The quote "Love her but leave her wild" was the inspiration for this story. Everyone familiar is Janet's. Any mistakes are mine.

"What are you thinking about?" Stephanie asked me.

She knows I don't usually engage in conversation when I'm behind the wheel, but once I ended the on scene call that had Ram on his way to pick up her POS, I knew having to speak was a possibility. She's complained multiple times in the past about my 'driving zone', but she isn't letting me stay in one tonight.

"You don't want to know what I'm thinking, Babe."

"You're mad at me."

It wasn't a question, so I didn't have to answer it.

We were coming up on a twenty-four-hour convenience store. I hit my directional and pulled into the lot. I'd rather have this conversation in my apartment or hers, but I don't want her thinking that I'm upset with her any longer than it took to form the initial thought.

She looked around the parking lot in confusion. "Why are we here?"

"You want to talk, so we're going to talk," I told her, shutting the Cayenne down.

"Uh-oh."

"Do you know why I love you?" I asked, completely throwing her off her game by asking that.

"Honestly? I have no friggin' idea. I find myself asking that same question every night after a day like this one."

"You don't give yourself enough credit, Babe. There's a lot to love about you."

"That wasn't a polite way of calling me fat, was it?"

"No. Your curves are all perfect."

And thankfully, every single one of them is still intact.

"So ...?" She asked.

"What you have that not many other people do, is an almost desperate need to test yourself and what you're made of," I told her. "You dive headfirst into everything without considering the consequences of doing so."

Her expression seemed even more puzzled now. "Wait ... I thought that's what pisses you off about me."

"It frustrates the shit out of me, but not for the reason you think."

"Clearly I'm missing something here."

She unfastened her seat belt and turned to put her back flat against the passenger's door.

It doesn't matter that it's one-thirty-five in the morning, or that we're both exhausted and currently sitting in a shadowy corner of a parking lot. If there's something bothering her, the surroundings are barely noticed until she gets to the bottom of it.

"The irritation that comes from your occasional reckless behavior has to do with me not wanting you harmed in any capacity. You could say it's more my problem than yours. I'm actually really proud of you for continuing to try to do what you think you can't."

"So you're not angry that I took on a skip meant for Rangeman?"

When Connie called and told me what Steph was about to do, I hadn't been angry ... I'd been fucking furious. I still am.

"You are pissed," she said, after a moment of studying me in the dim light emanating from the barred window of the store.

"Maybe, but not at you."

"You should be. Connie told me Grayson was a mean - not to mention crazy - SOB, but I thought I could take him."

"And you did."

"With help," she pointed out.

"You already had him cornered when I arrived."

"Yeah, but I hadn't gotten him secured yet. You did that with one quick punch. It would've taken me another ten minutes - and probably a stun gun or him a missing little toe - to get him on the ground."

"The point is you would have, even if it took longer than you think it should."

"So what was with the order to get in your car, and the cold shoulder afterwards, if you're so proud of me?"

"Emotion isn't something I'm comfortable with and you're a bottomless pit of it."

"Gee, thanks," she told me, crossing her arms defensively over her chest while glaring at me.

"That isn't necessarily a bad thing, Babe."

"It sure seems to be where I'm concerned. That's why Joe decided to cut his losses, my mom constantly irons, and Connie feels the need to tattle on me."

"Feeling strongly about something isn't wrong despite what people tell you. You're unique because you do things no one else does."

"Like blowing up a car at least once a week?"

I didn't let her unhook herself with humor.

"No. You have an innate sense of right and wrong, freakish good luck, and frightening timing, which is why you located an FTA who's given Vince the slip twice in the past."

"Finding him was easy, cuffing him is something else. I'm glad you did your 'appear out of nowhere' thing and socked the guy. He went lights out faster than I did last night."

Her having a restful night sounded promising, because if I have my way she will be lacking some sleep tonight.

"You did good, Steph."

Her arms loosened and she started relaxing, finally believing what I'm telling her.

"Thank you. Next time, though, I'm calling you first to see if you can come with me."

Now I relaxed. I want her to feel that she can do anything she puts her mind to, but I also want to be the man she calls to watch her do it.

"I'm available 24/7," I told her.

"You are?"

"For you ... yes."

"What's going on here?" She asked, coming away from the door and more towards me.

"I think we're reaching an understanding of sorts."

"Are we talking about work?"

"We're talking about everything, Babe. You and I make a good team ... out on the street or tucked away somewhere far from it."

Her face suddenly acquired a pinkish tint.

"I'm not opposed to being your backup," I told her. "I'm also not opposed to applying pressure if you give me the slightest indication that you're interested in expanding our relationship to include more than just captures."

"All this was going through your mind on the way to and from the police station?"

"Not exactly. I don't want to change who you are. And I know I should leave you alone so I don't do anything to alter the woman you've become. Just when I decide I should put some distance between us, I get a call ..."

"You can blame Connie for that one. I swore her to secrecy."

"I'm considering thanking her instead of blaming her. I'm glad she informed me of your plans. Not only did I get to see you haul in a guy half of Comstock is afraid of, I got to spend the night with you."

"Ummm, so far it's only been part of the night."

"Would you like that to change to an entire one?"

"I don't know. You're not an easy guy to shake. If I sleep with you again, it could make us both uncomfortable tomorrow."

"And if you don't spend the night with me, I'll be hard and uncomfortable all night. There's nothing sexier than you ordering a guy to kiss the dirt."

"He didn't touch the ground until you made him."

"Doesn't lessen the impact, Babe."

She smiled. "Had I known I was turning you on at the time, I would've shot a couple volts into the douchebag."

"There's always tomorrow."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You're trying to trick me into calling you before I go after someone, aren't you?"

"Yes and no. Does that bother you?"

She was quiet for a few beats. "No."

"Good."

"Where do we go from here?" She asked, after another second of silence.

"My apartment or yours?"

"Do you really think this is a good idea?"

"Yes," I said automatically.

She bit her lip as she really thought about what I'm offering her.

"Would this be a no-strings thing?" She asked me.

"No. There are definitely strings this time. More than you will probably ever want."

Instead backing off she leaned closer to me which made her breast press distractedly into my arm. "I can handle a few strings."

That kind of risk-taking and snap decision-making is what convinced me that we're perfect for one another. Neither of us care about rules or laws when it comes to work or relationships. We only require a verbal agreement to be there for the other in either circumstance.

I started the car and headed to Rangeman. If she's ready to move forward with her career - and with me - I'm not giving her time, space, or any opportunity to change her mind about it ... or us.

I promised myself early on that I'll always give her whatever she needs, and if that's more knowledge on bounty hunting, extra training when it comes to apprehensions, or more straightforward answers regarding our relationship, she will have it ... whatever the cost to anyone else.