone shut just as the ambulance pulled into the parking lot. Strangely, there were no black and whites following it. That was odd because usually half the force showed up when a call went out about Stephanie Plum.

The paramedics jumped out and opened the back door of the ambulance. I followed them with my eyes. They popped the gurney out and up and jogged toward where the obvious action was. Everyone moved back out of their way, and I caught sight of Steph—still in Manoso's arms, of course—for just a second. Seeing them together never failed to piss me off. Before Steph came along, I'd had a working relationship with Ranger, and I still do. She had changed the dynamic between us, though.

Pre-Steph, I had been better able to deal with the fact that pretty much everyone on the TPD was acted subordinate to him. Ranger had government connections I couldn't even imagine. I had no idea why he'd picked Trenton as a base of operations, but after he got involved with Steph, I'd tried to talk to Joe Juniak about him. I wanted to feel things out. Going to someone else wasn't my first choice, but all I hit were walls when I searched the traditional ways.

Juniak had leaned back in his chair and given me an assessing look. I'd never forget the conversation.

"Joe, I'm going to tell you this because I trust you, and I think I know why you're asking. But it doesn't go any further than this room, and when we're done, I don't want to hear you bring it up again."

He waited, and I nodded my assent.

"Two days before Ranger came to Trenton, we got a call from the Secretary of Defense. Not an assistant, not someone in his office. The man himself. We were told that Manoso would be setting up shop here, and that we should cooperate with him fully. It was made very clear that it wasn't a suggestion. That was the formal part of the call. Before we hung up, though, the secretary added something personal that I've come to agree with. He said that we were 'Damn lucky,' that Ranger had picked Trenton. Stephanie is lucky to have Ranger looking out for her."

I left Juniak's office then, and held up my end of the bargain. I didn't try to probe into Ranger's background again. But I still wasn't happy with whatever was going on between he and Steph. I respected him, but didn't trust him. It was ridiculous, the way he encouraged her with the bounty hunter nonsense, and it infuriated and confused me that he couldn't—or wouldn't—keep his hands off her. She was mine. I knew Steph didn't cheat, but that knowledge didn't make watching him circle her any easier.

Ranger was standing up, putting her gently on the gurney. I gave a jerky shake of my head and jogged toward them. I was going to the hospital with her. That was that. She was my girlfriend, damnit. I skidded to a stop beside them and caught the tail end of his explanation to the paramedics. They were running through the motions, but obviously listening to him summarize, as were the various cops and Rangemen milling about.

"…she came to briefly and has been drifting in and out since then."

"And the man who did this?" One of the paramedics asked.

"He's on his way to the police station."

That reminded me that I was still furious about my case, but I pushed it aside and watched while they finished securing Steph. Ranger hadn't left her side, and had a hand on her shoulder. That wasn't doing anything to help the state of my temper.

"Alright. Let's get her loaded." Paramedic two said.

"I'm riding along," I said firmly. Ranger just raised an eyebrow. The paramedics looked back and forth between us. Obviously they could feel the tension in the air, too.

"Only room for one to ride along…" Paramedic one said, reluctantly.

Just then, my cell phone rang. I glanced down at it—the station, crap—I looked away and opened it. I didn't think this would be good, but I had to take it anyway. I figured that just about now the DEA was taking control of our little drug lord. I had an idea that things were going to work out in the end. They usually did when Rangeman was involved, but the chief was being stubborn about this one. I understood why—he was contemplating a mayoral campaign, and he wanted to make sure he could crow about getting Sorrell off the streets. In spite of the fact that I understood, it was still my case, and it irked me that Ranger had gotten the drop on me. It more than irked me that Steph had helped him do it. I refused to think about the fact that she probably hadn't known it was my assignment she was walking into.

Me answering the phone seemed to decide the situation, and I clenched my jaw as I watched Ranger climb into the ambulance beside Steph. Bastard. I jogged toward my SUV, half listening to the chief, as the ambulance pulled out of the lot. I might not be riding with her, but I'd be hot on her heels.

* * *

I disconnected with the chief about halfway to the hospital, thank God. I didn't know how much longer I could take listening to him yell. He knew the capture and subsequent loss of Sorrell to the DEA guys wasn't anyone's fault, but he wanted someone to bitch at. And when your boss wants to bitch, it's not a good idea to cut him off, no matter how much you want to. I was worried about Steph, and pissed as Hell that she'd let herself get dragged into another mess.

I loved her, but sometimes I just wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. I could deal with her being a bounty hunter if she'd stick to jobs that weren't over her head. I wouldn't like it, but I'd live with it. Hauling in petty skips like Dougie, Mooner, and women from the Burg might occasionally get her embarrassed, but at least it wouldn't get her hurt. And for the most part it would keep her out of my hair, professionally speaking. One of these days her compulsion to play at keeping up with the big boys was going to land me in trouble, too. Hurricane Stephanie often caused collateral damage.

I was about half way to the hospital when I noticed that a black Explorer was on my tail. Looks like Ranger's goons were going with us. Most of his people were ex-military, but not all of them. He had a wide variety of "experts" on his payroll. I knew for a fact that one of his men—Woody—had been LAPD. A few months after Ranger came to town, he'd sent Woody to talk to me. I knew he was putting out feelers to see if I was interested in a job. I wasn't, then and would be even less so now.

Don't get me wrong; the money was tempting. I'm not sure what exactly Ranger does, but I don't think it's always 100 percent legal, and I have too much respect for the law to get behind that. Sometimes it still really gets to me, the way the Abruzzi situation went down. I know it had to happen like that, but the fact that I knew a man—even a bad man—had been murdered, and I hadn't done anything about it ate at me.

Statistically speaking, most cops will never actually fire their side arms at someone. A ridiculously low percentage of us will ever kill. Police work in the real world bears no resemblance to Lethal Weapon or Die Hard. I had used my gun in the line of duty. I had killed. By Burg standards, I was a dangerous guy.

But Ranger was a different breed of dangerous. The fact that the woman I loved considered a man like him a friend scared the Hell out of me. The fact that she refused to see what he was capable of made the situation even worse. I don't know of a single person besides Stephanie who wasn't terrified of Ranger, but she's had this bizarre blind faith in him since they met. It was, in my opinion, one of the great mysteries of the universe.

Ironically, I pulled into the hospital parking lot almost on top of Frank Plum's Buick, the Explorer swung in behind me. I didn't stop to greet them, just nodded at Frank and headed for the entrance. I knew Stephanie was already inside because the ambulance she'd been riding in was parked under the overhang, it's doors closed but obviously empty. The Plums were behind me, the Merry Men—an incongruous nickname if I'd ever heard one, but that was Steph for you—bringing up the rear of our little parade.

I saw Stephanie immediately. She was clutching Ranger's hand like it was a fucking lifer preserver. She didn't look good, and I felt a wave of worry wash over me. I hadn't been able to see her well in the parking lot. I could now. I guess it's the Italian in me, but when something Stephanie does scares me, I react by getting angry. I can't help it. Just my body's natural defense against fear, I guess. That's why I made the smartass comment when I heard Ellen start to fret. It was inappropriate, and I was cursing myself even as the words left my mouth. But there was no calling them back.

Nurse Ratchet—that's what all the cops called her because she was so difficult to deal with when we had to question a patient or keep watch on a perp in the hospital—leveled me a black look. I could tell that the commotion was bothering Steph, so I guessed I'd earned it. Ratchet didn't take shit from anyone, even the police. She wasn't Burg but had been in Trenton long enough that she'd turned into part of the St. Francis landscape. Still, I don't actually think she'd run into Stephanie before. I usually ended up at the hospital whenever Steph did, and I didn't think I'd ever crossed paths with Ratchet in conjunction with those visits.

I watched as she soothed Stephanie and—miracle of miracles—Ranger. Looked like Steph had found herself another protector. Just like that, I watched her get wheeled through the double doors into the Emergency Ward. I was momentarily distracted when I felt Ellen clutching my arm.

"Oh Joseph, she looked just terrible. How did this happen?"

I turned to her. Frank was looking at me expectantly, too. Grandma Mazur was too busy checking out the Merry Men to pay attention to me. Thanks again, God. "I'm not sure exactly what happened, Mrs. Plum," I hedged. "Stephanie was with Ranger during the incident." Ok, I knew the implication was low, but I wanted to get her off my back.

Ellen seized on the bait immediately, whirling toward Ranger.

"Can you tell me what happened to my daughter?" Her voice was icy.

Ranger was composed and cool as always when he answered. "She was assisting with a takedown and she took a blow to the head, as well as to the side of her face."

"Assisting with a takedown! Why in the world would you let her help with someone who could do that to her?" Ellen demanded.

"Oh Ellen stuff it," interrupted Grandma Mazur. "You know as well as I do that Stephanie does what she wants. It's probably a good thing that nice bounty hunter with the good package was there so she wasn't hurt worse."

Tank shot Mrs. Mazur a look that was somewhat approving, somewhat disturbed and interrupted. Brave man, I thought, or stupid to draw Mrs. Plum's attention to himself.

"Mrs. Mazur is right, Mrs. Plum. Ranger got the skip off of Stephanie about five seconds after he touched her. No one else would have been able to neutralize the situation like that."

I could see Mrs. Plum getting herself geared up to take a bite out of Tank, who realized he was in danger just a moment too late, when Frank took her arm and said quietly but firmly, "Ellen, now isn't the time."

She harrumphed, but let herself be led to a chair. Mrs. Mazur shot me a shrewd glance. "Where were you during the whole thing, Officer Hottie?" I winced. If ever I were going to commit murder, it would be Lula for giving me that stupid nickname. I heard one of Ranger's men, I think it was Santos; snort a laugh at the comment.

Keeping a tight reign on my patience, I answered her. "The skip Ranger was picking up happened to be part of the case I'm working on; I was inside the bar when Stephanie was hurt."

"Good thing someone was outside, then." She said

I just gritted my teeth and tried to ignore her. I turned to Ranger, hating that I had to ask him. "How was Steph doing on the ride over?"

"She's still mostly out of it. I'm sure she has a mild concussion. The gash on her head is bleeding quite a lot, too. They'll probably give her something light to knock her the rest of the way out so they can stitch it up. Otherwise she's just got some bruising and swelling."

Long sentence for the man of mystery.

"Someone should probably call Lula," Tank interjected. "She didn't take too well to being left out when I got shot."

Yeah, Lula at the hospital was just what we all needed, I thought. "It's almost one in the morning," I said. "I think it can wait until tomorrow."

Tank shrugged. "Lula keeps late hours."

Guess he'd be in a position to know. Ranger nodded once at Tank, and that decided the issue. I watched the big man exit the emergency room, pulling out his cell phone as he went.

I glanced at Mrs. Plum. She was looking upset but much more calm now. Mrs. Mazur had taken a seat behind the two remaining Merry Men, and I was a little unsettled when I realized she was taking the opportunity to study their asses. Not-Santos—I didn't know his name—saw me looking behind them and turned around. He caught sight of Mrs. Mazur and looked at me, alarmed. I just smirked at them. I figure they deserved to deal with her.

I noticed Ranger hadn't said anything since he'd answered Ellen and caught sight of him glancing between his watch and the door. Nurse Ratchet had said 10 minutes, and I was willing to bet he was timing. Near as I could figure, it had been about four. Just then a younger nurse who looked familiar in an I-know-her-from-the-Burg sort of way came out, she zeroed in on our group. She was obviously trying to be professional, but she stumbled a little when she caught site of Ranger.

"I'm, uh, looking for Stephanie Plum's family."

Frank spoke up before Ellen did. "We're her parents."

The nurse shook herself a little and turned away from Ranger. Recognition lit her eyes. "Oh Hello Mr. and Mrs. Plum! I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Erica Jenkins. My older brother was in Stephanie's class."

Oh yeah, now I remembered. Skinny girl with glasses. She'd improved with age, I couldn't help but notice.

"Of course I remember you, Erica! How is your mother? I haven't spoken to her in, well, years." Even worried, Mrs. Plum's Burg manners kicked into autopilot.

"Oh she's fantastic. She joined Curves a couple of months ago and is really enjoying it. You should give her a call sometime." She seemed a little embarrassed to have gotten distracted. "I just need to get some forms signed, and I have a couple of quick questions."

Ellen stood up. "Certainly, Erica, I can sign for her."

"Well, actually I need to speak with," she flipped open the chart she was holding and looked at it briefly, "a Mr. Ricardo Manoso. He holds the medical power of attorney we have for Steph."

The room went quiet, and I could hear an echo in my ears. I wondered, briefly, if it was possible for my pulse points to spontaneously combust. Mrs. Plum was making like a fish. In another time and place, her expression might have been amusing.

"That would be me," I heard Ranger say.

"Oh good," Erica said. "We're going to give Steph a local anesthetic so we can stitch up the cut on her scalp. Since she's drifting in and out of consciousness now, we need you to sign the order to admit her after the procedure. We think she has a mild concussion, although we won't know for sure until we do some x-rays, so we don't want to send her home with the anesthesia in her system. We also need your signature for insurance purposes since you're listed as the primary policy holder on her plan."

Erica handed Ranger a clipboard, and he scrawled his name a couple of times. My hands were clenched in tight fists, and I couldn't actually remember a time I'd been angrier. Erica took the clipboard back, and as he handed it over, Ranger bent his head toward her, murmuring something I couldn't make out. At that point, though, I was really past caring. I had to focus 100 percent on keeping my temper in check.

"Let me just go make sure Steph is settled." With a swish, she was back through the door.

No one, not even Mrs. Mazur, was brave enough to break the silence as we all processed Ranger playing the role of—I gritted my teeth just thinking it—husband. Just then, Tank re-appeared.

"Lula said to call her after—" He broke off, obviously assessing the situation. "What the Hell happened?" He demanded.

Surprisingly, Mr. Plum was the one who answered him. "Nothing. Ranger just had to take care of a couple of forms for Stephanie."

"Good. They got the fax with the insurance stuff and the power of attorney?"

Ranger nodded and looked at the Plums. "Standard Rangeman policy," he explained.

I counted to 10. Then I counted to 20. Along about the time I hit 57, I started to relax. A little. Ok. He was her employer. I can deal with that. I can be calm about this. It's good that she has plans made and insurance and all that. I saw Ranger look at his watch again. I figured it was now nine minutes since Steph went back. It would be entertaining to see what happened if, at eleven minutes, he decided to storm the ER. I could probably arrest him for that, I mused. That definitely cheered me up.

Erica chose that moment to come back to the waiting room. Damn. I really would have loved to arrest Manoso right then.

"Ok. Looks like Steph is ready for a visitor," she said cheerily.

I stepped up. No way was I getting shut out of this one. Erica was Burg, and everyone in the Burg knew that Steph and I were together.

"Great, Erica. I can't wait to see her."

Erica bit her lip. "Well, uh, actually Joe only spouses or next of kin are allowed in the back. And um, Mr. Manoso is listed as Stephanie's next of kin."

Someone was going to die. Good thing the hospital had tile floor. The blood would be easy to clean up. I think Ranger actually realized I'd reached my limit, because he stepped up. It was like watching a movie. He turned on the charm, and Erica got a dazed, unfocused look in her eyes.

"Ms. Jenkins, Erica is it?" He asked smoothly, shooting her a warm smile.

"Yadsf..." I guess that was as close to "Yes" as she could come while Manoso had her hypnotized.

"I know it's unusual, but it seems pretty quiet in here tonight. If we don't stay long, maybe Officer Morelli, Mrs. Plum, and I could all go back. We'll be very brief, and we promise not to upset the patient. I'd consider it a personal favor."

Erica didn't seem like she was in any condition to speak. She nodded dumbly, her eyes glazing over. As soon as he had her assent, Ranger turned to Ellen and I, once again all business.

"Let's go," he said.

Erica turned on her heel, still not operating at 100 percent, and made her way through the doors. Mrs. Plum followed on her heels, slightly indignant at having been left out of the whole thing so far. I was behind her. Ranger brought up the rear. I couldn't help it, I had to turn around and ask.

"How the Hell did you do that?"

"Gift from God for a life well-lived."

Huh. Ranger had a sense of humor. At least, I was pretty sure he was joking.

* * *

Stephanie floats around

My head was killing me. I couldn't decide whether to keep my eyes open or closed. Whenever I closed them, everything started spinning, and I felt like I had to throw up. When I opened them, shooting pains shot straight through my retinas into my brain.

It was a dilemma.

The nurse, she told me to call her Agatha, and an orderly had managed to get everything but my underwear off me before tying me into a hospital gown and pulling a blanket over my legs. I remembered dimly asking her to make sure my dress got to the dry cleaner right away. She'd chuckled at me and assured me that she'd take care of it. Good thing. If they didn't get to work on it fast the stains would never come out, and wouldn't that be a tragedy. They'd also started an IV and poked around at the back of my scalp four three or four hours. At least, that's what it flet like.

I decided that nausea was better than agony, and squeezed my eyes shut. I was alone, and I didn't like it. I knew it was stupid. I was safe in the hospital, as much as I hated being here, but I still wanted Ranger. Nothing really bad could happen if Ranger was around. He wouldn't let it. Just then I heard footsteps coming toward me, and felt a wave of relief. He was coming back. I knew he would since he'd promised not to leave me, and Ranger never broke a promise. I cracked my eyes open slightly, and was surprised to see my mom round the corner into my alcove.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" I winced a little. I'd kept my voice whisper soft, but the noise still set bells clanging in my head.

She rushed to the side of the bed. "Sweetheart I just wanted to make sure you're ok." She reached out and patted my hand. "I was so worried when I saw you."

Oh great. Guilt. I knew she hadn't said it on purpose, but it was there all the same. Dimly, I wondered who had called my parents and wished for a minute that whoever had done it hadn't. More guilt followed on the heels of that thought. Better for them to have heard it from a reliable source before they got it second hand through the Burg network. Not knowing exactly what was going on would have been worse on them.

"Your father and Grandma are in the waiting room, too. After Joe called, we all just had to see you to make sure you were alright."

Speak of the devil. Joe rounded the corner and took up residence on my other side. His mouth was tight. Yeesh. I hoped he wasn't going to try to lecture me immediately. I knew it was coming, but I wasn't up to it right now. Maybe getting knocked in the head earned me a pass on this one?

"Hey Cupcake," he said. No smile; that was a bad sign. "You really did it this time."

"Yeah, she did. She managed to get Sorrell out and into custody without endangering a single civilian. I don't know anyone else who could have done as well." Ranger's voice was warm and soft and took me by surprise.

I opened my eyes and met his warm brown ones. The corners of his mouth were turned up slightly, and he was poised at the end of my bed.

"Thanks," I replied, my voice a little stronger.

"Proud of you, Babe."

Just like that I felt better.

Joe was frowning again, but he didn't say anything. My mother filled the void.

"They tell us you're going to have to have stitches on your head and that you have a concussion."

Agatha chose that moment to walk in. "Yes, and we're ready to get started." She pushed past Joe and inserted a needle into one of the ports on my IV. "This will only take a few minutes to work, Ms. Plum. You won't be completely unconscious, but you won't be aware, either. Don't worry, though, you won't feel a thing, and we'll have you stitched up in no time."

"Then can I go home?" I asked shakily. I really hate hospitals.

"Of course not!" My mother spoke shrilly, and I winced. "You've been injured. You have to stay in the hospital."

Agatha frowned fiercely at her—my hero—and my mother actually looked contrite. "Mrs. Plum, please lower your voice." She turned to me. "You'll need to stay overnight for observation, dear, but it's just a precaution. Your young man," she gestured to Ranger, "has already taken care of securing you a private room."

I wanted to laugh hearing someone refer to Ranger as a "young man." Mercenary, yes. Batman, yes. Young man, not so much. She turned around and set her hands on her hips. "Now, I'm not sure how all of you managed to get back here, but everyone besides Mr. Manoso is going to have to clear out."

She followed that with a shooing motion. My mother looked like she wanted to say something but didn't. She squeezed my hand and said, "I'll be right out in the waiting room in you need anything."

Joe didn't look happy, either, but he leaned in and kissed me lightly on the lips. "Me too, Cupcake. I'll see you upstairs."

And just like that, Agatha herded them out of the room, leaving me alone with Ranger.

"That was amazing," I said softly. "Agatha must be a superhero, too. She managed to vanquish my Mom and Joe at the same time."

Ranger grabbed a chair and positioned it beside my head. "She's a better man than me," he commented.

I knew he was joking, but I reached out and took his hand anyway. "No one's a better man than you, Ranger."

"Babe."

I was starting to feel sleepy. I barely registered the sound of more people coming into the alcove, but I could hear Agatha's voice.

"Mr. Manoso, we'll need you to move away so we can roll Stephanie to the side."

"Nooo…" I protested weekly. "I need Batman to hold my hand." My words were slurred.

* * *

Ranger stays put

That decided it. I wasn't leaving. If she wanted me holding her hand, that's where I was going to be. I watched the nurse—Agatha, apparently—assess the situation. Even though a man, obviously an ER doctor, was with her, she was clearly the one in charge, and she could tell that I wasn't going anywhere.

"Alright, Mr. Manoso, but you'll have to help us turn her."

The ER doctor started to protest, but one look from me silenced him. He looked about 17 years old. Good thing the nurse was on my side. I had a feeling she wouldn't be quite so easy to intimidate.

Following Agatha's instructions, I turned Steph on her side with the help on an orderly, holding her almost on her stomach. Agatha leaned in and flipped Steph's hair back. The gash was long, and deeper than I'd realized. Luckily it was at the base of her hairline. Working quickly and efficiently, Agatha shaved a small area at the bottom of Steph's hair.

With her riot of curls, you wouldn't be able to tell anything was missing unless she wore her hair in a ponytail. Good thing; Steph would not have been a happy camper if she woke up to a hair nightmare. Iodine was quickly applied, and the doctor got to work. In spite of his obvious youth, he did a good job stitching her up. As a person who's had more than his fair share of sutures, I was able to appreciate the skill.

"Ok," the doctor said when he finished. "I think that's got it. Let's get her up to a room. Can you take it from here, Nurse Johnson?"

"Of course," she said smoothly. The doctor walked out, and she turned to me. "I'm going to have an orderly take Ms. Plum up the back elevator and get her settled. If you want to go with them that will be just fine. I'll finish up with her chart, and then tell the rest of her family they can go up. That should give you time to get situated."

A smile spread slowly over my face. "I think I like you, Nurse Johnson."

"Please, call me Agatha. Now get a move on, Mr. Manoso."

* * *

I had arranged with Erica for Stephanie to have the "presidential" suite. Every hospital had one—a private room in an out of the way area with slightly more luxurious appointments. They were usually used for guests the hospital considered VIPs. In this case, I'd gotten it because it was easier to secure.

Steph was still unconscious, and Agatha told me that she would probably stay that way the rest of the night. She'd need to be woken up every couple of hours because of the concussion, but that the drugs would keep her essentially out of it until morning.

While she was getting stitched up, Steph's gown had fallen to the side, and I'd seen the finger-shaped bruises sprinkled liberally across her creamy skin. My guilt at having gotten her involved with Sorrell ratcheted up a notch, even though I knew it had been important to have her in on the take down. It had needed to go down tonight to give the DEA time to act on the info they knew Sorrell had, and it would have ended ugly if we'd had to engage his posse while we secured him. With Steph's encouragement, he'd walked away from his own bodyguards.

It was dark and quiet in the room, and I was tired as I settled into a chair beside Stephanie, my back to the wall. I ran a hand softly down the side of her face.

"You're going to be the death of me, Babe." It never failed to amaze me, how much one little girl from the Burg could affect me. In my life, I've seen and done some terrible things, but when I'm touching Stephanie, it doesn't seem quite as important. I heard some commotion in the hallway and knew we were about to have company. Reluctantly, I moved my hand from her face and linked my fingers with hers. I was staying put.

Joe came in first and took in the sight of our hands. His frown, already black, got a little darker, but he didn't say anything. Mr. and Mrs. Plum followed, with Mrs. Mazur right behind them. I was surprised that my men weren't there, too. But I quickly understood.

"Boy oh boy, it's just not right how upset everyone gets over a little accident."

"Mother," Mrs. Mazur hissed, looking behind her. "You hit that poor man right in the privates!" I grimaced.

"Well, it wasn't my fault. There was a fly. Besides, I wanted to see if there was any padding down there. Can't hardly imagine they make 'em that big naturally."

Absently, I wondered just which one of my men deserved hazard pay.

"Best I can tell he sure does live up to that name, though. I'll say Ram. Damn shame they were all too cowardly to get on the elevator with us after that. It'll take them a lot longer, walking up six flights of stairs."

Mrs. Plum hadn't acknowledged me yet, and I was a little surprised when Mr. Plum spoke to me first. "Looks like she came through alright." You could see the edges of a large bandage wrapped around the sides of her neck.

"She did," I answered. "They said she'll be unconscious until morning."

Mrs. Plum stepped up to her side, "Well, I don't suppose there's anything else we can do, although I hate to leave her alone…" It was obvious that the entire Plum clan were wearing down.

"I'm staying," I said. I glanced at Joe, and he stepped forward.

"I'm not leaving, either," he declared firmly. I wished he wouldn't, but as long as he didn't make trouble, I wouldn't do anything about it. I was used to watching Steph sleep—it was luxury I let myself indulge in on a regular basis. I didn't really want to share the pastime with Morelli.

Mr. Plum came forward and kissed his daughter on the head. "Alright, then, I think it's time we head home."

Mrs. Mazur was yawning. "Yup, looks like she's in good hands."

They started to head out, when Mr. Plum turned around. "I don't want there to be any trouble between you boys tonight," he warned.

Sometimes I think there's more to Frank Plum than meets the eye. He couldn't have done anything about it if we had decided to face off, but I could tell he was serious about the warning nonetheless. I don't have much of a relationship with Julie, but I'm a father, too, so I could appreciate where he was coming from.

I met his eyes and gave him a serious nod. That seemed to satisfy him. He herded his charges out the door, and moments later Tank poked his head in.

"Boss, what should Ram, Lester and I do?"

I looked at Joe, still leaning against the wall.

"Why don't you guys head back to Haywood. I've got this covered."

Tank shot a glance at Morelli, and sent me a questioning look. I let him know with my eyes that the situation was under control. He nodded once, and started to turn around, but paused in the act.

"Bombshell going to be ok?" All the guys cared about her, and I knew he would want to pass the news along.

"Yeah. She'll be out of here tomorrow. A few days of taking it easy and she'll be back in the saddle."

"Good." With that, he disappeared through the door.

I turned to Morelli. He was watching me, his face expressionless. I could appreciate not only his worry, but also his anger, and the fact that he was working hard to control both emotions. I gestured to a second chair across the bed from me. "You going to stand there all night?"

* * *

Morelli takes a seat

The adrenaline had finally worn off, and I was running on empty. When Manoso motioned me toward the chair, I seriously considered staying on my feet just to piss him off, but (a) I didn't think he actually cared if I sat one way or the other and (b) I was dead tired.

Barely acknowledging him, I sank into the chair. It was actually a little more comfortable than I expected. Silence, broken only by the sounds of Steph sleeping, stretched across the room, and I felt my eyes getting heavy. The last thing I wanted was to fall asleep in front of Ranger, so I did the only thing I could think of—I talked to the bastard.

"DEA took custody of Sorrell."

Ranger nodded. "No surprise there." He met my eyes, and I knew that had been his plan all along. I was too tired to get worked up about it.

"Hope he doesn't end up back on the streets. Chief wanted this to go down differently."

"He won't." Ranger said with finality, and I knew without a doubt that he wouldn't.

"Good." He was looking at Steph, still holding her hand. "One of these days, you're going to get her in a mess you can't get her out of," I commented, keeping my voice light.

"You don't give Stephanie enough credit."

I snorted. "She's an accident waiting to happen."

He didn't take his eyes off her. "She's an amazing woman. You should recognize that."

Ok, I didn't need relationship advice from him. "I don't really think that's any of your business."

"Stephanie's happiness is my business."

A low fire of anger sparked to life in my belly, and I spoke without thinking. "Why does someone like you even care about someone like her?"

At that he finally looked up at me. "Be careful, Morelli. You don't want to insult Stephanie in front of me."

I threw my hands up. We were speaking softly, but my voice rose a little. "I'm not being insulting. I'm being baffled. You're—Hell, I don't know what you are—and Stephanie is just a girl from the Burg playing at a job she's not cut out for. It doesn't make any sense, man."

He was quiet for a long time after that. I didn't think he was going to answer me, but then he spoke.

"What do you see when you look at me?"

"Huh?"

"Answer me. What do you see?"

I thought about saying something flippant—a crazy person, maybe—but I realized he was dead serious, and I took a minute to think about the question before I answered.

"I see," I said slowly, "a man who's capable of almost anything. Physically, you're a powerful guy. That's clear, but what's on the inside is what makes people really fear you. You don't look like you have a conscience. I think that's what makes people follow you, too; that weird control you have over your emotions spills over, and controls everyone around you. I don't think you're entirely, maybe not even mostly, sane. You're a scary bastard."

The room was quiet again for a beat, and I saw the corners of his mouth turn up. "If you asked anyone in my life that question, and they answered you honestly, they would give you some version of most of that. My men, my family, even the people I consider friends. Everyone but Stephanie. People only get so close to me, and for the most part, they're right to keep the distance."

Ranger met my eyes, and I wondered, really wondered, what it would be like to be him. It had to be lonely. "Why is Stephanie different?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"I have no idea, but I thank God everyday that she is."

Wow. Talk about honesty. I'd never had a conversation like this with Ranger. We talked occasionally about cases, about Stephanie. But never more than that. He spoke with an economy of words I knew few people got past. Certainly I never had. I assumed he talked to his friends, but maybe not. It was fascinating, and I couldn't help but ask, "What does Stephanie see that everyone else misses?"

"I don't know. You'd have to ask her."

"I'd think that if you care about her, you'd want to keep her safe. Why get her into a situation like tonight?"

He thought about that for a second. "I don't always like you Morelli," he paused, and I wanted to tell him that the feeling was mutual. "As a cop, I do respect you, though. So I'm going to tell you this. If you're smart, you'll really listen to me." He waited, and I figured he wanted some form of acknowledgement.

"I'll listen, but I won't necessarily agree."

"The reason you and Stephanie will never work out is because to really accept her, you need her to change a fundamental part of herself. Four years ago, I tried to get you on my payroll, but you wouldn't do it. To accept my offer, you would have had to do the same thing—change a fundamental part of yourself. And you couldn't do that. You knew you couldn't. Stephanie has a set of skills she doesn't understand. She has the best instincts I've ever seen. Working as a bounty hunter lets her use those. Trying to keep her from them would be like telling Michelangelo he could never paint again."

I snorted. Stephanie was the worst bounty hunter I'd ever seen. She sure as Hell wasn't Michelangelo. And I didn't like him telling me that she and I wouldn't work, either.

"You're a smart guy, Manoso, but you don't know everything. I've been in Stephanie's life since she was a little girl. Right now, she's just sowing some oats. What she wants, what she needs, is the kind of life I can give her—as stable family, children, all the things she grew up wishing for. If you'd stay away from her, she'd realize that. Then we wouldn't find ourselves sitting in a stupid hospital room all night long."

Ranger sighed. "A family and her job are not mutually exclusive, Morelli."

"If you know so much about it, why aren't you with her?"

"I'm not with her because I care about her too much to put her in a dangerous situation if I can't control it."

My heart lurched a little, hearing him say that, but I tamped it down. I was born in the Burg, too. I can do denial if I need to. I was done talking to him, anyway. I let my thoughts drift, and pretty soon I realized I was losing the battle with sleep. Ranger must have seen it, too.

"Catch some shut eye, Morelli. I'll wake you up if anything happens."

I guess that was good enough for me, because it was the last thing I heard before I went out.

* * *

Ranger keeps watch

I listened to Morelli's breathing change and knew he was asleep. Flicking a glance to my watch, I saw that I had about 45 minutes until the nursing staff came to rouse Steph. They'd told me they were going to wake her up at three, five, and seven. No surprise. Two-hour intervals of sleep are common with a concussion. I would wake Joe about five minutes before they came in; didn't want the visitors to startle him.

I don't know why I decided to talk to Joe Morelli. I don't talk about Steph with my friends, and I certainly don't consider Morelli a friend. But it had felt right. A man like him would never understand what Stephanie Plum meant to me, but he did understand, at least to some extent, what it was like to be in love with her.

More than that, though, I think I did it out of a sense of loyalty to her. I knew Morelli wouldn't take my advice. He was a good man, but he was too Burg to understand the fundamental differences in Stephanie. But if I could help give him a chance, I owed it to Stephanie to do it. I was glad he wasn't going to listen. If he did, Steph might actually be able to commit to him, and then I would lose her. Once she made a commitment, the flirting she did with me would stop. Steph didn't have it in her to cheat. Oh, she'd still be my friend, but the possibility of more would cease to exist. Selfishly, I wasn't ready to give that up, no matter how impossible I knew it to be.

The hospital room was dim, and in the ambient light her pale skin was luminous. I hadn't really taken my eyes off of her since we came in the room. Again, no surprise. Whenever I'm with her, I'm always looking at Stephanie. It's a compulsion. In the beginning I tried to fight it, but at this point I'm pretty much resigned to the fact that it isn't going to change. When Steph is awake, she constantly in motion. Her expressions, movements, fascinate me. They amuse me. They delight me. But my favorite time to watch her is when she's sleeping.

When Stephanie is asleep, she calms me. Even when I was a little boy, my grandmother used to say I had a restless heart. I don't know if that's true, but I do know that I often feel like the different facets of myself are at war with one another. Sometimes I think it's going to tear me apart. Stephanie brings everything into harmony. It's the only time I feel whole, and when she's sleeping, I can allow myself to relax enough to just enjoy the soothing balm of her presence.

I gently disengaged my hand from hers, and trailed my fingers across the delicate skin of her wrist. She stirred a little, protesting the loss. Probably the worst I ever felt was when I came home on leave after the first mission I'd run for Delta Force. I'd always been a little different, but that time even my family knew that something had changed. I realized they were afraid of me. I'd signed the divorce papers before I went back to Bragg, two weeks early. I rarely interacted with my family, now, even though I'd picked Trenton in part so I could be near them. On one hand, I think that probably hurt them a little, but on the other hand I was pretty sure it was something of a relief. They tried to hide it, but they were wary of me.

That just made the fact that, even in sleep Stephanie turns to me, trusts me, more amazing. It makes me believe that my soul might just be worth saving. It's a heady feeling.

I cut my eyes to Morelli again. I knew how hard he'd been working to hold his temper in check tonight. He was in the wrong, but I could still sympathize with the frustration. Even though Steph was technically his, she is mine, my woman. It couldn't have been easy to have to watch evidence of that when you spent so much of your time working hard to deny it. His pride had taken a beating tonight, and I knew he was going to take it out on Steph. Morelli would never hurt her physically—not only because he knew in the back of his mind that I would kill him if he did, but also because he had worked too hard to overcome the "curse" of the Morelli men. I instinctively assess people almost the moment I meet them. Joe's weakness was his fear that he would end up like his father. If I were ever going to break Morelli, that's where I would apply the pressure.

Damage wasn't always physical, though. He could do a lot to hurt Stephanie mentally, and I knew that was a tactic he used with her all too often. That was probably the hardest thing for me to watch about their relationship, even worse than knowing that they were sleeping together. The only thing I could do was wait in the wings, being silently supportive of Steph. I respected her too much to interfere anymore than that. I hoped he managed to keep it together until she was strong enough to fight back. She gave as good as she got most of the time; their fights were legend in the Burg. That made me smile.

I was still absently tracing patterns on her wrist, and I ran my free hand roughly over my jaw. "Enough with the introspection, Carlos." I told myself quietly. I had been lost in thought, but my internal clock had still been counting off the minutes. I needed to wake Morelli up. His head was tipped back in the chair, and he was sleeping, but not deeply. He jerked awake the second time I said his name.

"Wha—"

"Got about five minutes before they come in to check on her. Figured you wouldn't want to miss it."

He shook off the vestiges of sleep and shoved his hand through his hair. "Thanks."

I didn't answer. I was done talking to Morelli.

* * *

Stephanie checks out

"Ms. Plum, Ms. Plum. We need you to open your eyes." The voice was unfamiliar.

Huh uh. Not going to happen. From the glow behind my eyelids I could tell it was morning, but no way was I ready to get up yet.

"Five more minutes," I heard someone, I guess it was me, whine.

"Cupcake, you can't have breakfast until you wake up." Hmm…Joe, sounding amused. Great. I still wasn't interested in waking up, so I decided to ignore him.

I heard a bag crinkle beside my head and caught a whiff of Heaven just before the strange voice started protesting.

"How in the world did you get that in here? McDonald's isn't really appropriate right now."

For an Egg McMuffin, I could maybe open my eyes. I sniffed again. Breakfast fries. Ok, eyes. Let's see if this is going to work. I decided to start with a trial run, cracking them into slits. The light was blinding, and I was disoriented for a minute, squeezing them shut again.

"Come on, Cupcake. You don't want it to get cold." I heard a slurp. "And your Coke is going to get watered down."

The sound of Joe taking a drink motivated me, and I opened my eyes again. It wasn't quite as bad this time. "Hey! I'm not interested in sharing." I blinked owlishly. He looked like the Wild Man of Borneo.

His face creased into a smile, and he laughed at me. "I knew that would get you. Come on, they need to check your pupils real quickly, then you can eat."

Unfamiliar-voice, a nurse apparently, leaned over me and shined a light in my eyes. She made me lean forward and pulled back my bandage, poking at my stitches. That felt great. I was at the end of my patience when she stepped back and announced that everything looked good, and she'd start gathering up my release paperwork. "Thank God," I muttered to her back.

I turned back to Joe. "Gimme," I demanded.

He smiled again and plopped the bag on a tray table and slid it over the bed to me. "Thanks. How did you get this?"

"Ranger had Tank bring it in on his way to pick him up this morning."

So Ranger was gone. I felt a flash of disappointment, but masked it quickly by concentrating on unwrapping my muffin. I took a bite and looked at Joe again.

"So you were both here all night?" That thought made my stomach feel a little squishy. Joe and Ranger in the same space was always cause for worry.

"Yup."

Succinct. Obviously, Joe didn't want to talk about it. I was fine with that. "So they're springing me?"

"Yeah. You probably shouldn't be on your own, though. I figured you could come to my house." He broke off and grinned. Even looking scruffy, he was still movie star handsome. Asshole. "Bob misses you."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't actually know if I'm up for Bob right now."

Joe's eyes darkened, "Bob can be very, very careful with the right motivation."

I felt heat curl in my stomach. Oh boy. "Well, in that case…" I shot him a smile. "Just get me some clothes and get me out of here."

He gestured to a black bag on the floor. "Tank brought you some stuff."

I finished my muffin and fries, and slurped down about half my Coke. I had to pee, badly. I pushed back the tray and pulled the blanket off my legs.

"Need some help?"

"Nah," I said with a grimace. "I'm slow but fine."

Actually, I felt like I was one big, achy bruise. But I didn't need to tell Joe that. I'm a very independent bathroom kind of girl, and he was giving off protective-Italian-male vibes. I didn't need him thinking I had to have help to get to the facilities. I gingerly put my feet on the floor. Crap it was cold. I sucked in air. That didn't exactly help the nature's call situation any. Despite my protests, Joe stood up and took me by the arm.

"Thanks," I shot him a sheepish smile, and then pushed away from him. "I think I've got it from here." I managed to straighten up. I was slow, but on my way. I reached down and grabbed the bag off the floor, the movements helping me loosen up a little. I heard Joe suck in a breath when I bent over, and remembered that I was still wearing my black lacy thong, and that the back of my hospital gown was open.

I gave him a dirty look before I disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door behind me with as much dignity as I could muster, seeing as how I knew my butt was hanging out. Joe didn't seem to notice my ire. His eyes were a little glazed.

I turned to the mirror and bit back a gasp. My hair was standing on end. My face was half death-warmed-over white, half swollen and blue, and the bandage on the back of my head made me look like I had a Quasimodo sized hump at the top of my spine. Great. Both the men in my life had seen me looking like this. There goes my sex Goddess image. I was happy to turn away from the mirror. I set the bag on the edge of the sink and, with a whimper of relief, took care of business.

I was loosening up now, but still very sore. I would have given pretty much anything I owned for a shower right then, but I figured that would have to wait until I got to Joe's house. I closed the lid on the toilet seat and moved the bag there. Unzipping it, I took a moment to appreciate muscle bound army men available for deliveries. I systematically stripped out of the hospital gown and dropped it on the floor. I wet a washcloth and did a quick wipe down.

Obviously, Tank had brought things from Ranger's apartment for me. I pulled out a pair of soft black yoga pants and a black Rangeman t-shirt. Hiding under it were black bikini briefs and a black sports bra. Every piece had Ranger's name embroidered somewhere on it, but I was happy enough to have real clothes that I wasn't going to be picky. I did, however, make a mental note not to take my clothes off in front of Joe until I'd had time to switch out. So much for Bob missing me, I thought.

On the bottom of the bag was a black leather toiletry case with shower stuff and a toothbrush in it. I used the toothbrush gratefully. Figuring that the best I could do with my hair right now was pull it back, I didn't even bother trying to get a brush through it. I wrapped an elastic band around it, and voila, one poofy ponytail.

"I wonder if…" I said to myself absently. I poked my nose back into the bag and pulled out Ranger's SEALs hat. The smile that spread across my mouth made my face ache a little, but I didn't care. I always felt like a badass in Ranger's hat.

I turned to the mirror again. Still not a pretty picture, but not quite the nightmare vision from five minutes before, either. I grabbed the bag and headed back out into the room. Joe was waiting for me, no longer looking dazed. His eyes narrowed when he saw what I was wearing, but he didn't say anything about it.

"Room for this in there?" He held up a white plastic bag with St. Francis written on it in blue.

"Sure. What's that?"

"Your stuff from last night."

I grimaced. I was pretty sure the dress was ruined. Too bad, I had really liked that one. I had really liked the way Ranger had obviously liked it, too. Oh well. In any war there were always casualties. Seems like my clothing sacrificed itself for the greater good a little more often than not, though.

I took the bag from Joe and stuffed it into the duffel. "Are we ready?"

"Got to stop by the front desk and sign some things, but otherwise we're finished." He reached out and took the bag in one hand, and my hand in the other. We walked out of the room together.

* * *

The ride back to Joe's house was eerily quiet. When we left my hospital room, he seemed to be in a pretty good mood. That had soured while I finished up with the insurance paperwork, and I wasn't sure why. No way was I going to ask, though. We pulled into his driveway, and he hopped out of the SUV. Even though he was obviously not happy, he came around to my side and opened the door, helping me out. At that point, it wasn't really necessary, but it was a nice gesture all the same. He unlocked the kitchen door and we walked inside. I was surprised not to hear Bob tearing toward us. That seemed like as safe a subject as any.

"Where's Bob?"

"I had his Grandma Morelli come let him out this morning, and she decided to take him home with her and let him play with my nephews."

"Oh." Brilliant conversationalist I was.

"So, what do you want to do now?"

The edge was still there in his voice. "Actually, I was thinking of going upstairs and taking a shower."

"That's fine. I've got a couple of calls to make. Need help getting up there?"

The fact that he didn't ask if I needed help in the shower was telling. Morelli rarely missed an opportunity to share a shower. I shook my head and grabbed the bag off the counter, my arm brushing Joe's chest. He took the opportunity to seize my wrist and pull me gently toward him. "I'm glad you're ok, Cupcake."

It was a peace offering, and I took it as such. He was still mad, but he was getting over it. "Thanks, Joe." He dropped a kiss on my head, and I pulled away and started up the stairs.

Joe's bedroom was familiar ground for me. The furniture was a little shabby, but it was comfortable. I had a lot of good memories of this room. I dropped my bag on the unmade bed, smiling at the sheets. Joe hated to change his sheets, so that job fell to me most of the time, at least when we were together. I didn't really mind. I'm not exactly a Domestic Goddess, but that was one chore I was actually good at. The bottom sheet never popped off the corners when I was the one doing the linens. Well, almost never.

I dropped the bag on the bed and kicked off my shoes. I stripped my t-shirt over my head a little gingerly, folding it beside the bag. My yoga pants followed, and I took the time to fold them, too. Normally I would just kick them to the floor, but I hadn't worn them long, so I figured I'd put them back on. It was that or wear something of Joe's because I didn't keep clothes here. I padded barefoot across the room to Joe's dresser and opened his underwear drawer. Nestled among his boxer briefs were three pairs of my panties and two bras. I grabbed a set and walked back to the bed.

I pulled out the toiletry case, still standing in my Rangeman sports bra and panties. This bra wasn't too bad—"Rangeman" embroidered on the center of the bottom band of the bra in black. The panties were another story, Instead of on the front; Ella had decided to put the "Rangeman" across the butt in hot pink. Yeesh. My hand brushed the St. Francis bag, and I decided to verify my fears about the dress. I pulled it out. The white wire box from last night fell on to the bed, and I was momentarily distracted.

The transmitter was about the thickness of two credit cards, and maybe an inch by an inch-and-a-half square. A thin wire came out from one side of it, and there was a slightly raised gray circle in the center. Absently humming to myself, I played with the circle, clicking it up and down, lost in thought.

It occurred to me that, in the bright light of day, I was still feeling pretty good about my part in last night. Sure, getting hurt hadn't been in the plan. But all things considered it wasn't too bad. I had done a good job—even Ranger said so, and Ranger didn't give empty compliments. I did feel guilty that Joe had been working on the case. I was sure Ranger had known that. He should have told me, I thought with a hint of annoyance.

But would that have stopped me from helping him? A little voice inside me asked. No, I admitted to myself. It probably wouldn't have, especially after he explained the situation. Still, I planned to have a little talk with Ranger about withholding information at the earliest possible opportunity. I'm not sure how long I'd been standing there. I'd stopped clicking the button and thrown the wire down on the bed when a furious Italian roar interrupted my thoughts.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?"

I spun around. Oh crap. I guess Joe noticed the underwear.

* * *

Tank keeps the peace

I was driving the SUV from last night with Ranger beside me and Hal and Ram in the backseat when I heard the clicking come over the speakers. At first, I couldn't figure out what it was. Click, weird hum noise. Nothing. Click, more humming. Nothing. Click…I looked at Ranger, the question obvious in my eyes. When I saw his expression, I knew.

Oh Shit. Stephanie's wire. Hal and Ram figured it out just as I did, and they fell silent.

All Rangeman vehicles can be used to monitor wires. Before the wire goes out, the feed is routed through the mainframe to the comm. room and to the communication system of the vehicle in use. The only way to turn it off was to shut off the wire or break the link on deck in the comm room.

"Who's on deck to shut this down," Ranger demanded.

I thought fast. It was 8 a.m. on a Sunday. We'd be running a skeleton crew. There were no jobs requiring a wire or tap running this morning. There would be no one on deck who could break the link. Fuck me. Maybe she'd leave it clicked off.

No such luck, though, the intermittent clicking stopped, and the four of us could hear the wire transmitting. Stephanie was humming. I sounded like the Batman theme. Normally that would have been amusing but not this time. I knew for a fact where she was. Morelli's house. And I didn't want to hear anything that was going on there. I especially didn't want Ranger hearing it.

"Boss, there's no one there right now can cut this off." I said, swallowing thickly.

"How far are we?" He demanded.

"At least 15 minutes."

"And how far from Morelli's?"

"Maybe ten."

"Go to Morelli's. Hal, call him and tell him it's on. Get him to turn it off."

I immediately swung the SUV into an illegal U-turn, the tires squealing in protest. Maybe she'll be quiet, I thought. Maybe nothing will happen. Glancing in the rearview, I saw Hal dial then shake his head. "Straight to voice mail, Boss." He said. I knew Steph didn't have her cell with her.

"Page him," he said.

No such luck on the quiet factor, either. Steph started talking to herself. "Yup, Batman. You and I are definitely going to have a little talk about withholding information."

I snuck a glance at Ranger. His face was blank, and he was starring straight ahead. Ok, this wasn't too bad so far. Then we heard it Morelli yelling. It was like listening to a train wreck. I accelerated, wishing I could shut off the feed, but fascinated, too.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?"

An unidentifiable clatter came through the speakers, and then Steph's voice sounding panicked. "What are you talking about?"

"What do you think, Cupcake?" Morelli's voice was icy. "You have about three seconds to tell me why in the name of God Ranger's name is written across your ass."

"I, uh, it's Ella."

"Ella? Who the Hell is Ella?" He was closer to the wire now, still yelling.

"Ranger's housekeeper. She does his uniforms, and she sometimes gets a little carried away. I guess when Tank got my clothes from Ranger's apartment…" Steph's voice was a panicked rush.

Wrong thing to say, Bombshell, I thought with a wince.

"You're keeping clothes at Ranger's apartment, now?" Morelli demanded.

Stephanie had obviously realized her mistake. "It's upstairs at work. There's no women's locker room, so I use it to shower and change. It's no big deal."

I heard springs, and figured she was dropping onto a bed. You couldn't have paid me enough to look at Ranger right then.

Joe's voice wasn't raised anymore. Now it was quiet and dangerous. "So let me make sure I understand, Cupcake. You have free access to your boss's apartment. You keep clothes there. His men know that and feel comfortable packing for you from there. And you don't see a problem with this?"

"Uh, no…"

"Do you remember a couple of months ago when we were dealing with the Dickie mess and we talked about a line in the sand?"

"Yes…Joe, stop. That hurts."

"This is the line, Cupcake. I can deal with you being the laughingstock of the Burg, playing at bounty hunting, but working for Ranger isn't going to fly anymore."

"I'm not a laughingstock, Joe." For the first time, Steph sounded like she was getting angry. "Let go of my arm. You know, I understand you're mad, but that's no reason to be cruel."

"I'm not being cruel. I'm being honest." He was yelling again. I didn't know if that was a good or bad thing.

"Tank, drive faster." Ranger's voice was low, deadly. It made me want to slow down. Even Ranger couldn't get away with killing a cop in his own home. I didn't think. I don't know exactly what's going on between the boss and Bombshell, but listening to Morelli talk to her like that was enough to turn my stomach.

"That's not true! I'm getting better. Last night I did a good job!"

"Last night was just the most recent in a series of near misses that could fuck up my career and get you hurt. Last night was nothing."

"You're wrong, Joe. I helped. I was part of the team." She sounded defiant, but there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice that made me want to hit Morelli.

"Wake up, Cupcake. If Manoso wanted Sorrell down, he was going down with or without you. If anything, it was probably a pity job on his part because he knew you needed the money."

Ok. I could see why Morelli would be upset after the hospital thing and now with the underwear and the apartment stuff. But that was low and out of line. And entirely incorrect. Bombshell had been integral, and we all knew it. I pressed harder on the gas, felling anger ignite.

"No. Ranger wouldn't do that. Ranger trusts me to do my job." Steph protested.

Joe latched on to the doubt in her tone and snorted derisively. "Ranger wants to fuck you. Period. And you know it."

There were tears in Steph's voice. "Stop it, Joe."

"You're not really that naïve, are you Cupcake?" Morelli's voice changed, turned cajoling. "Look, it's time for you to grow up. I'm only telling you this because I love you, Steph. I want to marry you, have children with you. You need to end this thing with him. Keep the bounty hunter job if you need to, but you've got to cut Manoso out. He's coming between us, and you know it. You don't know what he's capable of; that man could seriously hurt you and not think twice about it. He's not right, Steph. This whole thing you have going with him isn't right."

There was a beat of silence before she answered. "No, Joe." Her voice was flat, uncompromising. "Ranger is my friend, maybe my best friend. I trust him implicitly, and I won't give him up. There's a lot of uncertainty in my life, but Ranger is an absolute. Nothing you or anyone else says will change that, ever."

Way to go, Bombshell, I thought. It was a little humbling, too. Ranger was my best friend, my brother. We trusted each other with our lives. But in the back of my mind, I still wonder exactly what he's capable of when backed into a corner. It sounded like Stephanie Plu--didn't.

"You're choosing him over me?" Back to the yelling. We were getting close now, thank God.

"No, Joe! What I'm telling you is that I won't choose like this. If he told me to walk away from you, I wouldn't do that either. The difference between the two of you is that he would never tell me to do that. I love you, Joe, but you don't get to decide who my friends are. It's my life, and believe it or not, I like it!"

I could see the house now, tension was radiating off Ranger in waves. I don't know if I've ever seen him this furious. I needed to get him calmed down. I met Ram's eyes in the rearview, and I knew he was thinking the same thing: No way was Ranger going in the house alone.

"Boss, you need to get it together. She's holding her own."

"Don't."

"Carlos, man…"

"Shut up, Tank. I'm not going to do anything stupid."

That was a relief. Just wish I believed him. I was angry myself. Bombshell is good people. She's good to all of us, and good to Ranger. Knowing how Morelli can treat her and actually hearing it were two different things.

"How can you like your life? You're the biggest screw up I've ever seen, Steph. You spend half your time rolling around in garbage, and the other half sitting on a curb waiting for someone to come along and clean up the mess you made. How can you be so selfish? Your family is terrified for you. Your friends think you're insane. You're 30 years old and can't even commit to a grown up relationship with me."

"It's not my fault, Joe," Steph was sounding beaten, and it broke my heart. The tears were clear in her voice. Normally, she would have been out of there by now, or at least holding her own. But she'd had a rough night, and she obviously wasn't up to a fight like this yet.

I pulled up in front of the house, finally.

"It's always your fault, Cupcake."

That was the last thing we heard before I cut the ignition, and all four of us jumped out of the car.

* * *

I don't know for sure how I managed to get in front of Ranger. It had to have been a miracle. We hit the front steps and didn't pause for the door. I took it off the hinges going through it, my only thought that I needed to make sure I was between him and Morelli. Ram and Hal were behind us, but only just. We took the stairs three at a time.

The commotion we made coming in had obviously stopped the fight. Morelli and Bombshell were both starring at the door when we came through it, mouths open in surprise. Morelli still looked pissed off, and there were tears on Stephanie's cheeks. She was sitting on the bed in a bra and panties. She obviously had other things on her mind, though, because she didn't try to cover up. Ram and Hal each had one of Ranger's arms.

I charged forward toward the bed, not even looking at Joe.

"What are you goons doing in my house?" Everyone ignored him, and I wondered for a second if his head would explode. I kind of hoped it would, at least then I wouldn't have to worry about Ranger killing him.

Steph was looking around wildly, "What's going on?" She caught sight of Ranger and stood up, taking a step toward him. Joe intercepted her, grabbing her arm and pulling her roughly behind him. She yelped in obvious pain.

"In case you care, Cupcake, you're practically fucking naked," Joe snapped.

In one move, Ranger twisted away from Hal and Ram, landing them both on their knees. "Get your hands off of her Morelli. If you touch her again, I promise that's the last thing you'll ever do." His voice was cold as ice.

"You can't threaten me, Manoso. I'm a cop."

"And I'm something else. But that doesn't matter. Take. Your. Hands. Off. Of. Her. Now."

Stephanie wrenched away from Joe stepped between them. In her underwear and SEALs hat, she looked like some sort of Amazon. "That's enough. Both of you." And she sounded like she meant it.

I silently applauded her. Good for you, Bombshell. Got your backbone back.

"Tank, since you seem to be the only sane person left here," she shot an apologetic look at Ram and Hal, who were still on the floor. "Would you mind telling me what's going on?"

"Your wire from last night, Bombshell. You turned it on. It feeds to the truck, and there was no way for us to disconnect it." I picked up the white transmitter, held it up, and clicked it again, turning it off.

The color drained out of Steph's face. "Y-you all four heard us?" She looked around the room a little wildly. "How could you listen to something like that? It was private, it was…"

"Babe," Ranger's voice was quiet, her distress obviously penetrating his fury. His eyes were softer than I've ever seen them as he looked at her. "We would have turned it off if we could have. We got here as fast as we could."

"I tried calling," Hal added from the floor. "But it went to voice mail." He shot a black look up at Joe. "How could you talk to her like that, man? I wouldn't talk to a dog like that." His disgust was evident.

"Hal, that's enough." Ranger said roughly.

Joe's face was pale, now, too, clearly replaying the conversation and really remembering some of the things he'd said. Stephanie looked like she was going to be sick.

"Jesus, Cupcake. I don't know what happened. I just…" Morelli trailed off, obviously no clue what to say.

I couldn't blame him. I wouldn't know what to say, either. Humiliation was written across Stephanie's features, and all five of us could see it. I didn't know what to do. Ranger reached out to touch her, and she recoiled from him.

"Don't!" She said sharply. He looked like she'd slapped him. "How can you want to touch me?"

Huh? What did she mean by that?

Apparently, the boss was confused, as well. "Babe?"

"I'm pathetic. Not only am I a total screw up professionally, now I'm one of those women who lets a man treat her like, like..." she looked at Hal, "…a dog."

Hal winced and opened his mouth. "No," she stopped him. "You're right. The really crappy part is that Joe probably was telling the truth."

"No, Cupcake." He sounded miserable. "I was out of line."

"Right. Whatever. Just leave me alone, Joe. All of you just leave me alone." Tears were trickling down her face now. "I want to go back to my apartment."

I didn't know what the Hell to do. Ranger did, though. I shouldn't have been surprised. Ranger always knows what to do. He stepped forward and picked her up. He didn't look at anyone else. The rest of us may as well not have been there. Turning around he sat her on the bed and knelt between her legs. He took her chin in his hand and forced her to meet his eyes.

"Look at me, Stephanie."

"I can't," she sounded lost.

"You can." We all waited, and finally she met his eyes.

"You are not a screw up, a joke, anything like that. You are incredible. What you did last night probably saved lives. I didn't tell you, but Sorrell always goes out with protection—a posse of thugs to watch his back—the only way to separate him from them was to get him to call them off himself. You did that, Babe. Only you. Next weekend, there's something really big going down if Philly. I can't talk about it yet, but it was vital that we took in Sorrell last night so we would have time, in conjunction with the DEA, FBI, and local police force to prepare. Without you, it wouldn't have happened, at least not the way it needed to. Morelli is a good cop, but he's wrong about you."

I personally thought Ranger was giving Morelli too much credit. But I kept my mouth shut.

"I-I…"

I don't know what Steph would have said, because Ranger pressed a finger to her lips.

"You have a job with Rangeman for as long as you want it. Not because I'm attracted to you or feel sorry for you, but because I genuinely need you. I'm taking a team to Philly in a couple of days, and I'd like you to be on it. If you think you feel up to it."

"You're just asking me now because you know I'm upset," Steph protested.

Ranger shook his head. "No, Babe. I planned to talk to you about it today anyway. Ask any of the boys."

Steph looked at me, and I nodded, glad to have something to do. "He's telling the truth, Bombshell. We were talking about it when the wire came on."

Morelli looked like he was about to say something, but Ram and Hal were on their feet and book ending him, and he quieted at a glance from them. I could tell he felt like shit, and I was glad. Ranger was talking again, and I turned my attention to him.

"Because of Sorrell's involvement, we're going to bring in a liaison from the Trenton police. I'd like to ask the chief if we could have Morelli." Ok, now that was a big surprise to pretty much everyone in the room. "I want him to have a chance to see you work, but only if you're comfortable with it." His head swiveled to Morelli, and he met the other man's startled eyes. "And only if he understands that he'll be expected to treat you with professional respect and courtesy at all times and taking orders from me. It's completely up to you."

Stephanie didn't say anything for a minute; she just looked down into Ranger's face. Slowly she brought a hand up to the side of his cheek and smiled, and just like that I knew everything was going to be alright.

"Thanks. I-, well just thanks. A lot. I think I'd like to be on the team." She looked up at Morelli. "And Joe, if you want to go that's fine with me. I don't care about you watching me work, but it was your case, so I think you deserve to be in on it." She turned back to Ranger. "I—um—was thinking I might go back to Haywood today. I'm feeling pretty good, and I'd like to get my stuff set up in my cubby. Maybe you could give me a ride?"

Ranger nodded and sat back on his heels, standing up. "Sure, Babe." He turned to Morelli. "You in on the job?"

Joe gave a firm nod. "Yeah, I'm in."

"Good. I'll set it up. And I'll get someone here to fix your door."

"That's not necessary."

Ranger gave him a look that said not to argue, and Morelli wisely backed down. Now that he was away from Steph, Ranger was looking dangerous again. She must have been a snake charmer in another life, I thought fleetingly, or maybe a tiger tamer.

Stephanie looked down at herself. "Actually, if you guys could wait outside. I need to get ready, and I want to talk to Joe for a minute."

I was relieved that she asked. I didn't know what exactly he had planned, but I knew there was no way the boss was going to leave her there. The request made things much easier. Ranger nodded, and we took that as our cue to leave. The four of us were almost to the door when Stephanie called out from the bed, "Ranger?"

"Babe?" He half turned.

"Are you sure I can do this? I mean, I don't want to screw it up."

"You are more than good enough to do this, Babe."

She nodded, and we filed out the stairs.

* * *

Stephanie deals with the problem

I watched them walk out of the room. There was so much going through my head right now, I didn't even know where my thoughts should start. Mostly, I was embarrassed. I'd always felt baffled by women who let men abuse them. Joe would never hit me, but I knew on some level that the constant insults and complete lack of support were just as bad. Maybe worse. I hated that Ranger's men, and Ranger, knew he said things like that to me. The Burg often talked about our fights, but I'm pretty sure they didn't realize just how bad they could get. I trusted the Merry Men to keep their mouths closed, but hearing Hal assess the situation had jolted me out of the state of denial I'd been in about if for, oh, as long as Joe and I had been together.

Then, of course, there was the fact that I was in my underwear. Best not to even go there. And there were the things I'd said about Ranger. Best not to go there, either. I figured I'd sounded like a little girl with a crush on a superhero. Oh well. Maybe he'll find it amusing and decide to let it go. I sure hoped so.

I looked at Joe. He was starring at me, looking as miserable as he'd ever been. It made me sad. I needed a minute to get myself together and figure out exactly what I wanted to say, so I turned around and started pulling my clothes on; when I got to my socks, I sat down on the bed and looked up again. Joe still hadn't moved. I sighed.

"What are we going to do, Joe?"

That seemed to break his paralysis, because he rushed over to me, pulled me up, and held me frantically in his arms. It reminded me of the way he squeezed me after he found out I'd had a bomb strapped to me. "Cupcake, I'm so, so sorry. I don't know what happened to me. I didn't mean it, any of it."

I squeezed him back, and pulled away a little. "The thing is, Joe. I think you did mean some of it." He winced and started to interrupt, but I shushed him by cupping his face in my hands. "I love you, Joe, but this isn't working."

"Sure it is. This won't happen again. Things have been good for a long time now, Cupcake, since before the Slayers. We haven't had a blow up like this in months."

"We're stuck in…an unhealthy pattern of behavior." Good thing he didn't know whose words those were, I thought. "You know what I respect the very most about you, Joe?"

"No…"

"Not your job, although I'm very proud of you for that. Not your military service. Or the way you can make me feel like I'm on top of the world. None of that. I respect the fact that you've been able to break out of the Morelli-man mold. You don't talk about your childhood a lot, and I can't even imagine what it was like. But I do know how hard you've worked to get away from that."

Joe looked uncomfortable and a little hurt. "Steph, look, you can't think I'd ever hit you. I'd kill myself before I did that."

"Joe, I know. But this thing that we do to one another, it's just as bad in a different way. And it's not just you; it's me, too."

"I can't lose you, Steph," his voice broke.

I leaned up and kissed him, his lips so familiar. "You'll never lose me, Joe. You're going to be part of my life forever. But maybe we need to try being involved in a different way. Maybe we're meant to be friends. What we want out of life right now is so different. One of the things you're right about is the fact that I'm not ready for a mature relationship with you. The idea of marriage and children at this point is terrifying to me."

"This is about Manoso, isn't it?" He demanded, and I felt him try to push away from me, but I held on tight.

"No, Joe. Don't do this. This isn't about anyone but you and me." I stared at him until he met my eyes. The pain I saw there broke my heart, but I didn't look away. "This is the way it has to be, and I think you know that. If we keep hurting each other, we'll lose our friendship, too, and I couldn't live with that."

"I couldn't, either." He admitted. "Are you sure this is what you want, Cupcake?" he winced. "Can I still call you that?"

"I can't imagine you calling me anything else." I stepped away from him, but stretched up to kiss him one more time on the check before I sat back down on the bed and stuffed my feet into my shoes.

Joe was watching me, and I saw him shove a hand through his hair again. He always did that when he was stressed or tired. "Look, Cupcake, if you can finish up here I think I'm going to go grab a shower and some rest. I didn't sleep much last night, and I feel grimy."

I could totally understand. I felt a little grimy, too.

"Sure Joe. I'll lock the storm door on my way out."

"Thanks. I'll probably see you tomorrow since we're working on the same case."

"Great." I shot him a smile. "Give Bob a hug for me. I'm going to be coming to visit him when we get back from Philly."

"You're welcome anytime," he said softly as he turned and walked from the room. His voice was rough, and I knew this was as hard for him as it was for me, maybe harder. Watching his retreating back, I bit my lip to keep the tears at bay. I shoved the rest of my stuff—including my extra underwear from Joe's drawer—into the duffel and walked downstairs.

It was strange. I knew I'd be back, but I still felt like I was seeing everything for the last time. I caught sight of the door. Yeesh, the Merry Men and Ranger had really done a number on it. Luckily, the storm door hadn't been closed. I stepped out on the porch and pulled it shut, flicking the latch. I looked across the patchy front yard and saw Ranger leaning against the side of the truck, waiting for me.

I smiled at him and trotted down towards the truck, skidding to a stop right in front of him. Funny, with all the excitement I seemed to have forgotten to be sore. I had not, however, forgotten that I needed a shower. I was very much looking forward to getting back to Haywood.

"Ready?" I asked breathlessly.

Ranger looked me up and down, assessing. "Are you ok?"

"Not all the way, but I will be," I said. I would have liked to have answered "Yes," but I never could lie to this man.

"And Morelli?"

"I think he'll be ok, too. We're going to try being friends. I think it'll be better for both of us that way. As a couple, we tend to bring out the worst in one another. Besides, I have this exciting new job. I have no time for a man in my life right now."

The windows on the Truck were down, and I could see the Merry Men squished into the back seat. Tank was by the passenger door, and he snorted at my comment. "Hate to break it to you, Bombshell, but working for Rangeman you're going to have a lot of men in your life."

"Yeah, but my boss thinks I'm good enough to handle it."

The corners of Ranger's mouth tipped up into the almost-smile I loved. "Never doubt it, Babe."

He helped me into the truck, and a second later we pulled out. Funny, it felt like I was turning a page in my life, and for once I wasn't even afraid of the change.