Chapter One

Steph

There's a very fine line between brave and stupid. If I'm being honest with myself, I might cross this line on occasion. My life has never been simple, but for the last five years even complicated has been a daily ideal goal. There are times when I have to seriously wonder if I made a wrong turn at some point and ended up in a cartoony B movie. Most women don't go straight from lingerie buyer to bounty hunter. They don't attract stalkers like static cling, or find themselves in shootouts with pimps or drug dealers or gang members. And they certainly don't look at serial murders and rapists and think to themselves Hey, I bet I could get that guy in cuffs and take him back to jail.

My name is Stephanie Plum, and I'm a bond enforcement agent for Vincent Plum Bail Bonds in Trenton, New Jersey. The only bond enforcement agent, in fact, since my mentor and primo number one bounty hunter, Ranger, stopped taking skips a few months back. Vinnie used to employ a bunch of people. But those numbers dwindled over the years for every reason from incompetence to getting blown up in a red Jeep Cherokee. Which meant that there was no such thing as passing on a case. No matter how tempting. The latest miscreant to slip the system was one I would definitely have preferred to pass on. Her name was Lupita Ortiz, but most people called her Loopy. And it wasn't for short. I've never had the pleasure of meeting Loopy Ortiz in person, but I read the file Connie had included with the bond agreement. Arrested for drug possession, solicitation, and assaulting a police officer. Not hard to fill in the blanks on this one.

Sometimes I had to wonder where becoming a bounty hunter fell on the brave/stupid scale.

I angled out of my craptastic gray Plymouth Reliant and glanced over at my partner Lula, who was busy pulling the edge of her poison green miniskirt down over her voluptuous chocolate ass, her basketball sized breasts spilling out of the matching low cut top. She had on a fluffy white angora jacket that matched her platinum blonde bob and strappy white four inch heels. The only suggestion she was aware of the early October chill.

Huh. Maybe I was in a cartoony B movie.

Lula straightened her top and looked at me. "What?"

"Nothing. You ready?"

"Hell ya, I'm ready. We about to kick some serious ass."

"I really don't think that's going to be necessary."

"Say what? You said we were going after Loopy, right?"

"Right."

"And you know that chick is batshit crazy, right? Maybe I should at least have my gun at the ready, just in case."

"No. No guns. With my luck you'll shoot her. There's a lot of paperwork involved if you shoot her. And the police wouldn't like it. It makes them cranky."

"How about the taser?"

"No taser."

"Pepper spray?"

"No!"

"Hunh. I'm starting to think you don't appreciate the fullness of the situation here."

"There's nothing to appreciate. We're just going to knock on the door and invite her to get rebonded. I'm sure she'll be reasonable."

Truth be told, I thought there was a snowball's chance in hell she was going to be reasonable. Actually, I thought there was a pretty high likelihood that there would be a lot of swearing involved. Maybe some chucking of random objects. But I also knew starting off locked and loaded would be bad if things decided to escalate.

Loopy lived in a rundown little house on the edge of Trenton. Single story. Blotchy lawn. An overgrown flowerbed that hosted impressive collections of weeds and shrubbery. Loopy was a fairly recent addition to the Trenton population, having moved here from Newark a couple months back. And she'd wasted no time at all growing a reputation. The police officer she'd slapped the hell out of hadn't been the first person she'd assaulted since her arrival. He'd just been the only one to press charges.

"You shoulda made Vinnie drag his ass out here for her," Lula said.

"Vinnie doesn't pick up skips anymore. Besides, if he picks her up I don't get paid, and I need the money."

"On account a you're driving the vehicular version of Frankenstein's monster?"

"On account of I need to pay my rent."

"I get that. Still. You do have your taser, right?"

"Right."

"Just checkin."

On that note of optimism I tucked a pair of cuffs into my back pocket. Clipped my taser to the back of my waistband just in case I needed to get easy access.

I'm not a complete idiot.

Lula and I started for the front door. Knocked. Nobody answered. Not sure if I was more annoyed or relieved. "Maybe she's not home."

As if I'd said Open Sesame, the door on the single car garage started to open. Lula and I exchanged a look and hurried toward the sound.

The garage was just as small and cramped as you'd imagine, being attached to a house the size of a garden shed. Walls obscured by moving boxes and piles of clutter.

And in the center stood a matte black Harley Davidson. It was lethal. And sexy. And undeniably masculine.

I won't lie. Something about it turned me on a little.

A woman came out from between the boxes and stopped in her tracks. Staring at us. She was about my height. Wavy, thick black hair highlighted golden brown and hanging loose around her shoulders. The bond agreement said she had ten pounds on me, but I could tell just by looking at her that every ounce of that difference was muscle. Her skintight jeans didn't muffin at her waist, her bare midriff showing several inches of smooth, creamy brown skin under the edge of her black leather bustier. Knee high spike heeled leather boots completed the hardass biker babe look. I was getting a feeling that if things did escalate, Loopy could kick my ass from here to Newark.

She paused a beat. An unflattering stink in her eye. "You better be fuckin selling Girl Scout cookies or something, because otherwise we're gonna have some problems."

"No problems, I swear," I said, showing her my palms. I was going for disarming. I felt like a hostage. "My name is Stephanie Plum. I represent your bail bondsman. You missed your court date. I just came to help you reschedule."

The words didn't even get all the way out of my mouth before her already cold attitude turned deadly. To say that Loopy wasn't happy was like saying Vesuvius was a hiccup. The head shake started small. In seconds it was big enough to swing her big hoop earrings. "Ah hell naw." She walked up to the Harley like she was going to hop on it and run me over. I was regretting my rash decision to not let Lula keep hold of her gun. Then Loopy's hand went into the saddlebag. If she came at us with a knife, I might be able to keep from getting stabbed long enough to tag her with my taser. If she had a gun, I was hightailing it like a rabbit on speed.

She came up with a chain.

Crap.

"Run!"

Lula didn't need telling twice. She'd started booking it before I did. Moving way faster than you would expect 230 lbs of woman on four inch heels to move. Her sausage casing dress rolled up in all the wrong places, but she made it to the car ahead of me. Whipping the door open and planting her ass in the passenger seat, slamming herself in. Loopy was swearing up a storm behind me. The thick, ten foot chain singing across the dry concrete. I hit the driver's side door and fumbled with the handle in my panic. The door came loose and I dropped into the seat. Shoved the key into the engine. It wouldn't turn over. This coaxed some creative swearing from me.

The chain thwacked my roof.

Then my trunk.

Then my back window shattered.

The engine finally caught and I peeled away, leaving a livid Loopy shrieking in the middle of the street, the chain dragging at her side like a freaking jilted harpy.

I could hardly breathe. "Omigod! What the fuck was that?"

"That there was you not listening to me. I told you she was crazy. She was arrested for solicitation and she ain't even a ho! That chick has about fifteen screws loose."

"I can see that."

Lula was fanning herself, fighting to get her skirt back down over her ass in the seat. "Lord, I need me a donut. That there was a frightening experience. I can feel my blood sugar dropping as we speak. I need to fortify my strength."

I wasn't about to disagree. Sometimes you just needed a mental health donut. Or five.

We stopped into the Tasty Pastry and picked up a nice healthy dozen before I drove us to the bond's office. Connie was at her desk in front of Vinnie's office. The guard dog that kept him safe from the lowlifes and the bookies that might be interested in wringing his worthless weasel neck. Not that I was one to judge. I'd been there. It was actually pretty satisfying. "Is Vinnie in?"

"You just missed him. He's on his way to the courthouse to bond out some loser that got caught trying to rob the overnight drop box at the bank."

Lula went brows up. "He robbed one of those little chute thingies? How'd he manage that?"

"He didn't. The police found him five hours later still dangling from the box. Apparently his arm was stuck. Wasn't bright enough to get himself loose."

"See, why can't morons like that skip bail more often? A world of idiots for the picking and we end up with crazy ass Loopy."

"How'd the apprehension go?" Connie asked me.

"Not good. She kind of took a ten foot chain to my car."

"Yeah, and it was terrifying," Lula said. "But on the plus side, with a rustwagon that messed up I don't think you'll even notice the dents."

"What about the window?"

"That might be more eye catching."

The front door of the bonds office opened and we all turned to look. Joe Morelli sauntered in. He was wearing a sexy black t-shirt, hanging untucked over his gun and his detective badge. His jeans just snug enough to show off the best ass in Trenton. Most plain-clothes cops had to wear suits according to department rules, but Joe had a special dispensation from the higher-ups that allowed him a more casual wardrobe. Mostly because when he dressed in a suit, his strong, rugged Italian good looks and dangerous vibe made him look like he was more likely to whack your Uncle Tony than he was to protect and serve.

His black hair was just long enough to curl around his ears and fall over his forehead. Dusting the scar that cut through his eyebrow from his bar brawl days. His intense, whiskey colored eyes focused on me with a warm smile.

Oh boy.

Morelli and I had a long and complicated history. We'd grown up together in a little blue collar section of Trenton called the Burg. We'd both been precocious children. When I was young, my greatest aspiration was to be the first Amazon queen of Mars and ruler of the Galactic Empire. His had been to see girls' panties. A goal I experienced firsthand when he invited me to play choo choo in his father's garage when I was six. In high school he was the bad boy every girl wanted, and most girls got for at least an hour. And when I was sixteen, he talked me right out of my virginity on the floor behind the dessert case at the Tasty Pastry Bakery.

For the last few years, we'd been trying our hand at a proper adult relationship. A task made more difficult by the fact that neither one of us was a proper adult. What we have been able to manage was more on again off again semi attachment that skirted actual commitment, but acknowledged the L word. And then three weeks ago Morelli had a serious health scare, and when he came out the other side he asked me to marry him.

I was still having trouble wrapping my head around that.

His warm eyes looked me over like he was imagining me without my clothes on. It was a look that usually made me tingly in a few very specific places. But this time, I caught the analysis behind it. Cop mixed in with the concerned boyfriend. "Heard you had a run in with Loopy Ortiz."

"How did you hear that?"

"I'm a highly skilled and brilliant detective. Plus Eddie Gazarra called me. Said he heard over the scanner that Loopy beat the hell out a rusted gray beater car in front of her house. Wasn't a hard connection to make. I saw the busted window. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. She mostly got the car."

Morelli nodded at this. Trying to hide the grim set to his mouth. Morelli didn't like that I was a bounty hunter. He'd prefer I go with a safer profession. One that wouldn't get me beaten with a chain, or shot at, or almost eaten by a serial killer's feral cats. He was also smart enough not to say this out loud. He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me into him. Kissing me with enough heat to melt my sneakers. "I'm glad you weren't hurt. I like it when my fiancée stays in one piece."

"Fiancée?"

"Thought I'd try it out. See how it feels."

"And?"

"It might be growing on me."

"Fiancées wear rings," I said, holding up my naked hand. "See? No ring."

"Yet. But I figure it's just a matter of time." He kissed me again. "Your mom wanted me to remind you about dinner tonight, by the way."

"Ugh. I forgot."

Morelli rocked back on his heels to look at me, a grin on his face. "Really? You forgot?"

"Okay, I didn't forget. But you know Val will be there with Albert and all the girls. That's eleven people! Squeezed around a table that's meant for eight!"

"I know. It's madness. You want to pretend we're sick? We could stay home and have dinner at my place. Just you and me."

"And Bob."

"Yeah, and Bob. And after he scarfs his food and half the sofa, we can go upstairs and…" he whispered some things in my ear that made me want to seriously consider it. They were some pretty good suggestions. I blew out a tortured sigh.

"We can't."

"I know. Your mom would kill us. But we could get to that after."

"Maybe."

Morelli grinned wider and gave me another kiss. "I got to get back to work. I'll see you later."

I nodded and watched him go. Very aware that Lula and Connie were watching his ass until he disappeared out the door. Then they turned their full attention to me. "He's gonna buy you a ring?" Connie wanted to know.

"It's been discussed."

"Seriously?"

I tossed my shoulders. Hard to say how serious he was. It wasn't like it was the first time we'd been almost engaged. Though that had been much earlier in our relationship. A libido inspired proposal in front of his mother and crazy Grandma Bella when they took issue with the premarital aspects of our association. It hadn't worked out at the time. Neither of us had been even remotely ready to commit. In fact, it kind of led to major split that had left the door open for the other major issue in our relationship.

Ranger. An incredible and enigmatic ex-special forces mercenary turned legitimate businessman. He was my mentor when I first started out in bond enforcement. Henry Higgins to my Eliza Doolittle. And while our relationship started out as the professional equivalent of a pity fuck, we eventually developed something that against all reason seemed an awful lot like a friendship. Which in time included a strong sexual attraction that was both undeniable and terrifying at the same time.

My history with Ranger wasn't nearly as long, but I think it's safe to say it was even more complicated. Ranger was strong. Silent. The most incredible lover I've ever had. Trouble was, Ranger was nowhere near a place in his life that he could consider anything as steady as a close, meaningful relationship with another human being. He had a past that was shrouded in secrecy. And I had no idea what was in his future. I wasn't even sure about his present most of the time.

"Does Ranger know Joe's talking rings?" Connie asked me.

"Hard to say what Ranger knows."

"Well, you might want to mention it before you're wearing jewelry. I don't see that going over well as a surprise."

"I don't think it would be that surprising."

"Girl, even I know popping out news like that is asking for trouble," Lula chimed in. "Last time there was a ring involved, Officer Hottie and Mr. Tall Dark and Mysterious ended up with stitches and broken bones."

"Exactly," Connie said.

I looked down at the bare ring finger on my left hand. Trying hard not to admit that they were right. It had taken months for the pale tan line to fade enough that people didn't notice it. I could still see it, though. I think it was because I knew it was there. At least I hoped that was the reason. Because the alternative was too scary to contemplate.