I do not own any of these characters, although I would really like to meet
up with Ranger in a dark room somewhere. I simply borrow and gently use
them for my amusement.
Chapter One
It's the same every time I walk in. Honestly, the reactions to my entrance are beginning to creep me out; I really don't enjoy all the ogling. All conversation stops, everyone stares, and I swear I see drool sometimes. Lula is the worst of the bunch. Given her previous profession, I'm sure that I really don't want to hear about what goes through her mind when she thinks about me. There was a time when I was younger when this would have been an enjoyable game, but it had gotten stale over the years. Especially after I met Stephanie. I always looked for her now, whenever I entered the bonds office. As was often the case, she was talking to Connie and Lula. Her back was to the door- I couldn't break her of that habit, she was never thinking about the security of a situation- and I stopped close behind her.
I felt the need to touch her. That happened often these days, since we had "settled accounts" from the DeChooch case. I still can't believe that I made a deal with her like that; it was such a false thing to do. I wanted her, I wanted to take her, and it was the only way I could think to get into her bed with Morelli still in the picture. Steph is just too good not to feel guilt over choosing to sleep with me while involved with Morelli, so I erased the need for guilt. She no longer had any choice. I thought it would work at the time. It's just recently that I realized it had blown up in my face.
So I rested my hand at the base of her neck, smooth and cool against my warmth. Still not enough contact for me. I leaned into her, resting my body against her back. "Babe," I said, softly. To make a legitimate excuse for my physical trespass, I snaked my right arm around her to take the file from her hand and look it over.
"Eugene Brown," I read.
My heart squeezed a little. I always worry about her when I know that she has the "bad' and "kind of bad" FTAs; I prefer her to work on the first- time offenders and "not-so-bad" ones. I remembered this guy, and I thought that her usual tactics might not work so well with this case. He's not the type to respond to her social worker impulses. "You might not want to spend a lot of time with Eugene. He's not a fun guy."
"I sort of bounced him off the hood of the Buick today. But it wasn't my fault."
I tightened my hold on her neck. Really, it usually wasn't her fault. Stephanie was like a lodestar for all the crazy, homicidal criminals of Trenton. I swear, she could meet them in a friggin' church, and their paths would cross in a way to piss the criminal off. No matter what she did, they found her. I tried to ease a little advice into the conversation in a way that wouldn't raise her hackles. I actually wanted her to listen to me. "You want to be careful with Eugene. He hasn't got much of a sense of humor, Babe."
"I don't suppose you know the identity of the devil guy who's robbing all the deli-marts?" she asked.
"Don't suppose I do," I replied. Sometimes it was difficult to follow the flow of topics in her mind. "But it's not Eugene. There'd be more bodies on the floor if it was Eugene."
Vinnie's inner office door opened, and Vinnie stuck his head out. "What's up?"
Vinnie is a pervert, but he's a good bailbondsman. He offers a chance for the criminal element of the area to straighten themselves out away from the corrupting influence of cell mates- which sometimes happens, I'm sure. At least for those first-time offenders. Mostly he makes money off bad people. He's no better or worse than some of the men I worked with in the armed forces, but that doesn't mean that I like him. Vinnie was damn happy that I was willing to work for him, because I'm damn good at what I do- which is the reason that he's not my only employment. But I also don't like leaving him high and dry when my business takes me elsewhere, especially since that just means that Stephanie will end up doing things she really isn't fully qualified to do herself.
So I was here to let him know I was going to be unavailable for a while, and to see Stephanie. "I'm going out of town for a couple weeks," I said. "Tank will be on the job, if you need him. Turning to Steph, "I want to talk to you...outside." I didn't bother to stop and see if she followed me.
A quick visual survey of the area as I opened the door revealed only an overcast sky, my customized black Ford F-150 FX4 parked at curbside, and a black RangeMan SUV with tinted windows parked behind my truck. Tank had the SUV motor running.
She followed me out of the office. When I turned to face her, I was struck yet again by the strength of her character. She was beautiful, yes, but it was more than that. She viewed the world as a relatively good place holding relatively good people, with few exceptions. I don't think I had ever viewed the world quite that way. It was one of the things that drew me to her; it was also one of the reasons that I spent so much time and money trying to protect her from herself. She wore a playful look on her face. "What if I need something? Should I call Tank?"
My stomach tightened and a rush of heat flowed downward. Her flirting had that reaction on me, even though I tried like hell not to show it. I didn't want her to realize how deeply she affected me, not until I was certain she was certain that it was me she really wanted.
Studying her, I traced her hairline with my fingertip. Astray curl stuck out from her head, and I tucked it back behind her ear. One way to keep her from realizing just how deeply my feelings for her ran was to flirt back as lightly as she had begun. I dropped my voice to reply. "It depends on what you need. Did you have anything special in mind?"
I caught and held her eyes for a few moments, and I could see the first licks of panic. She often chickened out of the game, unable to out do me for implied lewdness and innuendo. She was going to end the game now, and switch to some safer subject.
"How about if I need a car?" she asked.
I knew borrowing a car wasn't really foremost in her mind right now, but with Stephanie's car luck, it might really come up. The guys on my crew kept a running tally of Steph's cars, and the method of their demise, in the office control room. They had started a pool betting on how and when Steph would lose the next car. The indestructible Buick was the mother of all cars; if that ever died, and someone won the bet, they could take a year off from work on those winnings.
Some would wonder why I kept lending Steph cars, since they were quite expensive and almost never came back whole. I know Morelli's already figured it out. The fact of the matter is that this way, I can keep track of her using the GPS monitors on the RangeMan vehicles- and it has come in handy in the past. The expense of the lost vehicles means nothing to me compared to Steph's safety.
So I pulled my set of keys from my pocket and dropped them into her hand. "You can take my truck. I can get a ride back with Tank."
A narrow alley separated Vinnie's office from the neighboring business. I couldn't stand leaving her for weeks without at least stealing a kiss. I nudged her into the shadow of the alley, pressed her against the brick wall, and kissed her. When my tongue touched hers, she curled her fingers into the front of my shirt, and seemed to have momentarily lost herself in the contact.
It took a few minutes before she cut the kiss off. "Hey," she said. "You're poaching."
As if I cared anymore. I had given her the opportunity and advice to go back to Morelli, and all she did now was yo-yo back and forth between living with him and breaking up with him. Frankly, it was becoming quite repetitive and frustrating. Morelli was a good guy, but he just wasn't stepping up to the plate. He and I had an understanding when it came to Stephanie's safety, if not Steph herself; each of us would do whatever was necessary to guarantee it. If it was a gray area he felt he couldn't go into, I would (had), and he would ignore the trespass. But in the end, Morelli just wasn't comfortable with a bounty hunter for a girlfriend. The fights they had were always because he didn't value her for what she was or was capable of doing, and wanted her to change to fit into his safe little male Italian, Burg notion of marriage. Anyone with half a brain could see that Steph was way beyond that world. I was waiting for her to realize it, too. "And?"
"Stop it."
Her eyes didn't mean it, and I told her so, but I stopped.
She gave me back the truck keys. "Nice gesture but I can't take the truck."
I wondered briefly why she wouldn't take it- fear of becoming further "indebted" to me, or fear of Morelli's reaction to the loan.
I wanted her to know that my resources would still be available to her, even while I was gone. You never knew what might happen, and I didn't want to think of Steph in need of help and out of her depth, alone, in danger. "Call Tank if you change your mind. And be careful. Don't try to play with Eugene."
And then I left.
Chapter One
It's the same every time I walk in. Honestly, the reactions to my entrance are beginning to creep me out; I really don't enjoy all the ogling. All conversation stops, everyone stares, and I swear I see drool sometimes. Lula is the worst of the bunch. Given her previous profession, I'm sure that I really don't want to hear about what goes through her mind when she thinks about me. There was a time when I was younger when this would have been an enjoyable game, but it had gotten stale over the years. Especially after I met Stephanie. I always looked for her now, whenever I entered the bonds office. As was often the case, she was talking to Connie and Lula. Her back was to the door- I couldn't break her of that habit, she was never thinking about the security of a situation- and I stopped close behind her.
I felt the need to touch her. That happened often these days, since we had "settled accounts" from the DeChooch case. I still can't believe that I made a deal with her like that; it was such a false thing to do. I wanted her, I wanted to take her, and it was the only way I could think to get into her bed with Morelli still in the picture. Steph is just too good not to feel guilt over choosing to sleep with me while involved with Morelli, so I erased the need for guilt. She no longer had any choice. I thought it would work at the time. It's just recently that I realized it had blown up in my face.
So I rested my hand at the base of her neck, smooth and cool against my warmth. Still not enough contact for me. I leaned into her, resting my body against her back. "Babe," I said, softly. To make a legitimate excuse for my physical trespass, I snaked my right arm around her to take the file from her hand and look it over.
"Eugene Brown," I read.
My heart squeezed a little. I always worry about her when I know that she has the "bad' and "kind of bad" FTAs; I prefer her to work on the first- time offenders and "not-so-bad" ones. I remembered this guy, and I thought that her usual tactics might not work so well with this case. He's not the type to respond to her social worker impulses. "You might not want to spend a lot of time with Eugene. He's not a fun guy."
"I sort of bounced him off the hood of the Buick today. But it wasn't my fault."
I tightened my hold on her neck. Really, it usually wasn't her fault. Stephanie was like a lodestar for all the crazy, homicidal criminals of Trenton. I swear, she could meet them in a friggin' church, and their paths would cross in a way to piss the criminal off. No matter what she did, they found her. I tried to ease a little advice into the conversation in a way that wouldn't raise her hackles. I actually wanted her to listen to me. "You want to be careful with Eugene. He hasn't got much of a sense of humor, Babe."
"I don't suppose you know the identity of the devil guy who's robbing all the deli-marts?" she asked.
"Don't suppose I do," I replied. Sometimes it was difficult to follow the flow of topics in her mind. "But it's not Eugene. There'd be more bodies on the floor if it was Eugene."
Vinnie's inner office door opened, and Vinnie stuck his head out. "What's up?"
Vinnie is a pervert, but he's a good bailbondsman. He offers a chance for the criminal element of the area to straighten themselves out away from the corrupting influence of cell mates- which sometimes happens, I'm sure. At least for those first-time offenders. Mostly he makes money off bad people. He's no better or worse than some of the men I worked with in the armed forces, but that doesn't mean that I like him. Vinnie was damn happy that I was willing to work for him, because I'm damn good at what I do- which is the reason that he's not my only employment. But I also don't like leaving him high and dry when my business takes me elsewhere, especially since that just means that Stephanie will end up doing things she really isn't fully qualified to do herself.
So I was here to let him know I was going to be unavailable for a while, and to see Stephanie. "I'm going out of town for a couple weeks," I said. "Tank will be on the job, if you need him. Turning to Steph, "I want to talk to you...outside." I didn't bother to stop and see if she followed me.
A quick visual survey of the area as I opened the door revealed only an overcast sky, my customized black Ford F-150 FX4 parked at curbside, and a black RangeMan SUV with tinted windows parked behind my truck. Tank had the SUV motor running.
She followed me out of the office. When I turned to face her, I was struck yet again by the strength of her character. She was beautiful, yes, but it was more than that. She viewed the world as a relatively good place holding relatively good people, with few exceptions. I don't think I had ever viewed the world quite that way. It was one of the things that drew me to her; it was also one of the reasons that I spent so much time and money trying to protect her from herself. She wore a playful look on her face. "What if I need something? Should I call Tank?"
My stomach tightened and a rush of heat flowed downward. Her flirting had that reaction on me, even though I tried like hell not to show it. I didn't want her to realize how deeply she affected me, not until I was certain she was certain that it was me she really wanted.
Studying her, I traced her hairline with my fingertip. Astray curl stuck out from her head, and I tucked it back behind her ear. One way to keep her from realizing just how deeply my feelings for her ran was to flirt back as lightly as she had begun. I dropped my voice to reply. "It depends on what you need. Did you have anything special in mind?"
I caught and held her eyes for a few moments, and I could see the first licks of panic. She often chickened out of the game, unable to out do me for implied lewdness and innuendo. She was going to end the game now, and switch to some safer subject.
"How about if I need a car?" she asked.
I knew borrowing a car wasn't really foremost in her mind right now, but with Stephanie's car luck, it might really come up. The guys on my crew kept a running tally of Steph's cars, and the method of their demise, in the office control room. They had started a pool betting on how and when Steph would lose the next car. The indestructible Buick was the mother of all cars; if that ever died, and someone won the bet, they could take a year off from work on those winnings.
Some would wonder why I kept lending Steph cars, since they were quite expensive and almost never came back whole. I know Morelli's already figured it out. The fact of the matter is that this way, I can keep track of her using the GPS monitors on the RangeMan vehicles- and it has come in handy in the past. The expense of the lost vehicles means nothing to me compared to Steph's safety.
So I pulled my set of keys from my pocket and dropped them into her hand. "You can take my truck. I can get a ride back with Tank."
A narrow alley separated Vinnie's office from the neighboring business. I couldn't stand leaving her for weeks without at least stealing a kiss. I nudged her into the shadow of the alley, pressed her against the brick wall, and kissed her. When my tongue touched hers, she curled her fingers into the front of my shirt, and seemed to have momentarily lost herself in the contact.
It took a few minutes before she cut the kiss off. "Hey," she said. "You're poaching."
As if I cared anymore. I had given her the opportunity and advice to go back to Morelli, and all she did now was yo-yo back and forth between living with him and breaking up with him. Frankly, it was becoming quite repetitive and frustrating. Morelli was a good guy, but he just wasn't stepping up to the plate. He and I had an understanding when it came to Stephanie's safety, if not Steph herself; each of us would do whatever was necessary to guarantee it. If it was a gray area he felt he couldn't go into, I would (had), and he would ignore the trespass. But in the end, Morelli just wasn't comfortable with a bounty hunter for a girlfriend. The fights they had were always because he didn't value her for what she was or was capable of doing, and wanted her to change to fit into his safe little male Italian, Burg notion of marriage. Anyone with half a brain could see that Steph was way beyond that world. I was waiting for her to realize it, too. "And?"
"Stop it."
Her eyes didn't mean it, and I told her so, but I stopped.
She gave me back the truck keys. "Nice gesture but I can't take the truck."
I wondered briefly why she wouldn't take it- fear of becoming further "indebted" to me, or fear of Morelli's reaction to the loan.
I wanted her to know that my resources would still be available to her, even while I was gone. You never knew what might happen, and I didn't want to think of Steph in need of help and out of her depth, alone, in danger. "Call Tank if you change your mind. And be careful. Don't try to play with Eugene."
And then I left.