Hello, loveys...I know that you're all dying to find out who has Steph, and I've finally rewarded your patience with the answer to that very question! And as always, thank you for your continued encouragement! --Jill

Warning: Huge caution for language and firearm violence.

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Lester's POV

I threw on a clean pair of basketball shorts after I finished up in the bathroom and sagged back out to the room to wait for Steph. The king-sized bed looked extremely inviting. I was so fucking tired. The covers had been kicked off and were lying on the floor in a heap, so I arranged them back on the bed and buried my face in one of the pillows, inhaling Stephanie's scent and missing the feel of her warm, soft body pressed up against mine.

I must have dozed off because when I woke up the sun was shining brightly through the cracks in the window curtains and Stephanie wasn't in bed with me.

"Steph?" I called, thinking she might be in the bathroom. No answer. Fuck. I looked around the room to see if she'd brought the sodas back, but I saw none. Her suitcase sat untouched in the corner of the room. Her cell lay on the nightstand, the green diode blinking intermittently. The keys to my Expedition were resting on the nightstand next to her phone. Flames of fear licked up my esophagus and caught in my throat. Something was wrong.

The hotel lobby was full of people when I catapulted myself out of the elevator, ignoring the stares of at least a dozen women who appeared to be removing my basketball shorts with their eyes. I dashed up to the continental breakfast buffet in hopes that Steph might have gotten hungry again, but there was no sign of her in line for the do-it-yourself waffle maker or at the tables.

I took the stairs back up to the fourth floor and tore down the hall back to our room, hoping with all my heart that Steph was back in there. I skidded to a stop when I saw that a housekeeping cart was blocking the doorway to the room. The older dark-skinned woman who was pushing it gave me a disapproving once-over and shook her head. I really had to start remembering to fully dress myself before leaving places. The woman's milky brown eyes gazed knowingly into my own as I stared at her.

"He took her," she informed me in Spanish, calmly removing a set of towels to take into the room next to mine and Steph's. "Un hombre Chicano, muy grande." A big Mexican guy. Not Humphreys. "I saw the whole thing." She placed a clean set of sheets on top of the pile of towels.

My heart leapt into my throat and it felt as though all of the air in the hallway was replaced with thick, hot smoke. I ran my hands through my hair and growled in terror and frustration.

"Why the fuck didn't you DO something?" I demanded to her in Spanish, when I'd managed to get my vocal cords working again. I didn't wait for her to fucking answer me, because I knew that whatever reason she'd give me would be complete and total bullshit that really didn't matter. I squeezed around her housekeeping cart and swiped the room key card in the door handle slot before throwing myself inside. I dialed Tank on my cell with shaking fingers.

"We got Humphreys," he yelled into the receiver as soon as he picked up. "Bagged him as he was sneaking into his fucking hotel room. He's on ice with us. He confessed to everything. We're on our way to LAPD headquarters."

"Tank, you've gotta fucking listen to me, man," I hollered at him. "Steph's gone. She didn't come back to our room when she went to go get soda at the vending machines down the hall. I've searched the entire hotel for her and I can't find her."

Tank was silent on the other end of the line and I could practically feel his terror radiating across the airwaves. "Well, Humphreys didn't have her."

"No shit," I exclaimed, my voice cracking from fear. "Get this. The fucking housekeeper said she saw everything! She said a big Mexican guy took Steph in the hallway and disappeared somewhere. And she didn't tell me anything more than that."

Tank blew out a huge sigh. "Okay. I have no choice but to get Ranger out here ASAP with a few of the other men. Stand by. Don't leave the hotel in case Steph is returned, and whatever you do, don't try to take matters into your own fucking hands, Santos." The line went dead. Fuck. I ran into the bathroom and threw up. My cell rang as soon as I was done dry heaving. I quickly rinsed out my mouth and ran to answer it.

"Santos," Ranger gritted out. "Tell me everything you know about what happened to Stephanie."

I took a shaky deep breath. "She went down the hall to get some sodas for us," I began. "I was lounging around, waiting for her to come back, and I fucking fell asleep. When I woke up, she still hadn't returned from the vending machines. I was asleep for almost two hours."

"What was she wearing at the time of her disappearance?" Ranger demanded. "Her distraction outfit?"

"No," I told him. "She'd already showered. She left the room in a Renaissance Marriott bathrobe. She had her pajamas on underneath it." Okay, so I lied to Ranger. I was certain Stephanie didn't have anything on under that bathrobe, maybe with the possible exception of a pair of panties.

"Aiight," Ranger said quietly. "I'll think about believing you on that one, Santos. Tell me what the housekeeper said to you."

I ignored that last little comment of his and plowed ahead. "She told me that Steph had been taken by a big Hispanic guy and that she saw the whole thing go down. She didn't offer any more information than that. I asked her why she didn't do something to help Steph, but I didn't care to stick around to hear her bullshit answer. I figured that her response really wouldn't have mattered at that point."

"Any idea about who could have her?"

"Not a damn clue." I hung up on Ranger and paced the length of the hotel room. My stomach was quivering and my heart was pounding so hard I felt like my chest would implode. Stephanie was gone. She'd been taken from me. And I wasn't sure if I'd ever get her back. We'd had incredible, mind-blowing sex, she'd gotten thirsty afterwards, and thinking about the rest made the bile rise up in my throat. My cell rang again.

"We're not involving the police in this just yet," Bobby informed me. "Ranger, Cal, and Manny are boarding a private jet bound for Van Nuys Executive and should be here by late afternoon. We just got to LAPD headquarters with Humphreys. The extradition paperwork won't take very long. After this we're gonna head over in your direction."

"Whatever, man. Just fucking find her." I hung up on Bobby and flopped facedown onto the bed before burying my face in the pillow that smelled like Stephanie. It was all I could do to keep from breaking down completely, but I knew I had to stay strong for Steph. I had to find her. Fuck Tank for making me stay behind. Why, so that I could worry myself into a fucking state over her? I didn't care what anyone told me to do. I knew she wasn't going to come back to the hotel. How could I lose Stephanie? She'd already situated herself into my fucking heart and soul.

I put on a pair of baggy blue jeans and laced up my Shoxx. I stretched a black tank top over my chest and threw on a black RangeMan tee shirt. I jammed my Glock into my waistband, grabbed my wallet, shades, and the keys to the truck, stuck my White Sox hat on backwards, and stalked out of the hotel room. Lester Santos, undercover vigilante. I went downstairs to the lot and took off in the Expedition.

Nicola's Bar was closed in the middle of the morning, but there were a few cars out front so I decided to stop in and see if I could get any information on the big Hispanic guy. He might have seen Steph enter the bar early this morning and, since she's such a psycho-magnet, decided that he wanted himself a taste of Plum juiciness.

I tried the handle on the front door of the bar and was thrilled to find it unlocked. I stepped into a haze of stale cigarette smoke and festering urine and took off my shades.

"Can I help you?" a guy behind the bar asked me. He had been drying pub glasses with a small towel and stopped what he was doing to peer at me curiously.

"I hope so," I told him. "Was there a large Hispanic guy here early this morning, like around six-ish? Mexican, maybe? Possibly sitting towards the far end of the bar near the back door?"

The dark-skinned bartender grew thoughtful and knit his bushy black eyebrows together. "Kinky Tesuque is Native American," he said slowly. "And Rich Tiger is, too. Oh, wait. Might have been Leon Garza. He's Mexican. Big time. Comes in sometimes to unwind after a night of carjacking and stealing hydraulics from the tricked-out carruchas. He was here this morning when the incident happened. There was a little soiree involving a woman and one of the bar patrons with some bounty hunters outside. Early, before sunrise."

I nodded. "You know where I can find Garza?" I asked. The name Leon Garza sounded vaguely familiar, but I brushed it off.

"He might be down in East Compton this time of day, peddling his stolen car parts out of Gussy Limón's chop shop. Corner of Long Beach Boulevard and Rosecrans Avenue."

"Thanks, man." I tapped the bar with my knuckles and headed out to my SUV. I figured that Steph had somehow caught Garza's attention this morning at the bar while she was supposed to be picking up Humphreys and Garza had decided to follow us back to the hotel before making his move. And here I was, worried all this fucking time about Humphreys. And what happens? Someone else tries to hurt her. The more I actually thought about it, the more certain I became that it was Leon Garza who had Stephanie. The reason why was still completely unclear.

My cell rang. I looked at the readout and saw it was Tank. Fuck me.

"What?" I barked.

"Please tell me that your feet are glued to the carpet in your hotel room," Tank gritted out.

"What? I can't hear you. Bad reception." I made staticky noises in the back of my throat and disconnected. The phone rang again, but I let it go to voicemail. I punched the cross streets that the bartender from Nicola's had given me into the GPS and hung a U-turn at Whittier Boulevard.

The GPS wove me all around the streets of Los Angeles and finally dumped me off directly in front of Gussy Limón's dilapidated chop shop. Several cars were parked out front and they ALL looked like they'd seen better days. I swung the Expedition into a makeshift parking space across the street from the chop shop and locked up behind me.

Cool air rushed into my face as soon as I stepped inside and the sound of some sort of saw or drill filtered in from the attached auto bay. A thin guy in a mechanic's jumpsuit sauntered in from the bay, wiping his dirty hands on a grease rag.

"You looking for some parts for that Expedition?" he asked in a thick Latino accent, nodding towards my rental car. His head was shaved and his facial hair was so immaculately groomed that I wondered if whoever had done it would consider making cross-country house calls to Trenton.

"Actually, no," I replied. "I'm looking for somebody."

"That'll cost you, ése." He eyed the tattoos that extended a few inches beyond the sleeves of my tee shirt.

My jaw hit the floor. "Cuánto?"

"Depends. Who you looking for?"

"Garza."

The cholo laughed mirthlessly and let his head roll back on his neck. "I can't give you a price on him, mi'ijo." He turned his attention back to his grease rag and began talking to no one in particular. "Mira ésto, un Puertorriqueño aquí. No vales náda."

I approached him and caught him off guard when I gripped him by the front of his well-worn Dickies jumpsuit and raised him three inches off the ground. I jammed the barrel of my Glock into the gang slogans inked on his neck and spoke low and rough in his ear.

"Tell you what," I began. "You're the one who'll be worthless when they lower you into the ground, cabrón." I shook him for good measure and sweat beads dropped from his temple and splashed onto my gun.

He took a deep breath and gritted out his response to that. "You might find him at the apartment complex on West Sunset and Glendale Avenue. In Echo Park. River's Edge Community Houses. Third floor. Es el apartamento de su novia." His girlfriend's apartment. Hunh. He reached a trembling hand into the breast pocket of his mechanic's jumpsuit and pulled out a small Post-It note with a phone number on it. "Aquí es el número de teléfono." How convenient.

I'd let the guy sweat enough. I was going to have to take a Clorox wipe to my gun after this whole mess was over. I threw him against the counter and stalked out of the chop shop, stuffing my gun back into my waistband as I made tracks to my Expedition. I was going on a wild goose chase all over Los Angeles looking for this Garza guy. I didn't give two flying fucks. I needed to find Stephanie. My life depended on it. I punched the Echo Park cross streets into the GPS and roared away from Limón's.

I stopped at a red light and dialed the phone number that the sweaty guy had given me. It rang about sixty times before someone finally picked up. There was a lot of shouting in the background and I heard someone talk at last.

"Dígame," a sleepy, quiet voice said. Didn't sound happy to be on the phone.

"Let me talk to Garza," I demanded. Silence.

"¿Quién es?" the man said after awhile.

"Lester Santos."

"Santos, Santos…is he expecting your call?"

"Tell him that if he doesn't get on this phone NOW, there's gonna be a hole where his fucking face used to be." I was so angry I was shaking. Tapping, swishy sounds were followed by strained muffling, and who I assumed to be Leon Garza came on the line.

"Santos," Garza greeted me. "I was hoping you'd call."

"How the fuck do you know who I am?" I demanded through clenched teeth.

Garza laughed and it sounded sick and twisted over the airwaves. "It's a small world, ése. You looking for your lady?"

"Tell me that she's safe and alive."

"She's safe and alive," agreed Garza. "Not for long, though. Unless you come through for me."

"How the fuck am I gonna do that?" I demanded. I'd parked the Expedition in the lot of a CVS near Echo Park because talking to Garza about Stephanie had me nearing hysteria.

"I need you to bring somebody to me. Of value."

"Who?"

"Manoso. I want Carlos fucking Manoso."

"What do you want with him?" I asked darkly.

"Just get me Manoso. It's as simple as that, chingádo. When you have him, bring him to me and I'll make a trade with you. Manoso for your girl. Entiéndes?"

I was silent because my heart was busy bursting to pieces inside my rib cage. "Where and when?" I finally gritted out.

"2113 Shenadoah Avenue in Ladera Heights. Nine tonight. No cops. And Santos. Don't do nothing stupid or your woman will have to answer to me. Try not to fuck this up." The line went dead. Fuck. He had Stephanie. At least she was safe and alive, according to Garza. But who knew for sure? I needed Tank and the guys. I punched the address for the hotel into the GPS and tore off down West Sunset Blvd.

"Okay, so what do we know?" Bobby demanded. He was rummaging around in a duffel bag for the extra clip to his Glock.

"He obviously knew who Stephanie was when he saw her in the bar," Hal pointed out. "And he knows who you are, Santos." I stared at Hal from my cocoon of bed covers and pillows. Every so often the sickening waves of nausea would get so bad that I'd dry heave in the bathroom for ten minutes and nothing would come up.

"But what the fuck does he want with Ranger?" Tank wondered aloud.

"Who knows," I muttered. "Ranger's made a lot of enemies over the years, bro." It would be torture waiting until nine o'clock. It was only three. Ranger's private plane was due into the Van Nuys Executive Airport at five sharp. That gave us four hours to get suited up and situated in Ladera Heights.

Bobby jammed a clip of cop-killers into his pistol and chambered a round. "I can't wait to empty this clip into Garza's ass."

"That name sounds familiar," Tank spoke up. "Garza. I'm next to positive Ranger will know who he is."

"I hope so, since he's the one Garza seems to be after," Bobby said.

"Gentlemen," I said weakly from my cocoon. "Do we even have a plan of attack for this evening?"

"We shouldn't plan anything until Ranger lands," Hal said. "And Santos. You shouldn't let Bossman see you like that. Get it together, man."

I still had two hours to mope and worry myself into a fit before Ranger arrived in L.A., but I wasn't about to express that to Hal. I threw the covers off myself and sat up a little in bed. I had the Stephanie pillow cradled against my chest and every so often I'd breathe in its scent, and my stomach would go into a free-fall thinking about what she must be witnessing or enduring while under Garza's scrutinous, psycho-fuck supervision.

"Good work today, Santos," Tank told me. He clapped me on the shoulder and sat down next to me on the edge of the bed. "I'm glad you disobeyed my direct order to stay here at the hotel. We wouldn't have located Steph."

"Yeah," I grumbled. "I'm glad I didn't listen to you either, Tank."

At five thirty, there was a booming knock at the suite door. Tank unlocked the door before opening it and Ranger, Cal, and Manny stepped inside with their luggage.

"The cab just dropped us off. I got your message," Ranger told Tank. "Leon Garza wants to trade Stephanie for me tonight at nine in Ladera Heights. No police and no trouble. Can't get much more fucked up than that." Ranger tossed his duffel bag onto the floor and joined Bobby and I at the table.

"Any idea who this guy is?" Bobby countered.

Ranger nodded, resigned. "I killed his brother three years ago during a drug bust-gone bad." Fuck. That's how Garza knew me then. And that's why his name sounded familiar to us all. Tank and I had been with Ranger on that drug bust.

"Here in California?" Manny asked.

"No, actually. In Brooklyn." Ranger glanced around the suite. "Which one of you is staying in here?"

"I am," I spoke up. "And so is Stephanie."

"How come only one of the beds is unmade then?" Fuck Ranger for calling me out like that.

I thought fast, holding Ranger's stare the whole time. "Housekeeping was in here this morning," I told him. "She made both beds, but I messed that one up earlier." I gestured towards the bed I'd been laying in during my moping. It was also the bed Steph and I had christened that morning. I hoped to God that her lime green thong wasn't sticking out from between the sheets, on display for Ranger to get a gander at and figure out what the fuck we'd been up to.

Ranger nodded once and gave me one last level glare before focusing his attention on some paperwork that Tank had set in front of him. Well, shit. I didn't give a shit whether he believed me or not at that point.

Bobby cleared his throat and looked at Ranger. "At least Humphreys is behind bars."

"I know. Good work, gentlemen." Ranger looked over the papers in front of him and signed two of them before handing them back to Tank, who placed them in a folder labeled Humphreys, Jacky. "Has anyone actually spoken to Stephanie since she's been holed up with Garza?"

"I didn't actually get to speak with her directly but Garza informed me that she was safe and alive. I think it's you that he really wants, anyway. But he's using her to get to you, since she was a convenient hostage," I told Ranger.

"Makes sense," he agreed. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "We need to set up a plan. Santos, since you've been communicating with Garza, I'll have you lead this operation. The rest of you can run backup for Santos and I'll go in there as the trade. Some serious negotiations will have to be made when we get in there, though. Both Stephanie and I need to somehow be kept alive."

"We can't go in there and just start shooting," Manny pointed out.

"Yeah, no shit," Cal spoke up. "Do you think Garza'll want money, too?"

Ranger shook his head. "No. A bullet through my head is what he wants." Underneath all that calm, I knew Ranger was fucking terrified for Stephanie's life and his own. We all were, especially myself. To know that both your boss and your girlfriend may end up in serious danger in the very near future wasn't a comforting thought. I now understood why Joe Morelli used to drink Maalox by the gallon.

"Ain't this some shit," Bobby barked out. "Steph goes into a random bar to distract our high-bond skip, and ends up catching the attention of one of Ranger's back-in-the-day enemies who recognized her from God knows where."

"Shitty coincidence," said Hal. "Garza must have figured that this would probably be his one and only chance to get even with Ranger for what he did to his brother in Brooklyn three years ago. Garza had to have followed Santos and Steph back to the hotel from the bar and kept an eye on their room from somewhere on this floor."

"We could at least try to offer Garza some cash," Manny spoke up.

"We could. But I don't think that'll work," replied Ranger. "This is a case of pure revenge." And Stephanie was caught right in the ugly middle of it.

At eight o'clock on the dot, Hal, Bobby, Tank, Manny, Cal, and I stood around in Tank and Bobby's hotel room, decked out in full RangeMan black from head to toe and armed to the fucking teeth. We were all in Kevlar and had a minimum of three weapons each strapped to various parts of our bodies. Ranger was in RangeMan black sans weapons, since he was to be swapped for Stephanie and arming him wasn't an option. I knew for a fact, however, that he had a gun somewhere on him, but I wasn't about to ask him to spread his legs so that I could do a pat-down. At eight-ten, my cell rang.

"Do you have Manoso?" Garza quizzed me, in a sing-song voice. It sounded like he'd been drinking. Must have gotten my cell number from his caller ID when I'd given him a jingle earlier.

"I have him," I informed Garza.

"Órale, that was quick."

"He was already on his way here. Let me talk to Stephanie," I demanded.

"I can't do that, Santos," Garza said, slurring his words. "She's busy." I heard a small yelp followed by a woman's blood-curdling scream. My heart leapt into my throat and I felt my knees go weak. Bobby rushed to my side to hold me up. When the clanging in my head subsided, I responded to Garza.

"Don't you harm a single hair on her fucking head," I managed to grit out. Garza laughed maniacally and the line went dead. Fuck. The phone began to slide out of my hands but Bobby caught it just in time before it thunked onto the carpet.

"Get yourself together, man," he hissed into my ear. "I can't imagine how hard this is for you. I really can't. But one little fuck-up and we could lose Steph and possibly Ranger, too. Can you relax for me?"

I nodded to Bobby and stood myself up. I needed to have my head on straight in order to keep from screwing this whole operation up. Ranger, once again, had put most of the pressure on me to get the job done. If he kept that up, I wouldn't live to see thirty-one. Since I was the pathetic SOB who was going to do most of the negotiating with Garza, it was necessary for me to wear Steph's wireless mic so that the guys doing backup could hear what was said between us. I switched it on and positioned it while the rest of the guys, excluding Ranger, wired up and started the mic checks.

The plan was to show our force in numbers but not appear so threateningly brutal that there would be a shoot-out as soon as we pulled up to 2113 Shenandoah Avenue. I would be the first in, Ranger second right behind me, and the rest of the guys would be scattered throughout should a problem arise from a different part of the house.

"Let's roll," I gruffed out. "I want Ranger, Tank, and Bobby with me. The rest of you follow in the second truck. I want everybody to say a silent prayer to La Virgen that we all make it out of this fuck-shit alive." I crossed myself and quickly kissed mi abuela's gold crucifix that was draped around my neck. The guys all muttered out their testosterone-loaded prayers and we banged our way out of the suite and down the hall.

Christ. I felt my knees go weak again and Bobby rushed up behind me to hold me upright. "Keep it together, man," he grunted. We continued down the hall and loaded ourselves into the elevator. The ride to the lobby was deafeningly silent. Each and every one of us were worried sick about Steph. Hal's jaw kept twitching. Tank's nostrils were flaring intermittently. Ranger looked like he'd just taken an air boat ride through hell. And I felt like I'd collapse from a heart attack any second.

When we made it to the Expeditions, we split up and I got behind the wheel of mine. Ranger rode shotgun.

"Punch in the address, Bossman. 2113 Shenandoah Avenue in Ladera Heights." Ranger leaned across the center console and began typing in what I'd told him. It was a dark day indeed when Ricardo Carlos Manoso took orders from me without batting a fucking eye. I turned the engine over and waited while Hal started up the truck next to us. We rolled out of the lot at eight twenty-nine. We had exactly thirty minutes to get to Ladera Heights.

The drive to Shenandoah Avenue took less than fifteen minutes. There was a small kiddie park down the block from 2113, so Hal and I pulled into the lot and cut our headlights so we could rendezvous before muscling our way into the house where Leon Garza was keeping Stephanie as his prisoner. My hands shook as I pulled the keys from the ignition. My cell rang again.

"No police, right, Santos?" Garza cackled. "I see you all down the street there, at that park. You're a little early. We said nine o'clock."

This guy was getting on my last fucking nerve. "We're not from this area," I growled out. "We weren't sure how long it would take to get here."

"Well, now that you're aquí you might as well come in through the side door and join us for some fun. Bring Manoso." The line went dead. I motioned for Hal to follow behind me and we crept back down the street towards 2113 Shenandoah. We parked next to the house and the seven of us trooped across the yard like we were invading Poland. It felt like my throat was clogged and I wanted to barge in there and blow a hole through Garza's head to get to Stephanie. But I couldn't. Doing that would most likely get us all killed.

I gestured for Tank and the rest of the guys to position themselves around various parts of the house's exterior and I followed the front path down to the side door. There were no lights shining through the windows, but several low-riders were parked in various spots of the huge wraparound driveway. Great. The most horrific of all thoughts were coursing through my brain but I kept my cool as Ranger and I let ourselves in through the open side door. I was smart enough to realize that it wouldn't just be Garza we'd have to deal with.

We stepped into musty darkness. The smell of pot smoke hung thick in the air and caught in the back of my throat. I heard Ranger swear under his breath when I shut the door behind us, and suddenly a light clicked on in the corner. We must have tripped a switch because when I looked around there was no one nearby. A staircase was ahead of us and I heard someone stumbling around at the top of the landing amongst bass from Cypress Hill that was filtering down from the second floor.

"Come upstairs, Santos," Garza schmoozed out. "Is that Manoso you have with you?"

"No, it's Ricky Martin. Uncanny resemblence."

Garza chuckled, not really sounding amused. "I see. A joker." Ranger nudged me forwards and I began to ascend the stairs, one foot at a time because I was shaking so fucking badly. I heard Hal's voice in my ear.

"Change of plans. We're all behind you at the door you just went through," he told me. I couldn't respond but I relaxed a tiny bit knowing that the guys could bust in from behind us should there be a problem. I motioned for Ranger to stay put near the stairs and followed Garza into a small, filthy bathroom in a hallway towards the back of the house. My heart was pounding and I felt like there was no air to breathe when I looked into that bathroom. Sitting in the empty rusted bathtub, her hands cuffed in front of her belly, was Stephanie. She gasped back a sob when she saw me. Her face and hair were dirty. She was wearing a large gray tee shirt that belonged to neither of us and a pair of black lace panties that looked vaguely familiar, but I was next to certain that they were hers. A PB & J sandwich sat uneaten on a plate next to a bottle of water on top of the closed lid of the grungy toilet.

"Steph," I choked out, starting towards her. Garza stepped up behind me and pressed a sawed-off against my neck before granting me another one of his mirthless, sick-bastard chuckles.

"Always in a hurry to leave, Santos," he said. "Hace tres años, after Manoso shot my brother in the head. All you wanted to do was get the fuck out of there." Garza walked me backwards out of the bathroom at gunpoint and slammed the door, leaving Steph in there by herself. I could hear her sobbing softly for me. My heart was fucking breaking.

"What the fuck have you done to her?" I growled out, my voice low and deep.

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that. Nothing sexual. I thought you might get pissed about that since that's your job, Santos." Damn right, that was my fucking job.

Ranger stepped out of the shadows and approached Garza. "Let her go, Garza. It's me that you want. Whatever it is, we can work it out." Just as he'd said that, several of Garza's goons filtered in from the surrounding rooms of the house and came to stand behind Garza. Each of them held some sort of deadly-looking weapon and I broke out into a cold sweat. Where the fuck were Hal and the guys?

"Manoso," Garza said, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Nice to see you again."

"I wish I could say the same, Garza," growled Ranger.

"Unfortunately there's nothing to work out here, amigo. The damage has already been done. I'm returning a favor to mi hermano." Garza pumped the shotgun and raised it level with Ranger's face. "Follow my boys to the back of the house, and I'll let Santos's novia go."

Ranger cut his eyes to me and I saw the question of Stephanie and I surface in his eyes. A loud bang that came from down the stairs broke the silent tension and Tank's voice blasted into my ear.

"Santos, we're moving in," he yelled at me. The door at the foot of the stairs behind us burst open and the five of them crashed up to the second floor, guns drawn. Ranger and Garza and I hit the deck and everybody began yelling at once. A shot was fired by one of Garza's cholos and it was melee from there.

Hal opened fire with his Tec-9 and mowed down two of Garza's cronies. I could hear Stephanie screaming bloody murder for me from behind the closed bathroom door. That did absolutely nothing to calm my shot-out nerves. Tank blew a hole the size of Texas in the head of a third Garza goon, covering the place with brain matter and fragments of shattered skull. Cal ended up with a bullet to the shoulder and Manny took over then, emptying a clip from his Uzi into the two remaining cholos.

Garza was up on all fours, trying to get a grip on the pistol lying at his fingertips, but Ranger quickly got up and kicked it out of his reach with an almost comical ease. Ranger aimed the barrel of the nine at Garza's head and pulled the trigger while I watched.

"Go be with your brother, en el infierno," Ranger spat. He tossed the gun to the side and helped me kick in the bathroom door. I ran in to Stephanie and scooped her up into my arms. After I'd carried her out of the bathroom and set her down on her bare feet, she sobbed uncontrollably into my shoulder as Ranger unlocked the handcuffs that held her arms in front of her waist. When he clicked them off of her at last, she threw her arms around my neck and pressed her puffy, sob-swollen lips to my cheek. I brushed her messy brown curls out of her eyes and hugged her to me, completely unaware of my surroundings and indifferent to what was going on. All I cared about at that moment was holding her tight in my arms. I never, ever wanted to let go.

Down on the floor next to me, Bobby made a temporary bandage for Cal's shoulder out of a scrap of material he'd found and helped him to his feet. The guys began trooping down the stairs, one by one, leaving me and Steph upstairs standing amongst the bullet-riddled and bloody bodies of Garza and his crew.

"Shhhh, baby," I mumbled to a sniffling Stephanie when I'd assumed we were alone. "It's all over now." I pulled her face to mine and swept my tongue across her bottom lip and she opened her mouth to me, kissing me hungrily and wrapping her dirty little arms around my waist. I sensed movement near the stairs and when I whirled around, Ranger was standing behind me and Steph, his arms crossed against his huge chest. His mouth wasn't smiling, but his eyes certainly were. It was more of a knowing smile than anything else. Ranger wordlessly turned away from us and descended the stairs, and I heard him exit the house through the side door at the landing.

Fuck.

So Ranger has figured out Steph and Les...it sounds like he kind of had an idea, though. Will shit hit the fan? Or not? You'll have to read on to find out! Keep those reviews coming!