8 Revelations Over Muffins and Milk

Ella was the second female I encountered at Rangeman. She was making muffins in Ranger's kitchen when I was escorted back into his apartment. I regarded her with a raised brow and took a seat. She was wearing a red apron, her hair in a neat bun. She seemed warm.

After introducing herself she enquired without falter where my clothes were. Didn't "recognize" the robe I was wearing. Which in turn stirred a line of questions in my mind.

"Back at my home."

"Oh."

Was she Ranger's henchman, too? Was there a knife collection under her apron? Or… was she Ranger's mother?!

I back-paddled to her tone of "oh".

"I mean oh like I was kidnapped. I'm here against my will!" I declared passionately. I wasn't about to let an impression of a lover go uncorrected. Was this how Ranger did it? This pleasant woman thought the females Ranger paraded around were just his one-night stands.

It ended now.

Ella paused for a moment. "I'm sure there was a reason for it."

In an instant, a waterfall of heated words poured out of my mouth. I was a prisoner, Ranger a sadistic human trafficker, and this place a crime against humanity -

Ella looked at me in astonishment which in turn astonished me. Ranger was good at his sins.

"Yes, yes! A crazy man. A criminal!"

"He knows how to make an impression," Ella stated evenly. Then showed her whole set of teeth and started to laugh uproariously.

Oh no. She was just another loonie.

Still laughing, Ella poured a glass of milk and handed it over to me. "Forgive me. Here, take this and a muffin while I go get you clothes. Then we'll talk."

You didn't have to tell me twice. I filled my mouth with a warm muffin, getting some comfort from the sugary goodness.

I was about to devour a fourth one when Ranger suddenly appeared and took a seat opposite my carnal feast. As if I had been set up to appear mentally weak. I pondered on that Ella's seemingly sweet appearance.

Thankfully, Ranger went straight to business and his eyes didn't linger at the crumbs.

"Where do you think you are, Stephanie Plum?"

I took a sip of milk like it was the roughest vodka. "I believe this building is a place where you run your business from."

"And what is my business?"

I bit my cheek. He eyed me, I eyed him. Was this the moment he kills me?

He crossed his arms. "Who is Joseph Morelli to you?"

"He's my fiancé. A long-term fiancé. See, I was out of town for a few years." Hopefully that didn't sound too weird.

"That's a long engagement."

"There's no rush. I like to plan things thoroughly. "

"He's a cop."

"Indeed he is."

We took another round of "eyeing". Obviously Ranger was in no hurry. Neither was I, though I was eager to phone Connie's G.I. Joe and start my training. But I could learn "street creds" from Ranger too. Already had, actually. That ability to conceal emotions was without a doubt essential. And a hard one. Mine ran wild on the surface. Morelli once said he didn't have to guess what I was thinking because everything, displeasure and pleasure, showed on my face with no filter. I was "easy to please". That rat bastard. We had sex only once, and I remember that his eyes were pretty much closed when he grunted his own pleasure. Though, to be fair, he had said that before the Pastry mistake...

Ranger took a hold of my hand which had smashed an innocent muffin into a pancake.

"Wouldn't want to be on your shitlist," he commented.

I could see his lips move in an abnormal manner, like they wanted to break into a smile. Ha ha. Yeah, I was the clown. Well, so was that mouthless thing on American Horror Story and -

"I run a security business. A legal one. Occasionally, we do skip-tracing."

"Oh. Oh! So, in a way, we are colleagues."

He paused. "Was O'Brien your first skip?"

I paused. "He was my first high one."

"You going to do this for long?"

Perhaps it would be frivolous to suggest that collaboration now.

"I guess I look… challenged to you –"

"Never said that. But you operate alone."

I looked at the muffins. Without Ranger, I'd eat them all.

"Am I free to go?"

"Are you going to your fiancé's place?"

Damn this man and his inability to communicate clearly.

"No. I'm not a charity case. I can live on my own. I can afford to live on my own." Realizing I was about to start a ridiculous independence speech, I lowered my voice and asked nonchalantly if someone was going to give me a ride home.

"Would be safer to live with Morelli now."

"Is there a glob of wax in your ears? I should be home already."

"How about you stay here tonight?"

"I could stab you in your sleep."

I was offended he didn't pause to consider the possibility, just leaned over the table and took a hold of my ears. I readied to toss the milk glass into his head. One could not simply invade personal space -

"Stay safe, Stephanie Plum."

With that, he left the apartment.

I had a suspicion we still weren't finished.

Shit.

I lowered my face to table level and opened my mouth like it was a dustpan and shoveled the pancake muffin into it. Then I used my tongue like a dish rag to clean up my fingers.

Suddenly, I felt a presence and turned to see Tank standing behind me like a stony Easter Islander. He told he'd be my ride today.