Ring-a-Ding-Ding

(Alyssa Chau Series #4)

Notes and Disclosures: If the characters seem familiar it's because they probably are! I've taken the setting and several characters from the amazing Plum World given to us by Janet Evanovich and taking them for a spin of my own.

A/N: This is the Fourth installment to my Alyssa Chau Series and takes place right after "Internal Affairs of the Heart." Thank you to those who've been patiently joining me on Alyssa's adventures. I know majority of you are Ranger fans and so am I. I'm taking a break from the angst so this is will be a little softer of a story and a promise of Ranger juicy-ness and you'll get a little more of a glimpse into Alyssa's past. Hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER 1

Hi, my name is Alyssa Chau and I'm a career Bounty Hunter. I'm just your average girl, living an average life. You know, the typical suburban life. Well, maybe to some I'm probably a little far from average and as for my life…you could probably start a book series from it but honestly, in my opinion, it would be a rather boring read.

So some of you may have heard of me and my catastrophes from the news, but I want to set the record straight that they were not what you think and it wasn't my fault — well, mostly, it depends on how you view it.

I am currently residing at my boyfriend, Joe Morelli's, house in the heart of the Burg while my apartment is being reconstructed after an unexpected firebombing caused it to be inhabitable — again, not my fault. Joe's one of Trenton Police Departments finest detectives and recently he's been on several undercover assignments so I haven't seen much of him since we had our disastrous Thanksgiving dinner with his family.

Let's just say that I'm not his mother and grandmother's favorite pick for their precious Joseph. But the roommate situation should be resolving soon. My Superintendent, Dillon, called me this morning to let me know that my apartment should be ready in about a week!

But the kicker? I owe $28,000 in damages! Not just on the damages on my apartment alone but the water and smoke damage caused to the neighboring units. What about insurance, you may be asking. I swear I had coverage but turns out when I was unfortunately unemployed after being laid off as a Lingerie Buyer for E.E. Martin, I let my policy lapse and never thought to renew it. Intelligence was never really my strong suit.

What is my strong suit? Rolling around in trash, getting kidnapped by deranged psychopaths, denial, and getting into blowout fights with my boyfriend. Not necessarily all in that order. I seem to have a hard time taking care of myself but I've avoided, so far, only having things blown up around me and actually not getting myself blown to smithereens in the process.

And I'm a great mother — plant mother that is. I saved Monster— that would be my son — from the burning fires after the explosion happened in my apartment. You know how they say a mother will gain super strength when their child is in danger? I gained super stupidity and jumped into the burning flames to save Monster, whom everyone keeps claiming is half dead already, but I beg to differ and see the glass as half full.

I'd like to tell you the story about how I heroically saved Monster but the truth is after I grabbed Monster I was trapped and didn't know what to do. I was hit with one of those "help I've fallen and I can't get up" moments. Instead I was saved by a man in black who goes by the name of Lester Santos. We'll get back to him later.

So back to the real burning question before I got wildly sidetracked: how am I going to come up with that kind of dough? Dillion says that the management company that owns the building is giving me until the end of the year to pay the whole sum or they're going to evict me so they can rent my unit out to someone else and then press charges against me for the damages. I say they're being pretty harsh considering it's the holidays. I mean where's their sense of holiday cheer?

Ok so I don't really have much holiday cheer, myself. I hate the holidays. Go ahead, bah humbug me. I can take it. Besides, who likes all of the crazed shoppers, fighting your way through massive crowds, and the obscene traffic? And don't get me started on the jolly old man in the red suit. He's creepy. Every time I see a mall Santa Clause, I see red and have the urge to charge at him like a rampaging bull.

You have this grown ass man disguised in a red suit, hat and all that facial hair urging young children to sit on his lap and tell him their greatest desires. And come on, the stories? This fat old man, breaks into your house (but only when you're asleep, mind you) by climbing down your chimney and leaves you presents under the Christmas tree? Since when has anybody ever celebrated a man breaking into your home much less while you're asleep? But yet we all happily wait for this guy to do it?

Ok, sorry ran off tangent again. Now back to the topic at hand, about how I was going to collect this obscene amount of money. I certainly wasn't going to earn that money by catching the low life scoundrels, I've been chasing after Thanksgiving. All that has been coming in lately are petty theft crimes allotting me with only about $50-$100 per skip — that's like 280-560 skips in less than one and half months! There was no way in hell that was going to happen even with my great capture rate. So, I had to do what any other hard working American would do in a money bind: find a second job.

I sighed as I pushed open the door to the Cluck in a Bucket and walked up to the Manager refilling the napkin dispenser. I made my rounds around the mall already but all part-time positions were full with seasonal employees made up of high school and college kids home for the holidays. I've spent the past two days going in and out of every business within a ten mile radius of my apartment trying to inquire openings in between grabbing my skips and sliding through garbage.

"Hi, I'd like to inquire a part-time position," I smiled as sweetly as I could as I approached the balding man with thick rimmed glasses who looked like he could use a couple of buckets of fried chicken in him.

He turned and gave me a questioning look, "Do you have food service experience?"

Do I need food service experience to give people buckets of fried chicken? "I worked as a waitress throughout college."

"So why didn't you go find a waitressing job?"

Ok this guy was starting to piss me off. You don't think I tried that before coming to this grease pit? Sheesh. "Because I wanted to work in your fine establishment," I sucked up.

"Ok, well, we need someone to work the night shift. You can start tonight at minimum wage. We'll talk about an increase once we see how well you work out. I'll get you an application and uniform. Be here at nine tonight."

Well, that was easy. Second job — check — I mentally checked off my imaginary list of things to do. I filled out the application and packed the uniform into my bag and left to head to the grocery store to pick up stuff to make for dinner.

I left the 7-Eleven shivering from the cold of my neon green Sour Apple Slurpee seeping through my wool gloves and walked towards my car. Again, I repeat that I never said I was a genius…shivering in my puffy jacket, ear muffs, gloves and boots on a cold icy winter night drinking a frozen beverage. Hey at least my taste buds were jumping for joy even if the rest of my body wasn't following suit.

I know what you're thinking; didn't she say she was going to the grocery store? As many of you may argue that 7-Eleven isn't a grocery store, I beg to differ. They carry produce, apples and bananas, milk, eggs, and sometimes bread. It could definitely be classified as a grocery store if you put your mind to it.

I pulled out the keys to my latest crap on wheels. Ok, I'll admit, this car wasn't as bad as some of the other hunk of junks that I've purchased due to my cars going out of commission on a regular basis. Slim down at Blue Ribbon Auto actually gave me a pretty good deal on a black 1997 Civic Coupe. I'm pretty sure that I'm their best customer.

Right before I reached the door, I slipped on a patch of black ice and flew backwards. My slurpee exploded all over my face and chest. And suddenly someone appeared by my side.

"Hi, you think you could help me up?" I asked the stranger.

The guy snatched my keys out of my hand. Then what sounded like two teenagers cackling, "Stupid bitch," came running towards us as they hopped into my car and took off down the road.

"Hey," I called out lifting my arm and did my best finger wag at them and gave up instantly. Closing my eyes, I remained on the freezing ground unhappy about the sticky cold crap sticking to my face and yet another car slipping out of my hands. I probably should've put up more of a fight, but I just didn't feel like it at the moment.

"Miss, are you, ok?" the 7-Eleven Manager came running towards me.

I lifted my hand, "I'm fine. Happens all the time. Just let me catch my breath a bit."

"I'll call the police," he replied in concern.

I waved my hand at him, "No need. I'll call. I'll be fine. Go back into the store."

He hesitated.

"It's ok, I'm a bounty hunter. I'm familiar with the police."

"Oh, you're the Bombshell Bounty Hunter!"

I scrunched my nose at the distasteful nickname that some idiot reporter printed in the Trenton Chronicle the first time my car blew up and it just stuck. You know that's an item on my bucket list I need to add: find the reporter who gave me that god awful nickname and slap him upside his head.

The manager chuckled and returned to the store as I pulled out my cell phone and dialed out.

"Costanza."

Carl Costanza is a TPD cop who also happens to be a thorn in my side and an old college friend.

"Carl."

"Alyssa! What a nice surprise."

"Not really. I just got carjacked," I replied flatly.

I could hear him chuckling in the background, "Hey, Big Dog, didn't Martinez get two weeks on the Bomber pool? Looks like he won this round."

I rolled my eyes. I'm a bit of a joke around the TPD. With the number of my cars going out of commission and unfortunately some cars that were not owned by me…I had an unfortunate event occur with Ranger's Porsche but let's try not to relive those memories shall we? The cops have started a pool of when my next vehicle will end up blown up to smithereens or categorized under miscellaneous like landing in the bottom of the river or being run over by a coke truck.

About ten minutes passed and I could no longer feel my face, a flash of red and blue lights rolled up beside me and the door swung open.

"You know you could get run over just lying in the street like that," Carl said amusingly as he squatted down next to me.

"I slipped on a patch of ice. Just in case I cracked my head open, the cold pavement is holding my brain in my skull."

He chuckled checking my head, "You really are something. Why didn't you call Morelli?"

"He's on an assignment."

Carl helped lift me to my feet. "You know you've got a little something here," he circled his finger around his whole face.

"Ha, ha. Can we get this over with so I can get home?"

Big Dog took my statement and reminded me that the likelihood of my car turning up was slim to none. Like I didn't know that, this isn't my first time to the rodeo, boys. But in my case, I'm sure that my car will turn up eventually considering Rangeman is most likely monitoring the activity on the car.

Rangeman would be a private high-end security company owned by my mentor, friend, and heart-thumping Latino man that gets my panties in a bunch, Ricardo Carlos Mañoso who goes by the street name Ranger. Ranger can be a little overbearing and secretly places tracking devices on my person and vehicles. Considering the number of times I get myself into trouble, I don't quite blame him but it can get very annoying especially since I tend to be a fairly private person.

Carl and Big Dog gave me a ride back to Joe's quaint little house which he inherited from his Aunt Rose.

"Shit," I muttered.

"What's wrong?" Big Dog asked.

"They stole the house keys," I grumbled.

"Want us to help you break in?"

"Yes, please," I sighed.

I waited, freezing my face off as Carl used some sort of tool to pick Joe's lock to the front door. He turned the knob and pushed the door open. "There you go. Home sweet home."

"Thanks, Carl."

"No problem. Glad to be of service, Ma'am," he tilted his imaginary hat. He then leaned as if to give me a kiss on the cheek but instead licked it. I stepped back in horror as he grinned, "Yum, sour apple my favorite. I'll file your report. Just come down the precinct whenever you're ready and sign it," he turned to walk away.

I shook my head at him, "You're unbelievable. Have a good night, Carl, Big Dog," I gave Big Dog a hug and dismissed Carl.

"You too, Bomber," Big Dog grinned as he trudged back to the squad car.

I dropped the 7-Eleven bag onto the kitchen table and headed upstairs for a nice long hot steaming shower. And just to think, my day isn't even over yet.