(A/N: I have made the decision not to continue 'Second Trial of Payne' - at least, not yet. Obviously. This is something I've been working on for . . . two . . . months now, and I want to get it done. Each chapter has its own 'theme song.' The beginning of this one is L's theme song AB&C - you can look it up on YouTube. L is a genius character from Death Note. The second part - after Steph's flashback - is Good Girl by Carrie Underwood.)

Chapter 1 - The Big Bang Theory

I cringed as the door creaked when I opened it, and mentally cursed as the wooden floor groaned. Hopefully, Morelli was asleep upstairs and didn't hear me entering his house at - I stole a glance at the quietly ticking clock above his kitchen table - six in the morning, when I'd said I should be back by eleven, last night.

Luck was not on my side.

Only a second after I had toed off my heels, Morelli came tramping down the stairs. He looked at me in Ranger's slightly wrinkled shirt I'd borrowed but probably would never give back. The shirt fell to my knees, hiding my denim mini-skirt from yesterday, and my leggings had disappeared. His eyes lingered on the length of the shirt, taking in how big it was on me, and I knew the exact moment he realized just whose shirt it was, because his face turned an interesting shade of purple.

"Cupcake." That was good, right? I mean, he didn't yell. But I had no hope this could be a civilize conversation for very long.

"Sorry I'm late - er, early, I guess. It took them nine hours just to figure out this skip probably left on a plane, but then they still had no idea where he was, I mean, if you're leaving by plane you can just hop state lines, right? But then I was thinking for a couple hours and finally I remembered in his file it talked about how he's -"

"Stop, Cupcake. Just stop. I don't need to hear excuses for why you're coming home to me at six thirty seven in the fucking morning, after you spend the night at a fucking mercenary's." I stopped to stare at him in shock. I knew he hated when I stayed out late, especially when I was out with Ranger, but I also thought he knew I would never sleep around on him. His voice was ice cold when he asked me, "Was he worth it?"

I stuttered. This, this just couldn't end well. "If you mean, 'Was it worth it to stay out late to locate a scum bag whose favorite hobby is selling little girls into sex slavery,' then yes. It was very worth it, and it will be worth it when I get to go with them to Cabo San Lucas and watch them rip his nuts off while they apprehend him."

As I watched his face darken even more, his eyes sparking with anger, I couldn't help but remember the cause of this, our latest fight.

*W*R*

Bang! Pop! Sizzz! Unfortunately, I was so familiar with the noises of an automobile exploding, that even though my back was turned, I didn't have to see it to know the latest car I'd had to borrow from Ranger was now in car-heaven. Lula and Connie's eyes flew to the window of the newly rebuilt bond's office before Connie shrugged and Lula returned to filing her nails. I hesitantly glanced over my shoulder. Yup. The Explorer was in flames. Sigh; this was the third car in the past two weeks. It was official. Someone wanted me dead.

If you had told me the day I was fired from E.E. Martin, a company where I worked as a lingerie buyer, that I would be so blasé about the thought that someone was trying to kill me, I would run from you. Screaming. Now, the idea was simply a part of my life. Granted, not a fun part, but you learn to live with what you've got.

The door to my part time boss and cousin, Vinnie's office opened, and my other part time boss and mentor, Ranger, stepped out. Ranger is badass personified. He's probably my best friend, he taught me everything I know about bounty hunting (which is, admittedly, very little) and for one extraordinary night, he was my lover. Then he told me to go back to my shit-stain boyfriend and Trenton cop, Joseph Morelli.

Morelli's not a bad guy; he's just not the guy. The guy was current company, but he was also wearing at least two guns and a knife, and he told me constantly that that made him the opposite of relationship material. Truth is, for Ranger, I would give up just about anything to be in a relationship, so long as it was with him.

At the moment, he was smirking at the smoldering remains of his former car. It wasn't just one of his usual half-smiles, either. This was one of his rare, full blown 2500 watt grins. The kind that said you were amusing him. It was also the kind that made women walk into walls. "Babe," he said to me, and walked out. Lula and Connie followed him with their greedy eyes. Connie fanned herself with an envelope.

"Babe" can mean a lot of things. I took this particular case to mean, I want to talk to you privately. A lot of people would love to do a lot of things with Ranger privately. Talking wasn't on many lists. I flashed a nervous smile at the girls and gingerly made my way out the door and over to Ranger, where he was leaning against door of his Porsche, watching the Explorer burn.

"It wasn't my fault," I stated. He grinned again, this time just a half-smile and I was only slightly surprised to realize that disappointed me.

"It never is," He replied cryptically, then inclined his head. "I'll give you a ride to Rangeman," He offered, "Got a skip I could use your insight on."

I'm not sure how I did it, and I doubt I could do it ever, ever again, but I raised my left brow at him questioningly. His smile widened incrementally. "We can't find anything on him that might lead us to him, and you've got a slightly different way of thinking than most people. You might come up with something we can't." For Ranger, this was a speech akin to William Henry's Inaugural. Lengthwise, I mean. Blowing out a sigh, I nodded.

I was just about to get into the car when I heard the shout. "Cupcake, where the fuck do you think you're going?"

I looked over roof of the car, meeting Joe's gaze, and said simply, "I'm just helping out with a skip." If that's wrong, you can deal with it, Ranger, I thought. Joe's eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything else, I had dropped into the passenger seat and told Ranger to go. He cast me an odd glance, but did as I asked.

We got to Rangeman and I was welcomed by Lester grabbing my hand and practically dragging me to the control room. Cal smirked at him and handed me a file. "Please, Beautiful. You gotta help us out here!" I guess I could do it again; my left brown rose at him for just a second, before I said, "I gotta admit, you look like a chihuahua when you beg." As everyone burst out laughing, I flipped the file open. After that, I don't know if anyone tried to say anything to me, but if they had, I didn't acknowledge them. Finally, I stopped. Dropping my head back to stare at the ceiling, I'm sure my sudden change in focus startled Tank, Lester, Bobby, Cal, Hal, and even Ranger who had all been watching me run searches for the past hour.

"How did he leave town?" I questioned. They were all silent for a minute, before Tank finally answered me.

"By plane," he replied. I nodded slowly, and grabbed the folder off the table to my left. "Bomber?" He questioned, and looked shocked when I shushed him.

"He's a sex addict, right?"

". . . Yeah . . ." This time it was a blushing Hal who responded.

"He had a subscription to Playboy. I don't care how stupid it might seem to you and me; I've seen the effect addiction has on people. They don't just drop it cold turkey. And mental addictions like this are almost . . . more difficult to drop than physical ones, like alcoholism. That means . . ." I reached out and grabbed the phone. I watched the big, confused men leaning against the wall or seated in chairs in the corner of the room in my peripheral vision, even as I dialed the number and waited.

"Yes, my name's Cindy Hageman," I greeted, using the name of our skip's wife. "I told my husband, Conner Hageman, to cancel his subscription five months ago, but this week I found a . . . magazine on the living room floor. We have an eleven year old son! Do you know how impressionable preteen boys are?" At this, I noticed Ranger and Tank smiling. "I just wanted to know where he's getting these from, because they're certainly not coming to our mail box; the slimy rat doesn't know how to let the dog out, let alone run out to get the mail," I sighed, and watched the guys grin at each other as I wrote down an address in a country I'd never heard of. "Thanks. We're definitely going to have words. Oh! One last thing . . . you wouldn't happen to have a phone number, would you?" After scrawling down another set of numbers, I hung up, but before any of them could speak, I began to scribble furiously.

They watched me again, and frowned when I handed the paper to Bobby, who began to grin after reading what I'd written. Taking the waiting phone from my hand, he dialed the number Playboy had given me, and gave his speech.

"Hello, Mr. Hageman, my name is Damien Lawson, and I'm calling on behalf of the postal service. We're running an annual survey, and need to verify your address. . . ." 'Damien' continued on to prattle off an address slightly different than what the Playboy worker had given, and scribbled down the address Hageman gave him. "Thank you, sir. I'll have that corrected right away. Yes. Goodbye." Hanging up, he turned to me and pulled me into his arms.

"You're a genius, Bomber! The addresses match, so now we know where Hageman lives. Thank you." Lester was grinning.

"I could 'a done that too . . . maybe," he said. "Definitely with a couple more days to think about it."

I merely smiled at him and shook my head. Tank, Cal and Hal simply said, "Thanks, Bomber." And after that, I turned to Ranger. He was smiling in bemusement, but he seemed happy.

"Proud of you, babe," he volunteered. Then frowned at the paper that had been given to him. "But now I want to know how someone so high profile could sneak onto a plane and disappear to Cabo San Lucas." Shaking his head, he continued, "It's late, and you worked harder than most of my men," -this was met with a round of playful indignant cries from the Merry Men- "so why don't you stay at Rangeman tonight. I'm sure you're tired, and you didn't take a break to eat anything - very un-Stephanie-like." He grinned to himself at that. "Ella's probably asleep by now," he added, "but I know how to heat leftovers."

My eyes widened and I turned to Tank to playfully gasp, "Ranger eats leftovers?" Tank grinned.

"Be scared; be very scared - it probably has twigs listed under the main ingredients."

Ranger was shaking his head at us, but smiling. "Babe." I followed him up to seven.

When we got up to Ranger's apartment, he looked over his shoulder and said, "Change into something to sleep in. It's not safe to be out driving when you're as tired as you are." So he headed off to his kitchen, and I to his bedroom.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled open the doors of his closet, and quickly grabbed a pair of sleep shorts and a camisole. I think Ella was trying to make a statement; the shorts were white, thin, and barely covered my butt. The cami was equally white and sheer, with spaghetti straps that were barely there, and straight across my chest was the only color in the entire set: in shiny golden colored calligraphy, the word "angel" was scrawled right across my breasts. This might as well constitute lingerie, I thought. I certainly saw less sexy items when I worked at E. E. Martin.

Shaking my head at my thoughts, I padded out to the living room. And froze. Ranger must have some sort of emergency stash of clothes, because he was walking around, shirtless, in only a pair of silk boxers. He glanced up and smiled at me, and I wonder how I was going to find an inconspicuous way to check for drool.

Dinner was quiet - then again, most things involving Ranger were - and after he put the dishes in the sink, he led me to his bedroom. I could barely keep my eyes open, let alone protest him tucking me in like a small child. He brushed a few strands of hair away from my cheek, and I heard the door to his bathroom shut quietly. As I was on the verge of falling asleep, I heard the water from his shower stop running, and he crept out the door. But he didn't come to bed. When the door to the living room cracked open, I sat up slowly. "Don't. Don't leave." There was a long moment of quiet stillness.

Then the covers beside me were pulled down, and I felt the bed dip as he slid in.

Just before I fell asleep with my head on his chest, I heard him whisper, "Duerme bien, la esposa de mi alma."

*W*R*

Joe exploded. "Dammit, Stephanie! You can't just go running around with undesirables like that! Do you know what people would have said if something had happened to you while you were with him? I can't protect you from yourself!"

I felt it then; a flash of pure fury flooding through my veins. He continued, oblivious to the fire he had started. "It's high time you gave up your lousy job - you're no good at it anyway - and settle down! I'm not going to wait forever, Stephanie. You should be at home taking care of our children at this age - not running around playing superhero with a bunch of thugs!"

I snapped.

"Fuck you, Joe! Don't expect me to 'settle down' anytime soon, that's just not who I am! And I might not have conventional methods, but I have one of the highest capture rates out of any bounty hunter in the country! Nearly a hundred percent. Not only that, either, Joe, but I've helped you out more times than can be put on one hand when you're involved in a dangerous case. And those men that you call thugs? They're a lot better than you are! You say they're criminals, but had you been good enough for the SEALs, -which, by the way, is where Bobby's from - then you would have seen and become exactly what they have - hell, you might have actually worked at Rangeman. So don't -" SMACK!

I gasped as a sharp stinging pain suddenly made itself noticed on my cheek. I also realized that the force of Joe's blow had knocked me off my feet, and I was on the ground, lying on my side, my fingertips gently placed to the area on my cheek where Joe had slapped me. "Oh, that's nice. You know that's abuse, Joey boy? You're not a real man if you th-" This time, it was a kick to my stomach. I curled over in a fetal position, and felt another kick land at the top of my head. The world went white for just a moment, but when I came to, I almost wished I hadn't. He had a grip on my arm, hard and impatient. He was dragging me up the stairs.

"You think I'm not good as them? Think I'm gonna let you run back to them? Be their whore? Nutuh. This ends now!" He kicked his bedroom door open, and threw me onto his bed. I shrieked until I felt his hands wrap around my throat. "You're going to be quiet now." One of his hands drifted lower, shoving my skirt up around my waist. "You're going to become a good 'Burg girl and have my babies." He ripped my panties off easily, and I nearly choked on a sob that I'd tried as hard as possible to keep quiet. "But first, since this is our wedding night until I tell your mother tomorrow that you finally agreed and we actually set up our wedding, and the bride is supposed to be a virgin, and I know that you've been fucked before, I'll have to take your little ass." I couldn't back the sob, especially when it changed from one of terror, to one of pain as I felt his head begin to prod my forbidden area. "Considering how religiously you guarded this area, I'm assuming that's why you waited?"

I never had the chance to plead for him to stop, to tell him that I'd rather die than be abused this way. All I knew was the pain as you forced himself on me repeatedly, and the mind-numbing fear as I realized he'd paid no thought to using a condom - then again, he wanted to make a baby, so why would he?

At last he fell asleep beside me, but I continued to lie there, shuddering from my silent tears, from the pain that I could still feel. At noon, his alarm went off, and I cringed away from him. His only response was a sickening chuckled, before he began to go about his business, getting ready to go to work; he had an evening shift today, apparently. When he was dressed, he came back to the bedroom, and leaned against the doorjamb.

"Go to work today - this is normally when you get up, right? You'll have to start getting up earlier so you can take care of our babies. Do your job, but in a few weeks, I get a pregnancy test, and if you're pregnant, you'll have to tell Vinnie you quit." He turned to leave, but paused, and glanced over his shoulder. "We'll work on the baby some more tonight. And if you tell anyone about this morning, I'll kill them. I know enough about law and investigation to get away with it." With that terrifying last statement, he left.

(Translation: Sleep well, wife of my soul.)