It is now 9am and the start of my first official workday at Rangeman. I've managed to survive my morning run with the guys and I now sat in my 8x8 standard-issue cubicle reviewing my schedule for the week.

Ranger had decided that, as a regular full-time employee, I would need to spend some time with each of the guys to get familiar with their specialty. Once I'd completed the brief introduction, I would be formally trained in the area in which I excelled in most. This would also help to determine my future partner, as I'll eventually be partnered with someone who complemented my skills on some level.

No longer will I be simply tied to my desk, running searches all day. Thank God for small miracles.

Ranger was not going to train me at all – we'd decided that with our 'non-relationship', things might have the ability to get awkward pretty quickly. He would instead spend time filling me in on the scope of the company and the management strategies he employed. Tank would be going over the necessary paperwork I'd need to complete and was responsible for designing and implementing my training schedule.

Joy.

As to the others, Bobby would train me on how to administer first aid in the field and as I mentioned before, he'd be overseeing my physical training. Vince would be training me in some basic hand-to-hand combat twice per week, in addition to teaching me some self-defense. Devil (I am not sure I want to know?) and Lester will be assisting him. Apparently, they're some kind of geniuses when it comes to hand-to-hand combat. While I am thankful, I admit I am just a bit nervous.

Cal would be working with Ram and Hal, training me in common Rangeman weaponry. Hector, Manny and Junior would be training me in B&E and acquainting me with much of our electronics. Zip and Zero would be teaching me defensive driving and Binkie would apparently be the "god of fun" one afternoon per week.

I didn't have the courage to ask exactly what that meant.

The rest of the guys would fill in wherever it was deemed necessary. I would spend some amount of time with each and every guy.

Apparently, my being the first full-time female field employee here at Rangeman is a significant feat. Ranger is covering all of the bases.

I read through the listing several times over, surprised to find that Lester didn't appear much. While I can reason that I didn't know Lester all that well –he is a Merry Man, after all - unquestionably I knew him better than the rest of the other guys. As Ranger's 3rd in command, certainly, he had a lot of expertise.

But come to think of it, I really haven't seen him around a whole lot lately.

…

Silently, I approached my Babe's cubicle. I had to admit, she was absolutely adorable in her Rangeman uniform; she looked like a miniature version of myself. She was wearing a pair of black cargo pants and a tight, long-sleeved black V-neck shirt with my name across her left breast. Her hair was gathered in a low ponytail and her S&W was clearly visible - tucked into her waistband at the small of her back.

She must meet with Cal in the range first today.

It was all I could do to remain in control of my body's response to seeing her bent over her desk, reviewing her training schedule. It would suit me well to remember the long discussion we'd had, just last week.

"Babe," I said, and immediately restrained a chuckle when she leapt a good four inches off the ground. This was fun.

"Jesus, Ranger! Would it kill you to make some noise?" she asked. "You freaking scared the daylights out of me." He placed her right hand over her heart.

I couldn't help it when a chuckle slipped out. "You should be more aware of your surroundings," the well-used reply slipped out before I could stop it. She glared at me with what I think she refers to as her 'death glare'.

Thankfully, I'm apparently immune.

"I just wanted to say good morning, Babe, and to let you know that I'm here most of the day should you have any questions."

"Why isn't Lester listed much?" She asked, curious, pointing to her training schedule.

I took a moment and considered my reply. I settled with, "You'd have to ask him." Not my place to share, even if I'd wanted to.

"Is he in today?" she asked.

"No, he's off for the next few days."

She let out a dissatisfied noise, then plopped down in her chair, booting up her laptop. "That would make it difficult to ask him. Anyway, I'm supposed to meet Cal in the range in an hour. I thought that for now I'd run a few searches, unless there's something else you'd rather I'd get started on?" she half asked, half stated.

"No. Good plan, Babe. Enjoy your first day." I restrained the urge to approach her and tuck an errant curl behind her ear. The compulsion was so strong that I had to put my hand in my pocket. Old habits.

I then added, "Friday night we'll need you for a distraction, if you're available." Steph turned her head to meet my gaze and offered me her best Burg eye roll. I must be getting the full treatment today. I suppressed a smile.

"Anything, Ranger, anytime. You know that. What time? How should I dress?"

"I'll pick you up at 2100 hours. Dress … more sexy than slutty. White collar skip."

"And that translates to what in ordinary people time, Ranger?"

"9pm," I replied with a small smirk. With that, I turned on my heels and made my way to my office. Dios, it was going to be some new kind of hell seeing her every day and being unable to touch her.

...

Strangely energized, I loaded a full clip into the gun and aimed at my final target of the day. We were occupying lane four, and we'd been down here nearly two hours now. Cal was still standing behind me, making such minor corrections to my stance that I was certain I'd go crazy. Does it really matter if I move my left foot over by two centimeters? You have to admit that it's a little ridiculous and maybe just a smidgeon endearing that he seemed to think this was some sort of sniper 101 training.

Sure, I want to be effective, but I am pretty sure I'm not headed into military combat anytime soon. I hope.

At the moment, he had me shooting those circular targets with the bull's-eye in the center. Something about learning to fire a steady shot before attempting to learn how to incapacitate or kill people. I guess it made sense.

Mostly though, all I could really process was that my arms hurt. And that Cal was actually pretty damn hot. He had dark blond hair that was in need of a haircut - it just fell over his forehead, nearly covering his tattoo. My fingers begged to brush it away. Would it feel as silky as it looked, I wondered? His eyes were dark, almost the exact color of milk chocolate; and his lips, they were full without being distractingly so. He'd make some woman very lucky some day.

Sweet Jesus. I've got to get a grip.

I finished emptying my clip and he recalled my final target of the day. Cal seemed pleasantly surprised. "Damn, Steph, I'd say you did damn fine for your first day out!" he exclaimed. I'd managed to hit the outside edge of the center once, seven rounds had pierced the next ring outward, one was in the following ring and only one bullet had gone a bit AWOL, marking the very edge of the paper target.

"Well, Cal, it wasn't my first time shooting a gun, you know." But I smiled, despite myself. "I said I don't like them, not that I suck at shooting them."

"No shit, Bomber," was his reply. "Lets sweep up these casings and then we'll move onto cleaning our weapons."

We made quick work of the cleanup and, despite my soreness, I was surprised at how much I really didn't mind the time spent in the range today. Cal was a patient tutor, and when he talked, he actually had a bit of a sense of humor. Huh.

I'd spent some time firing a couple of different types of guns (Cal selected some that were reportedly easier for women to handle) and I found that some of them were actually sort of fun to handle. I felt empowered, dangerous. And strangely, kinda turned on. What the hell?

After our training session was complete, I'd selected a back-up weapon for use. For now, I preferred my S&W, but as a secondary I choose a Taurus Millennium Pro 111. After all, we can order it in pink. I wonder if I could order pink bullets to match? That may be worth checking into. Might make my time spent down here even more enjoyable.

One successful training session complete.

Only about 199 more to go.

….

1 month later…

I am settling in nicely at Rangeman and my training is going surprisingly well. I have to say that I'm particularly enjoying the B&E and self-defense, though I still lack the patience necessary for surveillance. Somehow, I just don't think that will be my eventual specialty. In my boredom, my thoughts tend to wander and I easily miss the little things.

I've also spent some time assisting Tank with the paperwork end of things. My business degree has assisted us greatly there and I've been able to streamline a few of his processes – most of them being accounting-related. Thankfully, they've mostly been one-time projects.

I am so not a desk person.

The guys have mostly been great. Devil wasn't nearly as scary as his name had implied, and in fact with me - he'd been a total pussycat. After our third session together, Tank had to pull him from my training program; Devil had been so terrified to hurt me that we hadn't accomplished much in terms of learning. He is such a sweet guy. Please don't tell him I said so (probably that's not so good for his image). He was a good-looking guy, very well built, and was about 6'4". He had light brown hair and hazel eyes. His real name is Emmet. For a Merry Man, he's quite chatty. I was sad to see our training together end.

Binkie, the second youngest of the group at just 25, has been a ton of fun. Each week he'd set up different challenges for me off-campus. He continually found new ways to challenge me both mentally and physically without me really realizing it. So far, we'd gone rock-climbing, paint balling, rappelling, and have even played laser tag. Next week, he promised he'd take me out on a zip-line near Point Pleasant. I'm looking forward to it. My Binkie time is by far my favorite session of the week. If he wasn't careful, he'd quickly become my new favorite Merry Man.

That said; want to know my most surprising discovery thus far? It turns out, running actually isn't so bad! When you do it regularly, you feel less like you're going to die while doing it. In fact, I've taken to running seven days per week, not just my requisite five. I've still got some distance to add in order to fulfill Bobby's master plan, but I am getting there.

I've found that running helps to clear my head and centers me for my day. It's something I can easily control – my speed, distance and location. And I can do it whenever I want. No preparation necessary.

I began my morning run on the treadmill. Today was officially a day off for me, so I'd allowed myself the luxury of sleeping in this morning, Not surprisingly, I was getting a much later start than usual and it seemed I was alone at the moment in the Rangeman gym.

Turns out that I liked the quiet the best. Who knew?

The Rangeman gym is on the 3rd floor of the building, next to the range. It was fairly good-sized with all of the latest equipment. The walls were painted a gunmetal grey, and there were windows facing the street along the western-facing wall. The locker rooms and showers were along the northern wall. Ranger has invested a pretty penny into his gym. You can tell he has a passion for fitness.

Over the past month, Ranger and I have managed to develop a fantastic working relationship. Before I'd officially signed on to Rangeman full-time we'd agreed that whatever it was between us needed to stop.

While it was a bit difficult to come to terms with at first, I'd gotten with the program surprisingly easily. I've realized it's truly for the best. Sure, he's unbelievably gorgeous and our chemistry is off the charts, but to be honest, I've begun to enjoy the knowing. I know he's unquestionably got my back. I know he won't try to steal a kiss after the morning meeting. I know I won't end up in his bed tonight. I know, without question, he'll remain my best and closest friend and ally for the rest of my life.

I don't worry anymore if there's a Boston Babe or an Atlanta Babe, or if deep down I'm not good enough for him. I don't worry if we'll ever get our someday.

Sure, I'll probably always be a wee bit in love with him, but I have something far more important than I'd thought possible. I have an amazing, secure place in his life; a place in which no one else can ever fill. And he, in mine. And I love knowing that.

Of course, my shrink has helped me though this, among other things. I've come to realize that I deserve a man who will love me wholly, someone who will respect who I am and the decisions I've made. And while I am still not sure if I ever want to remarry or bear more children, I deserve the chance to discover exactly what it is I want. I deserve a man who can provide what I need. Or most of what I need, anyway.

He has made me see that my rape was not my fault. While I'll always question my actions with Shawn that day, I am working toward forgiving myself. This whole time I'd thought I was some sort of slut, hopping into bed with Shawn. I think I'd felt like I'd deserved it – all of it; as if it was punishment rendered for my actions. Now, I'm starting to see it, as it likely was – that I was a very young woman who had gotten carried away. I'd been swept away in the moment. And it takes two.

What I still had the most trouble reconciling was how I'd be so careless with MJ's feelings. I haven't completely worked that out yet. No matter how you slice it, I'd truly been in love with him. I think I probably remained just a bit heartbroken. I don't get how I so easily threw that away. Sure I'd been drinking, but it still doesn't add up.

I keep waiting to feel anger, defeat. But mostly, I now feel numb when I think about it. I am not sure what that means. The dreams remain, sure, but they're becoming less frequent.

Doc says I'd suffered a severe trauma and that they'll probably never completely go away; I've got a ways to go to heal yet, but I am making slow progress.

I saw movement to my left. Ranger and Lester were getting ready to spar in the ring. I raised my right hand in a wave and Ranger offered a small head nod in response. Lester averted his gaze and pretended not to see me, just as he has for the past month.

I miss him, our easy camaraderie. Sure, I get along with the rest of the guys, but Les and I used to have such an easy rapport. He had such an easygoing sense of humor and often managed to get me in stitches. While our friendship had been purely superficial, we'd clicked.

Now, for some reason, he's been avoiding me. I swear it.

I wound down my run, and was distracted from my thoughts as things were really starting to get heated between the two men. They were starting to draw quite the crowd. Cool down complete, I glanced down at my machine and noticed I'd ran about five and a half miles. Sweet. Bobby would be thrilled with my progress.

Covered in a fine sheen of sweat, I joined the crowd of my coworkers. I have to say, they were beautiful to observe, Ranger and Lester. They were both good-looking Latino men, sure. But that's not really what I mean; they just were so graceful to watch. It was art form. Each of them stalked the other as if they were prey. Baiting, retreating, calculating- it was purely animalistic. Ranger had the aura of a tiger: strong, aggressive and cunning. Lester was more of a jaguar: quick, sleek and powerful. I was entranced; I couldn't look away.

They were evenly matched, yet not.

Someone gasped as Lester knocked the boss down in a complicated series of kicks and twists. It may have been me. Junior was keeping score: Lester 1 - Ranger 0.

After some time, Binkie finally broke the silence in the crowd. "So, Bomber, we were thinking. Since today marks one month since you came to your senses and joined us fine men here at Rangeman, we were wondering if you'd like to go out and celebrate with us?"

I pretended to weigh his offer carefully. "Depends. What have you got in mind, Binkie?" I asked; my eyes were still trained to the two fighting men.

"Well, we thought we'd hit up El Fuego tonight for some dinner and salsa dancing." Binkie smiled.

Shit, who am I kidding? Binkie was always smiling. I offered him a grin in return, my excitement quickly building. "Oh, hell yeah!"

The guys cheered, obviously looking forward to tonight as much as I was. You know what? I was ready to have some fun.

"We'll pick you up at 8:00 Steph?"

I couldn't help it; my anticipation got the better of me. I bounced up and down in delight. "Perfect, Binky. Now, I'm off to shower and hit the mall!" perched on my tiptoes and gave him a quick peck on his left cheek, turning to head toward the shower.

The guys groaned. Cal spoke up, "Steph, please, you're over sharing. We're men, and trust me when I say that we really don't need to envision you naked in the shower!"

I blushed, my face turning a fluorescent tomato red. Halting in my retreat, I glanced back over my shoulder, at Cal. I stammered, "Oh, gosh, I … Cal, I didn't mean…"

Embarrassed, I just let the sentence drop and dashed into my little dedicated locker room.

The boys' fight now long forgotten, I jumped into the shower, eager to get on with my day.

…

Two hours later, Lula and I stormed Quaker Bridge Mall. It had been far too long since I had seen my good friend. Since I joined Rangeman, she'd taken over the low bond skips up to $10,000 in addition to her 'filing'. Much to my irritation, Vinnie gave that skank bitch Joyce the skips in the $10,000 - $50,000 range, and Rangeman's contract was amended to take all bonds over that amount.

As part of our agreement, Ranger agreed to provide temporary back up for Lula as needed while I was in training. When my training was complete, I planned to probably pick up that role, on my own time. Because that's what friends do.

So far, things were working out. This compromise thing has really been going well for me.

We've already been at the mall for three hours, and I am getting impatient. Lula and I had just recently split up in order to conquer their massive dress department at Macy's. I picked my way through the sea of skankiness: black dresses, red dresses, short dresses, shorter dresses, blue dresses, green dresses, sequin dresses and printed dresses. So many freaking dresses.

I usually loved shopping. Today, it was getting on my nerves. Perhaps it's the lack of sugar.

Not to mention, my shower massager is on the fritz.

Finally. It's been about thirty minutes since our split and I've finally found the perfect dress for tonight. It was a strapless black tube dress with sequin stripe detailing down the center and rouching that surrounded the entire bodice. The sexy skirt was tightly fitted, but had these flirty, twisty strips of organza overlay that fell in gentle cascades and settled just about two inches above my knee. When I twirled, the fabric simply swirled out around me, like a cloud, while the underskirt covered all of my delicate bits. It was fun and flirty and exactly the look I was looking for. I even had the perfect pair of shoes to wear with it at home.

While I waited for Lula to find her ideal spandex creation, I continued to browse through the dresses. A woman can never have too many distraction dresses, right?

I'm pretty sure that's a saying.

Anyway, I grabbed a couple of 'potentials' and made my way back to the changing room, where I nearly ran smack-dab into Lula.

I would never, ever, in all of my life be able to fully control my reaction to spandex Lula. Each new outfit she wore warranted its own shock to my system, and each and every time I've needed some time to recover. And God, did I love her for it. I admired her confidence and sense of self. Lula was a woman who knew who she was and what she wanted.

Apparently, she'd found the one. It was a fuchsia-colored cap-sleeved spandex dress with a sweetheart neckline. It fell to about an inch below her ass and was at least two sizes too small. It had a pattern of large, bright purple and pink flowers throughout and a wide, silver belt at her waist.

It took all of my resolve to smile while I bit back my chuckle. This dress was Lula, personified. I hated it. I loved it. It was horrible. It was perfect.

Lula and I spent the remainder of the hour trying on a few random dresses for fun. We took turns picking out horrendously slutty or particularly horrifying dresses for each other. I'd picked out a 'proper' navy sheath of a dress for Lula to try on, and Lula had given me a slutty little number to model.

Lula and I could barely contain our laughter at the insanity that was Lula in that conservative polyester dress. When we'd finally managed to get ahold of ourselves, Lula turned her eyes to me and let out one hell of a shriek. The dress was very red, and very lacy.

"Skinny Ass White Girl, you'vegottobuythatdress! It was made for you! Hell, I'll buy it for you – I don't care if your poor ass can't afford it. But that dress is goin' home with you. Today!" Lula exclaimed.

"Lula! Calm down. Sure, it's a sexy little number, but where in the hell will I wear it? I look … Lula, I think I look like one of those pricey corporate call girls," I replied as I slowly spun in the triple mirror.

"Sure as shit you do, girlfriend. Like I said, it's a hell of a dress. Girl, you'll have all of the men within a hundred-mile radius of you knocking down your door just to get a piece."

I offered her a wry smile. "I am not sure that's my ultimate goal, Lula. I'd barely been able to handle Morelli."

"Sheeit, girl. That's EVERY woman's goal. At least it should be. What in the hell is wrong with you?"

Oh, Lula, if you only knew. I took another moment to consider my reflection. It did fit me perfectly, and the color really seemed to flatter my skin tone. My breasts even managed to look fuller than usual. I sighed. "OK, the dress comes. But we're done now – we're leaving. My bank account can't handle much more Lula today."

Lula offered me a 1,000-watt smile. We made our purchases and set off for home. I had some preparations to attend to, and the guys would be picking me up in a mere three hours.

I showered, shaved and exfoliated. I moisturized, buffed and polished. I lightly applied my make-up, giving my eyes a sultry sort of look. I slipped on my new little black dress and strapped on my black, 4" sandals. Four coats of mascara and a sheer lip-gloss application later, I once again heard my locks tumble. I checked my reflection a final time and made my way to my foyer.