Author's Note: I'd just like to thank the readers who have taken the time to leave reviews. It's been a long time since I've written anything for public eyes, and the feedback is really great encouragement. Hope this one lives up to expectations.

See chapter one for disclaimer and other pertinent information.

Breaking Down Doors

Chapter Two

by EmeraldSoleil

I called Morelli the next morning before I left for work and told him about the flowers.

He was quiet for several minutes. When he finally spoke, his voice was tight. "Any ideas on who might have sent them?" It was Morelli the cop on the line now.

"Do you want the long list or the short list?" In all honesty, there was no list. My life could almost be called normal these days. I go to work in the morning, I sit at a computer all day, and I go home in the evenings. Every once in a while, I ride along with Ranger on surveillance. I hadn't had my hands on a pair of handcuffs in longer than I could remember.

"Steph, this isn't funny."

I sighed. "I know. I'll call you later." I disconnected before the conversation hit the toilet. It was too early in the morning for us to start debating my life choices.

Morelli was a good guy, and I liked him. Most of the time I was pretty sure I loved him, and I knew I couldn't blame him for being upset. Dead flowers don't exactly give me the warm fuzzies either. But at the same time, they were just flowers. I just couldn't work myself up into full blown paranoia over some dead roses. Creeped out annoyance was the most I could manage before my morning doughnut.

I walked onto the fifth floor of the Rangeman building forty minutes later, absently brushing at the powdered sugar that had fallen on my black tee shirt like snow. It's amazing what a good Boston creme can do for a girl's outlook.

An hour later, I was trying not to fall asleep at my desk when Ranger walked into the room. I knew it was Ranger because the little hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up, and I swear my core body temperature jumped a few degrees.

Morelli doesn't really like me working with Ranger. He doesn't say much about it because he knows I'm safer in Ranger's company than I am chasing skips for Vinnie. What he does say is that I should be careful around Ranger, because Ranger's sense of legal is a little shady. Joe doesn't want me getting involved in Ranger's world. Boy, if he only knew.

Ranger made his rounds through the rest of the room before coming to stand behind me. I turned in my chair and looked up at him. I wasn't disappointed with what I saw. He was dressed in his standard SWAT black: cargo pants, military boots, and a black tee shirt that clung to each and every one of his perfectly defined muscles. I had to double check to make sure I wasn't drooling.

Ranger has that kind of effect on me. Coherent thought and common sense take a vacation when he invades my personal space, which is often. I'm pretty sure he does it on purpose, but it's hard to tell.

That's the other reason Morelli doesn't like me working for Ranger. No matter how much I try to trivialize it, Morelli can tell there's something between me and Ranger. Just don't ask me what that something is, because I couldn't tell you. Once upon a time it was a friendly something, and for one unforgettable night it was a physical something. Since then, I've been dancing around Ranger very carefully. We talk. We work. And every once in a while, Ranger gets that gleam in his eye and decides to remend me of exactly what I'm missing. The problem is, I never need any reminding. Spending the night with Ranger isn't something I'm likely to forget. Ever.

"Any more presents from your new boyfriend?" Ranger's voice intruded into my thoughts, and I could feel the flush creeping up my face. The corners of his mouth twitched a little, but he didn't ask where my mind had been.

"Nope," I answered. "I called Joe earlier and had him file a report."

Ranger nodded his acknowledgement and pulled a chair next to mine. "I need you to run a search for me. Guy named Carlito Ramirez."

Every muscle in my body tensed up. "Ramirez?" I was hoping I misheard him.

Range nodded again. "It appears that Benito had a brother who was doing time in California. Eight days ago he jumped parole."

"And you think he might be in Jersey?"

I'd crossed paths with Benito Ramirez working my first case for Vinnie. Ramirez was a boxer who lived to inflict pain inside the ring and out. He was a psychopath who'd fed on fear, and he'd twice made it his mission in life to terrorize me. Ramirez was pure evil, and I wasn't the least bit sorry he'd gotten himself killed. The fact that he had family somewhere didn't say much for his mother.

"We don't know," Ranger answered. "There was some talk going around when he was released. Apparently Benito told him quite a bit about you."

Suddenly the dead flowers in my apartment seemed a hell of a lot more menacing that I wanted to think about.

"Until Ramirez is caught, or until I get some definitive information one way or the otherr, I don't want you going anywhere alone. Take Tank if you have to leave the building." Ranger's dark eyes were serious, inviting no argument, but for once I didn't feel the need. I'd never forgotten the bone chilling fear Ramirez instilled in me. I wasn't looking forward to a repeat anytime soon.

"I'll be out of the building until two. Call me if anything interesting comes up in the search." He left without waiting for my reply and I turend back to the computer, eager to start digging up dirt on Ramirez. So the guy might be stalking me. Did that mean I couldn't be curious, even if it was in a decidedly morbid sort of way? Of course not. I'm from the Burg. It's my duty in life to be as nosy as possible.

A few hours later, the computer search had run it's course, so I went to the kitchen to find food. If I was going to be delving into the life of a guy who was probably just as crazy as his brother, I wasn't doing it on an empty stomach.

I came back to the control room armed with a turkey sandwich. It wasn't quite peanut butter, but it would do. I took a bite and settled down to find out all of Carlito Ramirez's dirty little secrets.

I wasn't disappointed. Benito Ramirez was an amateur compared to his older brother. Carlito had an arrest record that spanned back to his grade school years. Arson, burglary, drugs, murder. He was an equal opportunity criminal. And he liked to hold a grudge. Several of the men in blue lucky enough to apprehend him were found to be missing vital body parts soon after Ramirez's eventual release from prison. My stomach was seriously debating whether or not to reject the turkey sandwich. Until last month, he'd been serving a five year sentence for vehicular manslaughter. He'd been the perfect reformed criminal until eight days ago, when he disappeared off the face of the earth.

There was picture with Ramirez's file, a mugshot from his most recent arrest. The resemblance to Benito was so striking that I had suppress a shiver of fear. He had the same eyes, those same dead eyes. All of a sudden I was glad Ranger had assigned me a babysitter. There's no way I'd want to come upon Carlito all by myself. Sometimes I wasn't the smartest girl in the Burg, but contrary to popular belief, I didn't really have a death wish.

I called ranger and gave him the information the search had revealed. Then I called Morelli to give him a heads up on the situation. He wasn't happy.

"Stephanie..." he began, but he cut himself off. "No, I'm not going to say it, because you wouldn't listen anyway. Just tell me that Ranger's taking this seriously, at least."

"For your information, Morelli, I'm taking this very seriously." Sometimes his attitude toward my life really sucked. "And yes, so is Ranger. Tank's going to be baby-sitting me until Ramirez is caught."

"Good." Morelli hung up the phone and I blew out a sigh. Men.