There were a few couples in my old neighbourhood who had had long engagements but I never thought I would be in one myself.

My name is Stephanie Plum.

I'm blue eyed, brown curly haired, work as a bond enforcement agent (or bounty hunter to simplify it) for my cousin Vinnie and I've been engaged for 6 years.

My fiancé, Richard Dickie (don't ask) Orr, is a lawyer who is always- from what he tells me- tearing his hair out at his clients who don't show up for their court date. He's grey-eyed and dirty blond haired with a killer smile.

I always thought our relationship would make a great movie or TV series. I always liked to picture myself as the badass girlfriend/wife who tracks down the skips and hauls their no-good behinds down to the courtroom where my successful beau awaits.

The only catch was Dickie was hired by scary, brutish, mafia guys whom only professional bounty hunters go after. And by professional I mean the 6 foot, toned and gun wielding type who can shoot a bullet through a cheerio 20 feet away.

Yes. My man is that good a lawyer- so good that it sometimes scares me…

Dickie proposed when I was 24.

Before that, I had lost my job and was about to be evicted by my pain-in-the-kisser landlord. I was not prepared to move back in with my parents so when he popped the question, it was as though all my worries had vanished.

I moved in with Dickie into a cute 4 bedroomed detached house complete with white picket fence with visions of me walking down the church isle in a beautiful white dress to meet my groom at the altar – And I'm still doing it 6 years later.

We had only gotten as far as putting the engagement ring on my finger and living together. We did make a few efforts to come up with some plans for the wedding but Dickie was always working none stop. He sometimes went without sleeping just to file some papers or go through some contracts.

Although, it was like Dickie himself had changed during our engagement. When I first met him, he was fresh out of law school, suave and outgoing. When he asked me out, I was hooked.

Now he was tense and always seemed to be on his toes; almost paranoid. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep and I caught him mumbling under his breath.

"Richard- Honey, are you okay?" I asked him once he got home on Monday night.

He dropped his briefcase next to the stairs before looking up at me with tired eyes. He gave me an empty smile. "Of course I am Sweetie-Cakes. Why wouldn't I be?"

I could tell he was lying. My favourite word is cake and Dickie knows how to use it to his advantage to get around me- Although I could use it as a lie-detector.

I didn't return the smile. "No you're not."

He tutted, "N'aw Steph, I know the law ain't easy but it's nothing I can't handle."

"Dickie, you're white as a sheet, your eyes are blood shot and have dark circles underneath them."

"C'mon Steph, I just got home. I'm fine."

I shook my head. "No you're not."

He gave a sigh. "Alright, I had a rough night last night. Now can you interrogate me later, please Sweetie-Cakes?"

He turned to head towards the kitchen but I was still not convinced.

"That's what you always say but I know there's something you're not telling me-"

He spun around suddenly to face me again; I had no time to react and before I knew it I was being shaken by my neck. His fingers dug into my skin while he screamed at me with a crazed look in his eye.

"What do you know?! Have you been spying on me too?!"

My brain finally kicked in after the shock when I struggled to breathe.

"Dickie you're hurting me!" I yelled as I tried to pry his hands off me.

Dickie jumped as though I had stung him. He stared at me, his eyes wide with shock and his mouth hanging open while I gasped lung fulls of air.

"Stephanie…" He whispered. "I…I…I'm so sorry…."

He wrapped his arms around me and held me close to him. "I don't know what got into me there…"

I looked up at him. "See? You're working too hard. It's making you nuts!"

He sighed and let go off me whilst running his hands through his hair. "You're right. I have a new client. I can't discuss any details but…I've…I've never had a case like this before…"

I breathed out a groan. "At least tell me it's important or give me a clue to how serious it is, Honey. I worry about you."

He looked at me and smiled gently before pulling me into another hug. "Okay then. I'll remember that."

.

.

.

When I woke up the next morning, Dickie had already left for work.

I got up, showered, threw on some comfy clothes and grabbed my car keys before driving to the bonds office.

"Mornin' Steph," Connie, Vinnie's office manager greeted me as I walked through the door. "I got some easy cash for ya t'day."

Connie was like a human version of Betty Boop, only she carried a gun and showed a lot more cleavage in a red low-cut mini dress.

Lula, my best friend and sometimes partner, stood up from the couch she had long claimed as her own. "I had a look through those files an' I saw tha' no good Tubby guy who fell off his roof last summer is at it again an' I got a bone t' pick wi' him. He threw icky white stuff on my good shoes!"

Lula was a plus sized African-American woman who performed the miracle of squeezing herself into size 10 animal prints and neon spandex and changed her hair colour and style every week.

Today she had her hair wrapped in a lilac bun which went well with her purple leopard print spandex dress and matching heels.

During the time I've known Lula, I learned that she loved her food and clothes so that meant you never called her fat or did something to offend her sense of fashion.

"You've got more shoes then me and it's only one pair." I said, glancing down at my 3 year old sneakers.

"Yeah but I loved those shoes. They went with nearly half my wardrobe and that little cu-"

The main door opened before any cursing broke out. I turned to see none other than Officer Joseph Morelli.

"Easy on the cussing, Lula, I've had a night of it from a gang of teenagers at the station."

I've known Morelli all my life. He's of pure Italian heritage with black hair, dark eyes and toned stud muscle.

He helped relieve me of my virginity when I was 16 on a bakery floor which caused me to run him over in my grandma's car 3 years later.

After a while we laughed about it and started dating. But by the time I was 22 we decided it was better if we just stayed friends after some (loud) debating whether we could stand each other as boyfriend and girlfriend.

"Hey Cupcake," He turned to me with his signature suave smile but frowned suddenly. "Stephanie what happened to your neck?!"

I blinked at him. "Huh?"

"You've got blue and purple marks around your throat."

Lula walked over and peered at me. "Lord almighty he's right! Steph, what the hell happened? It looks as though someone tried to throttle you!"

The incident from last night replayed through my mind.

"Oh…well…"

Morelli's hands were on my shoulders. "Who was it Cupcake? Say the word and I'll have their ass at the station."

"Joe, there's no need." I said brushing him off. "It was an accident. Dickie got in late last night and-"

"Dickie?! As in, you're fiancé, Dickie?!" Connie spluttered, her mouth hanging open. "Accident or no accident Stephanie, he shouldn't lay a finger on you! It's bad enough tha-"

She stopped herself in midsentence before I could interrupt her.

"It's been dealt with already. He's been missing out on sleep because of his new client and when I kept asking him about it he lost control. He didn't hurt me. I didn't even notice I had marks on my neck."

All 3 pairs of eyes were fixed on me in an awkward silence. Connie, however, looked guilty.

.

.

.

I got home earlier than planned after I cashed my cheques in at the bank. Dickie's car wasn't in the driveway so that meant I was eating alone tonight.

I threw my bag at the bottom of the staircase before heading up to the bedroom. I kicked off my shoes and changed into an oversized t-shirt and a pair of leggings before heading back down to re-heat some left overs.

But as I stepped out on to the landing, a hand covered my mouth and an arm wrapped around my waist. My screams were muffled and I helplessly lashed out as my hostage-taker dragged me over to the opposite wall.

He turned me around and pressed my back to it so I was met with a pair of brilliant brown eyes of a Hispanic man.

He was about 6"3, had mocha-latte brown skin and long black hair tied back into a pony tail. His incredible muscle frame was clad in a black t-shirt, black cargo-pants and black lace up boots along with a gold loop earring in his left ear.

His hand was still over my mouth as he spoke. "If you keep quiet, it will make things a lot easier. Okay?"

My heart was pounding against my ribcage and I was shaking like a leaf, but I managed to make a hasty nod so he uncovered my mouth.

"I don't have any cash and there's nothing valuable in the house!" I blurted out, my eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets.

The man shook his head. "I'm not here for cash. I'm here for you."

A lump formed in my throat as my body was suddenly paralysed. "No…please don't…"

His eyes softened. "I'm not going to hurt you, but I do need to take you to-"

I ran passed him before he could finish. I headed towards the stairs but skidded to a halt when I nearly bumped into another guy who was like a walking building – 6/7 foot-whatever with bulging biceps and blocking the stairs.

I stared frozen and wide-eyed at him as he looked down at me with considerate eyes. He turned to the other man.

"Boss, we should have done this the old fashioned way. Look at her, she's terrified."

"We both know she wouldn't have cooperated, Tank." I nearly screamed when I heard the first man speak behind me. "And we don't have enough time as it is."

I backed away from them; my breathing coming out in heavy pants. I felt lightheaded.

They both looked at me as I switched my eyes from one to the other.

"Please make sure I don't swallow my tongue…" I said.

And then I fainted.