Thanks so much for all of you who read and reviewed the first chapter. This is still my first story, so I realize it's a bit rough. Thanks for the continuing reviews, and again, feel free to be critical.

Disclaimer: I still own none of these characters. I hesitating to even claim the plot now. I am making no profit for this dribbil, and will return all characters to the very talented J.E. soon, with minimal wear and tear.

Rated Mature for language. Be forewarned that these are adult characters.

I pulled out from the spot where I had conducted my shockingly futile stake-out, and headed back to the office. If I had to do a distraction on Stark Street tonight, then I needed to go shopping, which meant I needed Lula. Not only was she a great shopping partner, but she would know exactly what I needed for this job, in light of the amount of time she spent there in her former profession.

I pulled up at the office a few minutes later and headed inside.

"Yo white girl, you're just in time for lunch" Lula said as I walked in.

"Actually, I was thinking of heading to the mall. Wanna come?"

"Shopping? Hell girl, you don't have to ask twice. We can stop at Cluck-in-a-Bucket on the way to fortify ourselves. I have a date with my man Tank later tonight, so I could use something new too, you know, something to really shock him."

Now this was a woman with her priorities straight – fried Chicken and Macy's, in that order. Although the goal of shocking Tank, considering Lula's usual fashion statements, might be a bit far-fetched. Her current declaration in fashion was lime green spandex shorts, with a tight lace trim (still in lime green, of course) cutting off her circulation at mid-thigh. The shorts were only accentuated by the pink sequined and laced top her cleavage was spilling out of and the matching pink pleather boots. You had to give it to the girl, she knew how to coordinate – the lace on her top and the lace on her shorts matched perfectly, with only the fluorescent color choice to differentiate. How she found boots in that same shade of highlighter pink I will never know.

We waved to Connie as we headed out. We took Lula's Firebird on account of there being more room for shopping bags than in my Mini. Well, I'm pretty sure that was my reason. Her reason had much more to do with her stereo system, I realized, as she cranked it up to ear-drum shattering level.

We reached the mall in no time, and headed into Macy's. After explaining the job to Lula, we started digging through rack of short skirts and skimpier tops. After all, Ranger did say to show some leg. I'd hate to disobey an order from my boss. And I'll keep telling myself that that was the only reason I was currently holding up for Lula's inspection a skin tight, frayed denim skirt that would show ass cheek if I bent the wrong direction. This would look adorable on a girl ten years younger, but what the hell, this is a distraction job after all. If you can't dress a generation too young on a distraction job, when can you?

An hour later, we had found the perfect top to go with the skirt, a tiny little sapphire blue top with black sequins that showed off all my best features. Uhm hmm, or rather, the features a wonder-bra would soon endow me with. Basically, it hid the love handles and was low-cut. My requirements were simple.

Now for the shoes.

"Stephanie, how good to see you! Are you looking for shoes for a job or a date with one of those studs you're always with?"

Uggh, I clearly shopped too much when the perpetually perky sales girl could not only identify me by name, but actually knew what I did and who I did it with. Not that this was a rare occurrence in my life, but hey, I would like to pretend I had some privacy left.

"A distraction job, actually" I replied, really making an effort to smile politely. Though with the amount of commission I gave this girl, I didn't even need to be polite.

"Yeah, I'm thinking black, four inches, and lots of sequins" Lula said, quickly looking at and dismissing most of the shoes on the close display racks. "Basically, we need slut shoes. Your average FMP just ain't going to cut this time."

That's Lula: to the point. But she was right. You're average black pump were not going to get this job doen. After an hour of trying on various options, we had the shoes. A quick trip through Victoria's Secret and we were ready to roll.

By this time it was almost 5:00, and I still had to explain to Morelli the distraction job and the breakfast, um, issue. Too bad, really. The day of shopping had nicely pushed that little fact the back of the mind, and I was perfectly content to leave it there. As we drove back towards Hamilton, I debated the merits of just simply omitting the incident all together when talking to Morelli.

What was I thinking, this was my life we're talking about! This thing was going to involve the police at some point (doesn't it always?), and Morelli would find out. Maybe me telling him now would defuse a bit of that Italian anger. Maybe he'll see the new maturity I'm displaying by telling him up front, and be so impressed that he doesn't even yell at all. Yep, that's definitely how the evening is going to play out.

With this new-found confidence, I had Lula drop me off at my car, and headed towards Morelli's house to give him the good news (the news being of my maturity, which is how I would frame the whole stalker issue). What could go wrong?

The first mistake I made was bringing all my shopping bags into the house with me. The second, looking back, was probably conveniently forgetting my new-found maturity and forgoing the stalker conversation for sex. Although at the time, both were very, um, rewarding decisions.

I headed into the house, bags in tow, only to be tackled to the ground by an exuberant Bob, who had apparently missed me (literally, this time, Bob really had missed me, if his tongue all over my face was any indication). Every bag went flying, of course (remember that first mistake I just mentioned – this is where that comes in). Joe, who had followed Bob to the door to greet me, grabbed the shoe box first.

"Whoa, Cupcake, now these are some shoes. I can already think up some plans for these shoes," he said, reaching for the bag with the skirt and top.

"Ahh," I squeaked, jumping back up to my feet and lunging for the bag. Yes, I actually squeaked, but I really wanted to explain before he saw that skirt. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Morelli, I need to talk to you."

"You sure you just want to talk? Cause if these other bags are as much fun as the shoes, I think we could find all sorts of better things to do" Joe replied, leaning into me to greet me properly. One look into those chocolate eyes and I forgot all about my carefully rehearsed conversation.

"Um," I finally managed. "I have to do a distraction job tonight, so I got some new clothes. The guy's not dangerous, but he likes 'em slutty, so…" I trailed off, holding up the bags I had rescued.

"Oh yeah?" Morelli asked, his eyes turning even darker. Hmm, maybe he's starting to learn the merits of distraction jobs. After all, how often does he get to see me dressed like that. Though I'm sure his mind isn't focused right now on the fact that Ranger, his Merry Men, and a whole host of Stark Street patrons would also see me dressed like that. But hey, who am I to ruin his mood?

"Want me to try it on for you?" I whispered in his ear. Guess that's a yes, I though, as he took off for the stairs dragging me behind him.

An hour later, Joe having heartily approved of my clothing choice, we ordered some Pino's for delivery. Theoretically, if we used Morelli's kojack light, we could make it to my parents for dinner, but there was no way I was going looking like this. And besides, who's going to trade Pino's and a Met's game for listening to my Grandma embarrass my mother, although that usually was entertaining, if in a poke-my-eyes-out-with-my-fork kind of way.

About 8:00, I realized I still had to get ready. Since half my stuff was here anyway (and more since I was comfortable on the couch), I called Ranger and let him know to pick me up here. I figured since I didn't have to drive home, I could veg for at least another half hour before getting ready.

When I finally couldn't procrastinate any longer, I headed upstairs to slut myself up. Since my hair already had that just-fucked look (not like it ever didn't, living with Joe), I just rinsed off in the shower and started on my make-up. At 9:30 on the dot, I heard Ranger's pull up outside, and dashed down the stairs and out the door, hoping to hell that Joe would either be too caught up in the extra innings to notice my appearance, or just not say anything. Luckily, I made a quick exit, yelling "Bye, I'll be back in a couple hours, love you" over my shoulder as I hit the sidewalk.

Ranger smirked at me as I climbed in his car, but didn't say anything. I wasn't sure if it was the obvious after-glow still lingering or the amount of leg showing that caused the smirk, but I let it go (remember that maturity I mentioned? Yeah, it was finally kicking in).

"Skips name is Marcus Welch," Ranger said as he pulled into the lot of a dingy bar. "Lester's on the inside and has already spotted him sitting at the bar. He's alone. Shouldn't be too hard. He's not normally violent, but it's his third felony, so he's a little nervous about the sentencing he'll get. There's four of us out front and two in the back, besides Lester, so there shouldn't be any problems."

My eyes widened a bit as Ranger leaned over me to grab the wire out of the glove box. He gave me a wolf grin as he slid the microphone into my shirt. "Doesn't count as poaching if it's a safety measure, right?" he asked, answering my glare.

Mm hmm, I'm quite sure safety wasn't where his mind was right now. "Go get 'em," he said, tugging on a stray curl.

He never did say anything about my outfit, but if the catcalls and whistles I immediately heard from the guys in the parking lot were any indication, I had chosen well.

I headed in, made eye contact with Lester towards the back, whose eyes widened slightly at my appearance, and then immediately spotted my skip at the bar. I decided that in a place like this, I could just go with the most direct route. Not a lot of subtlety was expected.

I stumbled a little as I approached the chair next to Marcus, brushing my chest against his arm. Yeah, I meant the really direct route. At this rate, I might even be able to work up a 'let's go somewhere a little quieter, baby.'

Turns out I didn't even need that. Marcus grabbed my arm to steady me, looked me up and down, and leered. "Hey babe, wanna make some easy cash?" Damn, all I had to do was cock my head towards the door, and we were on our way.

As Tank grabbed Marcus from behind and cuffed him. As he did I whirled around and kicked him in the balls. He went down gasping for air, as Tank all-out laughed.

"I'm not a whore, you prick!" I yelled. I know I had on lace-top thigh-highs with this short skirt and black FMPs covered in sequins, but yeesh, 'wanna make some cash'? That's just, shit, I don't even know what that is. And he called me 'babe'! I was definitely going to have to sanitize myself when I got home.

"Babe," Ranger said giving me his full 200 watts.

"Well, call me a whore, you deserve to feel your balls in your throat."

"Fair enough. Come on, I'll take you home," he said.

"Hey Bomber, I think that was a record. You should wear that skirt more often," Lester yelled as he came out of the bar. Everyone laughed, harder after I flipped Lester an Italian hand gesture.

I handed the wire back to Ranger was we slid into his car, and he headed back towards Morelli's.

"Later, Babe. Thanks for your help," he said, as the car stopped.

I smiled at him softly, determined not to let my thoughts run away with me. I just looked at him for a second before turning and heading inside