Chapter 4

Bobby and Les came by with lunch the next day. A very early lunch. I was still in bed sleeping when they started knocking on my door.

"Whaddya want?" I demanded in a growl as I flung open the door.

They just laughed at me. So I pointed my gun at them. "Laugh again and I shoot," I threatened. I was not in a good mood.

They stopped abruptly. "Um, Beautiful," Les started nervously.

"Are you guys stupid?" I asked again as I pushed my hair out of my face. "You know what time I got home last night. So why are you here this damn early?"

"Steph, it's nearly noon," Bobby said in his soothing medic voice. "We figured you'd be up by now."

I growled at him and dropped my gun to my side. "I didn't get home until nearly 6 freaking am!"

They both let out a sigh of relief as my gun dropped.

"Wow, when you say you're not a morning person, you really mean it, don't you?" Les said rhetorically. Had to be rhetorical. The evidence was clearly in front of him.

I flipped him an Italian hand gesture as I stomped back towards the bathroom. "Fuck you, Santos!"

"Yes, please, Beautiful," he said with a laugh. "I'm ready and willing whenever you are."

I turned around to glare at him. "I still have my gun."

"Is it loaded?" he asked curiously, seemingly impressed that I even had my gun.

"Want me to pull the trigger and find out?"

"No, thanks."

"Then shut the hell up and start the damn coffee."

"Ma'am, yes ma'am," Les said with a salute. But he went to the coffee maker and started it. Smart man. Bobby kept his mouth shut. Smarter man.

I harrumphed and went into the bathroom to do my business. Once I tamed the Medusa hair, washed my face and brushed my teeth, I headed back out. I kept my gun. I wasn't convinced I wouldn't need to shoot one or both of them.

Plus I needed to put it back in my gun safe, aka, the cookie jar.

I sat down at the table where a cup of coffee was waiting on me. Ahh, heaven. I could feel the caffeine coursing through my veins chasing away the cobwebs and pissiness.

"Feel better?" Bobby asked after a couple of minutes of silence.

"Getting there," I admitted. "So why are you guys here so early?"

Bobby flashed me his killer grin. "Well, watching you threaten to take him down was about the most entertaining thing I've seen in a long time."

I rolled my eyes. "Then you, my dear, need to get a life."

Les grinned. "I keep telling him this, Beautiful, but he won't listen to me. Maybe he'll listen to you."

I shook my head. "How's Ram?"

Bobby snapped back to being serious. "He's fine. He's resting back at the office. He'll be fine in no time."

"What about the new guy who got him shot?" I asked.

Les snorted. "He's probably in worse shape than Ram after going a couple of rounds on the mats with everyone."

I felt my eyes widen. "Do tell."

Les smirked at me. "This was his first night out on patrol and he blew it, big time. He fucked it up bad and he got Ram shot. If the skip had better aim, he could have gotten Ram killed."

I paled at the idea of one of my guys dying.

"Once the police let him leave the scene, Cal took him back to the office and thought he was acting a little squirrelly. So Cal decided to lock him in his apartment on four until one of the core team could get back and decide what to do with him. Little punk was trying to make a break for it. As if," Les snorted.

"Who was he?" I asked.

Bobby took up the story. "Not who he was supposed to be."

"Huh?"

"He was supposed to be a Marine, but after a bit of… persuasion, the full story came out. His twin brother is the Marine. This guy got himself in some financial difficulties and decided that it would be easier to get a job if he used his brother's identity instead of his own since he's been in some trouble in the past. When we did the background check and everything, we thought we were hiring a highly decorated Marine, not his punk ass loser brother."

"Oh shit!"

"Oh shit is right, Beautiful," Les said. "Ranger was fit to be tied. We managed to get a call in to the brother, who was also less than pleased that his brother was impersonating him and using his service record to get a job. So dumbass will probably get his ass kicked again when his brother gets a hold of him. Assuming he can walk by then."

I shook my head. "How did no one pick up on this?"

Les shrugged. "One of the guys in another office did the search, and he'd known the brother in the service. So he didn't dig too deep, didn't turn up that the brother was his identical twin brother."

"Is Ranger going to kill him too?" I asked.

Les shrugged again. "Don't know yet. It's a pretty major fuck up, but we all hate doing those damn searches. That's why we loved having you do them, I'm sure you'd have noticed it. You sure you don't want to come back?"

"Guys…" I started.

"I know, I know," Les said. "But damn, it'd be nice to have you back," Les said wistfully.

I just shrugged. Wasn't by my choice.

"How'd he pass the physical and all that?" I wondered aloud. It's not like any random person off the street could pass the RangeMan physical requirements.

"He was in good shape," Bobby said. "Did fine on the physical assessment. Maybe not quite what I'd have expected from a just out Marine, but well enough that I didn't question it. And he and his brothers had grown up shooting, so he knew his way around guns. He knew enough stories from his brother to be able to fake it. And none of us were looking for anything out of the ordinary, so we didn't see anything out of the ordinary."

"Huh. Weird."

Les slung his arm around my shoulder. "Face it, Beautiful, we don't have your Spidey senses."

I snuggled in closer. What? My apartment was chilly and Les was hot, in many ways. "You cold, Beautiful?" he asked as he pulled me closer.

I just nodded.

"Why don't you just turn up the heat?" Bobby asked.

"Can't. Apartment owners have it set at 68 since the whole building is heated by the central furnace, so this is as warm as it gets in winter."

"Come here, Chilly Willy," Les said as he pulled me even closer. "I'll keep you warm." And he did until my stomach started demanding food. Then we sat around and ate the subs they'd brought from Pino's and I decided it was a good thing I hadn't shot them after all.

We chatted a little more, and Bobby reassured me that Ram would be fine. He was just resting back at Haywood, and there were tons of guys around to keep an eye out if he needed anything, but Bobby had just checked on him.

Then Bobby checked my cuts, and then they left and I faced a dilemma: back to bed or go do actual work?

Decisions, decisions.

In the end, I decided to split the difference and I called Connie. If she had files for me, I'd go in. If she didn't, I'd stay home and try to do some research on the open files I did have.

She didn't have anything for me, so I spent the day just hanging out with Rex. It was mommy-hamster bonding day. Taking naps together is bonding, right?

Bobby and Les came by again with dinner one day the next week. I fell asleep on the couch with my feet in Bobby's lap, but I woke up in bed the next morning. It was magically warm and cuddly, and I didn't know why until I sat up and saw the note on the bedside table.

Les had bought me an early Christmas (or late birthday) present to keep me warm so I wouldn't be so desperate to have to cuddle with Bobby to stay warm. It was a deluxe electric blanket that had kept me snuggly warm all night. Aww, I love my guys.

I texted Les with my thanks and got an invitation for him to replace the blanket with his hot body at any time, no questions asked. Yeah, right. He was feeling delusional again.

I got up, did my usual thing and then hunted down some cranky skips who weren't exactly joyful to be going to the hoosegow. But I didn't end up with any more major wounds, so I was going to call the day a success.

I was dropping off my body receipts when I saw Ranger coming out of the bonds office. He stopped and nodded at me. "Babe."

I smiled my professional 'I'm here to take you to jail' smile. "Ranger," I replied and kept going. He put out a hand and grabbed my arm before I could open the door.

"How are you?" he asked.

"I'm well, thank you. And you?" I said in my best Burg voice.

"Fine. Haven't seen you around much lately."

"I've been around," I told him.

He looked slightly uncomfortable. "I've been busy."

"Uh huh. Well, speaking of being busy," I said as I pulled away. "I need to get going."

I had the door halfway open when he spoke again. "Big plans tonight?"

I didn't turn back around. "Yep."

And I did. Bobby had promised to bring over something only marginally healthy for dinner if I'd let him help me set up a work out routine. Actually, I'd asked him to help me to figure out how to get into somewhat decent shape without giving up my beloved junk food, and Bobby had nearly jumped out of his skin in joy at the opportunity.

"Oh. Have fun," Ranger said.

"I'm sure I will." Then I walked in the office, feeling good about myself for resisting Ranger and for getting in the last word for once. It had been over two months now since I'd broken up with Joe and this was the first time Ranger had said more than three words at a time since the hospital when Ram was shot. And those don't count since they'd all been about Ram being, you know, shot. So screw him if he thinks I can ignore the fact that he has ignored me for the last two months.

I got my check, rushed to the bank and made it with two whole minutes to spare. Then I went home and dressed in workout gear, feeling positive that Bobby was going to make me regret asking him for help. But I figured it was time to be a grown up and admit the fact that while my apprehension numbers weren't bad, I could sure use all the help I could get in getting better at my job.

Bobby showed up a few minutes until seven with two bags full of stuff. Oh heck, I'm screwed.

"Um, Bobby? What's all this crap?" I asked nervously.

"Work out stuff for you," he replied as he started pulling things out of the bags.

"You realize I just wanted to get in slightly better shape, right? Not turn into one of you guys?"

Bobby laughed. "You couldn't get the kind of muscles we have, you don't have enough testosterone to pull it off. But you said you wanted to get into somewhat better shape, and I'm here to help. I'm the training and conditioning coach for the office, so if anyone can whip your ass into shape, it'll be me!"

I turned to look over my shoulder at my butt. "My ass is already in decent shape!"

Bobby laughed again. "Yes, it's one fine butt, Bomber, but getting in shape a little will help you to keep that fine ass safe."

"As long as you weren't saying my ass is fat."

"I'm smarter than that," he promised. "I have sisters."

It was my turn to laugh. "Tell me about your sisters while you get out your torture devices."

And he actually did. He told me about growing up as the oldest child and only boy with two sisters and how protective he'd been of them growing up. He wasn't close to any of them really now since they weren't thrilled with his job at RangeMan and just wanted him to settle down and be a nice family PA with a wife and three kids. Being the medic and PA for a bunch of mercenaries wasn't the life they wanted for him.

"Damn, no wonder we get along so well," I commented.

"Yeah, we have similar family expectations. But the good thing is that my family is all still in Chicago so I don't have to deal with them all that much. I don't know how you handle your family being so close all the time," he admitted.

"Neither do I!"

He grinned and started hooking up something to my TV. "What's that?" I asked curiously.

"My old Wii," Bobby told me. "I don't use it anymore. If I play any video games, it's pretty much on my X-Box or maybe at Lester's apartment. But there are some fun workout games that I thought you might enjoy, so I stopped and picked you up a couple at GameStop."

"Like what?"

"Like a couple of dance games. You like to dance, right?"

"Yeah," I said, actually getting a little excited at the idea of workouts not being completely boring and totally heinous.

He showed me how to work the Wii and then loaded in a Michael Jackson dance game. Within minutes, Bobby and I were trying to do the Thriller. I had it down pretty good, I am an 80's girl after all, but Bobby looked like he was having a seizure. I couldn't stop laughing at him.

He glared at me, but I could tell he didn't mean it. Then he popped in a Latin dance game but ignored the instructions on the screen. He pulled me into his arms and we salsa danced around my living room to the music instead. "That's the kind of dancing I do, baby," he told me with a grin.

"Well, I could get into that kind of exercise!" I told him. "Much more fun that running on a freaking treadmill."

Bobby smiled at me and kissed my nose before he pulled me over to look at the rest of the games. One was a personal trainer game where I could track my cardio and it would take me through some muscle building exercises. I would have a receiver wrapped around one thigh so I couldn't fake it and I would have to hold the Wii nun chucks in my hand for boxing exercises and upper body stuff.

It didn't seem as fun as dancing with Michael Jackson.

Then Bobby pulled out some stretchy bands, two pairs of small dumbbells and a couple of fold out charts of exercises to do with my own body weight.

Gulp.

Bobby pulled out a printed schedule he'd made up for me. I was to do the cardio dance games for at least one hour three times per week, and the personal trainer game for thirty minutes twice per week.

Then Bobby had me do some of the exercises on his charts so he could make sure I knew how to do them right. He had to correct my form a little bit, but for the most part, I did okay. I did know how to read, you know.

"You keep this up for two weeks solid, and I'll take you out dancing for real. No Michael Jackson shit," Bobby bargained.

I nibbled on my lower lip. "You won't even have to try to get some scumbag to leave with you. It can be just us or I'll get a bunch of the guys to go too."

I sighed. He knew he had me when he offered me a chance to see more of the guys. I hadn't seen them since the hospital when Ram was shot.

"Fine. I'll try it," I agreed. His face lit up like a Christmas tree and he told me to pick a dancing game while he got dinner going.

"You're going to cook?" I asked in shock.

He grinned. "Yeah. But don't worry, I brought my own pots and pans and stuff since I figured you didn't have any."

"Smartass."

"You love my ass."

I blatantly checked out his ass, and he obligingly bent over to stick it out for me. "True," I admitted with a grin that earned me a chuckle. What? It's a very good ass. Excellent, even.

So I went back to the Michael Jackson game and had actually worked up a pretty good sweat playing the games by the time Bobby told me to wash my hands.

I plopped down in the chair after I washed my hands and my bright pink face. "You did pretty good there, Bomber," Bobby complimented. "You were working pretty hard for over forty-five minutes. So with the Thriller and salsa dancing, we can count this as your first hour-long workout day."

"It's because I'm bad, I'm bad, you know it, I'm bad," I sang as I dug into the delightful smelling chicken on my plate.

Bobby just laughed. "As long as you're not a smooth criminal," Bobby commented and I grinned at him. "Though I might enjoy putting you in cuffs." I just rolled my eyes at him.

"Damn, Bobby, this is good!" I told him after I moaned my appreciation for the tangy, citrus flavored chicken. "What is it?"

"Orange chicken," he said.

"I've had orange chicken from the Happy Wok," I told him. "But it didn't taste like this."

"It's a healthier version that's stir fried rather than deep fried. But it's still pretty damn good, if I do say so myself," Bobby replied with pride evident in his voice.

"You're going to have to give me cooking lessons next," I told him as I enjoyed another bite of the chicken, vegetables and rice.

"I can do that. I was going broke eating out all the time, which is why I decided to learn to cook," Bobby said. "I'm no Bobby Flay, but I can cook enough to keep from starving."

"I can only make sandwiches," I told him. "But I bet this is way more complicated than spread peanut butter on bread."

Bobby laughed. "Yeah, a little bit."

I was so excited by my games that I decided to play the Latin dance game once we finished dinner. Bobby helped me to get my movements right, but he totally kicked my ass on this game. I remained happy with the fact that I'd kicked his ass at Thriller, though.

Bobby left a little after midnight when I started yawning.

"I'll give you a call tomorrow and see how you feel," he said as he kissed the top of my head. "Sleep well."

"You too!" I told him. "And thanks so much for bringing by the games. As soon as I hit the lottery, I'll pay you back."

"No worries. I like hanging out with you. And if this will help you to get in shape, well then it was a small price to pay."

I grinned at him and then he left. I took a shower since I felt sweaty and icky and then crashed.

Author's note: I hope everyone who was in the path of the Frankenstorm/ Hurricane Sandy is doing well! We had high winds and heavy snow showers (though not a ton of accumulation, thankfully – just enough to screw up everything) here in my part of the country from the storm, and it cancelled my dissertation defense. Sad times. I hope to get it rescheduled for ASAP.

In the meantime, take my mind off the fact that I'm stuck at home in the snow and still ABD instead of done by leaving me your thoughts on this chapter!