I use them for fun and not for profit.

Chapter 10

Stephanie ignored the boxes and the baskets of clean laundry. The apartment was small and no matter how she paced, she couldn't get Ranger off her mind. The decision to go down to her office was one based more on getting away from the scene of the crime rather than a true desire to work. When she walked into her office and saw the message light blinking on her phone she felt relief. There was something to take her mind off of what had just happened. And what exactly had happened? Ranger kissed her and she'd acted like some sex-starved idiot, but he hadn't handled it with quite his usual coolness either.

She plopped down behind her desk and pushed the message button on her phone. Relief was the primary emotion she felt when she heard Joe's voice. He wanted to see her and she wasn't answering her cell. Crap! Ranger had her cell phone. She called Joe and found he was home and wanted her to come over and pick up a couple of things she'd left behind during the move.

Joe hadn't been specific about what she'd left. There were probably more than a couple of things and she wondered which ones in particular he was anxious for her to get.

She still had a set of keys and he'd insisted she keep them when she'd tried to give them back. Maria was an understanding woman, but Stephanie knew if the situation was reversed she wouldn't like it if the keys to her new house still lived on the ex-wife's key ring. When she unlocked the door, she waited instinctively for the sound of Bob running to greet her. Even though it had been a year, she still missed the big goofy dog.

"Anybody home?" she called from the foyer.

"I'm upstairs, come on up." Joe's voice was muffled as though he had his head in a closet and she walked the stairs and turned into his room. He was standing by the dresser with a small rosewood box in his hands. He smiled and handed it to her.

"Oh," Stephanie said. She had completely forgotten the little box. It had been a gift from her Grandma Mazur and she'd once used it as a small jewelry box. More recently she'd just used it as a decorative piece, but she was glad Joe had called. She would have remembered, eventually. For some reason, when she took up residence in the guest room at the time of their divorce, the box hadn't made the trip to her new room. Joe held it out to her.

"Thanks, Joe," she said. "You said there were a couple of things. What else?"

"Open the box, Cupcake." She did and her breath caught. Nestled inside the folds of the red velvet lining were earrings. They were large, round and diamond and she thought from the sheen of the metal, they were set in platinum. "These are beautiful, but…"

"No buts," Joe said. "They're yours." She looked at him, puzzled. She hadn't even thought of telling him she couldn't keep them, she was still trying to figure out why he'd had them in the first place.

"Before you ask," he told her. "Maria already knows I have these and that I'm giving them to you. You've been in and out of my life for a long time, and ever since I let you bring me in as your first FTA," he paused at her uplifted eyebrows, "okay, ever since you brought me in as your first FTA, you've mostly been in my life. Things are changing for us." He walked to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "I don't want you to disappear from my life. It's time you moved out for yourself, as well as for me, but…" he paused and she knew what he was going to say, "I still love you, Cupcake."

Her voice was wobbly with emotion. "I love you too, Joe. Just not enough."

"Don't say that, Steph. Don't quantify our feelings for one another. Let's just say we are important to one another, but we aren't cut out to be lovers."

"Or husband and wife," she said as she grinned up at him. She snapped the box lid closed and wrapped her arms around him. "Thanks for these. I'll cherish them. Be happy, Joe." She made her way down the stairs, the box tightly clutched in one hand and the other hand wrapped around the stair rail. Her vision was clouded by tears, but she felt lighter. They had closure to their relationship almost two years earlier, but it was finally feeing real to her now. It was a good feeling. It was time to move on.

She sat in her car for a moment replacing the small studs she was wearing with her new earrings. She turned her head from side to side and watched the sparkle in her rearview mirror. They were flashy and they suited her. She hadn't been flashy for a long time, but things were changing. She went back to her apartment and spent a quiet evening, thinking and not unpacking.

R.C. Madrid walked through the door to Stephanie's office at exactly 9:00 a.m. the next morning. He slid her cell phone onto her desk and she looked up from her monitor. "I just bumped into Ranger in the hall. He asked me to give this to you," Rock said.

She stared intently at her phone. She was muttering under her breath; most of what she was saying incomprehensible. With a sharp crack, that couldn't be good for the phone, she set it on her desk and what she said next was clear.

"Thanks a lot, Ranger. Fully freaking charged, of course." Rock cleared his throat and she looked abashed as she realized she was thinking out loud.

She blushed a little, and then a little more, as Rock continued to stare at her. He was struck with how pretty she was. "Have a seat and I'll be ready to go in just a minute," she said. "I'm answering a couple of emails. I'm sorry you have to wait, Rock."

"No problem," he said. He liked the sound of his new name on her lips. Everyone had taken to using it easily and that pleased him. He'd wanted a nickname and he'd gotten his wish. The last two days had been spent getting to know the RangeMan operatives and he could see they were a tightly knit group. This woman was an integral part of the group and that intrigued him.

Lester Santos, after a few beers, had been very informative regarding Stephanie. His intent had been to warn Rock off. Even though she'd been married and divorced, apparently she was still considered Mañoso's property. And that was interesting.

He'd only seen her, previously, in the black uniform he himself was wearing, but today she was wearing a pair of jeans and a red form-fitting t-shirt. As she clicked off her computer and stood he could see the jeans fit well over curves that were attention worthy. He laughed as he saw her feet ensconced in red high-top Chuck Taylors.

"Is that the alternate RangeMan uniform?" he asked.

"It's the Burg uniform," Stephanie said. "People will open up to me better if I'm not dressed like an urban commando." He looked down at his standard RangeMan issue. Black cargos and a black t-shirt. He'd wanted to add a black windbreaker. As a new RangeMan employee he was armed. He was licensed to carry concealed and he was more comfortable with his own weapon than the standard Glock issued to all RangeMan operatives, but they were in the middle of a heat wave and the windbreaker wouldn't fly. The Glock was holstered and according to RangeMan policy it rode comfortably on his hip. He noticed Stephanie wasn't wearing a weapon.

"Does your Burg uniform come with a standard issue weapon?" Rock asked her.

"It does," she said. She held up her large black Coach tote. "All I have to do is knock someone upside the head with this thing and they're down for the count."

"That's good, but I was thinking you might be carrying something a little more lethal."

"Don't underestimate the power of the pocketbook," she said grinning at him, "or this." She pulled her RangeMan issued Glock from her purse.

"You're licensed to carry concealed?"

"Yes. I'm married, or I was married, to a cop. There's no way he'd allow me to carry concealed without the proper paperwork." She took a brief look around the office and walked toward the door. "Let's get going."

Rock was surprised she deferred to him in the garage. "I'll let you drive," she told him. "I'll navigate and by the day's end you'll know your way around."

"Sounds like a plan." They got into a black Ford Escape and Stephanie wasted no time directing him to the Tasty Pastry.

"Are we working yet, or is this breakfast?" Rock asked.

"Yes."

Stephanie drew in a deep breath as she walked in the door and although it was barely audible, she moaned. It was a soft, pleasurable sound that sounded almost sexual in nature and it caused Rock to look closely at her. She had a look of anticipation on her face. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and her lips were parted. Her tongue ran over her bottom lip. He'd seen women look that way before, but never in a bakery. He felt something stir. There was something about this woman that was very appealing.

A plump woman wearing a pink uniform with the name 'Betty' embroidered above her breast pocket came through the door from the back room. She halted so quickly she overbalanced and had to take a small step forward to keep from falling. Her eyes slid from Stephanie to the man standing behind her and then back to Stephanie. "Stephanie, I just heard." Betty's accent was a mix of New Jersey and Italian, and rang with sincere sympathy. "Joe Morelli, the mascalzone! How could he do this to you? His mother must be so ashamed!"

"It's okay, Betty. We did it to each other. It was mutual." Stephanie's words rendered Betty momentarily speechless, so Stephanie continued, "I'll take a couple of Boston Crèmes," she said and turned to Rock. "It's my treat. What would you like?"

"Boston Crèmes are my favorite, too," Rock said, "so you can double that order." She tilted her head considering his choice. Rock smiled at Betty who was staring at him a little bemused.

"This is Rock," Stephanie said. "He's new at RangeMan."

"Oh, I see," Betty said. Rock wasn't sure what she saw and then it dawned on him. Betty had mistaken him for Ranger. He knew his resemblance to Ricardo Carlos Mañoso was strong and he'd been asked by some of the men if they were brothers. Thinking of his own brother, he marveled at the irony. It was true, Ricardo Carlos Madrid resembled Ranger as much as he resembled his own brother.

They got their donuts in two sacks, but Stephanie was in no hurry to leave. "How've you been, Betty?"

"Oh, I can't complain too much. Things are pretty good. How about you, uhm, I mean…" Betty blushed as though she had made a horrible faux pas.

"Things are great for me, Betty. I'm doing some bounty hunting again."

"Vinnie's back in business?"

"No. RangeMan owns the bonds business now, but Connie is running the show, so I guess I'm working for Connie."

"Connie Rosolli? I knew she was working for RangeMan and that's kind of funny considering her family connections."

"Her family has occasionally used her services," Stephanie said smiling. "Rock is my partner now." She pulled Rock forward to stand next to her and Betty's eyes took him in.

"We're looking for Tinley Hicks," Stephanie told Betty. "Have you seen him around?"

"No," Betty said thoughtfully. "His mama was in here last Friday, though. She said she was having a special guest for Sunday dinner and she bought cannoli, a dozen of them."

"Does she still live off Clinton, by the park?"

"Yeah, she does."

Rock was silent as they sat eating their donuts in the Escape. He licked a blob of filling off his thumb and felt Stephanie's eyes on him. "What?" he asked.

"I'm just not used to seeing someone in RangeMan uniform eat donuts," she said. "Ranger is very anti-sweets and so are most of his men."

"Did I blow my cover?" he asked. "The DEA doesn't have dietary guidelines."

Stephanie laughed. "No, you didn't blow your cover. I'm glad to have found a fellow Boston Crème aficionado."

Rock turned the key in the ignition. "Lead me to 'off Clinton, by the park'."

"I will, but do you really want to find Tinley?" she asked him. "It seems to me if you make contact with him, he won't lead you to Montara."

"That's probably true, but I want to find him. I don't plan on making contact. If we find him we'll plant trackers on his car. We'll surveil him and eventually, he will lead us to Montara."

"So this Montara," Stephanie said. "He must be a pretty bad guy."

"Bad," he agreed. He followed her directions and they found the home of Mrs. Hicks with no problem. Rock pulled the Escape up against the curb across the street and three houses down from the small bungalow.

"What next?" he asked her.

"What next?" she asked him. "I thought my job was to facilitate. You're the general. I'm just the private."

They were bantering and he was enjoying himself. "If you were the general what would be your next move, Stephanie."

"Let's go knock on the door and see what happens," Stephanie said. "Maybe we'll get lucky and she'll tell us where he is, or maybe he'll answer the door."

"I'm right behind you, General."

The house was a small, white clapboard one-story, with a narrow yard. The grass was brown from lack of water and the flowers in the pots on either side of the porch railing were wilting with the need for a quick hit from the sprinkler can. Warped boards on the porch had them both looking at their feet as they traversed the short distance to the door.

"I can't give this place the good housekeeping seal of approval," Rock said as they looked at the Beware of Dog sign taped to the wall next to a doorbell with wires hanging out.

"Yeah," Stephanie said. "This place could use a little TLC. Tinley's mama put up his bond. I wonder how she'd feel if she lost this place. I know you want him to lead you to, well, a bigger prize, but we need to bring Tinley in eventually." She knocked on the door.

There was the yap of a small dog and the sound of someone moving inside so they waited patiently. In a minute the door opened and a tall, thin woman with a pinched face opened the door. Her expression was sour, her mouth turning down at both ends.

"I don't buy from door-to-door sales people." Her statement was delivered in a deep two-pack-a-day voice.

"We're not selling anything, Mrs. Hicks. I'm Stephanie Plum and this is my partner, Mr. Madrid. We're looking for your son, Tinley." The woman's head pulled back through the door and it started to swing shut. Stephanie instinctively attempted to stick her foot in the door, but her Chuck Taylor high-top bumped into Rock's black boot as it effectively held the door from closing. He moved in closer to her as his foot jammed the door open.

He looked at her apologetically. "Sorry, but steel-toed is a better option than canvas high-tops." She gave him a quick grin and focused back on a perturbed Mrs. Hicks.

"Mrs. Hicks, I work for the bond enforcement division of RangeMan and Tinley needs to come forward to reset his court date, otherwise you will lose this house."

"You can't take my house," she snarled.

"RangeMan Bail Bonds can and will take your house," Rock said matter-of-factly. "Your son's name is on the title and he used it as collateral for his bond."

"We just need to talk to him," Stephanie said. "If we reschedule his court date the bond won't expire and you won't be in any danger of losing your home." It wasn't quite true, but it sounded good.

"Did you say Plum?" Mrs. Hicks asked.

"I did." The surprise was evident in Stephanie's voice. She hadn't identified herself as Stephanie Morelli.

"Are you the bounty hunter that burned down Stiva's?" Mrs. Hicks asked.

"That was ten years ago," Stephanie exclaimed. "And it wasn't my fault."

"My mother was in slumber room two," the woman said. "We barely got Mama out and we lost all the flowers."

"It really wasn't my fault," Stephanie repeated and she realized it had been a long time since she'd uttered those words.

"Tinley isn't here. I haven't seen him."

"Did you have company for dinner on Sunday?" Stephanie asked.

"That's none of your business. And don't go bothering the rest of the family; they haven't seen him either." This time she closed the door with force and neither the steel-toed boot nor the canvas high-top was in place to prevent it.

"That was successful," Stephanie said as they walked back toward the Escape.

"You think so?"

"Sure. She wouldn't have warned us to stay away from the family if he wasn't hiding out with them. The problem is figuring out which aunt, uncle, or cousin he's staying with. We'll start with Tommy, because Grandma said he had a guest staying with him."

"So, your grandma is your source of information?" Rock asked Stephanie.

"Yes, in this instance, and if she says he's staying at his cousin Tommy's it's a good bet."

"Do you know where Tinley lives?" Rock asked.

"I do, but according to my sources he hasn't been at home at all."

"None of Grandma's friends have seen him there?" Rock questioned with a grin.

Stephanie smiled at his perceptiveness. "I know where he works as well. I have a friend who might be able to give us a little information on Tinley, about his drug use specifically. I think we should visit him next."

"Lead on, mon capitaine," Rock said.

"I thought I was a general."

"I thought you were the private," Rock said laughing. He gave her a salute and slipped in behind the wheel.

Walter 'Moonman' Dunphy was one of Stephanie's oldest friends and one of her strangest. His brain had been almost completely obliterated by substance abuse, but a couple of years earlier a court-mandated stint in rehab had changed his life. The Mooner Stephanie had known years ago was tall and thin and a real life walking-talking version of Shaggy from Scooby-Doo. Mooner of the current day was the rotund owner of Scoops, an all-natural, homemade ice cream shop that was functioning in the black. Mooner had given up using. He'd switched one addiction for another and his current addiction was much kinder to his brain. He was one of the few people to own and grow a business in the Burg during the recent rough economic times. Even though he'd cleaned up his act, if anyone would have the goods on Tinley it would be Mooner.

"Dude!" he said when Stephanie walked into his shop. Rock was behind her, watching and enjoying seeing Stephanie on her own turf. When they left Scoops, they had real life affirmation of the information Stephanie had gathered online. Tinley Hicks was definitely into the dealing scene in Trenton. His day job was at a tobacco shop two doors down from the old bonds office.

They stood for a moment licking the free cones Mooner had insisted on them having. "I feel a little off," Stephanie said.

"Maybe that's because we're eating ice cream before our Boston Crèmes have had a chance to digest," Rock said.

"Are you kidding? We had those donuts over an hour ago. And that's not it, anyway." She swung around to look behind her, but saw nothing. "It's just a feeling," she said shrugging her shoulders.

Rock seemed unaware of any strange feeling. "Working with you could be hazardous to my health. Donuts and ice cream, before lunch."

"Don't be silly. Donuts were breakfast. Ice cream is lunch." She knew he had an agenda he thought was secret, but she didn't hold it against him. He was nice and she thought he'd make a good friend.