Author – PinPin [mciupin13 at yahoo dot com]
Rating – R : strong language, eventually some violent and sexually suggestive content (no smut)
Disclaimer – I do not own the characters, etc. I am only borrowing them from Janet. (plenty of originals will pop-up later) This is not for profit, just for kicks.
Notes – post EoT, directly following book 11. Babe, but Cupcake respectful.
***SPOILER ALERT*** Spoilers for all books, especially EoT.

Stephanie Redux - Chapter 11

It was business as usual in the RangeMan control room. Hal and Junior were on monitors while Cal reviewed the shift summary from the night before, updating the Stevenson and Deloitte reports. Lester was there too, on duty until Tank or Ranger showed up to relieve him. He hated taking shifts as supervisor even more than Bobby did, but he understood why they were always chosen for it.

This week had been particularly grueling. Bobby had been in an unaccountably terrible mood for days and the energy in the building had been tense, the other men no doubt wondering about the bosses' absences. It was the norm that anyone caught up in a mess with Bombshell would get time off to recoup, but Lester couldn't remember the last time Tank and Ranger were both incommunicado at the same time. It had never been for anything other than a mission abroad. Well, he hoped that they'd had fun while they were on their little break, because they were going to have their hands full when they came back. Ranger was already booked through the end of the week with meetings in both Trenton and Boston and Tank had more than half a dozen walkthrough site inspections on his calendar.

Lester didn't have to hear the control room door behind him in order to know it'd been opened. Bobby stuck his head in the room and spotted Lester. "Ranger in?"

"Not yet."

"Avoid him if you can," Bobby cautioned. He had just gotten off the night shift and had a pretty good idea what was about to go down. He didn't envy the position Santos found himself in. "Run for the hills."

"I heard," Lester answered with a tired frown. "I'm just waiting to be relieved. Then I'm out of here."

Bobby wore a similar expression. "Shouldn't be too long now. He's been in the gym going on three hours."

Lester dipped his head in Bobby's direction, indicating the already packed bag his friend carried. "You headed to Smyrna?"

Bobby couldn't control the curve of his lips that slipped into place. "I'll be at my mother's kitchen table by nightfall."

"You lucky fucker!" Lester had a soft spot for Mrs. Brown's cooking, especially her Four Alarm Chili. "Bring me food."

Bobby wore a gloating smile and sent him a lazy salute in farewell.

"And say 'Hi' to your sisters for me," Lester called after him, "maybe take some pictures."

"Prick," Bobby retorted with more humor than anger. Then he was gone. And Lester couldn't wait to make his own exit. He wanted to be anywhere but in charge at RangeMan that morning. Ranger had a way of affecting the energy throughout the entire place. He'd been up and in the gym at 0430. That never boded well for anyone on the job. It was bound to be a brutal shift and it was no mystery to anyone why. The Rangemen would have to be blind and stupid not to have caught on by now to the all too familiar pattern. This had to be a Plum-related situation if Ranger was in such a foul mood this early in the day. The only hope of reprieve was that Ranger might leave town.

~POV~pov~POV~pov~POV~

Stephanie walked with her head high as the elevator doors opened onto the control room floor. There was a split second when she wanted to stop, to turn around and run away, but she ignored that fear the same way she's always ignored all of her other fears. To her it'd become an instinctual reflex to quash average logic and reservations. And over the past several years, it'd been an asset as often as it'd been a hindrance.

Stephanie's eyes surveyed the room as she crossed it. If asked, she would never admit that she was looking for Ranger. But she was. When she saw that he wasn't there, her exhale was an unfamiliar mixture of disappointment and relief. Everything around her, especially his absence, had a new significance. Tank's words drifted through her mind as she looked around at all of the state of the art equipment and dark, sleek office décor. He thought she belonged here.

Stephanie concentrated on that moment, that feeling. She could be a Rangeman if she chose it. They wanted her to be a Rangeman.

Well, why not? she thought. I've kicked ass on more than one occasion and I plan on doing it again. Preferably before my next rent payment was due.

She smiled as she caught Hal's eye. He looked rested, much better than the last time she'd seen him. Then her step hesitated slightly when she saw the way Junior's eyes widened when he saw her. Her step faltered altogether as Lester turned towards her.

"Plum." He looked surprised to see her.

"Santos," was her less-than-witty reply. She could clearly see the other men intentionally taking no notice of her. After several silent, uncomfortable moments of eye contact, she ducked her head on her way to her desk. They did always seem to know everything, but could they really tell how hung-over she'd been this morning? Did they think that she wouldn't come into work today? Probably. She could feel the difference in the air and wished she knew how to change it back to the way it had been.

But then all of that faded away as she caught sight of her desk. Her inbox was literally in danger of collapsing under the weight of the files stacked on it.

~POV~pov~POV~pov~POV~

Tank squared off on the mat, lighter on his feet than anyone but his current opponent would ever believe him capable. Limber and relaxed, he was more prepared than even Ranger would be expecting, and that thought had him looking forward to their contest more than he had in a very long time. It wasn't often that someone bested Ranger at anything. And if Stephanie hadn't been exaggerating about how far off his game Ric was the past several days, this ass-kicking would go down in RangeMan history, and on camera. Tank was going to enjoy it.

~POV~pov~POV~pov~POV~

My ass wasn't numb, but there were the definite beginnings of ass-tingling headed in my direction. And I wasn't looking forward to it. I'd rather have my ass kicked than sit through this. The mountain of files in front of me wasn't shrinking fast enough and I was starting to fantasize about bonfires and industrial sized paper shredders. I wonder how much it cost to rent a wood chipper? Oh, geez. That thought made me wonder how many people I knew who could actually answer that question. When my eyes started to cross, I decided enough was enough. Whoever it was that wanted to delve into Horatio deSoto's past had already waited a week for the background check. Another hour wouldn't hurt. But there was also the small problem that I had no idea how to spend that hour…

I tried to imagine how Lula would spend her free time, but as it turned out, thoughts of Lula's hobbies led to thoughts of Bvlgari and La Perla. That lead to thoughts of Ranger. Then those thoughts of Ranger lead to an entire host of other dirty thoughts. Damn. This was getting me nowhere. And fast.

I took a deep breath and a good hard look at the computer screen in front of me. I decided that Tank was right. I needed to focus. I needed to apply myself. I needed to change the way I approached life at RangeMan, because that's exactly what it was – RangeMan was more than a job; it was a lifestyle.

Oh, crap. How terrifying was that idea? Life at RangeMan. Yeah, I think I was starting to have that hyperventilation problem again. Ok, Steph. Shake it off. You can do this.

I peeked around my desk and spotted Hal. I could ask him for help. He'd be understanding. I think. I walked over and tried not to look as nervous as I felt. It didn't really matter though. Hal looked nervous enough for the both of us, which I didn't really understand either. I mean, I wasn't even holding a weapon this time. "Could you help me log-in to the company systems? Silvio left some things out when he was teaching me to do searches."

I think Hal looked a little confused, but honestly I wasn't sure because he sort of always looked like that. "Are you talking about your password?"

"I don't have a password."

"It's the number on your RangeMan I.D."

"I don't have an I.D." Now I was certain; Hal looked confused. "It exploded," I tried to explain.

He turned in his chair and I knew I had his full attention. "How do you get around the building?" he asked.

Now I was confused too. "The door just opens when I get here." Was it not supposed to do that?

Hal's mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but had no idea what. So he just closed it. We stared at each other for a minute.

"I thought the doors were automatic," I offered.

"No," he said like he was talking to a child. "No. They're always locked." Well, that made sense. RangeMan was in the security business. There was another minute of staring. "The fob," Hal said.

"What?"

"Do you still have the key fob?" His eyes flashed back to my desk and then made a detour along all of those SWAT pockets on the pants Ella had provided for me. "The key fob."

"Oh!" He meant Ranger's keys. Er, well, I guess they were sort of mine. "Yeah." I pulled them from one of those many pockets and held them out in the palm of my hand. Realization hit us both at the same time. I moved around the building like I was Ranger. I didn't just have a key to his apartment; I had access to everything.

He plucked the keys out of my hand and followed me back to my cubicle. "Do you mind?" he asked before sitting down at my desk. I shook my head no and watched over his shoulder as his hands flew over the keys. "The fob works throughout the building via a sensor similar to an E-Z pass. The computers are a different story. You'll need an identification number assigned to keep track of all your activity on the secure network and there are special levels of clearance required to access any client servers or our remote systems. I can issue you a new I.D. right now, but for some of these programs Silvio will need to authorize it. Without your number it looks like you've…" his voice trailed off with an air of wonder. He was reading through several complicated tables with hundreds of numbers and abbreviations I'd never seen before. "You're name isn't listed here. You haven't been logging in. You're logged in as Ranger, which means that the reason you're having problems was because you were trying to log-in twice as two people on the same computer."

Wow. No, wait. Make that a double wowzers. Security authorization didn't get any higher than that. Hal played it off as if he hadn't just found out about it and kept up with the RangeMan version of geek speak. "Since you already have the access at the moment I can show you how to open these system records to keep track of your search activity and set up a modified quick access for the network…" He went on and on and on and I tried my best to follow all of the speedy clicking and flashing windows. It wasn't easy. And that was another large part of why I had doubts about the notion that RangeMan equaled 'home' for me. There was an awful lot of technology around this place, but at heart, I was still a paper maps and hefty phone books kind of girl.

The strangest part of it all was that I'd always felt at home at RangeMan. At least I had until now. Now that it'd been stated, articulated so bluntly, that RangeMan was my present and expected to be my future, the ease had started to fade. All of sudden it felt like the first day of high school, the morning after someone had waxed vulgar about me on all the men's room walls. I clearly remembered that feeling. Everybody watching you and wondering things they'd never actually ask you about. At least I knew that something like that would eventually drift away, just one moment in the past.

RangeMan was different. It was definitive. And I didn't know if I was ready to be defined.

Plus, that reminder of Morelli felt heavy on my chest and I scolded myself. I had too much work to do to spend my time sitting around feeling sorry for myself and regretting things I couldn't change. So I focused on the computer and the job. The new RangeMan job.

First thing was first, who's on duty and what are their assignments? This felt a little like snooping, but Tank did tell me to look, and that all of the other Rangemen knew who else was working at any given moment. There were bodyguards, a systems maintenance crew, a few administrative people, Ella, the control room guys – none of them listed as my own private watch dog. But there was a team of guys listed as 'on call' and I wondered if they were the ones who were always sent out when I destroyed a car or got caught in some loony-toon's crosshairs. My name, however, was conspicuously absent. How do they pay me if I'm not clocking any hours? Per search?

Next, I navigated my way through a sea of digital requisitions. Everything from cooking supplies to ammunition to paperclips had to be ordered and signed for. The amount of money that passed through the accounting department was humbling. But the best part was the list of tracking devices being currently monitored at that exact moment. Junior was on the other side of the room keeping track of forty-seven little active, blinking sets of coordinates. Two for a 'personal security' client currently on trial, another four 'personal security' devices for a client who wanted to protect his children from custodial interference, and seven for a 'secure transit contract,' maybe armored cars? Now this actually did border on snooping. I was pretty sure I wasn't meant to be able to track these people. There were a total of sixteen gadgets currently in commission for various vehicles in the RangeMan fleet, the Duc and Big Blue included. I wondered which one corresponded to which man? The very last three trackers on the list had been personally requisitioned by Ranger and their use wasn't listed. Just a wild guess, but I was probably carrying those on me somewhere.

So many damn secrets. I decided, that since I had unprecedented access, I was going to take advantage of it and just outright spy on Ranger. My hands were shaking with nerves and I couldn't stop glancing up in fear that I was being watched by more than the office's security cameras, but that didn't stop me. I pulled up the dates for the last time Ranger had been 'in the wind' for a significant amount of time. From what I could make out of the jargon and code words, he'd been hired to lead a high security detail for a private military contractor. They'd worked several places in the Middle East, protecting convoys that transported important people and supplies through contested areas. Basically, he drove back and forth across warzones. Christ. I don't know what I'd expected to find, but that one hadn't occurred to me. It was one of those things I instantly wished I could unknow. God only knows how many times he could have been hurt, or worse, in god only knows how many ways. I scrolled down and found one last thing, an attachment at the end. There'd been a partial payout on a seriously large insurance policy. He had been hurt. Oh, boy, calming breaths, Steph. Don't cry. He hadn't seemed hurt when he got back. And I'd seen most of his body since then. Whatever it was, it couldn't have been that bad. Right? He just had good coverage, I told myself. So I pushed it down and forged ahead.

I was finding out just how little I'd ever actually known about RangeMan and there were things I wanted to know if I was going to sign on with Tank. I was commitment-phobic as it was without adding my complete ignorance on top of it. So, as I read about clients, assignments, and all manner of personnel, I began to see what I'd been so blind to for so long; RangeMan was indeed an organization. It wasn't magic. It wasn't the Justice League. It wasn't nefariously clandestine. As Tank had so succinctly explained; it wasn't the mafia. I had business experience and could clearly see that RangeMan was a very intelligent, very successful company. It was dangerous work, but it was well-run.

Once I'd seen the organized lists, everything accounted for and triple checked, it became clearer to me how Ranger managed to do the things he did. It was like finding out that Batman wasn't actually a superhero at all; he was just a smart guy who could throw a mean punch and wore a really cool utility belt. Which, when you think about it, is exactly who Batman was.

Although, knowing that they weren't superheroes made it frightening to consider exactly what it was that all of the Rangemen did. Sure, they bailed me out of scrapes when I needed it, but they also went to a hell of a lot of trouble to make sure a hell of a lot of people stayed safe and slept soundly every night. Tank wanted me to do this with them? Enough to seek me out and ask me personally? I didn't know how to feel about that. The only thing I felt was unsure. The possibilities for disaster and success were equally daunting in their own ways. Whether it be the shame and embarrassment of failure or the responsibility and pressure of working as a Rangeman, the end result would be a heavy load to shoulder.

Ding, ding, Ding, dong. I heard the little chime that told me my search was done running. Jackpot. Mr. deSoto had a laundry list of dirty laundry that he wouldn't want aired out. Too bad. I hit print.

Several hours later, my butt had gone completely numb.

Part of my new RangeMan state of mind was that I was keeping a closer eye on everything than I had in the past. So I noticed right away when Lester, Hal, and Junior took their lunch at the same time. I was bored and hungry and had spent the last ten minutes staring blankly in the direction of the break room. So I guess that might have helped too.

A moment of hesitation and a little mental knuckle cracking later, I was convincing myself that this was the perfect opportunity to start getting to know the guys in a setting that didn't include strict vigilance for my personal safety or embarrassing revelations about my personal life. At least I hoped it wouldn't. Besides, I used to have lunch with the girls at E.E. Martin all the time. This couldn't be that different.

I heard Lester's voice as I approached the break room. "… have somewhere better to be tonight."

"So who is it?" Junior asked. "Cheryl?"

I could easily imagine the smile on Lester's face as he answered, "Susanna."

"Nice," Hal added to the exchange.

"Oooh," was Junior's appreciative reaction. "I remember her. The one in that blue thing right?" I rounded the corner and stepped into the doorway just as I heard him voice the rest of his appreciation. "The one that made those sweet tits look…"

Whether he stopped speaking because he heard me come into the room behind him or he just knew that something was wrong by the frightened expression on Hal's face, I'd never know. Whatever the reason, it was three seconds too late. I knew it. Once he looked over his shoulder, he knew it. We all knew it. But I was the one who finally decided to end the strained silence. The real question was, what do I say?

"I'm sure her tits looked perfectly lovely," I told them and patted Junior on the shoulder in conciliation as I passed. Mental cringe. I just said 'tits.' No reason to disrupt the congenial atmosphere though, right? "Women actually go to a lot of trouble hoping people will notice."

To our credit, Hal was the only one in the room with pink cheeks. He was too sweet for his own good.

"You'll have fun," I assured Lester before turning away to scan the fridge for something edible and trying, as quickly as possible, to decide if I should press my luck today or just cut and run. How does one make small talk with a Rangeman? It was like a bad riddle. I turned back to them holding who knows what flavor of yogurt. I glanced down at the package in my hand. Tapioca? Gross. Isn't that pudding? Does it have sugar? Stop! Focus Steph. You're in the middle of something here. I smiled at them. "If she's worth the time, she'll back them up."

Yikes, did I just say that? This time Junior couldn't look at me and Hal came very close to pulling a spit take. Lester, however, just smiled right back at me. "I hope so. They sure promise a lot."

Yikes again! It wasn't really the welcome I'd expected to give or get when I'd decided to take my break with the guys, but at least we were speaking. That was Strategy Number One on my RangeMan agenda and I guess I was kind of on a roll. Lester had a dangerous look in his eye and Junior wouldn't look at me at all, but I knew that Hal was safe territory. "How was your time off?" I asked as I took a seat beside him.

Unfortunately, Lester wasn't to be ignored. "Forget him. I heard there's a new crew in town and they," he leaned forward on his elbows, "have set their sights on you."

"What crew?" I sat up and asked in a far more urgent tone than I'd intended. I was too busy being flooded by memories of abuse at the hands of the Slayers - and the sight of their bloodied and broken bodies all around me – to worry about the impression I was making.

Lester didn't seem to notice and continued merrily, "the word is they're a real serious group." He let his gaze make a circuit around the table before continuing, "they had a genuine rumble downtown this week. The police report says that there were a total of three broken hips."

In an instant, all of my trepidation turned into ire. For fuck's sake, this asshole was talking about Grandma Mazur's new friends!

"So, how exactly does one become a Brigadier?" he asked. "They sound like a fun bunch."

For a moment I didn't know how to react. Was I the butt of his joke, just one of the guys, or both? Because, honestly, I didn't really want to be either. For the first time in a long time, I didn't want to be anyone or anything other than myself. "I don't know exactly," I told him. "First, you'll need to talk to my grandmother. She's real tight with them." I pulled my cell out and started scrolling through my contact list as I spoke. "She'll be glad to hear you're interested. I'll give her your number."

"NO," burst from Lester as his eyes widened and he raised a hand in protest. "That's alright," he added in a rush, "I need to give it more thought before I can commit to anything anyway."

"I'm gonna have nightmares about it," Cal added unhelpfully and shivered, comically. His introduction to my family had been less than ideal. He'd been watching our exchange from the doorway and was a little too pleased with it for my liking. Wasn't he supposed to be keeping guard or something?

"Big babies," I muttered loud enough to be overheard as I stood to leave. I wasn't sure what this was, but it wasn't lunch with the girls and I needed some space. There were too many large bodies in the room. From the changes in all of their expressions, they'd heard me loud and clear and thought they must have heard wrong. "If you think the whole thing is a scary idea," I clarified for them. "Try living it." I didn't even need to see the ensuing changes in their expressions to know that they'd rather not.

Tank passed me in the doorway as I was leaving. He was wearing a lot of sweaty clothes, an old towel slung over his neck, and - after Lester's "Man, where the hell have you been?" - a very stern frown that I, rather miraculously, wasn't curious about at all. I just wanted to make it back to my desk and struggle to swallow my tapioca in private.

Just as I made it back to my pile of waiting files, my cellular chirped and I could have kissed Connie for the interruption. "Steph, I've got a real winner for you; file just came in this morning."

I grabbed my purse and left behind the yogurt-esque disappointment and my mountain of unsearched files. "I'll be right there."

When I stepped through Vinnie's new tarp and duck tape front door the ashes and glass were gone. Connie had set up a space heater to fight the invading chill. I followed her lead and left on my coat, thinking that if I planned to spend much time there I really ought to get some gloves too. On the unburned portion of Lula's desk sat a bucket of fried chicken that was looking for some much needed attention and there was an empty folding chair in front of it that was begging to get up close and personal with my ass. I dropped my purse on the floor next to the chair before making a few dreams come true. It was like the office and crispy chicken skin had convinced my shoulders that the past several weeks hadn't happened and they finally felt they were home and could fully relax.

The office smelled like smoke, disaster, and a side order of country biscuits. I found I was growing a bit nostalgic for the scent of nail polish and hair spray. The sexy aroma in Ranger's shower aside, the RangeMan building smelled of deodorant, gun powder, and electronics. It was overly male on occasion and it wasn't always something I'd call pleasant. And now that I thought about it, despite Mary Lou's assistance with my nails it was about time I made another appointment with Mr. Alexander for some professional intervention.

"Where's Lula?" I asked Connie between licks of chicken-greasy fingers.

"She had a hair appointment." Well, duh. I should have expected that one. After her improvised cootie exorcism she needed it even more than I did. "These are just what I've got for you now," Connie said as she handed over a few paper napkins and a thick stack of files. "There were a few others that would normally go to you on my desk, but – " she turned and motioned to the room, "the fire ruined most of them. I'll get the paperwork redone as soon as I can."

"Get them done now!" Vinnie shouted from somewhere in the recesses of his dungeon-y office.

Connie's mood shifted at light speed. "You got some nerve even showing your face around here today! Shut your trap or I'm going to start making calls!" Vinnie's only answer was a slammed door and a thrown lock. Connie seemed satisfied with that. "You should have heard Harry this morning," she informed me with a smile.

"Is he actually in trouble this time?" Vinnie's father-in-law Harry didn't make idle threats. He was called the Hammer because when he set his sights on you, you got nailed. If he caught wind that this fire fiasco was set in motion by Vinnie's boasting about his extramarital exploits, Vinnie would have more than money problems to worry about.

"I don't think so. My pop just overreacted because some mook called him up yesterday and told him I'd been in the hospital. Pop called Jimmy. Jimmy called Harry." She flapped her hand in a so-on-and-so-on gesture. "But he put Vinnie on his toes and I'm going to keep him there as long as humanly possible."

Great idea. "So who's the skip I had to get today?" I asked as I flipped through the file folders. She'd handed me six. How many more could there be that still needed their paperwork refiled?

Lula chose that moment to sashay into the office, freshly coifed. She was in screaming orange with hair to match. If someone glanced quickly enough as they passed by, they'd think there was another fire. "'Bout time you showed up to do somethin' around here." She threw her things into her desk and shooed me out of her desk chair.

"You've been at the beauty parlor!" I tried to defend myself.

"I had an emergency," Lula said around a mouthful of fried chicken. "Lately you've just been slacking."

"Vinnie's has been closed, technically I didn't even work here anymore, and I've been at RangeMan all morning." I thought about all of the things I'd managed to do in the last three days while I finished chewing. It was pretty unbelievable. "I've been working my ass off."

"RangeMan?" Lula and Connie looked at each other before looking back to me. Never a good sign. "So you trying to tell us you back here and you still working hard for Batman?"

"Of course I am." If they only knew…

Lula eyed me and my Rangeman uniform over the top of her cup as she took a big gulp of her Coke. "And your job description still includes clothing?"

"Yes." For now. The last few nights I've been working hard on that one, but the wisdom of my efforts was yet to be determined.

"Cause I heard you and Super Cop ran off and got married," Lula shocked me with a matter-of-fact tone.

Ha! Not bloody likely. I had to put real effort into not having an ugly reaction to that statement. The thought of Joe still stung terribly and threatened all manner of dark spirals that I wouldn't want to experience in front of others.

Connie unwrapped a piece of gum and then held out the pack to Lula and I. "I heard he finally murdered you."

Blink, blink. "What is that supposed to mean; 'finally'?" I asked.

"Yep. Margie told me that you went over there and he was screaming and breaking things. Then you came out running and he chased you all the way down the street to Lubeck Park. After that you disappeared and no one had heard from you since. She thinks you're fertilizing Rose Morelli's heirloom tomatoes right now and by next week you'll be under the foundation of Joe's new garage. Of course I told her she was wrong, but you're gonna want to steer clear of the Mancuso's. They've all got their fur up about something."

"I gotta pretty good guess what it might be." Lula was looking impressed with herself. "Since you ain't on yo honeymoon or stinkin' up Morelli's basement, there must be some other reason no one's seen him 'round lately. I'd bet a bill that it's related to the get-up you're wearing and that fancy new holster peaking out of it."

I pulled my jacket closed. "Joe's always hated my job. He'll get over it."

Connie put her elbow on her desk and her chin in her crimson tipped hand. "Get over what exactly?"

"Yeah, how 'bout it;" Lula chimed in, "we need a few details 'cause everybody is talkin' all kinds of crazy shit 'bout you these days."

It was time to skedaddle. They were a formidable pair once they started tag-teaming. I grabbed my files, and then after a pause snatched up the RangeMan files too. I was an employee, and if I could move around Haywood opening doors like Darth Vader, then I could sign for these. "You coming for a ride?" I asked Lula. "I've got a whole stack here."

Connie pointed at my hand. "Ranger isn't going to like it if you take those high bonds."

"I'm just bringing them to Tank." I assured her as I pushed my way through the tarp and tape mess with my hip.

"Tank? Are we gonna see him?" Lula was already halfway to the door, purse and gun in hand.

Hell no, we weren't going to see Tank. I was not bringing Lula back to RangeMan with me. "Maybe," I hinted ambiguously, "and no shooting. Put the gun away."

"Then why do you get to have one," she pouted.

"Because Ranger and Tank say so," I said. "I have to have one and I'm not going to use it." At least I hope not.

"Hrmph." She slammed the SUV's door and dropped her glock back in her bag. "Fine. So who we after today?" She looked excited to be back in the saddle with me, and it was a little contagious.

We went through my skips' folders and I immediately found which ones we'd be after first and which ones would have to wait. Danny Bleuder; 46, arrested for grand theft auto and the possession and sale of stolen goods. He was going to have to wait. He had a long list of petty crimes and misdameaners, but never anything too serious because he wasn't stupid. He'd been boosting cars for local chop shops since he was fourteen. It was a family trade and it wasn't a secret, which meant he'd been operating beneath the authorities' radar for a few decades. He wasn't going to be easy.

Now on the other hand, Piranha Clemmins would be a great place to start. I'd had to pick her up once before. She was 4'10," weighed about 260 lbs., had a head of hair like little orphan Annie, and was constantly getting arrested for disturbing the peace and unlawful assembly. She was a diligent protester and drove most of the people she knew crazy. But she wasn't violent and it was guaranteed she wouldn't be armed. Plus, she and Lula had developed some sort of grudging commradery in a kind of 'stand up to the man' way that never really rocked my boat. Generally, and if you don't count Morelli, 'the man' had always left me well enough alone.

The only problem was that she always went 'protester boneless' when anyone tried to take her in. That meant that I had to try to literally pick her up, and it was at least a two man job. So fifteen minutes later, Lula and I were trying to push and pull her across a large, worn lot where she'd built a community garden and that ridiculous yurt she lived in. What kind of screwball would want to spend a Trenton winter in a semi-permanent hut? Oh, and did I mention that she whines continuously? "Oww! My arms. Are you trying to pull them off?"

Lula gave her a harsh shove with her DayGlo boot. "Then get off yo fat ass and walk yourself. Or just shut up and deal with it. You think we like rollin' yo ass down the street?" Lula gave her another kick and Piranha shot her arm out to trip her. Lula tottered for a second before regaining her balance by pushing me over instead. I went down face first and bounced my forehead off an old, dirty planter made from recycled tires and who knows what other old, dirty things. "Dammit!"

Lula was fishing around in her purse. "That's enough of this. It's too cold for this shit."

"No! No shooting."

"Then I'll zap her lard ass."

"No, not that either!" I shouted too late. Piranha let out a squeal and keeled over. "Lula, now she's going be even heavier," I complained.

"At least she's quiet now."

It took us twenty minutes to get her all the way to the Explorer, dragging her through every bit of compost and fertilizer we could manage. Then we spent another twenty minutes struggling to get her into it. We were both still huffing and puffing when we got to the station. But we were clean, only slightly injured, and climbing into an intact vehicle. That was a good enough start. Hey, I have to take what I can get. Especially considering what I was going to try to pull off on the next one.

The Eigel's were some of Vinnie's most loyal repeat customers. Jerry's latest bit of inspiration had been some sort of mail scheme that I'm sure wasn't worth the effort of trying to understand. I knew several of the Eigel's. If Jerry was anything like his brothers, then he didn't make much money doing it and he'd left enough evidence lying around that he'd eventually get slapped with some Federal charges for this one. And once that happened, several of his associates were likely to get real nervous about how well they can trust Jerry not to flip. That made him more than a simple FTA in my book. Jerry had been upgraded to 'flight risk.' Or even worse, the Feds would pick him up on something first and I'd be out a paycheck. So, Jerry Eigel became a priority.

His vitals said that he worked as a dish washer in the kitchen of a snooty restaurant in a part of town that I didn't normally patron. I can't afford it. The Founders' Club was a highly reviewed steakhouse where corporate Ranger would fit in perfectly. Needless to say, Lula and I were going to be parking around back. I parked on the far side of the employee lot where we could see the service entrances. There were two women lounging against the building, smoking long thin cigarettes and huddled together against the way the wind swept across the parking lot.

"Stay here," I commanded.

Lula already had one foot out of the SUV. "No way, girl. You ain't leaving me in the car."

I grabbed her arm to stop her. "I'll be right back. I just want to ask them if he's inside. Then I swear I'm coming right back."

"Hurmph," Lula crossed her arms and was rapidly tapping her foot against the side of the console. "I'll give you two minutes, then I'm coming after your ass."

"Deal." I scanned the lot as I stepped out of the SUV and mentally patted myself on the back. Only one occupied car, not running, with clearly an elderly man, probably some kind of manager or the maitre de; no threat detected. The two women had on winter jackets over chefs' coats. They didn't notice me at first and I wondered if I should give myself another pat for managing to be inconspicuous.

When the blonde on the left looked up from snubbing out her butt on the curb, she glanced in my direction. She gave my uniform the once over and let out a soft laugh. "What are you supposed to be?"

I reached for my card. "I'm looking for Jerry Eigel. Is he inside?"

The second woman took my card and read it. "I know you. You're that bounty hunter that starts fires."

Sigh. I tried to pull a blank face on her. "Do you know when he'll be coming out these doors next?"

The first woman snatched the card away from her friend. "They're not going to let you in there. Especially looking like that."

"I don't need to go inside," I told them trying to sound more patient than I really am. "I just need to know when he's coming outside."

"Maybe twenty minutes, maybe an hour. We take our breaks in shifts, but it ain't too busy right now."

I looked around the lot, an idea forming. "Do you know which one of these is his car?" They both pointed to a green pick-up not far from where I'd parked the Explorer. "Thanks. And don't tell him I'm out here." I returned to Lula and ran down my plan with her.

"So you're asking me to get his attention?" asked me to clarify.

I nodded. "And to keep it." Then I thought it would be safest to add, "and don't shoot him."

"Girl, I used to be a professional attention getter and I didn't need no gun for that."

"Well, let's hope you haven't lost your touch."

"Oh, I've still got it, but it's all recreational now."

We exited the SUV and headed over to the truck. Lula walked up to it and I took up my position across the aisle and a few cars down. Then she gave it a hard shove with her hip and the alarm blared out. The wind carried the sound and slammed it against the rear of the building, producing an impressive echo that headed back in our direction.

Several people began to file out of the back of the restaurant, checking to see if it was their car being stolen. I spotted Eigel and ducked down. He came hurrying towards us, digging his keys out of his pocket. When he spied Lula leaning against his truck he started jogging. "Yo, lady, get off my truck!"

As he passed me, I gave Lula the signal and moved to follow him. She saw me over Eigel's shoulder and turned to walk away. What the hell?

Then she stumbled dramatically and let out a shriek. That was enough to get everyone's attention. But, oh no, she didn't stop there. She was just getting started. Lula continued, dropping her purse, bending over, and giving us all a free peek at the dark side of the moon. That is when I looked away. Thankfully, Lula managed to keep Jerry's attention long enough for me to come up behind him, zap him and get the cuffs on him. Go us! That went down smooth as glass.

Jerry was lying face down on the cold pavement and Lula's purse's contents were scattered between here and the next county. I was taken aback by the myriad of debree that flew out of that thing, and my purse is basically a piece of luggage. There was a can of Coke, pantyhose, pepper spray, three Tasty Cakes, a curling iron, a gun, an umbrella, half a dozen bottles of nail polish, a magazine, a giant, purple bra, handcuffs, a flashlight, two romance novels, and a shoe horn. To passers-by it must have looked like we were attacking the customers at the strangest rummage sale in Trenton history.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" One of the kitchen workers came running over and grabbed Lula. See, that's the problem with glass. Anyone can just walk over and smash it to kingdom come.

"Bond enforcement agents!" I shouted, but could barely be heard over the car alarm that was still shrieking beside me.

Without her purse for protection, Lula swung her fist at him. He almost moved fast enough, but she clipped him on the jaw and the two of them went down in a heap of cursing and slapping. I ran to help her, but somehow Lula had managed to get one of his shoes off and I arrived on the scene just as she was preparing to clock him with it and I caught it in the face instead. I staggered back holding my right eye and only distantly listening to the grunts, shouts, and clunks of loafer meeting skull. Lula's cuffs were nearby, and I made a grab for them. I was trying to wrestle them onto Jerry's would be savior when something small and angry collided with my back. A tiny, furious, Latin, cyclone with long nails and a foul mouth pulled at my hair and clothing. More of a gnat than a wasp, she was easy enough to thwart and cuff, but not to silence. For that I needed the tazer. Without another set of cuffs, I moved in to taze Lula's foe, but was once again intercepted by another Founders' employee. Jesus. It was one hell of a violent, tight knit staff they have at Founders'. This guy looked like he was maybe sixteen and his time in a professional kitchen had done a number on his complexion. He was my height but I had about twenty pounds on him.

"Bond enforcement agents!" I shouted again, but he either didn't hear or didn't care. He drew his arm back to punch me and I threw my hands up to cover my face. He was way off the mark, and the only thing my defensive move had done was line my arm up perfectly for his crooked swing to connect sharply with my funny bone. Holy hell, that hurts! We were both jumping around shaking out our arms and shouting. My pock-marked pugilist tripped on Lula's bra and went down with no effort from me. Now fairly paranoid that I was going to be jumped again, I scanned the lot for any more threats. That's when I saw another line cook appear; this time with a knife.

My internal alarm bell went off and it sounded like a gun… because it was a gun. I fired twice over my head and the entire circus froze mid punch, kick, and bite. I snatched up Jerry's keys and finally silenced his alarm.

"Bond! Enforcement! Agents!" I screamed between heavy breaths. "We are legally authorized to apprehend and detain Jerry Eigel! The rest of you freaks need to calm down and stop hitting me!"

"I'm calling the cops," groaned the man still underneath Lula. He was looking worse for the wear with two black eyes and a bloody nose.

"Good ahead and call them," I challenged. "We'll have you all arrested for assault, interfering with a lawful apprehension, and aiding a fugitive. You dumbass!" In all candor, I have no idea if that was possible, but it sounded good at the time.

"You hear that you stupid fucker," Lula hit him with his shoe one last time for good measure before climbing off him. "You ain't shit." When she stood up I saw what had become of Lula's new hair and was worried that if she caught sight of her reflection somehow, she might actually kill the guy.

Lula began collecting her things while I uncuffed and/or revived our interlopers and watched to make sure they were all dragged or limped their way back inside the restaurant. Then we hauled Eigel to the SUV. He smelled like mop water and cigarettes, farted when we hefted him into his seat, and was drooling all the way to the station. Then he came to just in time to explain in detail how painful I'd find our next meeting. I wasn't intimidated, as long as he didn't bring along his coworkers. Then he threw up on my foot. An hour later I had cash in my wallet and was pulling back into the underground garage with a vehicle that was, aside from one floor mat, still in one clean piece. The same couldn't be said for me. I'd really earned that paycheck.

~POV~pov~POV~pov~POV~

Junior was slipping two more search requests into Stephanie's box when she walked onto the floor. "Where can I get an ice pack around here?" She tossed her bag on her desk.

He turned to her and if not for his training, he would have flinched away. She looked like she'd been through quite a bit since he'd last seen her, like an amateur boxing match or a tumble dryer. "I'll get one for you."

"No," Stephanie quickly refused. "Show me where."

He led her to a set of double doors directly across from the gym. The room beyond was like a school nurse's office on steroids, minus the posters about flu shots and the importance of washing your hands after you go potty. He showed her exactly where the different ice packs and refrigerated medications were stored.

Stephanie breathed a soft, "thank you," as she pressed the ice pack to her eye. Then she lifted her hair and placed the pack on the back of her neck with a small, involuntary inward breath. Junior felt the sudden need to avert his eyes. "My neck stings," she explained as she lifted the ice from her neck. "Do I have scratches? Because the crazy woman that jumped on me had the sharpest nails…"

Junior had no choice but to look back. He was surprised at the red slashes cutting across the ivory skin of Stephanie's neck. "Oooh, yeah, there are a few."

She sighed a tired sigh and her shoulders slumped a bit lower. "Is there a mirror in here?"

Junior pointed to the small 10" mirror on the far wall. She contorted into shapes and positions that shouldn't be humanly possible, but still she couldn't see them. With a frustrated huff she spun around and pulled down the back collar of her shirt. "How bad do they look? Like nasty scab bad? Or infection bad? Or…" She took a fortifying breath. "Scars bad?"

Junior was getting more nervous by the second. "I doubt they'll scar, but you'll need to have those looked at to make sure they don't get infected."

"Well, you're looking at them right now. Isn't there something around here to put on them?"

He held back a wince as he answered, "yes." Junior reached for one of the cabinets and pulled out a small, medicinal-looking tube. "Here."

Stephanie grabbed it to read the label and see what it was he was recommending. "I can't do it," she declared as she tried to hand the tube back to him. "I can't see."

Junior couldn't suppress the wince this time. "Uh…"

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "I don't bite, especially if you're behind me." She was too tired to be nervous about anything at the moment. She just wanted this over and done with so she could go sit down at her desk. She grabbed two long handled swabs from a jar on the counter. Junior watched in semi-amazement as she used a finger to swirl her mounds of curls on top of her head and then inserted the two swabs. Then – Ta-Da! – her hair defied gravity. Stephanie held the tube out to Junior over her shoulder and tugged the back of her shirt down even farther. "Come on now, or I'll have to go look for someone else to help me."

After washing his hands and a long, deep, calming breath, Junior opened the tube and had the salve on his finger. He hesitated and warned her, "This is going to sting."

He swept his finger across the first scratch and he heard her hiss in pain. He quickly pulled his hand away and Stephanie groaned through clenched teeth. "Fuck, don't stop. Just do it."

Junior needed another very deep, very calming breath after that. He needed several. "Sorry." He finished administering the salve as soon as his hand stopped shaking. It took longer than he'd thought and her breathing was unsteady by the end of it. But she didn't mutter another curse or let out another sound. She was a lot tougher than he'd anticipated.

When he looked back on that moment in the future, he would never be able to adequately explain to anyone, including himself, what he did next. He blew softly on the back of her neck. In his own mind, he'd tell himself that the salve needed to dry as soon as possible. He would never stop trying to reassure himself that somewhere in the back of his mind he was concerned about her rubbing off the salve before it could dry. But in reality, it was more like a 'I'm her shining knight' brain fart.

Stephanie had to suppress a shiver when she felt his warm breath flow over her bare, raw skin. It took her just as long to realize what exactly was happening as it took Junior. She, however, wasn't nearly as confused by it as he was. "Do you blow on all the men's necks when they're injured?"

"No." His answer was just fast enough to make her question its honesty. Had Junior once made the mistake of blowing on Tank's neck? Or Ranger's? Okay, that was enough. She'd have a seriously embarrassing reaction if she kept imagining things like that.

Junior looked like he wanted to add something to his denial before leaving. But all he did was turn and walk out the door at a very stiff angle and a high rate of speed. Stephanie held her ice pack to her face and wondered about the strength of men. It certainly was a pervasive myth.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Despite this story's longevity, it's still a WIP. (I work on it when I can.) Please R&R.