A/N: Am I writing this? Oh yes, of course. This here is an AU story I've had in lodged in my brain ever sense I finished Fearless Fourteen (Which I was severely disappointed about). Anyway, I haven't fully completed it but I suppose I can circulate it, haha. Enjoy!

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Prologue

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Karma.

It always comes back to bite me on the ass.

And the worst part is; I didn't do anything to deserve it!

Okay, fine. In grade school, I did happen to kick Larry Miller in the shin and managed to fracture it but that was because he took my playdoh. And, I guess knocking Geeni Manilla's front teeth out was pretty brutal but it wasn't my fault; I didn't mean to jump off the tree and land on her. Also, the incident with Mr. Rather's dog? I couldn't have predicted the outcome. So I threw it a few feet using a catapult? In my defense, I was ten and wanted to experiment. Who sold catapults to little girls anyway? I thought the dog would appreciate it. At least it got to fly. I never got to fly. Couldn't say I haven't tried though. I just don't think jumping off my garage was the best way to go about it. Hell, it was a total bust. Broke my knee and cracked my arm in two different places. Wasn't my greatest birthday.

So,yes, maybe I caused a bit of a ruckus when I was younger but that couldn't possibly amount to the bullshit I went through as an adult. And was still going through.

I would say I have bad luck but that would be inferring that I have luck in the first place and that's definitely not true. Because, at the moment, I'm driving to an address on Haywood Street for a job with nothing but determination up my sleeve and crinkled clothes I never got around to ironing.

My name is Stephanie Plum and I was recently fired.

Not too spectacular right? I mean, everyone got fired. I'm sure many more people were getting the boot right now. And, I suppose, if that was the only horrible thing I was experiencing, I wouldn't have been so edgy. It's bad enough that I got fired from being a lingerie buyer at E.E Martin but it was another to be turned down by my own cousin, Vincent Plum. The very same cousin my mother had suggested I turn to for help.

My mother was, for lack of a better word, naive. Aside from being the perfect house wife, she knew nothing about the outside world. Like, for instance, she thought Vinnie was the smartest, cutest, kindest man in Trenton.

She was a bad judge of character. Vincent was a slug. He resembled a ferret, had the morals of Hitler and was the lowest of the low when it came to the Plum family tree. If it hadn't been for my mother's adamant resilience about being friendly to the family, I wouldn't have claimed him. That was, of course, after I realized he could provide me with a job. Thus, my suck up skills arose.

It did no good. My idiot cousin turned me down. Just like that! Even after I threatened to show and/or tell his wife about the unusual infatuation he had with ducks. I guess he knew as well as I did that I didn't have the guts. I could have ratted him out to his father-in-law, Harry the Hammer, though but, to be completely honest, the job didn't sound that appealing. I mean, being a bounty hunter? Really?

Oh yeah. I hadn't told you about that huh? Yes, that's right. The job I had been vying for was being a bounty hunter or a bonds enforcement agent, to be exact. According to Connie Rosolli, the receptionist guarding Vincent's office at the building, the job entitled dragging convicted criminals back to jail after missing court dates. It didn't sounded that bad when you think about it. I mean, yes, some of them could be cold blooded murderers but it'd put food on the table, no?

No. Because Vinnie didn't give me the job. Apparently, being a lingerie buyer made me inexperienced for being a bounty hunter. Who knew!?

The good thing was, I have another opportunity at nailing a job. No thanks to Vincent however but to Connie, the slightly overweight receptionist who's sister used to go to school with me. She was pretty cool considering that I had known her for a total of ten minutes. She told me of a large building on Haywood street labeled Rangeman. She informed me that it wasn't that hard to miss, had given me the address and didn't forget to warn me about it.

I hadn't really known what her warning meant. She said something about it being a hardcore security company, that it was nearly impossible for me to get the job and that she was crazy even recommending me. But then she said she liked my spirit and felt a tad bit sorry for me. I didn't bother to argue. This was my second, and probably last, chance to get an occupation. If I went back to my mom's house unemployed, there'd be hell to pay.

I glanced down at the address, looked up to squint through the windshield and spotted it.

Wasn't hard to miss was an inaccurate description. It was located in an inconspicuous seventh story building and the only thing that advertised it was a small plague above the door buzzer. The bottom was surrounded by a chain link fence that opened into a parking garage. I chugged to a stop before it in my father's 1953 big, powder blue Buick.

Did I forget to mention that my last car got repossessed?

I started to get out but the gate opened as soon as I put my hand on the door handle. I blinked, glanced around and drove on in. Parking in a spot off to the right, I straightened my jeans, smoothed out my stretchy white shirt, grabbed my purse and took a deep breath before getting out. I glanced around some more and spotted an elevator next to stairwell of steps leading up. I tip toed over to it while I checked around. Nothing was in sight except for a couple of dark, sleek looking cars that looked highly expensive.

I was beginning to think the place was empty until I caught a glimpse of the camera placed precariously above the elevator. Whoever was up there could see me. That was probably how they knew I had been outside the gate.

I gave whomever a little finger wave and stepped into the elevator. I could have taken the stairs if I wasn't so big, lazy and resentful against all things exercise. I pushed the button that had: Floor One Reception beside it and felt the elevator move upwards, taking note of another camera in the corner.

I mentally cracked my knuckles and waited. Whoever owned this place must have been no nonsense what with the cameras, intimidating building, gates and vehicles. I was starting to think I was in a movie and was about to be recruited for the mob. I pushed that thought aside and breathed into my cupped hands. Concentrate, Stephanie. You need this job. You really, really do. I nodded to myself and watched the elevator doors come open.

Show time.

I was focused. I was indomitable. I was strong.

I was ready to get this damn job.