Not my characters, (except for one in this story that I made up, you'll know which one he is) they belong to Janet Evanovich, but as long as Ranger can come out and play I can live with that.

This story started out as a one-shot challenge response on PerfectlyPlum, but with the encouragement (read nagging) of several it became more.

My Little Girl

I sent both men the same message.

Please meet with me at Cookie's Diner - 1:30 p.m. next Thursday. There is a private matter I would like to discuss.

You can let me know if you will be there by calling me at the following number.

I gave them the number for my cell phone and purposely didn't answer their calls just in case I wanted to hear their responses more than once.

Joe called first. It must have been the same day he got the note in the mail. "Frank?" he said sounding anxious, "Joe Morelli. Is this about Cupca----, uh, Stephanie? Hope everything's okay? Glad to meet with you next Thursday. Anything I can do for you in the meantime? Old parking tickets?" Awkward laugh. Pause. Cough. "Well, uh, see you then." Silence. "Bye."

Parking tickets? Nice try. No cigar.

It was several days before I heard from Ranger. "It's Manoso. I'll be there." Disconnect.

Just like that. No questions asked.

There were reasons why I'd chosen Cookie's for this little get-together. It was close to the cab station. I went there every day. I wasn't much for bars and a man has to have a refuge, especially if you live in my household. In particular, it wasn't Shorty's; it wasn't Pino's. My meeting. My turf. Extra bonus -- Cookie had the best pie in town.

I let them arrive before me. I could see the diner's door from the front window of the station. They got there at the same time. Joe looked a little surprised. Ranger looked like nothing ever surprised him. Neither man offered his hand to the other. That was fine. I wasn't looking for camaraderie. Once inside Cookie would wave them to the table he and I had chosen.

Cookie was my friend. A retired marine, he'd gone a little soft in the middle from eating his own food, but he was still imposing enough that there was never any foolishness in his diner.

I gave them five minutes to stew before I went in. Even after I went inside I delayed a little, stopping to talk to Chuck and Ernie, regulars who were warming their usual spots in the first booth. We rehashed the previous night's hockey game before I moved on.

Why was I doing this? Was I crazy? I didn't think so. Stephanie was a grown woman, making her own way and I didn't like to interfere, but she was still my little girl. Lately, I could tell there was something bothering her and unless I missed my guess it had to do with one of these two men. Maybe both. If -- when she came to me for advice, I wanted to be prepared. I needed to form my own opinions. This was just a little research.

Joe and Ranger both stood as I approached the table. Joe was all smiles and friendly. "Frank, good to see you," he said sticking out his hand and clapping me on the arm like we were old buddies.

Ranger had taken the chair that would allow him to sit with his back to the wall, as I had known he would. He shook my hand with a firm grasp and nodded, his expression reserved. "Mr. Plum," he said by way of greeting.

"Please," I returned, "call me Frank."

"Frank," he replied nodding again.

Cookie had followed me to the table. I turned to him before I sat down and said, "Cookie, what's the pie today?"

"Got your favorite," the big man answered, "coconut custard."

"Umm, ummm. I'll have that. Gentlemen," I said looking at my guests, "I'm buying. Best pie in Trenton."

"Uh, sure," Joe said.

"No thanks," Ranger said, "I'll take coffee though, black." He caught my eye. I had known he wouldn't touch the pastry. He knew I knew.

"Coffee all around?" I asked glancing at Joe. He nodded.

By the time we had arranged our chairs and sat down, Cookie was back with the pie and the coffee pot. I lined up my plate with the wedge pointing directly at me and savored a couple of bites before I said anything. Joe fidgeted and looked like he had forgotten how to use a fork. His pie sat untouched. Ranger took a sip of coffee and sat back, waiting.

I took one more bite before I said, "Guess you probably figure I asked you here to talk about Stephanie." Joe shook his head yes, Ranger still waited. "That would be correct. And, no, she doesn't have any idea that I've invited you. I expect she'd be pissed as a cat in bath water if she knew." That got a smile from Ranger.

Joe's mood changed. He stopped fidgeting. "What's so fucking funny, Manoso? Frank, what's going on here? Is Stephanie all right? Did this thug get her in over her head again?"

I watched Ranger's reaction. His mouth tightened, but he didn't lose his temper.

I tried to cool things off. "No, no. Not at all. It's just that she's seemed preoccupied lately like something's on her mind. Something serious. You two spend a lot of time with her. I thought one of you might be able to shed some light." I looked from one to the other. Ranger took the lead.

"I understand what you mean," he said. "Last couple of months, Stephanie has done some great work for me -- for RangeMan. Her research skills are superb, her instincts are always right on and her work in the field is usually flawless but, the last couple of weeks something's been wrong. I noticed it and so did the other men who were working with her."

"Field work," Joe sneered. "That your fancy-ass term for a 'distraction,' Manoso. Where you dress her up like a French whore so some criminal can drool all over her. I think you do it as an excuse to put your hands on her and ogle."

Ranger went completely still. It surprised me that Joe didn't recognize the danger.

Pointedly ignoring Morelli, Ranger explained to me, "Getting a skip away from the crowd and into a less populated space makes the takedown easier and safer for all concerned. Stephanie is very good at it. She's professional and a valued member of our team."

"Well, let me tell you," Joe interrupted, "once we're married she won't be doing any more 'distractions' or anything else for you or RangeMan. She's going to settle down and live a normal life. And, believe me, she won't be seeing you."

"Married?" I was stunned. But now maybe we were getting somewhere. I looked at Ranger and saw for the first time what Stephanie called his blank face. He revealed nothing. That in itself told me something. "Joe," I said, "I didn't realize. You've asked her and she's accepted?"

"Not yet," he admitted, "but she's about to. In fact, until he showed up," Joe inclined his head toward Ranger, "I thought that might be what this little meeting was about."

Ranger looked at his watch. "Mr. Plum?" I raised my eyebrow. "Frank," he corrected looking me straight in the eye. "I have another appointment. I have to go."

"That's all right," I said, "Thank you for coming."

He was gone without another word. Joe lingered until he realized I wasn't inclined to discuss any impending nuptials.

Cookie was at the table before Joe got out the door. "He don't like my pie," he stated looking down at the uneaten wedge.

"He wants to marry my daughter," I volunteered as if that explained the orphaned coconut custard.

"That one?" he asked pointing with his spatula in the direction Joe had gone.

"Yeah, that one."

"Huh. Wouldn't be my choice."

"Not sure he's mine either," I replied. "But, don't worry about the pie," I pulled the plate in front of me, "it won't go to waste."

Cookie cleared the rest of the table and filled my coffee cup. I ate slowly thinking about what I had found out. No wonder Steph hadn't been herself. Sounded to me like if she married Joe, she'd never be herself again. That would be a damn shame, although her mother might not mind. Surely she wasn't seriously considering it.

I was about half finished eating when I heard the diner door. Cookie had a bell on it. It always drove me crazy when the place was busy. Today though, I didn't seem to mind it. I had a little smile on my face when I looked up. Ranger was standing at the table.

"Had a feeling you might be back," I said. "Sit."

"She can't marry the cop," he stated without preliminaries.

"Why not?" I asked -- as if I didn't already know.

"Because I don't want to have to kill him."

He didn't sound like he was kidding. "No, that probably wouldn't be a good idea," I agreed. "Want to tell me about you and Steph?"

There was no blank face now. Everything I wanted to know was written right there.

He looked at me hard deciding what to tell me. Finally he said simply, "I love Stephanie more than life itself."

"I think you've already proven that, son," I said gently, "go on."

"My reasons are selfish," he confessed. "I'm a better person when she is in my life. She makes me want to be a better person. I can't do it without her."

"So what's stopping you?" I really didn't see the problem.

"My past, my work, my foreseeable future. They're all dark -- dangerous"

"And you think that matters to her? You've obviously observed what the idea of becoming a 'burg housewife is doing to her. I think she finds that prospect infinitely more terrifying than anything you have done or will do." He didn't know whether to believe me or not so I pressed him. "If you don't tell her how you feel how can she know there's another option."

He looked down at the table, thinking. He spied my plate.

"Sir." He indicated the now half eaten piece of pie, "You know that stuff will kill you."

I laughed right out loud. The bad ass bounty hunter, the marauding mercenary, the black op assassin of third world dictators was concerned about my eating habits.

Fortunately, he saw the humor. We sat for a moment in companionable silence before my phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and checked the ID. "I need to answer this," I told him.

He got up to leave. I think he knew it was Stephanie calling. "Thank you," he said.

I pushed the talk button. "Hey, Pumpkin."

"Hi, Daddy." Silence.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Daddy, I need to talk to you."

"Any time, Sweetheart. What are you doing right now? Cookie has coconut custard. I'm buying."

"I'll be right over."