Disclaimer: They're not mine, they're hers, unless you don't recognize them, then they're mine. Lots of bad language and smut from the start. And if the thought of Ranger even looking at another woman makes you vomit, don't read this. You have been warned so don't come crying to me later or ship me to Outer Mongolia.

A/N: Many thanks to Beth & Trish for proof reading, suggestions and beating the British-ness out of me to make this sound more in character. Thank you ladies, I couldn't have done it without you.

It was early afternoon on a Sunday when I finally eased my new F-450 Lariat into the Rangeman underground parking garage in my Boston building. I'd had to push myself hard, but managed to make the trip from Trenton without stopping.

Shit! What a fucking mess. It was my first day off in weeks and early this morning I had a call from a contact in the government. He'd said that there was a rumour going around that they were going to call a marker in; the grapevine was going haywire and this mission was big, nasty and terminal. I'd thanked him for the Intel, but informed him that I really didn't care as the government dragged me into this kind of shit all the time.

"No." The guy had said. "You don't understand. This is payback for Phoenix."

I thought that my heart had stopped beating. Black spots were dancing in front of my eyes as I hung up the phone. I had collapsed back onto my bed and mentally unpacked those painful memories I had put away eight years ago.

Operation Phoenix. Operation Fuck Up, was more like it. My team was dropped in the middle of Afghanistan only to find out that the Intel we had was wrong, very wrong. The middle of nowhere with little resistance turned out to be the middle of nowhere with a rebel base. Pete was dead within seconds, one bullet to the head and one to the chest. We were seriously out gunned and the enemy managed to capture Bobby, Lester and his older brother, Manny. With one man dead and three already captured, Tank, Snake, Bones and I had no choice but to retreat. My commander was not impressed with our situation. He ordered us to a safe pick up point and told me to forget about the rest of my team. I can still remember his words over the radio.

"They're as good as dead, Captain. The army is not going to waste resources trying to get them out. You all knew the risks associated with this mission."

I was furious. There was no way I was leaving any of my men behind. We had made a pact and I wasn't about to break it. I had told my commander I was going AWOL to rescue my team and that I would take full responsibility for the rescue attempt. He had told me that if I disobeyed his orders then one day I would pay. I would pay with my life, instead of my team paying with their lives now.

It took us five days to scope the place out and extract our men. Our ammo was low; we had a few grenades and a couple kilos of Semtex. Not that any of that mattered. We were too late and I'd let them down. Captain Manoso, the fearless army ranger with a 100 mission success rate had failed. Manny died in his brother's arms only minutes before we got to them. They'd been beaten, starved, tortured and put through hell. However, what made my heart break was the look is Lester's eyes as he stared at his dead brother. Blank. Empty. Cold. When Manny died, it seemed as if part of Lester's soul went with him.

My own cousin was dead and his little brother was never the same again. Lester's mother was furious. She blamed me for taking away her favorite son and Lester blamed himself for letting it happen. For years he walked round a shell of his former self, prone to flashbacks and meltdowns.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. For eight years I had lived with the knowledge that at some point they would collect on their end of the bargain. An eye for an eye….

I was always mentally prepared for the possibility that one day I wasn't going to come home, but had always hoped that it would never happen. Sure, I had worked for the government for a long time, but my contract was nearly up and I wasn't going to renew it. I knew that and so did they.

So, what do you do with an agent who's never played by the rules and knows too many of your secrets to be let go? Send him on a suicide mission. Wrap up every loose end neatly. Payback for "Phoenix" and all that sensitive information I knew. But I wasn't going to go quietly; Ranger Manoso had just as much respect for authority as Captain Manoso had when my life or my men's lives where on the line. I figured that I had a few days to find out what they where up to and feed that Intel to my team. Maybe, just maybe I could get out of this alive. This meant that I had to hack Black Ops files. I couldn't do that, but I knew a girl who could.

I used my key fob to call the elevator in the parking garage. Once inside I used what looked like a credit card to access the hidden control panel and hit the button for the sub basement. Caution was a way of life for me, but Bailey was closer to fanatical. She was one of the most cautious people I knew and she would already be aware of my arrival. Four years on a government hit list had made her paranoid, but she was right, they really were out to get her.

When the elevator car finally shuddered to a stop at the sub level the doors slid open revealing a narrow corridor lit only by red emergency lighting. There were five doors down here. The two to the left housed the boiler room and the back up generators. The two on the right contained extra holding cells and the armoury for all our slightly illegal gear. Behind door number five, at the end of the hall, Bailey spent most of her time hacking into every secret ever stored on a computer or planning for her next assassination contract.

There was no simple lock on the steel bombproof door. You needed to pass a fingerprint scan, a retinal scan and enter a sixteen digit code, but not in that order. Bailey was one sneaky bitch, as you had to use your left eye for the scan, rather than the usual right. The finger print used was the little finger of your left hand and you had to leave a twelve second gap between digit fifteen and digit sixteen on the key pad. Despite all these measures, this was on camera too. Sometimes I wished she would just open the door, as she would know by now it was me.

Finally the door lock clicked open and I had to shove the heavy metal barrier with my shoulder to get it to open. I pushed it just enough to squeeze into the room and once inside I pushed it back into the frame and it shut with a clang.

The apartment hadn't changed since the last time I was here and I hated it. The walls were painted a deep red, the ceiling and carpeting were black and there were no windows. I would have confessed all my secrets to anyone after forty-eight hours locked alone down here, but somehow the cell-like nature of the room never bothered Bailey.

The apartment, if you could call it that, was open plan and about 1800 square feet. The lounge area was on the right. The black leather sofa was covered in a red and black throw, the coffee table and entertainment unit were also black and every available surface was littered with books and DVDs. The small bathroom was beyond that, separated from the room by large glass bricks.

Next to the door on the left there were banks of computers, monitors, servers and technical gizmos. There was more hardware down here than in all of the Rangeman control rooms put together. The far left corner played host to a huge bed with a black and red quilt. It was piled high with black, red and white cushions. At the bottom of the bed there was a stack of metal weapons cases. Sometimes I wondered what she kept in those containers and the rest of the time I felt I was better off not knowing. The only other item of furniture in the far corner was a small antique dark wood chest of drawers that looked slightly out of place with all the modern furniture.

The tiny U shaped kitchen was squashed between the sleeping area and the computers. It was small and functional with black marble tops and black cupboards. Its main purpose was for brewing coffee, making toast and for somewhere to put the huge wooden fruit bowl that was always half empty. Kind of like Steph's kitchen before she moved in with Morelli, I considered with a grin, except she'd had a cookie jar instead of a fruit bowl and Bailey would never keep her gun in the fruit bowl.

Bailey was leaning her back against the far counter watching me, a small smile on her lips. She was wearing purple boxer shorts and a black t-shirt with the sleeves chopped off. The slogan on the front of the shirt read "I'm only wearing black until they invent a darker color." I'd bought it for her birthday a couple of years ago. She looked like she'd just rolled out of bed. Working alone down here meant she kept to her own hours. Her black waist length curls were dishevelled, there were dark circles under her bright green eyes and her skin was frighteningly pale due to lack of sunlight.

Without a word to me she turned and finished fixing the coffee she must have started brewing when the alarms went off as I accessed the hidden panel in the elevator. As she bent to pick a carton of milk from the fridge her t-shirt pulled up, revealing a small portion of her lower back. The skin was tattooed with intricate black knot work designs. I could see the swell of her breast through the armhole in the shirt and more Celtic art flowed over that soft skin. Designs peeked out from under the boxers on her left thigh and spirals flowed down her left arm to the elbow. I once asked her about the tattoos and if they had any significance. She simply replied that every life she took had a blood price and that was how she chose to pay it.

She stood up clutching the milk in her hand, oblivious to my stare.

"Coffee?" She asked in that quiet voice of hers. She'd lived in America for 17 years, but had managed to keep a soft Irish lilt in her voice, betraying her country of birth.

I gave her a small smile. "Sure."

She studied my face, cocking her head to one side, her brow furrowed. She turned away again and finished fixing the two cups of coffee. I walked into the kitchen and leaned against the cabinets opposite her, arms folded over my chest and legs crossed at the ankles. I took the warm mug that Bailey thrust at me. She narrowed her eyes at me and then took a huge gulp of her own drink.

"Talk." She demanded.

I stared at her, giving her my blank face. She stared back and raised an eyebrow. The silence in the room was only disturbed by the soft hum of the computers. This could go on a while. Hardened criminals would be quaking in their boots, but Bailey could meet my most intimidating stare head on. I was surprised when she eventually broke the silence.

"Damn it, Ric! I've spent all night digging that fuckwit, Silvio out of the shit. It took me nine hours to sort out the mess he made of hacking into the FBI's files. And now, after two hours sleep you turn up. I know you too well, this isn't a social call. I shudder to think what dark shit you want me to dig up from God knows where. Plus, I have no doubt that you're gonna want the info yesterday so you'll expect me to work my arse off till I'm done, letting me off for a five second piss break every eight hours. And that's if you're feeling generous."

Fuck. I had forgotten just how well she could read me. To 99.9 of people my blank face gave nothing away. Just my luck that Bailey was in the small percentage of those who could always tell my feelings, no matter how hard I tried to hide them.

I gave her the 200-watt smile. "How do you know this isn't a social call, amante?"

Bailey sighed. "Honey, if this was purely a social call, I'd already be naked and flat on my back and we'd be going at it like rabbits. You don't usually waste time on coffee if you're here for sex."

Yeah, I really was that transparent round her. And she was making me sound like the bastard I was. I tried the blank look again, hoping it worked this time.

"You only think I come here for sex or information?" She was way more valuable than that, not that I'd ever tell her.

She shrugged in response and turned away from me quickly, throwing the remains of her coffee in the sink. After swiftly rinsing the cup she set it on the draining rack with a thud making the couple of glasses there rattle alarmingly.

Great. The one person who can help me and I think she's got PMS.

"Bailey."

She turned back and looked at me. "Look, Ric… I work for you. It's my job to hack information for you, so don't worry about it. And in case you hadn't noticed, if I didn't want you in my bed I'd have kicked your ass out the door long before this."

"Don't pull that employer/employee shit on me, Bailey." I growled.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked me right in the eyes. "Ric, we're friends, good friends, and I honestly don't mind you coming to me if you need someone to talk to or someone to hold you in the dark once in a while. I wish you would learn that it's o.k. to lean on someone every now and then. Despite what others may think, I know you're not really Batman. Please, I just wish you would talk to me and maybe I can help you fix what ever it is that's haunting your soul."

I opened my mouth to protest that there was nothing wrong, but she cut me off.

"And don't lie to me. I can see it in your eyes, Ricardo"

I sighed and pulled her into an embrace, tucking her body against mine. She was only 5'3", so I had no problems resting my chin on the top of her head. I didn't need to say anything to her as we stood there. She always seemed attuned to my feelings. It was funny how the one person in my life who really understood me wasn't Tank, Bobby, Lester, Rachel, or even Steph. It was a 26-year-old computer hacker that moon lighted as an assassin and had killed more men in cold blood than I had. Maybe that was why we understood each other so well. It was so easy to fall into bed with Bailey. She didn't do relationships. There was no awkwardness the morning after, no hopes and dreams of marriage or children. We both knew that was never an option in our line of work. Emotions like that got you killed.

She pulled away from my embrace and looked up into my eyes. "Ric, please. What's wrong?"

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Phoenix." I finally said. She wouldn't need an explanation, as she knew every black secret I kept locked in my heart.

"Fuck! You're shitting me?" Bailey exclaimed, her green eyes wide in horror.

"No."

"When?"

"Soon, very soon."

"You need Intel?"

"Yeah, amante. Anything you can find and fast. I wanna come back from this."

She nodded. "Sure. You want a drink? 'Cause I sure as hell could use one."

I smiled, "yeah. What you got?"

"Beer, vodka, bourbon or absinth."

I raised an eyebrow when she said absinth. "The good stuff?"

"Hell yeah, the best. It was a thank you gift from Bones. Took care of a little problem for him."

Bones ran the Boston office for me now, along with Snake. I really dreaded to think what she'd taken care of for him.

"The kind of legally grey, morally right kind of problem, baby?" I quizzed.

Bailey laughed. "You could say that. Then again, you could say legally black and morally even blacker."

Bailey was very good at cleaning up little problems, like Abruzzi. "You bumping off scum again?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Arsehole was stalking Tina, Bones' baby sister. He just happened to OD on crack one night."

"Did the coroner record a verdict of OD?"

She shot me a nasty glare. "I think I'm insulted, Ric. Of course it went down as an OD, besides, what do you think I am, some sort of amateur?"

"No love, definitely not an amateur. A very dangerous woman, maybe."

"Yeah and you wouldn't have it any other way, would you?" She said with a sly smile.

"Weren't you offering me alcohol a minute ago?"

"Yeah I was. Name your poison."

"A beer's fine." I said as I pulled her close again and kissed the top of her head, inhaling her scent. She smelled of that mint and tea tree shower gel she used. She pulled away slightly, gazing into my brown eyes. Slowly she reached up with her hand and traced the two-day-old stubble growing on my cheek. She ran her thumb gently down my jaw and then brushed it over my lips. Her other hand joined it and she caressed my face, sliding her hands up into my long hair. She curled her fingers into my black locks and gently pulled me down for a kiss. Her lips chastely touched mine. The kiss started slow and passionate, but built into a frenzy of teeth and tongues.

I poured every ounce of desire and need I had into that kiss. We had been apart for nine weeks; nine weeks too long. She was my sanity. She kept me grounded. I had missed her even though she was only a phone call away. Slowly she pulled away from my embrace and led me by the hand to her bed.

"When did you last sleep, Ric?" She asked.

"Last night." For two hours, but she didn't need to know that.

"For how long?"

Damn ESP. "Couple of hours. It's no big deal."

She put her hands on her hips and looked into my eyes. "When did you last get a decent nights sleep, Ric?"

About nine weeks ago. "The other day."

"Liar. You look like shit. You're burning the candle at both ends again. When the government calls this marker in there's no telling when you'll get the chance for a decent nights sleep. You need to take better care of yourself."

She was right. I'd been working hard lately and getting by on a few hours sleep each night. "How'd you know?"

"You haven't shaved in a few days and when you walked in your shoulders were slumped slightly. Come to bed baby, you need sleep."

I sighed. "Amante, it's just past lunch."

"Four hours, Ric. Four hours to recharge and then we'll deal with Phoenix. It's not going to go anywhere. I promise."

Before I could protest she was stripping me. She placed my utility belt on top of the drawers next to her collection of guns and knives, tugged my t-shirt over my head and unsnapped my combats. I toed my boots off, removed my trousers and socks and fell into bed.

Bailey stripped, set the alarm, turned the lights off and climbed into bed. I pulled her close, her back to my front, spooning her with my arms wrapped tightly round her. As I drifted off to sleep lulled by the sound of her steady even breathing, my mind began to wander.

I thought of Pete and Manny and how much their deaths had affected me. I worried about Lester, wishing he could find something to live for again. And I recalled a night a long time ago when I wrapped my arms around another woman; a woman that was now with another man. The last thing I remember was thinking how I badly I had fucked things up with Stephanie Plum.

The sound of an alarm woke me and it took me a second to realize where I was. Bailey shifted away from me and shut the alarm off. The lights came on and I blinked, seeing stars.

"What time is it?"

"Five o clock. You want some dinner, Ric?" She asked.

I didn't remember eating lunch. "Sure. I'll cook while you pack."

"What?"

"Pack, baby. We've got an eight AM meeting tomorrow. I want to get back tonight."

"Sorry, I was with you up until pack."

"You're coming back to Trenton with me."

"Oh, no. No way," she said, sounding panicked. "I can work from here. You don't need me in Trenton."

"Amante, you're the best. I need you to help my team in Trenton. It'll be so much easier if you work with them there," I whined. I had her now; she hated it when I whined.

"But…"

"No buts. Go get packed."

"What about Lester?"

Shit. When in doubt, lie. "Not a problem."

"What if he recognizes me? He's going to hate me. Please, Ric. Don't make me do this," Bailey begged.

"He won't recognize you." Well, I doubt it.

"Promise?"

"So, what do you fancy for dinner?" Ricardo Manoso, master of the quick subject change.

"You didn't answer me, Ric."

Damn. "You know I can't promise that."

"I don't believe this. What state is Lester in right now?" She demanded.

I sat up in bed and pulled her close. "Pretty bad. He didn't handle the news about Phoenix well. He's blaming himself. I put him on desk duty for the next couple of weeks. He's too unpredictable to be let out on the job right now."

"So you were just going to let me walk into Rangeman Trenton, while Lester is acting like a basket case and just hope that he doesn't put two and two together and realize that I'm the one who took out his father?"

Lester's father had been scum and the world was a much safer place without him. "Yeah, but he won't recognize you."

"Shit, Ric. If he goes off on one I'm expecting you to deal with the consequences."

"I promise. So dinner? Or maybe desert?" I said with a grin, trying my best to distract the pissed off assassin who was sitting on my lap. Her hands skimmed lightly over my forearms and I let out a groan. It had been too long. We could deal with Phoenix and Lester later.

I manoeuvred her onto her back and stretched out on top of her, looking right into her bright green eyes. For the first time in weeks I felt safe; her touch chased away my demons and soothed my weary soul. That little piece of me that had been missing for the last nine weeks had returned. There had been another woman in my life who made me feel like this, but she was gone.

So here I was, in bed with one of my best friends. We fucked, we had sex, but we never made love. She pulled me down for a kiss and rocked her hips against mine, distracting me from my thoughts about that other woman. My body needed release and I wasn't going to get that from Stephanie Plum, so I took it from Bailey. One day this would end and Bailey would find that special someone, I only hoped she held onto them instead of pushing them away like I had.