A/N: Anything recognizable belongs to J. Evanovich. I am not profiting in any way...alas.
Chapter 1
I have two modes of thought that I call "Smart Stephanie" and "Stupid Stephanie". Right now I was definitely "Stupid Stephanie". I am a fugitive apprehension agent, which is a fancy name for bounty hunter. I work for my cousin Vinnie who runs Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. Vinnie bonds out all sorts of criminals for a percentage of the bond and the criminal avoids jail time until their court date. When they skip bail and fail to appear for their court date, I hunt them down and drag them back to jail until a new court date is set. Or at least, that's what I'm supposed to do.
"You can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man!"
Right now I'm sprinting down the street trying to catch 65-year old George Mann who is naked and covered in icing and gumdrop buttons. I don't really feel like catching him but I need the money to buy groceries.
"Stop Mr. Mann!" I yell as I chase him around the corner of my childhood neighborhood, Chambersburg, which is a chunk of Trenton, New Jersey which houses a mix of middle-class nationalities including old men who believe in fairy tales.
"For the last time", George called back, "Call me the Gingerbread Man!"
"No!" I yelled.
I stupidly thought that this would be an easy capture when I knocked on Mr. Mann's front door and he invited me in. I stepped into the kitchen and found him just putting the final touches on his candy decorations. I was so shocked that I didn't react when he opened the back door and started running down the street.
Apparently Mr. Mann was in good shape, probably from running every day. In fact, he was arrested for public indecency for his daily runs wearing only buttercream frosting. I, on the other hand, don't run every day. I have good intentions to run regularly, but thinking about it doesn't get you in shape.
Mr. Mann was gaining ground on me and I was losing interest, especially with clods of icing and candies falling off his body, exposing his 65-year old body underneath.
I stopped to catch my breath when he was a good quarter mile ahead of me. I realized I was in front of my parents' house and my grandma Mazur was on the front porch.
She walked over to me as I was hunched over and hyperventilating.
"Geez Louise," she exclaimed, "was that man covered in icing?"
"Y-y-y-yeah," I managed to say in between breaths.
"He's in good shape," she said, "He must run a lot."
"Y-y-y-yeah."
"I wonder if he's single. I betcha he's in great in the sack. Good stamina," she said, "What's his name?"
"G-g-george Mann," I said, "B-b-but he's a criminal."
"No big deal", Grandma said, "It can't be as bad as that serial killer I was dating. Or that guy with really bad breath."
Grandma was in her 70s and wasn't especially picky about her men. She lived with my parents after Grandpa bit the big one and has been reliving her 20s ever since.
"Are you free tomorrow night?" Grandma asked me.
"Y-y-yeah," I said.
"Would you be able to drive me to the funeral parlor at seven?" she asked, "Ivy Swathmary is laid out and I want to see if she really had one blue eye and one brown eye or whether she wore contacts to get men's attention."
"S-s-sure."
Flushed and sweaty, I made my way back to my car, a rusted out piece of junk that was a grey 1995 Ford Escape in a past life. I was feeling pretty dejected until I spotted Joe Morelli leaning against the side of my passenger-side door. Morelli is 6-feet of Italian libido, a muscular body, a plainclothes cop, and my kinda-boyfriend. He has brown wavy hair, whiskey-colored eyes and I can personally say that he's great in the sack.
"Hey cupcake," he said. "Did you just go for a run?"
"Kinda," I said. "What's up?"
"I was just wondering if you were going to be home tonight," he said.
"Yup." I said. The nice thing about being a bounty hunter is that I can work whatever hours I want.
"I'll drop by with pizza," he said. Then he leaned in and gave me a kiss with lots of tongue and promises of things later tonight. "See you later."
I drove to the bonds office on Hamilton to regroup and see if there were any new skips to track down. I found parking on the street and walked into the office to see Connie Risolli deep in thought behind the desk. Connie was the office manager and kept Vinnie's business running when he was off gambling or seeing women of questionable ethics. She was from an Italian mob family and looked like Betty Boop with a mustache. She was staring Lula, who was the file clerk and my backup on difficult takedowns.
"I just don't get it," Connie said.
Lula was dressed in a bright pink leopard tanktop and bright blue jeggings that tested the limits of spandex. Her hair was bright yellow which contrasted with her chocolate skin and was wearing multicolored ankle boots. Lula was a plus-size former 'ho but had kept her wardrobe. Her outfit wasn't different than any other day. Then she turned around.
"Why are you wearing glasses?" I asked.
"These here glasses make me look smart," Lula answered. "And I'm all about looking smart these days. I've been reading this book, 'How to do Everything Smarter", and it says people can tell how smart you are just by looking at you."
I looked down at my outfit. Short sleeve shirt, jeans, sneakers. I pondered what that said about me, and figured that if I wasn't covered in icing, I was doing pretty good.
"This book has tips on how to do everything smarter," Lula continued. "How to save money, eat better, and get ahead in life. My life is pretty awesome but I figured a little help in the other two wouldn't be bad."
I turned to Connie. "Anything new come in?" I asked.
"I've got two new ones," she said. "One is really hot."
I looked at the files. The 'hot' one was Nicholas Jones, a 37-year old bond forger from Hamilton Township who was arrested while cashing in one of his fake savings bonds at the bank. The other was a 24-year old street punk named Cruise Mendez who was arrested for drug possession and intent to sell in Newark, an hour away from Trenton.
"Why did Vinnie bond out a guy in Newark?" I asked Connie. Tracking him down is going to take a lot of gas and gas costs money.
Connie shrugged. "Who knows why Vinnie does the things he does?"
I turned to Lula. "Did you want to help me catch a 65-year old who thinks he's the Gingerbread Man?"
"Damn straight I do," Lula said. "I wanna see his gumdrop buttons."
After an afternoon of staking out Mr. Mann's house and taking him by surprise when he left his back door, I wrestled him to the ground and got handcuffs around his icing-covered wrists. In the scuffle, I managed to get covered in blue and pink frosting and there were gumdrops stuck in my hair.
"Where do you even get this much frosting?" I asked.
"I make it myself," he said.
I dropped George off at the police station and ran into Ranger on my way back out. If Morelli is my kinda-boyfriend, then I have no words to describe my relationship with Ranger. He's Cuban-American, ex-Special Forces, and owns an elite security company called Rangeman. He wears only black, drives sleek black cars, and has a dark and scary past. He's also sex walking and I personally know he is magic in bed.
"You look like dessert," he said.
"Before you get hungry you should know this icing came off of a naked old man," I said.
Ranger's lips tipped up at the corners. "That's why I don't normally eat dessert." He picked a gumdrop out of my hair and placed a kiss on my lips. Then he got into his black Porsche 911 Turbo and sped off.
I sighed and went home to take a shower. Normally I love cake, but it's going to be a while before I look at icing the same way again. I had just gotten dressed when there was a knock on my door and the sound of locks tumbling. Morelli let himself in and placed his keys and a box of pizza on my kitchen counter.
"Pepperoni?" I asked.
"Is there any other kind?" He answered. He took two plates out of the cupboard and placed two slices of pizza on each.
"Are we being fancy tonight?" I asked. Normally we just eat it straight out of the box while watching the Rangers game.
"Stephanie," he said, "I have something to tell you."
Whenever someone uses my full name, I know that nothing good is going to follow. When I was a teenager, my mom used my full name whenever I was in trouble. My ex-husband, Dickie, used to always call me Stephanie, that is, right up until I divorced him for screwing my arch nemesis Joyce Barnhardt on our dining room table six months into our marriage.
"I have to work out of town for a while," Morelli said. "I leave tomorrow morning."
I narrowed my eyes. "What's the catch?" I said.
"It's going to be two months," he said, "at the least."
"So I won't see you for a while," I said.
"So let's make this a night to remember," he said. He took my hand and pulled me towards the bedroom.
A few hours later, I was finishing up in the bathroom after a steamy shower with Morelli. I wrapped a towel around myself and opened the bathroom door. Morelli was down on one knee if front of me, holding a velvet box containing a diamond ring.
I was shocked. My towel dropped to the floor along with my jaw. Morelli's eyes dropped to my chest as he said, "Stephanie, will you marry me?"
"You've got to be kidding me!" I blurted out. Joe Morelli just proposed to my boobs.
Morelli's face looked like he just swallowed broken glass.
"I mean-" I tried backpedalling.
"Look Steph," Morelli said, standing up, "I love you and we're not getting any younger. Just think about it. I'll see you in a few months."
He placed the box into my hand, gave me a quick kiss on the lips, and left.
I don't know how long I stood there staring at the ring. It was a nice ring. Classic cut. Simple design. Massive implications. After my divorce to Dickie I promised myself I would never get married again. Did I love Joe? Sure. But I also love birthday cake. And my hamster Rex. And other things. I was starting to get cold and my hair was starting to dry into a frizz when I heard a throat clearing at my bedroom doorway.
It was Ranger. He was leaning up against the doorframe wearing a black T-shirt, black cargo pants, black boots, and a black windbreaker. I was wearing absolutely nothing.
"Eeek!" I screamed. The ring and box flew across the room as I dove under the blankets on my bed.
Ranger picked up the ring and placed in the box. He made his way over to the side of my bed and placed the box on the nightstand.
"What did you tell him?" he asked. He wanted to know what I told Morelli.
"I asked if he was joking," I admitted.
A quick laugh escaped Ranger's mouth. "I'm sure that went over well." He made direct eye contact with me. "What are you going to say?"
"I don't know," I said. I decided to change the subject. "Why are you here?"
"I've come to say goodbye," he said.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"On a mission."
"When will you be back?"
"You ask a lot of questions." Ranger paused. He looked away from me and focused on something on the floor. I knew something was wrong. Ranger never breaks eye contact. I reached out and touched his arm.
"Ranger?" I said.
He stood up and looked at me. His face was full of emotion. If I tried to put a name to them it would be Pain. Regret. Apologies. Longing. The last time I saw those emotions of Ranger's face he had just entered my apartment completely unarmed to rescue his daughter and I from a murderous lunatic. It was the look of a man who knew he was going to die.
He turned and walked towards the door. "Goodbye Stephanie."
"No!" I yelled. I jumped up and ran over to him. "Tell me you're coming back."
His face was blank. "I can't."
"You're Ranger. You can do anything you want to."
"Not everything." He looked me up and down. I was still naked.
Ranger and I had a long history of sexual attraction. The first time he set foot in my apartment was to rescue me from being handcuffed naked to my shower rod. I had only known him for a few days. Over the years he has been my mentor, my friend, and on a few spectacular occasions, my lover.
I once asked him to come to Hawaii to pose as husband and wife to catch a skip. After a few magical days at a couples resort, Morelli unexpectedly showed up at the front door and sucker punched Ranger in the face. It ended when I stun gunned them both and left them in the hospital. I left Hawaii with a tan line on my ring finger and a pregnancy scare. I eventually made a choice between Morelli and Ranger and decided to try a serious relationship with Joe. It was easy and fun as long as we avoided arguing about topics such as my job and Ranger. But as much as I tried to keep Ranger at arm's length, I couldn't imagine my life without Ranger in it. I refused to now.
I pushed Ranger up against the wall. "You sound like you're already defeated. That isn't like you."
"Babe," he said.
"Come back to me," I said.
"Give me a reason."
Without conscious thought, I grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him in for a kiss. It was deep and desperate. Without breaking the kiss, he picked me up by my thighs and dropped me on the bed. Our arms and legs tangled around each other as we devoured each other.
Suddenly he stopped. I looked over to what caught his attention. Morelli's engagement ring was still on the nightstand. I opened the drawer, knocked the box inside and closed it.
"We're going to do this, Ranger," I said, "and it's going to be good."
It was 4:00 am when I woke up to a rustle of clothing. I sat up. Ranger was getting dressed beside the bed.
"I didn't want to wake you," Ranger said. He leaned down and kissed my hair.
"Don't get shot," I told him.
"Don't go crazy," he replied. It was our standard goodbye.
I watched him finish getting dressed and start towards the door. This could be the last time I saw him.
"Ranger," my voice cracked, "I love you."
"I know babe." His lip tipped up at the corner. "I love you too."
And then he was gone.
A/N: I'm going to try to get new chapters up as soon as I can. I'm writing this as I go. Help?