All the usual applies…not mine, all Janet's…bummer.

Jenny (JenRar), here we go again. Thank you for working on yet another story with me. Your beta skills are beyond compare.

Chapter 1 – Roadside Assistance

"Hey, man!" Lester stood up and greeted me as I walked from the entrance of Shorty's back to the table where some of the guys were having lunch. He raised his fist, and I bumped mine against it as a hello of sorts. "We ordered some pizza, but I didn't know what you wanted, so feel free to flag down somebody and add your order to ours."

I nodded that I'd heard him, but didn't bother to act on it. Whatever they'd ordered was fine with me. I pulled the right hand corner of my bottom lip between my incisors to bite down until the urge to smile had disappeared. I'd long ago gotten in the habit of always ordering something different when I went to a restaurant. Part of it was because I liked eating different things, but mostly it was a skill that had been drilled into me by my family to never let anyone get close enough to know you. When people thought they knew you then they considered you their friend, which meant they could be a liability at some point, and life was messy enough without having a lot of entanglements to deal with.

It wasn't that my family was against close relationships; the opposite was in fact true. But until you knew whether or not the person you were with was worthy of that level of trust, it was best to keep them completely in the dark about who you are. The problem with my education was that I never got the part about learning how to let someone in, so I continued to work with the same bunch of guys, but I never got to the point of thinking any of them were really my friends.

The food arrived, and I sat back for a minute while Lester, Bobby, Cal, and Vince tore into it. Before I could reach for a slice myself, all our pagers went off. I glanced at mine and saw the message: Steph needs a pick up. POS broke down, but at least it didn't blow up this time.

Knowing that she wasn't in any danger and that we were, in essence, being tagged for a roadside assistance call, I stood up and announced, "You guys eat. I'll get her and see where she wants to go."

"You sure?" Lester asked, barely able to speak around the bite of greasy cheese in his mouth.

"Yeah, man," I assured him. "I hadn't even ordered," I fell on my usual aloof cover as backup for why I didn't mind getting called out.

"Call us if she needs anything," Bobby said when I started to walk away.

To let him know I'd heard him, I raised a hand in their direction and began to make my way to the door.

After calling the control room and confirming that I was on my way to get Stephanie, I aimed my truck to Westover Street, pleased that only green lights were before me to ensure I'd make good time.

I pulled up behind her Ford Escort, not at all surprised that it had finally died. In truth, I was glad it had given up the fight, because this was just another in a long series of unsafe vehicles Stephanie had driven between explosions.

She got out of the car when I started walking to the driver's side. Strangely, her arms were around her stomach, as though she were trying to hold herself together. Quickly, I scanned the area for threats. Everything about the way she was behaving was putting me on edge.

Being known for being quiet meant I had a lot of time to observe people and get to know their typical behavior. Stephanie was one of those people who just threw everything out there and let people make up their minds about her. It was refreshing, really, since most women tended to act how they thought the people around them wanted them to act. But Stephanie was transparent. She seemed upset, but not about her car, which was putting me on edge.

I decided to spell out why I was there in the hope that my presence wasn't what was making her so uncomfortable. "I hear you need some help getting from point A to point B."

Nothing. The first time I tried to be smooth, and the reaction I got in return was absolutely nothing. "Stephanie..."

She grimaced slightly when I used her name. I knew most of the guys around the office had a nickname of some sort for her, but I was raised to always call someone by their name until they gave you permission to use something else. To date, she hadn't admitted that she liked any of the names the guys used, so until I heard differently, she would be Stephanie to me.

"Is everything okay?"

"Fine," she replied, blatantly lying to me.

If there was a person that understood the need to keep secrets from the world, it was me, but something about her lying to me rubbed me the wrong way. "Next time, just say that you don't want to talk about it," I corrected her. "Then I won't pry any further. But don't try to deceive me; I've never liked to be lied to."

Her eyes somehow managed to get twice as large, but instead of arguing with me as I'd expected her to based on her previous patterns of behavior, she just nodded, as though she'd heard what I'd said and would try to abide by it.

Now I was at even more of a loss. She was acting like a totally different person, and since people skills were probably at the very bottom of what I could bring to the table, I had no idea how to move forward.

"It's out of gas," she said, so softly I nearly missed it. After clearing her throat, she spoke again with a little more volume. "I just filled it up with gas an hour ago and had only driven five miles when it ran out of gas."

Thank God. This was something I could look into for her. She was being a trooper, and there was no sign of tears, so I didn't have to figure out what to do with a crying woman. And now that she'd given me a problem to solve, I finally had my next step.

Gently moving my back to slide under the car without scratching myself, I only had to glance to know what happened. "The gas line was cut," I informed her, noting that there was no surprise at all on her face. "Where did you go after you got gas?" I knew it was none of my business, but there was a standing order around RangeMan that nobody hurt Stephanie without paying a price. Someone had obviously sabotaged her car, so I had to get to the bottom of this in order to report back on what had happened.

"I went by Nick's place," she said with a slight hitch in her voice.

Nick was the fireman that had been dating Steph for the last month. None of us liked him, but we couldn't figure out a reason to object to their relationship, so we had adopted a "wait and watch" policy. He'd appeared out of the blue one weekend at a bar where Steph was hanging out, and the next thing we knew, they were exclusively dating, and he was a constant at the fire department. We understood that not everybody wanted their business spread around town, but there were too many mysteries around this guy to give any of us a good feeling about him.

Three months ago, when she and the cop had finally broken up, we'd virtually thrown a party. We knew this time that it was real because there was no fight, no scene, no yelling...just a calm pizza at Pino's where they stood up and hugged each other after agreeing they sucked at dating each other, but as friends, they worked pretty well, so that was all they were now.

Ranger had gotten called on a mission overseas the next week and had been gone since then. A lot of the guys around RangeMan wanted to ask her out, but until we knew what was going on between her and the boss, we were too worried about the cost when he came back home. Our motives had been good, but there was a piece of me that wondered if she felt like we had stepped away from her after her and cop split. Recognizing that I was about as far as you could get from someone who understood how a woman's mind worked, I shook my head to get it back on track.

"Was there anyone at Nick's that might have cut the line?" I pushed, needing more information to move this forward.

Her arms tightened around her waist, and she seemed to shrink down into herself a little more. I wasn't a psychologist, but if I had to guess, I'd lay money on the fact that she was scared. I knew I wasn't one of the guys that she was closest to, but I'd thought she was comfortable around me.

"Am I scaring you?" I blurted out, wondering how my mouth decided to work without my brain's permission. I was called Zip for a reason. Keeping my trap closed had never been an issue for me.

She shook her head no, and I couldn't see anything on her face to make me doubt her.

"But someone spooked you," I prompted, wishing she would help us both by just jumping in and telling me what happened. It would figure that the woman who usually blabbed every detail about her life would shut down when she was around the one guy who talked less than everyone else on staff.

"Nick and I had a fight," she offered, giving me one more piece of evidence to not like the firefighter. "Some of the guys at the station were picking on him about my cars blowing up, and he wanted me to stop chasing skips so that he wouldn't be impacted by my bad luck."

What a jackass. I mean, I could understand him wanting her to be more careful – more aware. But to presume to know what she should do with her life to the point of telling her to quit a job she was actually good at wasn't smart.

My mouth decided to act on its own once more. "Was this your first fight?"

She nodded that it was, and then her eyes seemed to glass over. "I'd never seen him like that before."

When she stopped, leaving my imagination to wonder what in the hell she'd seen, I had to prompt her once more. "Like what?"

Her eyes narrowed and I could almost see the wheels spinning in her head. "Loud, angry, demanding…" Her voice trailed off, and I knew there was something she wasn't saying – something important.

A gust of wind blew, moving her crazy hair around her face. She lifted a hand to tuck some of it behind her ear, and that's when I saw it. Around her wrist, there was a definite bruise. It was fresh, as though it had just happened, and I knew without having to ask for any other details that the thing she hadn't said was that Nick had signed his death warrant because he'd gotten physical with her, and she'd gotten hurt.

"Where did he hit you?" I pushed, unsure if she would confide any more but knowing that I had to at least try.

She shook her head but didn't say a word.

"Don't deny it," I told her, trying to keep the anger out of my voice so I didn't make this any harder on her than it already was. "You've got a bruise on your wrist, you're not acting like yourself, and the way you're holding your stomach makes me think he got a fist on you somewhere."

Her mouth opened, but she wisely didn't disagree with me.

I wasn't new to violence. Hell, it had been a part of my life from a very early age. But I had been raised by a certain code, and that code included the fact that you didn't hit a woman – ever – for any reason. Any man from RangeMan would gladly make Nick disappear, but I had allowed myself to get involved, and I was going to see this through to the end.

"You can't tell anybody," she said, not denying what I already knew to be true.

"Stephanie..." I was insulted that she'd think I would share her secrets. I was a lot of things, but a damn gossip definitely wasn't one of them. "I understand the need to keep this quiet. I'm not telling your business, but you need to see Bobby so he can look at your ribs to be sure nothing is broken and maybe check your stomach to be sure there's no internal bleeding."

"No!" she practically screamed at me, taking a few steps in my direction, as though it were very important that I heard her next words. "You can't tell Bobby."

Now I was at a loss. She'd never refused to see Bobby before. We all knew she hated doctors, but she never refused our medic when we offered that as an alternative to the hospital. "Somebody needs to check you out," I argued, wincing at my choice of words. The woman in front of me got checked out on a near daily basis, but that wasn't what I'd meant.

"I can't…he can't…" She had lost her ability to use sentences, and now her eyes were starting to glisten. I might not have tons of experience with woman past a single hook up and an awkward goodbye the next morning, but I knew the way a woman looked when she was trying not to cry.

"It's all right," I jumped in, hoping if I stopped wherever her mind had gone that she would snap out of the emotional corner she'd backed herself into. "No Bobby, and I'm guessing no ER, either."

"No. Everyone will know if I go to the ER. I can't explain this to the 'Burg," she pleaded.

I ran my hand through my hair, trying to figure out what to do. First things first, her car couldn't be abandoned by the side of the road, so I picked up my phone and called for a tow truck to haul it to Al's. My hope was that she'd elect to demolish it, but I knew better than to make that call for her. Once I knew someone was on their way, I decided to try getting her settled somewhere she would feel safe.

She spent a lot of time in Ranger's apartment on seven, but I didn't have a fob to get her in there, and I was honestly worried about leaving her alone right now, so that didn't seem like the best idea, either. "How about I give you a ride back to your place, and we take a look at the damage together. It may just seem worse than it is, so a doctor may not be necessary."

As I said the words, I knew they weren't ringing true, but I also knew I needed to get her somewhere out of the public eye, and I didn't think she'd fight me on going to her apartment. As I suspected, she agreed with me and let me lead her to the truck.

I tried to keep my scans of the parking lot and apartment on the down low so that I didn't add more stress on top of whatever she'd been through this morning. But I was relieved when the apartment door closed behind us and I knew we were at least somewhat secure.

Once she sat down on her sofa, I watched her relax, and I knew getting her to a place where she was comfortable had been the right decision.

"Do you have any ice packs?" I asked, feeling like the bruises on her wrists might fade a little if we iced them now before they bloomed completely. Plus, I had no idea what was going on with her side, and my training had taught me that a lot of ills could be cured with cold therapy.

"Bobby might have left some in the freezer," she confessed, making me smile with the knowledge that the only way she'd have first aid supplies was if our company medic had provided them for her. Stephanie had a lot of positive qualities, but her sense of self preservation wasn't fully developed in my opinion.

There were two small gel packs ready for use, so I grabbed them both and pulled off a few paper towels to keep them from making direct contact with her skin. I sat on her coffee table, directly across from where she'd slumped on the sofa, and held out the first ice pack. "For your wrist," I explained. "It might keep the bruise from getting any darker."

She nodded and set it on the cushion beside her before placing her wrist on it.

"Now, tell me about your side."

"Two…no, three hits right here." She lifted her hand off the ice pack to point to an area right at the bottom of her rib cage at the front. If he'd hit a rib, it could be broken, but the protection of the bone would minimize the risk of internal bleeding. If he'd gotten just below the ribs, then the possibility of internal bleeding was much higher. Even though she was noticeably more relaxed here, she still wasn't acting like herself, so I couldn't risk leaving and telling her to call if she changed her mind about medical attention.

"Is there any way you would let me look at your side?" I asked, uncomfortable with the idea of seeing her shirt lifted up, but uncertain how to move forward without it.

Without saying a word, she sat up a little straighter and then lifted her shirt, stopping just below her breast. Having just thought the word breast in front of Stephanie, I was temporarily distracted, but once my eyes landed on her side, any crude thoughts that might have been floating in my head were immediately gone. She'd mentioned three hits, which were easy to see on her light skin. The bastard had gotten her twice on the ribs and once just below. The skin below her ribs was discolored, but not dark as though there was a huge pool of blood. Despite it looking tender, I relaxed a little about internal injuries. Then my fingers lightly traced the knuckle-shaped bruise at her side. She sucked in a breath, which caused me to jerk my hand back. "Did that hurt?" I questioned, unsure how such a light touch could cause her discomfort.

"No..." Her face was suddenly flushed. "It tickled a little."

Understanding she was embarrassed by her admission, I tried to act like it was no big deal and move on. "How tender are your ribs?"

"I don't think they're broken," she answered with confidence. "I mean, last year when Michaels got to me after that distraction and he fractured two of my ribs, they felt really different from this. I'm a little uncomfortable, but I don't have any stabbing pain like I did when I broke them the last time."

Her reasoning might have been slightly circular, but it was solid, and I was suddenly a lot more comfortable not calling in any medical experts to diagnose her. Holding out the second ice pack, she took it with a slight roll of her eyes. Normally, a sophomoric display like that would have annoyed me, but when she put it on her side and then lowered her shirt to hold it in place, I relaxed. As much as I might hate eye rolling, it was pretty typical behavior for her, so it was probably a good sign that she was returning to her usual self.

"Thanks for picking me up," she said, pulling me out of my thoughts. This was more the Stephanie I was familiar with. Always polite and trying to spin whatever the circumstances were in a positive light.

"Just consider me your own personal roadside assistance program," I teased in return.

I was about to excuse myself when I realized I'd missed lunch, and based on how her morning had gone, I had a feeling she had, as well. "How would you feel about splitting a pizza with me?"

The look on her face told me she was about to make an excuse, but I wasn't quite comfortable leaving her alone yet, so I added, "I haven't eaten since breakfast, and usually doctors wait to discharge patients until they are sure they can tolerate eating without side effects, so you can consider it part of your treatment before you can get me out of your hair."

Damn, where was this shit coming from? I wasn't a doctor, and I didn't usually make excuses to be around somebody. I lifted my cell phone and punched in the number for Pino's before ordering a large with extra cheese, bacon, and hamburger. When I disconnected the call, she was looking at me strangely, so I lifted an eyebrow, indicating she needed to explain what had her puzzled.

"Interesting ingredient list," she replied.

"I saw a show where a guy ordered a bacon cheeseburger pizza," I offered as an explanation. "This seemed like a good time to see what it would taste like."

It appeared as though she'd bought my explanation, so I didn't offer any more information. We sat in silence for a few minutes before she asked if I wanted to watch television. Making a sound that I hoped she understood meant it was okay with me if it's what she wanted, she shoved her hand between the cushions on the couch and pulled out the remote before holding it out in my direction.

"Nope," I told her, declining her offer. "Your place, your television, your remote."

"I thought there was some kind of genetic mutation all men had that meant they had to hold the remote control," she said with a smile.

Thankfully, my dark skin hid the warmth I could feel growing across my cheeks. "I have a thing about boundaries," I replied, only confusing her but refusing to say any more. Thankfully, my mouth was now obeying the commands from my brain to remain aloof and quiet.

A knock on the door alerted me to the arrival of our pizza, so I stood up to get it. I'd ordered it, and there was no way in hell she was going to pay for a meal when I was around. Despite what a lot of people might have considered moral failings in my upbringing, my father was pretty strict about his sons understanding how to treat a woman.

I checked the peephole in the door and saw the back of someone, but the pizza box sticking out to the side convinced me I was right about who had arrived, so I jerked the door open completely.

The man in front of me spun around while talking. "Hey, Hot Stuff. I brought your pizza so we could talk…" When Nick's eyes landed on me, he immediately stopped his sentence and straightened himself up to ask, "Who the hell are you?"

There were so many ways to answer that question. But it was broad daylight, and I didn't think a bullet between the eyes was the right way to go at the moment, so I went with my usual evasive style. "I'm the man who ordered the pizza. Thanks for bringing it over."

"Why are you here?" he growled, obviously not happy to see me.

"Steph needed a ride home," I replied, giving him the only detail I was going to, "and now, we need to eat our lunch before it gets cold." This time, I reached out and took the pizza box quickly before he could respond.

"You need to leave," he commanded, as though I took my directions from him. "You've got no business here around my girlfriend, and she and I need to have a little talk."

"You said everything you needed to this morning," I bit back, lowering my voice. I tended to blend into my surroundings in most cases, but I had been trained by Uncle Sam to be a ruthless fighter when necessary, and he was awakening a part of my past I thought I had long past put to rest.

It looked like he wanted to argue the point, but when I let my right hand rest on the grip of my gun, Nick wisely backed off, turning for the stairs and disappearing. Just like the experts said, most bullies were really cowards, and when faced with a real fight, they usually backed down.

"Thank you," Stephanie said when I rounded the corner with lunch.

"For what?" I hated playing stupid, but I needed to be sure I understood what had earned her gratitude.

"Sending him away without picking a fight with him," she said quickly, letting me know it was an honest response. After a brief pause, she added, "And for lunch."

Taking my clue, I sat on the opposite end of the sofa and put the box between us to share the pizza with her. She ate as she usually did, including going through nearly as many slices as I did and voicing her appreciation for the flavor often. A man would have to be dead to not enjoy the way Stephanie moaned her way through a meal.

Once we were finished and I'd broken down the box to toss, I moved back to sit on the edge of the table. I hated to be the one to bring this up, but I knew it had to be done. "Nick will probably be back."

She nodded to let me know she agreed.

"How about RangeMan sets up a shadow rotation in your parking lot? You won't have to deal with us being in your space, but we could see if he tried to sneak in here," I suggested, knowing when the guys heard about this, they'd be volunteering for a chance to protect her.

"No," she adamantly objected. I knew it was wrong to force people into things they didn't want, but I didn't understand why she was being so flippant with her safety. "He'll get tired of the game when he comes back and I refuse to let him in. And if he doesn't go away, I'll call Joe and have him arrest Nick."

That wasn't a bad idea. She and the cop weren't dating anymore, but they were still really tight, and I knew he'd do anything he could for her. Arresting someone who had hurt her would be a duty he'd gladly volunteer for.

Knowing she had the cop as backup made me feel a little better about leaving her alone. I was just about to stand up to make an exit when she grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly. "Please, promise me you won't mention this to anybody. I know you guys didn't like Nick, but I didn't see what you were talking about until today. I've learned my lesson, and I'd really prefer not to hear an I told you so lecture."

"Nobody would give you a lecture," I argued. "But if you really don't want anybody to know, then you can trust me to keep your secret." After considering it for a second, I added, "As long as it doesn't happen again."

"Oh, it won't happen again," she assured me, her eyes hardening, and I could see her stubbornness coming in followed closely by a little of her notorious temper. Because of my family, I fully got the expression on her face. I knew it meant she had made a decision about moving past this, and I had to honor her wishes.

I didn't have to like them, but down deep in a place I never acknowledged or spoke about, I definitely respected them.