These characters aren't mine. I'm just borrowing them from Janet Evanovich.

Time Out

Lenny Maskovitz is going down. I looked down at my formerly clean clothes and wiped my face with the back of my hand as maple syrup dripped out of my hair. Pancakes saturated with syrup clung to various parts of my body. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Lenny was helping out at the pancake breakfast at the lodge. I could eat some pancakes and then collect Lenny and take him to jail.

My name is Stephanie Plum and I am a bond enforcement agent, aka BEA, aka bounty hunter. I'm not very skilled at my job and getting covered in food in pursuit of my skip is nothing new, but I almost always get my skip. In this case, my skip was Lenny Maskovitz, originally charged with public intoxication, and he was currently doubled over laughing at me. He took one look at me in line for my pancakes and threw everything he could reach at me. Every eye in the place was on me as I reached into my syrup covered purse and pulled out my handcuffs. Lenny was laughing so hard he didn't notice me slap the cuffs on him until it was too late.

"Lenny Maskovitz, you missed your court date and I have been authorized by Vincent Plum Bail Bonds to bring you in" He immediately straightened up and promptly slipped in the puddle of syrup and ended up flailing around on the floor trying to get up. Since I was still holding onto his cuffed arm at the time, Lenny dragged me down with him to roll around in yet more syrup. Just in case he missed a few spots from his first attempt to cover me in food products. Finally, I got us both to our feet and headed towards the door.

"Show's over folks. Enjoy your breakfast!" I called over my shoulder as I pushed Lenny out of the building. I spoke too soon. The sound of wailing sirens assaulted my ears as we stepped outside towards my car. A car sped around the corner on two wheels, followed by a string of cop cars with lights flashing and sirens going full blast. I watched as the driver lost control of the car and crashed into my latest POS, a red and primer gray 2003 Nissan Sentra. The driver jumped out of his car and took off running as the cops screeched to a halt and bailed out of their cars to chase him down. This turned out to be a good thing for everyone's safety as my car suddenly exploded, causing flaming debris to rain down on every vehicle in the immediate area. Within seconds, the suspect's vehicle and three cop cars were fully engulfed in flames.

I sat Lenny down on the curb and lowered myself down beside him to wait for the next act in this circus. This is not the first time this has happened to me, and I know the routine. A few minutes later, Carl Costanza and his partner Big Dog rolled up. They sauntered over to me, grinning. "It wasn't my fault!" I cried. Carl smirked at me and said, "it never is Steph. I won the pot this time, thank you very much. Nobody else thought you'd hold on to that car for this long. Five months is pretty good for you." As I said, this is not the first time this has happened. I have bad luck with cars. Very bad luck. The Trenton cops have a betting pool based on when and how my cars will meet their demise. It kinda pisses me off that people bet on me and my frequent misfortune, but there isn't much I can do about it. I looked over Carl's shoulder and watched as the man with the "Best Ass in Trenton" strode towards me. Cue the next act in the usual drama.

Joseph Morelli is a Trenton PD detective and my on again/ off again boyfriend, as well as one of two men that I love. Currently we are off, after a major blowup about a minor issue concerning the purchase of toilet paper. Joe and I have a long history going back to a game of Choo-Choo in his father's garage when I was six years old. He took my virginity when I was sixteen behind the éclair case at the Tasty Pastry where I worked and then wrote about it on bathroom stalls over Trenton. I ran him over and broke his leg with my father's Buick when I was twenty. He was my very first FTA after I blackmailed my cousin Vinnie into giving me a job. Over the past few years, we've had a pretty screwed up relationship. Sometimes he wants to marry me. Sometimes I manage to think about marrying him without breaking out in hives at the idea. Unfortunately (or fortunately maybe) we never have those marriage ideas at the same time. Joe stood in front of me now, hands on hips, staring down at his shoe. I could tell he was trying to get his temper under control. "Cupcake," he started.

"I'm okay Joe. It wasn't my fault."

"Christ, Steph. It's never your fault, but you still worry the shit out of me! Maalox isn't cutting it anymore on my ulcer. I may have to see about getting a prescription or you could get a new job."

"I like my job, Joe. And we're not together, remember? You don't get to make decisions about my career choices."

Joe's face was getting redder, turning towards purple. He opened his mouth and closed it several times. I waited for the explosion. Surprisingly, it didn't come. "You're right Cupcake. I'm glad you're okay." And then he walked away. Hunh. I didn't expect that to happen.

I felt a tingle run up the back of my neck. I turned around to see Ranger's black Porsche glide to a stop. Ranger is Ricardo Carlos Manoso, owner of the badass security company called Rangeman, bounty hunter extraordinaire, sometimes super secret government operative, frequent rescuer of Stephanie Plum, and who knows what else. Ranger doesn't invite close scrutiny into his life. I've know him since he became my mentor for my first FTA several years ago, we've been intimate on a few occasions, I've helped him several times, he's helped me countless times, and I still don't know much about him. Ranger has Secrets with a capital "S." Ranger is smoke. He's the Wizard. He's Batman. And he's the other man that I love.

"Babe," he stated with a blank face while looking me up and down. Babe can mean a variety of things in Ranger-speak. In this case, I interpret it as, "Are you alright?"

"I'm okay," I reassure him.

"You never disappoint." His lips tilt up ever so slightly in an almost smile.

"Glad I amuse you too," I huffed.

Ranger reached out and pulled me close, leaning in to sniff my hair. He tilted my face up and gently kissed me, licking the seam of my lips which still had syrup covering them. "Yum." he breathed and heat shot through my veins. Ranger released me and walked away, having only spoken five words. That's Ranger, master of the almost-conversation.

After giving my statement, Carl and Big Dog gave me and Lenny a ride to the station. I dropped off Lenny and collected my body receipt from the docket lieutenant. I had already called my dad to come pick me up and take me back to my parent's house so I could borrow Big Blue, an indestructible old powder blue Buick. My mom and Grandma Mazur were waiting on the front porch when we pulled up in front of the house. Their 'Burg mother radars must have been humming to alert them of my approach.

"Hot damn Stephanie! I wish I'd been there to see it. I'm gonna have a pip of a story to tell at the beauty shop tomorrow morning." Grandma pushed her uppers around in her mouth some. "We had to take the phone off the hook. The line just blew up within five minutes of you getting to the lodge breakfast, telling us all about how you and some man were rolling around in syrup groping each other. Sounds hot!"

I rolled my eyes in response. "It wasn't like that Grandma. He was my skip and he didn't want to go to jail. There was NO GROPING!"

My mother piped up then, "Myra Lewis' daughter doesn't roll around in maple syrup at the pancake breakfast. Why me? I hear the personal products plant is hiring for people to stuff tampons into boxes. You'd have a safe job, and benefits! Please, Stephanie!"

Sighing, I dragged myself up the front steps. "Look, Mom. I don't want to work at the personal products plant. I'm not cut out to box tampons. I actually like my job, which I've told you countless times before. I'm sorry, but I'm never gonna be like Myra Lewis' daughter. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to grab a shower here before I get into Big Blue. I don't want to get the seats covered in syrup if I don't have to." Mom and Grandma stepped aside as I went through the front door and up the stairs to the bathroom. Stripping down, I climbed into the shower and scrubbed myself until all residual syrup stickiness was gone from my hair and body. With a towel wrapped around my hair, and another around my body, I made my way to old bedroom in search of clean clothes left behind from previous stays at my parent's house.

A few minutes later, clad in jeans and an old TPD t-shirt of Joe's with wet hair hanging down my back, I went downstairs and plopped down in the kitchen. My mom had already made me a plate with a sandwich and cookies. No matter how upset she gets, my mom still feels it necessary to feed me. She was in the corner with the ironing board set up, ignoring me, ironing her stress out with each shirt or pair of pants. I thanked her for the food, grabbed the keys to the Buick, and motored off for home.

After docking the boat known as "Big Blue" in a parking spot by the dumpster, I stopped to collect my mail before heading to my apartment. I checked on Rex, my hamster, told him about my bad day, and dropped him a grape. He twitched his whiskers in commiseration of my day. Rex doesn't say much, he's more the strong silent type. This makes him the perfect roomie, in my opinion.

I sorted out bills from the junk mail, and spotted a large envelope. The return address was a law firm in Illinois. I don't think I know anyone in Illinois. I'm a Jersey girl through and through and my friends and family are all Jersey as well. I stared at it for a minute before my curiosity got the better of me.

Ripping open the envelope, I saw a stack of papers. I read the cover letter first. What I read was quite a surprise. Simply put, Elizabeth Price died and named me her sole beneficiary in her will. I had no idea who Elizabeth price was, but the documents showed me I now owned a house in Illinois and a few million in total assets. Hunh. Maybe this day is looking up.