Hello, my loves, I hope this last installment of Road Rage finds everyone enjoying their summer! Happy reading. And as always, thank you for the wonderful reviews and encouragement. I couldn't have enjoyed hearing from all of you more!

Whoever invented nunchucks clearly underestimated the amount of damage that could actually be done with those lethal sticks on a chain. Because nunchucks were what Stephanie's latest skip, crazy Kevin McDonough, had used to bash in the head of his old college roommate during a drunken fight outside of the Renaissance Faire at Mercer County Park. McDonough had purchased the nunchucks earlier in the day from an antiques dealer inside the Faire and apparently couldn't wait to get some use out of them after tossing back a few pints of Guinness at Ye Olde Pub and finding out that his roommate-turned-best friend had slept with McDonough's girlfriend (now his wife) during freshman year after a Flock of Seagulls concert.

Forgive and forget, I would think. But the image of his wife and his best friend together like that must have been too much for McDonough to handle and he'd managed to fuck up his own life in the process of trying to take his friend's.

Amazingly the guy survived, but his second chance at life came at a price that included multiple sutures in his scalp, two black eyes, several facial contusions, a non-fatal linear skull fracture, and probably a lifetime of recurrent migraine headaches.

McDonough was facing charges for assault with a deadly weapon and public intoxication, and was currently holed up at McGriff's Tavern with a busted lip and two missing teeth from accidentally hitting himself with the nunchucks while he beat on his ex-best friend. He'd somehow managed to miss his court hearing the day before and has been carting around an M16 with the intent to shoot anyone who attempts to drag his sorry ass back to jail.

Enter RangeMan.

No way were we letting Stephanie go after this guy, even though she had offered to help us with the distraction. I'd pulled a Joe Morelli on her and locked her up in my apartment on seven, albeit with Ella's cherry cheesecake and outrageously naughty promises of some serious Cuban Bat-lovin' as soon as McDonough was back behind bars. Needless to say, she didn't put up much of a fight. In fact, her eyes were so glazed over after just one bite of the cheesecake that she barely noticed me going out the door. In full SWAT gear, nonetheless.

Tank's voice patched into my ear. "Bossman, we've got activity at the back door. Looks like he's...nevermind. False alarm. Not him."

"Keep a close eye on things, then," I told Tank over the wire. "Make sure McDonough doesn't take off when you've got your head turned."

"Copy that."

The night was hotter than hell and I was slouched in the passenger's seat of the Escalade, trying to get comfortable. I was sweating in places that I didn't know could sweat and was feeling pretty grouchy because I was on a stake-out and not in the cool sanctitude of my apartment, licking cherry cheesecake off of the curly-haired brunette who was residing up there these days. I liked the sound of that. I smiled to myself. My babe had practically moved in with me. Rex was even on my kitchen countertop.

My kitchen countertop. Suck it, Morelli.

I was sharing air space with a strange combination of Lars Ulrich and James Hetfield and when the opening chords to Metallica's Nothing Else Matters strummed out of the SUV's speakers, I felt my eye begin to twitch and my jaw start to tick.

"So close, no matter how far," James/Lars warbled out. He was lightly drumming on his steering wheel with what appeared to be chopsticks, his eyes shut as he ignored me completely. I watched him continue to belt out the song, now slapping the chopsticks on the dashboard in rhythm to the beat. He was surprisingly good, considering I'd never known him to be a fan of heavy metal.

"Santos," I began darkly. "This is a stake-out. We're supposed to be watching for McDonough."

He stopped drumming long enough to look over at me and say, "Relax, man. We've got this. That asshole ain't going anywhere."

My blood pressure was rising with each verse he sang. "Are those chopsticks?" I asked over the music, sitting on my hands to keep from killing him.

"Yep. Never opened myself this way..." Bang, bang, slap.

"Since when did you eat Chinese food with chopsticks?" Santos wasn't civilized enough for chopsticks.

He grinned. "If you look closely, they're plastic and they've got patterns on them. Jovana uses them to keep her hair pulled back." Lester leaned over and showed me the flowery detail on the sticks.

"Why are they in your ride?"

Lester's grin got wider. "I hate her hair pulled back. Nothing to grab onto when I'm -

"Enough," I barked. "Enough drumming, enough singing. Enough Metallica. And I can't believe I'm sitting in this seat." I shivered in horror as I imagined Jovana laying belly-down over it, screaming in ecstasy as Santos gave it to her hard and rough from behind.

Lester just continued to smile nefariously as he punched off the Escalade's CD player and tossed the hair chopsticks back into the cup holder. "You don't have to worry about that. It's the backseat you'll want to watch out for."

Fucking awesome.

I opened the center console of the Escalade and pulled out a bunch of RangeMan paperwork and a couple recent issues of Import Tuner. I jammed the pile of paperwork back into the console and began scanning the cover of one of the magazines.

"Why are you still getting these?" I asked Santos. "You don't have the Integra anymore."

Santos grinned again. "Look inside, man. Who gives a fuck about the cars?"

I did as he asked and flipped the cover open. Staring back at me was a two-page spread of the sexiest Asian chick I'd ever seen. Her silky black hair hung down to her bikini bottom-clad ass. Her D-cup breasts were spilling out of the world's teeniest bikini top that might as well have not even been there. She was posed suggestively against the ass of a Nissan Skyline, her arms spread across the car's spoiler and her feet stuffed into neck-breaking five-inch heels. Her lips bordered on Angelina Jolie and suddenly, I found myself wanting to suck one of them into my mouth to see how her shiny red lip gloss tasted.

"Urgh," I grunted. "Shit. Well, this is just...holy shit." It was hard to keep the dumbstruck awe out of my voice.

"Bossman...have you ever looked inside a car magazine before?" Lester asked me slowly. He squinted into my face and pointed to the two-page spread that was staring back at me.

No. "Of course," I lied, huffing and puffing indignantly. "I just wasn't...expecting such a...beautiful sight, that's all."

Santos hooted with laughter. The bastard saw right through me. "You own a Porsche that cost more than the weapons of mass destruction. And that Mercedes SLR McLaren sitting all neglected in the darkest corner of the underground garage definitely wasn't a flea market find. I'm willing to bet my right and my left nut that that car has at least six-hundred horsepower. And you're telling me that you've never opened up a car magazine?"

That did it. I was going to maim him. "You're not to scrutinize my vehicular purchases, Santos," I said darkly, snapping the magazine shut and replacing it in the Escalade's center console. "Or what I have or have not read."

Lester put his hands up in mock surrender. "Hey, man. I'm just keeping it real. If I was about to go blind for the rest of eternity, I'd want my last sight to be the hottest woman in the world laying butt-naked across the hottest car in the world." He shivered with glee at the thought.

"You find women sprawled seductively across the hoods of cars that sexy?" I asked him incredulously.

He scooted closer to me and threw an arm across my shoulders. I glared murderously at him, but he ignored it. "Imagine this, if you will. You've just gotten off a distraction job and Beautiful's all decked out in the mother of all slutty dresses. I'm talking a super-slutty, ass-showing masterpiece, like porn -

"Just get to the point," I growled.

"Anyway, she comes to you and wants you to fuck her senseless over the hood of your Porsche, complete with the ass-showing dress and four-inch stilettos. Would you say no to that? I sure as hell wouldn't, if I were you."

Did Lester really have to go there? I guess so, because my dick picked up right where he left off.

"Stick a fork in me, because I'm done." Stephanie stalked past me in four-inch FMPs and reached up to her ear to yank out her receiver. She slapped it into Bobby's outstretched palm and made a futile attempt to pull down the skirt of her slinky fuschia cocktail dress before sliding into the leather passenger's seat of the Tahoe.

"Sorry about all that, Bomber," Bobby apologized. He sidled up to the Tahoe's open passenger's side window and peered in at Stephanie.

"No harm done, Bobby. All I'm saying is this: in the future, if you need me to lure a skip out of a bar, make sure he's not gay first."

"Ten-four, Bomber. We'll send Santos in next time that happens."

Lester reached over and slugged Bobby hard in the shoulder. "Fuck you, man," he muttered.

I climbed into the driver's seat of the Tahoe and turned the engine over. "Gentlemen," I said, nodding to them. "I bid thee goodnight."

A round of 'Night, Bossmans' and 'See you guys' chorused through the Tahoe's open windows and I jammed the SUV into gear before peeling out of the parking lot. I turned to the gorgeous brunette sprawled out on the seat next to me. "Got plans for this evening, babe?"

I was met with a pair of sparkling blue eyes that had darkened to midnight. "Actually, I do." She grinned wickedly at me and my cock twitched within the confines of my cargoes.

I swallowed on a dry sandpaper throat. "What might they be?"

"See, I was told by Lester that you're having car trouble. I was planning to take a look under the hood of your Carrera as soon as we arrive back at h.q."

Sweet Jesus and everything holy. That blabbermouth must have told Steph about the car magazine fiasco on the McDonough stake-out last week. I was definitely going to kill him. I was going to twist his nu -

"You'll be thanking him later, Ranger. Trust me." Steph somehow knew what I was thinking and her naughty grin widened. Did I mention that I'm head over fucking heels for this woman?

I couldn't muster up much talk after that because of the anticipation of what was to come. Stephanie's skirt had ridden up past her thighs, giving me a glimpse of the smoothest, milkiest, most luscious bottom I'd ever seen in my life. She made a sexy whimper in the back of her throat as her fingertips tripped up my cargo-clad thighs, coming to rest on my abs.

"Babe," I managed to growl. With that, I floored the Tahoe and whipped across town to Haywood, squealing to a stop at the guard gate of the underground garage. Vince was manning the gate and sauntered out of the guard box to say hello. Now seriously wasn't the time for exchanging pleasant greetings.

"How's it going, Bossman? Bomber?" Vince nodded politely. "Is Ricketts back behind bars?"

"Yes, he is," I told Vince. "I'd love to chat, Romano, but I've got a pressing engagement." As in it's pressing against the fly of my cargoes and threatening to bust the fucking zipper.

Vince nodded again. "Sure," he replied. "Have a nice evening."

Without replying, I tore underneath the raised yellow-striped gate arm and shot to the back of the garage, to the entrance of my personal parking lot one floor below the garage level. I swiped a key card in the mechanical gate and carefully maneuvered the SUV down a small ramp to where my array of personal vehicles sat parked. Six in all.

My garage was dark, lit only by the light filtering down the ramp from the main RangeMan garage. I squealed to a stop in a space furthest from the ramp entrance and pulled Stephanie to me. I kissed her deeply and when we came up for air, I rested my forehead against hers.

"I have not stopped thinking about this since the McDonough stake-out," I rasped.

Steph pulled away and flashed me a saucy grin. "What are we waiting for, then?" With a flash of brown curls and a burst of Dolce Vida, she whipped herself out of the Tahoe and strolled over to my Carrera, swinging her hips like she was on the fucking runway.

My mouth watered as I lowered myself out of the Tahoe and over to where she was standing. I backed her up against the hood of the car and pulled her flush against me as our lips met, my right hand slithering into her curls and the other meandering down her hip to grip her bottom through the Lycra cocktail dress. I was met with a groan as my tongue slid against hers and suddenly, Steph scooted away from me.

"Where are you going?" I growled. I watched as she stepped out of her Jimmy Choo FMPs and padded barefoot over to the driver's side. She plastered her front up against the window and leaned her elbows on the car's roof, kicking her right foot up and back in a sexy pose.

"Oh," she gasped with mock innocence, batting her mile-long eyelashes. "Wouldn't want to scratch up the windows with these." Steph turned to me and pointed her hardened nipples in my direction as she sauntered back over to where I stood. Yes, they appeared to be hard enough to cut glass. God damn.

Growling, I parted the vee-neck of the dress and lowered it from her shoulders, exposing her naked breasts to my aching eyes. I bent down and captured one of the stiff pink peaks in between my teeth and felt her hands lock into my hair as a growl escaped her throat.

"God, babe," I groaned against her breast. "I want you so bad."

"Ranger," she chided, pulling out of my grasp and tugging her dress back up to cover herself again. "I'm only getting started."

Fuck. I watched as Stephanie climbed onto the hood of my Carrera and spread her legs wide, bending them at the knees. She leaned back on her elbows and it was clear as glass that she wasn't wearing any panties.

Sweet Lord. I was met with a seductive smile as I took her in, her glistening folds staring me in the face. A streak of wetness on the car's hood from where she scooted back shone in the dim light filtering down from the ramp.

"Take a picture, Ranger. It'll last longer." Steph grinned.

"Don't move." I whipped out my BlackBerry and snapped a picture of her sitting like that on my car, the most erotic sight my eyes had ever seen. "Babe, seeing you like this is driving me insane. I can't believe how badly I want you." I took another picture of her and saved them both in a secure file in my phone.

Stephanie's seductive grin got wider as she crooked her finger in a 'come here' motion. I knelt down in front of the Carrera and hauled her closer to me by her thighs, hearing her sweat-dampened skin squeak against the shiny paint as I moved her. When she was comfortable, I lowered my mouth to her and gently swept my tongue across her swollen clit, eliciting a soft cry from Steph's throat.

"You're so wet, Stephanie. I love how you taste." I ran my tongue from her tight hole back up to her clit and sucked the tightened bud between my teeth. Steph's hips twitched as she groaned for me, her hands sliding into my hair and her bottom lifting off of the Carrera's hood. I suckled and laved her for what seemed like hours until finally she started shaking uncontrollably and yanking onto my hair with an iron grip.

"Ranger," she gasped. "I'm coming."

"Let it go, babe," I grit out, replacing my mouth with my fingers as I inserted two deeply into her wetness. She tightened around my hand and I flattened my tongue against her throbbing clit as she came, her cries of pleasure bouncing off the darkened cement walls of my garage and echoing in my ears. I stroked her and drew out the endless torture, stopping only when I was certain her orgasm had run its course.

I pulled Stephanie off of the Carrera's hood and kissed her slowly and deeply, letting her taste herself on my lips. "How was that?"

In answer, Steph pulled my head back down to hers and kissed me again, running her tongue across my bottom lip before sucking it into her mouth. I chuckled lightly and reluctantly pulled away from her. I turned her around and gently bent her front over the side of the Carrera's hood, near the front left tire. Her brown curls were spread across the shiny onyx paint, her barely-Lycra-covered ass in the air, her legs spread apart. She turned and grinned the lazy grin of a satisfied woman, and I couldn't pass up another photo op.

"Stay right there," I ordered hoarsely. I whipped out my BlackBerry again and started snapping pictures.

"Those are staying in your phone, right?" Steph teased, grinning, one brow raised. "You're not going to Facebook them?"

I frowned furiously. "If anyone else's eyes besides mine happen to see these pictures, I'll blind them permanently." I replaced the BlackBerry in my pocket and approached my woman from behind, rubbing myself against the swell of her luscious bottom.

"Mmmm, thinking about doing me over the hood of this car, Batman?" was the raspy inquiry.

I leaned over her back and swept her curls aside. "Damn right," I growled in her ear. "You agreed to help me out with my car trouble."

"Indeed I did. But I don't believe we've ever...performed in this position before."

"You don't know what you're missing, babe."

"Why are you so sure I'll like it?" Steph asked me.

"Oh, I'm absolutely certain that you will. Relax, babe." I smoothed her cocktail dress up over her hips and ran my hand over the swell of her bottom.

Steph whimpered. "I'm a little nervous," she admitted.

I kissed her lower back and moved up to nibble on her ear. "You'll have to trust me, babe. I would never hurt you." I unzipped my fly and let myself out of my cargoes. I slid my finger back and forth across Stephanie's wetness, reveling in the slippery secretions from her earlier exertions. My erection was nearing the point of painful as I slid it across her slit, lubricating myself with her juices.

Steph's hips involuntarily pushed back against my cock as I brushed the tip of it against her swollen, throbbing clit. "That feels so good, Ranger," she whimpered.

"I know it does, babe." With that, I slipped just the head into her heat and listened to her moan as I moved ever so slightly against her.

"Oh God..." she groaned, trying to force herself back against me, but I held firm.

"Does it still feel good?" I asked her, nearing insanity from the sensations of holding out on her. I wanted nothing more than to penetrate her over and over again, but I wanted to be absolutely certain that she was okay with this position.

"Jesus, Ranger! Just fuck me already!" Stephanie screamed, her voice laden with frustration and wavering with barely-controlled desire.

And there it was. My green light. I impaled her with my cock and we both cried out at the intense feeling. I knew that from this angle I'd hit her g-spot with each thrust and she'd probably come quickly, so I didn't bank on this being long and drawn out.

What I also didn't bank on was how incredible she felt around my cock, so hot and tight and wet. She felt amazing. She was so fucking sexy, bent over my car and trying desperately to grip onto something while I slammed into her from behind, clawing at the Carrera's shiny finish with nail-less fingers. The familiar heat was pooling into my groin as I repeatedly brought her hips flush against mine, her screams of ecstasy once again echoing off the cement garage walls. I was almost there. I was so close I could taste it. I felt Stephanie grind harder and harder against my hips as I flicked the sensitive nub at the apex of her sex. Her screams drowned mine out as she shattered into pieces against me. Her inner core was rippling up and down my cock and the sensations it was causing quickly brought me to orgasm, allowing me at last to shoot my hot liquid deep within her body -

"Consider it done," Santos was exclaiming into his wire. He was silent for a few seconds before replying, "No, he's out of it."

"What the fuck?" I growled to him. Shit, I'd zoned out again.

Lester was grinning at me and had two fingers up to his ear, trying to listen in on his earpiece. "Ten-four. On my way," he spoke into the wire.

"McDonough," I barked. "Where is he?" I looked down at myself. The receiver of my wire had somehow gotten knocked out of place and was hanging over my shoulder. I had a hard-on the size of Texas trying to push its way out through the fly on my cargoes and Santos was staring at me like I was fucking insane.

"They've got him around back," Santos replied. He jammed a clip of bullets into his Glock and chambered a round. "Don't take this the wrong way, Bossman, but I don't think you're in any condition to do a take-down right now." He grinned at me one last time before hauling himself out of the Escalade. "Stay here and read some more car magazines. Don't worry, I had the windows tinted extra dark. Take all the time you need." With that, he loped across the McGriff's parking lot and disappeared around the side of the building.

I really was going to kill him. But, first things first. I leaned the seat back, extracted a rather saucy-looking issue of Import Tuner from the center console, and got to work.

This really has to stop. Since when did Santos, Tank, and Brown run the show around here?

Since I became a complete and total whack-job, that's when.

I was sitting in my office, stewing over the last few months' events. First, I nearly get myself killed in a Tahoe vs. semi accident on a road trip back from Boston, thinking about Stephanie in all of these seductive scenarios. Then, I make an idiot out of myself in front of my men at a staff meeting. Not to mention the Santa's Village and Victoria's Secret disasters of epic proportions. Finally, I get so deep into the Stephanie fantasies that I botch up a take-down and end up having to relieve myself just so that I could fucking walk, while my core team goes off and does my dirty work.

I know I mentioned it earlier, but this really has to stop.

I picked up my desk phone and dialed Tank. "I'm offline for a few hours," I told him.

"I'll let the others know," he replied. He disconnected. Jesus, I think his phone etiquette is worse than mine.

Figuring I'd blow off a little steam before I met Steph for dinner at Rossini's, I headed to the gym on one. Slapping sounds filtered into the hall through the closed door and I wondered who was working out on a Friday night at seven o'clock.

Surely none of my men. They were all out partying. I'd heard Santos and Brown mention something earlier about a bash at Hell's Ballroom that was apparently "guys only" and did not include the boss. Assholes, all of them. I could party, too, dammit. I was the coolest of them all. Then again, I probably didn't get an invite because of the possibility of a fantasy happening right amongst the fiery red couches and fuzzy ropes, embarrassing them all.

In other words, I didn't blame them for not wanting me to join their party.

I pushed through the gym door and was surprised to find Stephanie on the mats, kicking the shit out of a rubber training dummy. I hung back and watched her for a minute. She had on navy blue leggings, a matching navy blue sports bra, and running shoes. Her curls were pulled into a ponytail but a few rogue wisps had escaped the elastic tie and were framing her flushed, sweaty face.

I was immediately hard at the sight of her, but I forced myself to calm down and watched in awe as she continued to beat the dummy into a pulp. She was getting pretty good. I was glad she had started working out with Cal and Ram. They were teaching her various take-down strategies and martial arts. Hal did strength training and cardio with her, and Bobby did self-defense once a week. Santos works with her down in the range (with my eyes glued to the monitor screens during their entire lesson, of course), and Tank works with her on the systems operations. She was getting better at taking down her skips and was feeling much more confident in her role as bounty hunter and RangeMan employee.

"Babe," I called to her. She turned and grinned, sighing. She leaned her hands on her knees and watched as I approached her.

"Hey," she greeted me. "Sorry, I'd hug you but I'm sweaty."

"A little perspiration never bothers me, babe." I pulled her to me and wrapped her in my arms, breathing in her scent. She smelled so good, like her perfume and sweat and Stephanie. When I released her, I nodded towards the training dummy. "He's looking a little worse for the wear."

Steph grinned. "I'm pretending he's Morelli."

"Good choice. What about the other one?"

"The Dick? Nah. If I had to pick one of them to beat up for real, I'd pick Morelli. He wasted more of my time."

"Ouch," I said, grimacing. "No love lost there."

"None at all." Steph's blue eyes were sparkling happily. She punched my shoulder lightly. "C'mon, Ranger. Spar with me."

"Pffft," I scoffed. "I hear you're pretty good. I'm not in the mood to nurse a shiner for two weeks."

"No face-hitting, then. In fact, nothing from the shoulders up. Got it?" She punched my shoulder again.

"Steph," I began.

"Scared?" was the taunting reply.

Yes. Scared to death. Steph was making little jabbing motions with her fists.

I sighed. "Fine." I threw a jab towards her arm with my right fist but she quickly scooted away. She had the reflexes of a cat. She danced away from me, grinning happily.

"That was weak, Ranger. You can do better than that."

You know what? I could have done better than that. A lot better. I stripped off my gloves and lunged for her, tackling her to the mats. I lifted her up, shrieking, over my shoulder and trundled her towards the door to the gym.

"I'm calling the match on a technical knockout," I explained to her. "Neither of us will be able to continue due to extensive injuries."

"What injuries?" Steph yelled, her head somewhere near my ass and her voice muffled.

I felt a tiny pinch on my right butt cheek. "Flag on the play," I announced. "Personal foul. Unnecessary roughness."

"That's football, Ranger. We were boxing. And I doubt that pinch even hurt at all."

"It did." I hauled her into the elevator and jabbed the button for seven. When we got off on my floor, I fobbed us into my apartment and flopped Stephanie down onto my bed before climbing to hover over her. I smoothed her hair away from her face and kissed her gently.

"I heard about the McDonough take-down the other day," she said quietly. "What's going on with you, Ranger?" Steph peered up at me with great concern.

I sighed. "I have no idea, babe. I just want to be with you so badly that sometimes I can't help myself. You're beautiful and sexy and gorgeous. You drive me crazy."

Steph grinned. "You are all those things, too, Ranger." She quickly grew serious. "But I'm worried about your safety at times. What if you were in a situation that you couldn't get out of? I mean, you're Ranger. Bad things don't usually happen to you. But the thought of you getting hurt because of me is what makes me scared."

I kissed her again. "I love that you care so much about me, babe. And you're right, I haven't been myself lately. Maybe it's because we spend so much time having crazy, wild sex that we don't allow enough time to sit back and, for once, make love."

"Make love," Steph repeated slowly. "We could try that."

"Yeah. We could. Starting right now." I rose up onto my knees to remove my tank top and let Stephanie help remove my basketball shorts. I pulled her out of her leggings and sports bra before settling myself between her silky legs. "You are so goddamed beautiful."

Steph blushed. "Ranger," she whispered. "Make love to me."

That was all I needed. I parted her slick folds and stroked her once, twice, before gently sliding into her hot confines and stalling for a moment to let her adjust to my size. Several moments passed and soon I felt her hips twitching upwards, urging me to move. We rocked slowly together, whispering words of love and encouragement, sliding our sweat-slicked bodies in a lazy rhythm. I leaned down and swirled my tongue over her nipple, feeling it harden to stone beneath my hot tongue. Steph's fingers tangled in my hair as her whimpers became louder and she went over the edge with me, contracting around me as I spilled my seed into her core.

When our passion had faded to sighs, I retreated from her body and pulled her against me to rest. "I love you," I whispered into her ear before gently nibbling her earlobe.

I felt her smile against my neck. "Love you, too."

And, for the record, I never had another embarrasing public fantasy again.

I'm sad to see this story end! I had such fun writing it. But on to bigger and better things. Hope you all enjoyed it! -Jill