CHAPTER 4

Eighteen years ago in Newark

Corrine, or more accurately Wren, met Carlos again the next day under the bleachers. They talked about how much they both hated school. They talked about their families, each having their own reason why their home life was a bitch. For Corrine, it was the first time she didn't feel like someone was judging her. For Carlos, it was his first crush.

They continued to meet under the bleachers at least twice a week. They had to attend their respective classes a few days a week to keep the teachers at bay. They learned a lot about each other during that precious hour. Corrine told him about her father and their life together, running the café. She told him about how she got sucked into the gang life, and Carlos did the same. Their experiences were very different.

For Corrine, it was the older girls in the gang, along with the de facto leader Jax, who lured her into joining them with promises of being part of a close-knit "family", one who always took care of each other. She was only thirteen when they first approached her. She'd never known what it was like to have a mother, and she had no brothers and sisters, so the gang fulfilled that emptiness within her. She knew Jax was interested in her, and not just as another gang member. It was a heady feeling in the beginning, but when he started touching her and trying to get her alone, she began to get worried. Her father's warnings about boys and sex rang loudly in her head. Her saving grace came in the form of another girl, also new to the gang, as that girl had just recently moved to Jersey from Ohio where her extended Portuguese family lived. This new girl, Rosana, had immediately latched onto Jax and she was the jealous type. Corrine quickly sucked up to her and became her best friend, which gave her a good reason to legitimately ward off Jax's advances. But it hadn't been easy.

For Carlos, he joined the Cuban gang because he was getting beat up on a weekly basis by the other boys in the neighborhood. There were other Hispanic gangs like the Puerto Ricans and the Mexicans, and there were two black gangs and an Asian gang. And Carlos was relatively small for his age and an easy target. His father had assured him that he would grow bigger, but it was a Mañoso trait for the sons not to attain full growth until sixteen or seventeen years of age. That didn't help Carlos now, so he joined the Cuban youth gang at an early age. He learned to fight and defend himself, and he was good at it. But it didn't mean he liked the gang. He was, essentially, a loner forced into associating with the other Cuban boys. Sequestering himself under the bleachers was his way of avoiding his gang for a while. But he didn't mind sharing that precious time with Wren.

Corrine found herself smiling more, something she felt a little guilty about so soon after her father's death, but on the days she knew she'd be meeting Carlos, she couldn't help but be in a good mood. And Carlos, once a frequent ditcher of school, found himself eager to attend every day, even on the days he and Wren wouldn't be meeting under the bleachers, because he could at least watch her as she walked the halls to her next class. They were disappointed they couldn't eat lunch together; Eastside had staggered lunch hours and, as luck would have it, their lunch breaks were not the same. No one, not even Carlos's gang, suspected that they knew each other, much less that they spent time together.

Those last few weeks of school were the best times of their short lives. Things began to get serious when, one day, they thought they were going to be discovered. Another student started to crawl under the bleachers, and Carlos and Wren immediately reached for the other's hand. That was the first time they touched each other. It wasn't the last time. After that day, they always held hands for the entire hour they were together.

The week before the school term was to end, the two of them realized they wouldn't be seeing each other anymore. That was entirely unacceptable to both of them. Their best answer to that problem came, oddly enough, through the high school.

Each summer, Eastside offered a number of extracurricular programs to its students. Carlos and Wren looked over the offerings, and they decided to sign up for a personal finance class that met for three hours every weekday throughout the summer. They didn't plan to actually attend the class, and since the class wasn't for credit, their parents wouldn't know if they passed the class or not. It would give them three uninterrupted hours every weekday to spend with each other. And they could spend it in Independence Park. That recreational park was directly across from the high school, and it had lots of forested areas to get lost in. The perfect summer venue for two teenagers who wanted to spend some private time together.

Present Day Trenton

Stephanie didn't have her key fob, but she knew the code that would send the elevator to the seventh floor. She punched the numbers into the keypad quickly and then stood as close to the door as she could, hiding her face from the camera. Running to the penthouse, Ranger's former abode, wouldn't go unnoticed, but she was making it as hard as possible for the surveillance team to see her face. She had no idea who was working the in-house monitors, but she knew her face was easily readable.

She'd been warned by more than one Merry Man never to play poker. She didn't know for certain what expressions were visible on her face because she wasn't sure what emotions were coursing through her. Anger, for sure, and maybe disappointment. Possibly fear. Fear that she didn't know the man she'd married nearly as well as she'd thought.

When she'd told Chase she'd help him find his half-sister, Ranger had stiffened, only slightly, but still enough for her to notice. She wasn't sure if it was because she hadn't asked his permission to help Chase, or because she'd instinctively hugged her old lover, but either way, that was something they should discuss. But not yet. She needed some time for her thoughts to settle, and the best place was the place she'd always felt secure, sheltered from the daily trials and tribulations that had ruled her bounty hunting days. Ranger's apartment was her Zen spot.

It surprised her a little that she missed the apartment. The Bat Cave, or Stately Wayne Manor as she'd taken to calling her new home, was fabulous. That was an undeniable fact. She'd had the girls over for lunch on several occasions, and they'd all been green with envy. And Stephanie felt the pride of ownership. She'd never be June Cleaver, but with Ella's help, she didn't have to be. She loved her new home, and yet, when things went south, the way they had today with Chase, she craved the comfort of Ranger's old apartment.

As she entered the space she felt a rush of homecoming. She'd been gratified to learn that Ranger had planned to keep the apartment intact. She'd thought maybe he'd want to expand the business offices to the top floor. RangeMan was growing after all. But for now, it would be available for an occasional safe house, or visiting staff or for the two of them if they needed to stay close to the action at RangeMan.

She knew Ranger was still in his office off the control room floor, but she hadn't spoken to him since he'd left the room after she'd hugged Chase. She and Chase had made plans to meet tomorrow at RangeMan so that she could interview him more thoroughly and take notes, and then she'd begin the search for Corrine in earnest. She didn't know if she could find his half-sister, especially when others had failed, but she was going to try very hard. She owed it to Chase.

Chase had entered her life at a time when things were starting to seem too safe. As a lingerie buyer for E.E. Martin, she was mindful of her need to maintain a professional persona, but she'd missed the free and easy times of her college years, and Chase had been the antidote to the boredom of the world of a young working professional.

He'd been the most unlikely business owner she'd ever encountered. Barely eking out a profit, he ran his business with a casualness that shocked her. Long-haired and wearing the leathers associated with bike riders, he'd looked a little dangerous, and a lot anti-establishment. And she'd been attracted to that much like she'd been attracted to Joe Morelli, the high school bad boy.

Chase had turned out to have a conservative side underneath his unconventional but attractive exterior. Maybe that was why he'd somehow managed to turn around his business and now was the owner of a chain of bike shops. He'd taught her to ride a bike and introduced her into a new culture, but, as a couple, they'd fizzled out eventually. The sex had been okay, but even in Stephanie's limited experience, she was pretty sure there were better times to be had in bed. So they'd parted company as lovers and vowed to stay friends.

Then Dickie Orr had entered the picture and her life had gone completely off track.

She walked to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of water out of the sparsely stocked refrigerator. Then she went into the bedroom and flopped on the big bed in her thinking position to continue her reminiscing.

Yeah, she'd found out there'd been better sex waiting for her than she'd had with Chase. Dickie was exciting at the beginning, but finding him with Joyce Barnhardt put a sudden stop to that relationship. Then Morelli reappeared. The fireworks with him had been spectacular, but the day-to-day relationship, not so much. Joe couldn't break the habit of trying to control her every move, and mold her into what he wanted instead of what she was. He made her feel like a screw-up, always criticizing and never praising.

And then Ranger came into her life. He could ignite her in a way that made Joe's fireworks suddenly seem like bottle rockets in the face of Ranger's breath-taking, full night-sky lightning display. And Ranger thought she was competent and capable. He told her she never disappointed. And he told her he was an opportunist. He made it clear how much he wanted her and that he wouldn't pass up any chance that came his way. He'd never shown much jealousy over Morelli. There were times in the past that she'd come from Morelli's bed and found herself in Ranger's—and he'd been aware of it. He'd always seemed amused by it, because he knew, from the beginning, the way she felt about him.

So why had Ranger gone all caveman when he'd learned that Chase was an ex-lover?

Chase. Suddenly he was back in her life and he needed her help. She was going to give it to him, even if Ranger disapproved. And he obviously did. And that's what was so upsetting.

Ranger wasn't acting like Ranger. He was acting like Morelli. Stalking someone he thought was stalking her, without even telling her. That was more than a little disrespectful. She knew going into the marriage there would be things he couldn't or wouldn't share. Things from his past. She could live with that. What she couldn't live with was this new controlling Ranger, who was treating her more and more like Joe used to treat her.

She felt the familiar tingle at the base of her neck and opened her eyes to see Ranger, leaning against the door frame. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was staring at her.

"How long have you been there?" she asked, because even though she'd just become aware of his presence, she thought maybe he'd been watching her for a time. Ranger in stealth mode.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. His expression was unreadable, and his body unmoving. She couldn't tell what his mood was, but she didn't think it was good.

"I'm thinking," she responded. "This seemed like a good place to think. I was waiting for you to be done for the day so we could go home together. I was with Lula. I have no transportation."

"You didn't have to wait for me," he said. "You could have taken a fleet vehicle, or caught a ride with one of the guys. I thought you were going to work from home today."

"I was," she replied. "But after I talked with Chase I decided to make my calls from the office, since I was already here. After I finished my calls, I did some schedule rearranging so I'd have time to help Chase."

"You're pushing RangeMan work back to help him, then?"

"I've rescheduled a couple of minor appointments, and I've done some delegating. I am a manager, as you reminded me earlier today. I think it's within my scope as a department head to do so."

"You're putting a former lover's needs in front of those of the company your husband owns?" He still hadn't moved.

"Once again, Ranger," she said, climbing from her supine position to kneel on the bed and face him. "This morning you reminded me that RangeMan is ours now, not just yours, and that I don't need to ask your permission for everything I do."

His arms were still folded across his chest. Except for the little tic along the edge of his jawline, he was unmoving.

"Are you going to forbid me to help him?" she asked.

"As the CEO, I have the power to do that."

"Yes, you do. And if that's what you feel, then you should tell me that I'm forbidden to help him."

Ranger raised an eyebrow. "And if I did tell you, you'd acquiesce and withdraw your offer to help him find his sister?" he asked. "You don't ordinarily like to be told what to do."

"You're right, I don't," she said. "But you do have that right. And if you tell me not to do it," she paused briefly, adjusting her stance on the bed, "I have the right to resign my position. I'll quit, and then I'll help him."

"Are you threatening me?" he asked, his voice a little too quiet, too smooth.

"Are you threatening me?" she responded, her voice not smooth at all. Finally, Ranger moved.

In a few quick strides, he was at the side of the bed. He reached out and hauled her from the bed, his hands digging into her armpits. They stood toe-to-toe and from the closeness of her position she could clearly see the narrowed eyes and the tightness around his beautiful mouth. Yep, he was angry. That's okay, she thought. She was angry, too, and she was betting he could see it. She wanted to choose her next words carefully. Arguing with Ranger was like playing chess. She couldn't just spit something out without trying to figure his response and plan her next verbal attack.

While she was considering her words, she became aware of the hardness of his thighs against hers. She sucked in a deep breath and a hint of Bulgari tickled her nose. She pulled away, fighting the sudden awareness, the tingling working its way from her stomach and settling in … lower. He let go of her, at the feel of her resistance, and then wrapped his arms around her to catch her as she overbalanced and almost fell. He pulled her in close and she realized it wasn't just his thighs that were hard against her.

She looked up at his eyes to find dilated pupils and a mouth that had softened. He muttered something that she recognized as a Spanish curse word, but one she couldn't translate. His mouth came down on hers, and she responded by parting her lips under his. The kiss was a serious one, and she knew where it was leading.

"Ranger, we need to talk." She sucked in air as his hand found its way under her shirt, and he pulled it up and over her head. Her bra was removed quickly by his capable hands, and her nipples pebbled as the cool air of the room washed over them. Ranger bent his head and took one in his mouth.

Stephanie groaned. "I … I won't give up on this …" She gasped, unable to talk as he sucked hard. Then he moved his attention to the other breast. He moved back and straightened to pull his t-shirt up and over his head. His hand went to his belt buckle and, unthinkingly, Stephanie pushed his hands away so that she could finish the task.

When they were naked and on the bed, he rolled over her and began dropping kisses across her breasts, slowly trailing lower across her abdomen, and lower still. His hands parted her thighs and his voice tickled her soft skin. "I apologized," he said.

"Wh-what?"

"I apologized to Chase," he said, his hands gripping her hips. He pulled her body lower on the bed. "I told him I was sorry for the misunderstanding today." He dipped his head lower and neither one of them could talk any longer.

Later, it was Ranger who reinitiated the conversation, with an apology to Stephanie. "I'm sorry, Babe. I was determined to take this guy down before the situation got out of control. I should have told you."

"You should have," she agreed, dropping little kisses along his collarbone.

"I was trying to protect you. You've been through a lot, and I thought if I could take care of this, you'd never have to know."

"That's not fair to me," she said. She rubbed her hand slowly over the muscles in his arms, appreciating the velvety softness of his skin. "We're partners. You need to tell me."

"I was trying to protect you."

"That's admirable, but can't you protect me and inform me?" She moved her hand to his abdomen and began drawing circles, each one spiraling a little lower.

"You're right, Babe." He gasped as her hand skimmed below his belly button, across the scar from an op gone wrong. "I won't lie. I don't want you to get involved with this investigation. I think Chase needs to look elsewhere."

"So, you're telling me no?" she asked, her hand momentarily stilling.

"No, I'm not. I'm telling you my preference is for you to say no, but you said yes, so I'm telling you I won't stand in your way."

Stephanie's hand dipped lower and her fingers wrapped around the semi-hardness. It only took a few seconds for the semi to leave and then she lowered her head to follow the path of her hand. Her voice was muffled against his warm skin. "I'll be careful with this one, Ranger. There won't be any problems, and I won't neglect my RangeMan obligations."

"That's good," he said, as her head moved even lower. "That's … uh, good," he repeated, a catch in his voice. And then once again, neither one of them could talk.