Wow. A lot of people want me to make this a babefic. I plan on making a babefic NEXT. Anywho, thanks for making positive reviews!

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Janet Evanovich and St. Martin's Press. The idea behind the fanfic is mine though, so please don't plagiarize.

Here's the next chaptèr:

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Ranger decided to change the subject. "Blasa," his eyebrows quirked a bit at the blonde. She looked up and sighed.

"You're saying it with too heavy of a tongue. It's BLA-sh(z)a. People always get it wrong though, don't worry." She rubbed her hands together under the table while looking around. The apartment was rather open, but with sparse furniture. It seemed to empty but Blasa soon realized why. There was no character in the room. It had no photo albums, no framed grade school pictures, or even any scented candles. Blasa turned back to Ranger, "You are a very boring person."

He only gave her an odd look. "Look at this place; it's so… so… impersonal! In italics!" Ranger looked like he was thinking about laughing. She sighed and threw up her hands, frustrated. "You are a strange man."

"Look at yourself." His voice was deep and amused. She did look down. Her arms had a few deep pink scars on them. There was one on her left arm was jagged and ran from her shoulder blade all the way to six inched above her elbow. On her right arm there were two clean, pink scars. One was on her forearm and the other was on her bicep. The "Fool" tattooed on her finger seemed to become blacker and darker right in front of her. She had many other scars and burns on her body. Damage that she wanted to let go of but haunted her every time she moved, looked, or danced. Her body creaked when it rained. Her soul was pushed into submission.

"I guess I am an odd ducky." She laughed shakily and put her hand behind her head, embarrassed.

"What happened."

"Nothing." She stood up suddenly and almost knocked the table over. She scrambled to make sure it did not fall. He watched her in a stony silence.

"We're going to have to make you talk if you don't say anything soon."

"Dear, I don't care by now. I'll give myself a heart attack if you try." As his eyebrows went up a fraction, Blasa quirked a wry smile.

"Can you?"

"Do you really think I'm the running type?" Ranger figured she was lying, but you never know.

"So," she started, "I need clothes that fit." She held her arms out and twirled around a few times, smiling blissfully.

"I need info." His gaze was unwavering; it seemed to go right to her soul. She frowned at him.

"You ruined my twirl! I had a perfectly good spin going on there and you ruined it!" She flung her arms to her sides and pouted. Ranger cracked a fleeting smile.

"I'll make you a deal. You can stay here, provided you work, and you give me information." She tilted her head upwards and stroked her chin as if she was deep in thought.

"I don't need a salary, just clothes, food, and a place to live. Make it a desk job; I'm good with computers. I assume you'll use your men to get my biography?" Ranger nodded and Blasa flashed a bright smile. She flung her hand out and he fluidly took it in his hand. They shook hands, equal in power.

"C'mon. If I have to go to the mall, we might as well go while I have some down time." Ranger's voice was deep, almost worn sounding. She smiled again, quickly grabbing the shoes the mercenary found for her. He led the way to the elevator and she hoped in. She bounced around a little before settling down. Ranger looked at her and she simply blinked at him. The blink clearly said, "Huh, wha?"

"Is this blinking thing going to continue?" She smiled a big toothy smile and closed her eyes.

When they got to the garage level, the blonde stepped out of the elevator first. She smiled a sort of awed, happy smile at the cars. He quirked his mouth at her. She really was an odd duck. She seemed like with every emotion or outburst she had, she was trying to shout over the things her past life was screaming at her.

Ranger walked over to a Turbo, clicked it open, and got in. Blasa scurried in next to him and sat into the comfy seats. The dash board lit up when Ranger turned the ignition on. She hurriedly started examining everything she could. The trip was spent like that, she was examining the car and he drove in his zone. The car had a beautiful feel to it. The seats were butter-soft and the car had a smooth ride. The look on Ranger's face was nonexistent. He simply drove in his zone; the master of his kingdom. The Jersey scenery was amazing. Blasa never tired of the trees that zoomed by her when she was on the turnpike.

They pulled into the Macy's parking lot and Blasa got out, feeling mellifluous. She had a small smile on her lips and hummed a tune as she went into the store. "Don't go on a spending spree." He sent her a look that said I mean it!

"Oh don't worry. I came from a low-budget family. I can keep it under $150." She smiled a far away smile at the people who past by them.

The mercenary looked at her for a minute. "Make it $350." Before the slight girl could protest, he reached for his wallet and pulled four bills. "Use all of it. Or else." His eyes flashed a playful glint. "The uniform is black. All black." He left her there and went back into the car. She smiled a bemused smile before traipsing through the store. She picked out two pairs of cargo pants, one pair of boot cut jeans, and two pairs of low riders. She picked out three stretchy tees, on sale, and two long sleeved shirts.

The cool fall weather was encroaching on Jersey, promising giant piles of leaves and huge snowstorms. It also promised an upturn in sales for the car washing industry. Nothing ruins a car's paint job like salt for melting the ice.

She picked out a few bras, and then a couple showy pairs of underwear. You never know. She went over to some of the cheaper jewelry and grabbed two packs of silver bangles. She went to the register, paid, but still had $150 left. She thought for a minute before heading over to the "fancier" clothing area. She picked out some pinstripe pants, a white blouse, and jacket that were on sale. What do you know, she thought, buy one get one free! She looked long and hard a gray skirt and jacket set. She grimaced and then picked it up. $39.99. She saw a simple, black cocktail dress for the same price and picked it up. The last thing she looked at was the makeup counter. She grabbed black eyeliner, and two palettes of eye shadow. A tube of concealer, a bottle of foundation, and she was on her way. She paid with the last of the bills and marched outside. She was thoroughly exhausted. Shopping was fun, but she couldn't do it all day; it just wasn't her thing.

The black car sat far away at the end of the lot. She knitted her brows together for a moment, let out an impatient sigh, and walked double time to the car. She threw open the back door, closed it, and then climbed into the front. Ranger was on the phone, talking in short terse sentences. She looked out the window at the people passing buy. It was almost five 'o clock. Mothers were pulling young children into their cars while teenagers stomped far ahead of their mothers, as if they were aching to be away from these horrible people who gave birth to them without their say-so. She laughed at this thought and Ranger looked at her. "Just people watching!" He shook his head minutely and started the car. "Oh!" she said, perking up. She reached deep into one of her pockets and pulled out three pennies. "I couldn't find anything for three cents." He sighed and took the coins. "I'm a handful!" Her voice proudly rang through the car.

Ranger nodded, "That you are." The drive home seemed so short to her. At one point she saw a sign reading "Morristown" and she jumped up.

"I used to live by there!" Her exclamation startled Ranger and he looked at the sign. He memorized the name.

"You're a Jersey girl?" It seemed like there was an unspoken Too? in the sentence.

"Of course! You've obviously never seen me run in heels." This is a well known trait of proud Jersey girls… and cross dressers too.

The rest of the ride was silent. She could only imagine Ranger searching for her birth records at the nearby hospitals. You can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread man!" This was going to be a fun game of cat and mouse. She laughed to herself. When they pulled into the lot, the bulky man from the first time was there. He looked at her in a funny was as she grabbed her bags from the back. Tank and Ranger exchanged a glance. Tank's was questioning while Ranger's was tired. Blasa, however, marched right up to him. She shifted her bags around so she could stick out her right hand. "Blasa." He voice was informative. He repressed a smile and clasped her hand.

"Tank." She nodded and flashed him a smile before tromping off to the elevator and waiting inside. She knew when men needed to talk. "She's a funny one." Tank looked at her with a mix of awe and pride. She was resiliant.

Ranger nodded. "Is she ever." He gave him an outline of the day, and the town he should search before joining Blasa in the elevator. It was quiet; both people seemed to be in their own worlds. The elevator doors opened and Blasa entered the apartment and entered the kitchen. Ella had recently put dinner down and it smelled great. Pork chops, mashed potatoes, and green beans. She also saw a slice of cake by, what she assumed was, her plate. She jumped up and clapped before sitting down in her seat. She tapped her feet for a minute, before looking back at Ranger.

He was leaning against the door frame, her shopping bags were thrown haphazardly there only a minute before. "Well? We have to pray!" He looked at her oddly before settling down next to her. She grabbed his hands and he tensed under them. "Dear God, Bless this food, thank you for this day. Amen!" And with that she dug into her food, quickly as ever.

"You had to watch your meals in Russia. Am I right in saying people often took them?" She stopped, ate the last of the mashed potatoes and looked up.

"Of course!" She blinked at him. And blinked again. And again. Then his eye twitched. "Ha ha!" Blasa pointed at him. "I got emotion!" She did a little dance in her seat before standing up. She dropped her dished off into the sink. "Now," she said, her hands on her hips, "I need to take a shower. Is that all right?" He nodded and she traipsed off. The shirt and boxers she had used last night were on the bed and she gladly picked them up.

The shower reached a nice hot temperature before she lept in. The shower gel smelled great, and she used as much as she could without feeling guilty. It smelled just like Ranger, who not only looked great, but had a Look at me, I could steal you women away from your boyfriend OR girlfriend! mistique. She towel dried her hair to the best of your ability, before slipping on the boxers and shirt. She opened up the door and was blasted by the cold.

There he was: Ranger. He was laying in the bed with and undershirt and cargos on. His legs were crossed and his socked feet her relaxed at a 40 degree angle. His boots and shirt were discarded at the side of the bed. He was working on his laptop and it sat so perfectly across his hipbones. She unabashedly stared at him for a while, only stopping after he coughed. He was off to the left side so she climbed into the right side; muttering a quick "G'night." He made an odd sound so she looked up.

"You're in my bed."

"Yeah, so? I bet a lot of women have been." He gave her a look.

"Babe."

"Hey! Don't me that! I have a name; an identity! I am not 'Babe!' I am Blasa!" He chortled at the determination and sternness burning in her eyes.

"You know what could happen."

She only shook her head. "I would scream and remember a place where I can't go back. And I will bleed. And I will leave." She then curled herself into the sheets and faded off into dream land. She faintly remembered his laptop closing and the shower turning on. All she really knew was that he was there for the nightmares.

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Well peeps, I hope she wasn't too emo-esque. Sorry I took so long! See you next time! R&R for some motivation. Seriously. Those who put me on their watch list pushed me to write this, so thanks!