Since my first attempt was well-recieved I decided to post my second story thats been running through my mind. It has slightly racy themes but I rated it T because it's less explicit then moments in the books are. I hope you enjoy it.

"My apartment, now." The words were soft, urgent sounding, and nerve-wracking. He could hear the fear, the worry, and the echoed sadness in the words and his heart clenched. Something was wrong with his babe, and he didn't know what. Fear had him hurrying to his car, keys clenched in his right hand, gun holstered to his right thigh. Fear had him racing through the streets to her apartment, praying she was alright.

He hurried through the halls of her apartment complex, keeping eyes on the other renters; nothing was out of the norm, the elderly were as ornery as always, smiling, waving, no news of strange sounds or men, but then again, there had been other times in the past where she had been in danger and not a single thing was heard or seen by her neighbors.

The door to her apartment was locked, a fact that he didn't know if he should be relieved about or even more worried. He opted for more worry when he slid into the apartment, latching the chain back in place and saw the disarray of her apartment. Papers were strewn here and there, books ripped, glass figurines smashed. The most worrying part however, was the torn photographs and cracked frames that littered around her living room.

All the photos that were ruined were the sparse amount that detailed her and Morelli's off-and-on relationship. As a rule, he could tell when they were "off" by the photos being hidden out of sight in a cardboard box that was supposed to yet never made it to the dumpster down below in the parking lot. He hadn't helped but notice that they had been out of sight more than not lately.

The ripped photos now didn't bring him the vindictive pleasure that seeing them hidden had given him but spiked more worry. Stephanie wouldn't hurt the photos himself on the hopes that they would reconcile so seeing them ripped brought the thoughts of stalkers to his mind. His babe had met a lot of crazy, deranged skips over the years and he worried that one had found her. The memories of the sheer terror of Ramirez came to mind before he forcibly reminded himself that the man was long dead, shot to death while breaking in through Stephanie's bedroom window.

There were others though and the thoughts of all the times he had used her as a distraction to gain a skip from a bar brought the panic resurfacing and his gun was held tight in his hand as he approached the bedroom door. The door was locked as well but no sound emitted from it so he went and picked the simplistic lock. The door squeaked as he shouldered it open, gun in hand and was shocked and relieved by the sight.

Stephanie was sitting on the bed with her head down, the only visible injuries being the cuts and bruises littered across her pale hands. She was quiet, not even acknowledging his appearance, not to even yell at him for breaking into her home. The silence was awkward unsettling. He missed his constantly chatting, sometimes yelling babe and he just might kill whoever did this to her.

"Babe," he whispered, gently but firmly pushing her chin upward, forcing her to look up at him. The sight that met him made him nearly see red. A dark, deep purplish bruise surrounded her left eye which was puffy from whatever impacted her. He was going to kill whoever did it, murder him and then rip his body apart for the sheer pleasure. "Who?"

Stephanie wasn't listening though, she simply looked back down and stared at her injured face, "I'm sorry for calling you, but you were the only one I thought that would come so let, Morelli-" he growled, barely registering that she had flinched. He knew she knew that he would never hurt her and with a gentle stroke of her cheek, reassured her.

"Morelli did this?" he ran a long, dark finger across the top of the cheek were the purple flesh meshed with the unblemished peach skin. She shook her head.

"Joyce did but don't worry, she came out worse," he chuckled at her calm statement, brushing hair back and gently sliding himself beside her, arms wrapping around her body, warming her cold skin and simultaneously comforting her. She laid her head against his chest and breathed in deeply.

"How does Morelli fit in?" he asked after a few moments in which he ascertained that his babe was at least somewhat comforted; he knew what had happened between her and Joyce Barnhardt, all about the sordid affair in which Stephanie had come home to find the woman riding her husband like no tomorrow on her new kitchen table, but he couldn't figure how the hatred would feature Morelli, not even he would be stupid enough to sleep with that woman.

"I found them, one my couch." Stephanie whispered, her voice tight, "I started screaming and throwing things. I thought he was different, that he wasn't the boy he was in high school," she laughed tonelessly, "he's worse. The boy from high school wouldn't stand up with his pants to his ankles stuttering that it wasn't what it looked like and mumbling apologies." He held her tightly.

"I took my gun out and explained to him that he was breaking and entering and I had the right to shoot him and he left quickly, but not before Joyce punched me hard in the face. I nicked her in the arm pretty good and she ran screaming." Ranger couldn't help it, he chuckled darkly.

"You shot Joyce Barnhardt in the arm?" he could hear the disbelief in his own voice and was shocked to see her nod; he very nearly thought he had misheard her. "Proud of you babe." He told her, muzzling his chin into her wild brown curls. "What do you want me to do about Morelli? Shoot him? Remove excess body parts?" She shook her head.

"I –" she blushed a fair, rosy pink but looked up and stared directly into his eyes; her blue eyes were bright, darker than ,"I want you to spend the night with me. I don't want to be alone," she kissed harshly, pressing her body taunt to his. He could feel the blood rush to somewhere lower than his hips and after a few lingering moments, pushed her gently but firmly away.

"Babe," he said calmly, carefully. He watched her eyes fill with unshed tears anew and before he could comfort or finish speaking she had pushed her way from his arms.

"You don't want me either, this was stupid, I'm sorry." She was rushing, the tears falling from her cheeks. He winced at her words.

"Babe." He tried again but she simply shook her head.

"I'm sorry Ranger, I should have known you wouldn't want me, no one seems to, let alone someone like you," she laughed tonelessly. "Please just go, I'm tired." She made to push him off the bed, but he grabbed her arms and pulled her close.

"You have no idea how much I want you, how much I always want you," he nearly growled, body tight against hers, "I love you and I want you to always know that, if Morelli is too damn stupid to realize how amazing you are that's his problem. But I don't want to love you like this, when you are distraught over him, not realizing what you are doing –" but Stephanie had kissed him again and Ranger was sure if she did it again, he would be unable to control himself.

"I know exactly what I'm doing," she hissed, angry at his words, once she pulled away, "I know exactly what I want,"

"I don't want to be a replacement," he told her, his final card, but he could feel his resolve crumbling,

"You aren't," she promised, lips pressed once more against him and his mind stopped working, hands traveling down her body, pulling her onto the bed.

The morning light shone onto her tussled hair, leading downward until his eyes were stopped by the thin sheet that covered her body from prying eyes. She was beautiful in the morning and Ranger wouldn't mind waking to her every morning. She was peaceful as she slept, all angst from last night gone from her face to reveal a relaxed, softened face. He hoped nothing woke her; he would hate to see the anxious return.

The phone rang beside them and he cursed darkly, reaching for the phone to slip it into silent. Too late though, Stephanie stirred her blue eyes blinking open mulishly. "Ranger?" she whispered quietly, eyes focusing on him. "What's that?" she mumbled, head muzzling into his bare chest.

"Phone babe," he answered, wrapping an arm around her.

"Turn it off!" she protested, turning her head to lay against the mattress.

"It's yours babe," he told her, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Do it anyway," she responded, voice already falling back into a drowsy mumble. He chuckled before reaching over her and grabbing her cell, flipping it open and pressing it to his ear.

"Yo," he spoke into it, eyes focused once more on the soft rise and fall of her chest.

"Ranger?" Morelli's voice spoke up, obviously shocked. Ranger lazily sat up, trying to draw the phone conversation away from Stephanie. Too late though, Morelli had spoken loudly and Stephanie's eyes were open again, staring at him curiously. "Why are you answering cupcake's phone?" Ranger knew he was going to hell and so didn't bother hiding the smug tone in his voice.

"Because Babe's tired from last night and didn't want to answer," he could practically feel the hostility breathing down from Morelli's end of the phone. He chuckled inwardly as he saw the deep flush carry down from her cheeks to her chest, dipping below what the sheet modestly hid from view.

"Why the hell did you spend the night with my girlfriend?"

"She isn't yours," Ranger retorted, the tightening of his fingers on the phone the only indication of his anger, "you left her for a whore and she called me to pick up the pieces,"

"You mean you took advantage over her when we were having a spat!" Morelli growled, "You don't care about her, you care about getting some cheap action!" Ranger glared at the phone. He could see the tears forming in his babe's eyes, and wanted Morelli to pay.

"She's not some cheap action and if you truly cared about her you wouldn't dare talk about her like that. You weren't having a spat, you were fucking another woman in her living room. If you dare call her again, come to her apartment or do anything to harass her, they'll be one less cop in Trenton," he hung up then, glaring darkly at the phone.

"Ranger?" her voice was soft, gentle even as she whispered inquisitively. He breathed deeply, calmingly before looking down at her. Her blue eyes were still watery but she had a soft smile on her face, "did you really mean that? That I wasn't just some cheap action for you?"

"Of course babe," he told her, gently hugging her. "I love you and I want to spend my life with you, no matter how short it may be," they both laughed but knew inwardly that it was ill-humor. In the bounty hunter business, even the best of the best might have a messy ending.

"Marry me," she said suddenly. Ranger lifted one eyebrow.

"Isn't the man supposed to ask, babe?" he asked sardonically. She glared, her body tight against him. It wasn't fair to push him so while asking such an important question; it was cheating.

"Shut up. You said you wanted to stay with me forever, put your money where your mouth is," she whispered the end in his ear, nearly making him moan. Damned woman with her evil wiles.

"That's cheating babe," he whispered back, arms tight around her as he pushed the sheet down slightly.

"Answer the question," she whispered back, lips mere centimeters from his, how easy it would be to just press his to hers but before he could she darted teasingly out of the way.

"Yes," he growled, pinning her down to the bed, "I'll marry you but damned if I'm letting your mother or granny getting involved, it's now or never babe." She smiled teasingly.

"Right now Ranger?" she asked, gently pressing her hips to his. He glared, pressing his lips harshly to hers.

"This afternoon, babe," he amended before kissing her once more and pulling her under the sheets.