Ranger called me into his office early the next morning, after I'd gotten a cup of Coke from the kitchen. He sat me down and pretty much asked me to do the unthinkable.

"You want me to take Dayna on surveillance tonight?" I squeaked, nearly tipping my plastic cup onto his desk as I leaned over it.

"Santos," Ranger barked. "It's not a big deal. Let her get accustomed to accompanying you and the guys on stakeouts."

"She's a nurse! What's she gonna do, patch up the bad guys after we fry them with Tasers?"

"Watch the attitude," he said darkly, pointing in my face. "She's a vital component to the RangeMan team. She'll be providing psychiatric profiling on our suspects."

"What the fuck is psychiatric profiling?"

"It's exactly what it sounds like. I'm sure you'll be intrigued with what I have to say next, so pay attention. I want you to get her a gun, set her up with communications equipment, and brief her on the situation at hand. If you don't want to tell her about Hannigan just yet, then keep that part out of it for now."

"But I've already got my team together," I said.

"It'll be a cold day in hell when I let you and Brown do surveillance together again."

"Damn."

"You've got Manny and Hal covering the back entrance to the Leiderman building?" Ranger asked me. "And Hector and Erik on the side?" I nodded. "Good. I want all of you out of here by 2100 hours. Don't come back here until you have somebody in cuffs."

"Yes, sir."

"And Santos. If you screw this up, I'm going to test out my new shredder with the half-naked pictures of Michelle Rodriguez I found in your top desk drawer." Ranger smirked. I did a slow burn in the guest chair, covering my face with my hands.

"Christ," I hissed. "I need those to survive, man!"

Ranger laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah. I know."

"Do you have the psychiatric profile on Jamie Hackett?" I asked Dayna. We were seated at Ranger's conference table. She nodded and passed me a small red folder.

"Everything's in there," Dayna replied. "We shouldn't have a problem."

"Good."

Despite my predictions that there would be no activity tonight, Ranger was still having us stake out the Leiderman building to try and scrounge up some leads. Manny and Hal were sitting across from us. They would be stationed behind the Leiderman building, in an alley, watching the rear entrance. Hector and Erik would be parked at Downtown Jewelers next door. Dayna and I were supposed to be parked at the office building across the street, checking out the front double doors.

"Listen up," Ranger said, entering the conference room. "I've just received word that our suspects rented a black Hummer H3 at Avis thirty minutes ago."

"Suspects? Plural?" Dayna whispered to me. Holy mother of God, I had to think fast.

"Um, yeah. The woman we believe to be Jamie Hackett has been working with a male accomplice, and we haven't been able to get a positive ID on him." I wasn't sure how long I could keep this whole thing from her. What if Hannigan showed up on the stakeout and Dayna found out he was behind the Leiderman bomb threats? Well, that would save ME from having to tell her.

"Oh. Sneaky bitch," Dayna muttered.

I raised my eyebrows. "Damn right."

"Anyway," Ranger continued. "Keep your eyes open for the black Hummer in the general vicinity of the Leiderman building. Tank and I will be here in Control, listening to the wires. Under no circumstances are you to turn the wires off."

"Should we take the RangeMan SUVs?" Manny asked Ranger. "I'm thinking that they've caught onto our surveillance vehicles by now."

"Fine. Take your Mercedes. Erik, take the M3. Ms. Marrero, I want you and Santos in your car."

"Sure," Dayna replied. She turned to me and flashed me a friendly smile. Only, it didn't feel all that friendly. It felt…sexy. No, it was just me and my fucking Puerto Rican hormones overreacting again. I'd been doing good with her all day. She wasn't poisonously rude to me. Casual chit-chat in the kitchen. Hi's and bye's near the elevators. Business-related conversations and talk of the Leiderman account were all we chatted about. Even the usual lust-filled glances and naughty innuendos were gone. Truthfully, I missed the hell out of all of it. I felt as though I'd already lost her to crazy Brent, and her wedding wasn't even for four more days.

"You're all dismissed," Ranger said. We all stood up and crowded out of Ranger's conference room. I led the way down the hall to the Control center.

"Aiight, let's roll," Manny exclaimed, clapping Hal on the back. "Good to have you back, man."

"Just don't get me shot again, bro," Hal mumbled. Manny chuckled as he threw open the Control center door.

"You never want to have fun, man," Manny said.

"If you call "fun" being in the hospital for two days with a fucking gunshot wound," Hal muttered. They disappeared into the communications room to start putting equipment together. Dayna, dressed in black cargoes, a stretchy black lacy tank top, and black boots, plopped herself onto a small rolling desk chair and crossed her legs.

"This should be interesting," she spoke up. I leaned against the desk, facing her.

"What, the actual stakeout? Or being confined in a car with you for seven hours?"

"Both." She smirked. I found another small rolling task chair and sat down backwards on it, still facing her, while we waited for Manny to get all the communications equipment together.

"I suppose if I asked you to carry a gun you'd cold cock me with it, right?"

"Lester. You know I'm a firm believer that guns kill people."

"No, people kill people. And I can think of one weapon that you're damned sure not afraid of. But unfortunately, the only one I can provide you with tonight is a Glock." God help me, I seriously couldn't keep myself from saying that to her.

"Bastard." Dayna smiled and blushed. "I'm sure you're armed enough for the both of us."

"You know it."

Just then, Hal approached us with a jumble of wires and radios and other various pieces of surveillance equipment.

"Did you find my two-way?" I asked him, when he handed everything to me.

"It's on top. There's an extra one, too." Hal punched me lightly on the shoulder and walked back to where Manny was standing. I put everything behind me on the desk and selected the extra two-way to show Dayna how to use it.

"Aiight," I said to her. I rolled my chair closer to her so that our knees were touching. "This is a two-way." I held up the small radio for her to see. "You could just use it like a Nextel and hit the speaker button, but most of the conversations that go on between RangeMan employees are classified and private. That's what this wire is for." I plugged the wire into the two-way's jack and held up the tiny receiver that was attached to the wire. "This goes in your ear. You hear everyone's conversations through this, whether you want to or not. There's a mic in this coil. You hit the "talk" button on the two-way in order to communicate. Let go of it to listen."

Dayna seemed to take my communications lesson seriously. "Wow. That's a lot to take in."

"You can handle it." I handed her the two-way and watched as she reached behind her to clip it on her waistband. A few seconds passed, and she grew fussy and frustrated when the clip wouldn't work.

"I can't get this," she exclaimed. She handed the two-way back to me and turned around in her seat. "Do it for me, Lester."

Sighing, I grabbed the back of her belt and stuck the two-way radio there. Her cargoes dipped low enough for me to see the beginning of her ass crack, and she had a tiny black Japanese character tattooed onto her right rear hip. I wanted to ask her about it, but when I opened my mouth to speak, only a low growl came out. Her skin was smooth and bronze where the tank top and the cargoes didn't meet. Christ.

I untwisted the wire and scooted closer to her before handing her the receiver. When she had it comfortably situated, I switched on the two-way transmitter that was attached to her hip and adjusted the volume.

"What do I do when I'm wired?" Dayna asked me, turning her head to the side towards me for a second before facing forward again.

"Nothing. Listen to what everyone's saying. Just do what I do: if it sounds important, pay attention. Respond if necessary. Is the volume too loud?" I asked her. Dayna shook her head. "Tell me what you're hearing."

"Static."

I turned the frequency tuning knob slightly. "How about now? What do you hear?"

"Static and voices." This from the psychiatric expert.

I turned the tuning knob slightly again. "Are the sounds any clearer?" She listened for a second.

"Yeah. That's a lot better."

"Good," I replied.

"Turn it up a little," Dayna said to me. I adjusted the volume again and she turned to face forward in her seat, frowning in concentration to sort through the barrage of voices that had just blasted into her train of thought. I wired myself and adjusted the volume of my receiver.

"I think I hear Tank," Dayna remarked, pressing on her receiver to hear better. "No, wait. That was Bobby."

"Bobby? What the hell is he doing on this frequency? He's supposed to be –

"Santos!" Ranger barked, making both Dayna and I nearly jump out of our seats. I looked around and spotted Ranger and Tank in the window to the main Control station, seated behind a huge bank of monitors. Ranger didn't look happy.

"Copy that," I said on a sigh. He scared the fuck out of us.

"Mic check," I heard Manny announce. He and Hal were out in the hall with Erik and Hector, waiting for Dayna and me. A round of 'checks' and 'heres' filled the airwaves.

"Check," Dayna and I said.

"Ms. Marrero, do you have the psychiatric profile on Jamie Hackett?" Ranger asked Dayna.

"Yeah, I'm holding it."

"Good. Let me know when you have something. Everybody get moving."

"Yes, sir." Dayna waved the folder in my face before rising from her perch on the desk chair.

"Santos! This is YOUR operation. Don't fuck it up." Thanks a lot, Ranger. No pressure at all.

I'd never been inside an Infiniti G-35 before, but it was an orgasmic experience all the same. Especially since Dayna let me drive.

"You serious?" I asked her, when we were down in the underground garage. She handed me the keys and grinned.

"Yep." She swung her heart-stopping hips as she sashayed to the passenger's side and opened the door. "Coming?"

I found my voice and desperately wished I'd worn baggier pants, but if my cargoes were any baggier I could have fit Cal in there with me. God, help me. Seven hours with her in an impossibly small vehicle, with butter-soft leather reclining seats, and limo-tinted windows. Luck wasn't being kind to me tonight.

Hector and Erik had already left, roaring out of the garage in the M3 on two wheels. Hal and Manny were stuffed into Manny's black Mercedes, all wired up and ready to go. They pulled up behind the Infiniti in the garage. I went over and leaned on Manny's open driver's side window, and we did the complicated guy handshake thing.

"Sup, playa?" Manny asked me, grinning like a fool. "That's a nice ride." He gestured towards the G-35.

"Yeah, it is." I followed his gaze and saw Dayna watching us, standing with her right hip against the shiny black rear quarter panel, arms crossed, hair flowing down her back and around her shoulders.

"Oh, you thought I meant the car?" Manny asked. Hal's eyes widened and he grinned in disbelief.

"Fuck you, Pacheco," I growled. I pushed off of Manny's window frame and stalked over to the driver's side of the Infiniti as he roared out of the garage. "Get in," I said to her. Dayna immediately opened the passenger door and seated herself inside. I slid into the driver's seat and as soon as I saw the custom dash and gauges, the $2,500 stereo, the short throw shifter, the bright blue cabin lighting, and DVD/navi flat-screen, I nearly creamed my cargoes.

"Shit," I hissed. Dayna and I shut ourselves inside the car and I took a minute to regroup. Running my hands along the smooth black dash, it was then that I realized cars really could make a man have an orgasm.

"Are you done caressing my vehicle?" Dayna asked impatiently. "Start the engine, Santos."

"Yours or the car's?" I asked her. She slugged me on the shoulder. I was secretly thrilled that our seductive innuendo was back, but I wasn't sure how long it would last before she cut me off again.

"The car's," she replied darkly. Laughing, I plugged the key into the ignition and the elegant machine came to life, the turbo exhaust echoing off the cement garage walls and rumbling deep in my gut. I had a hard-on the size of Manhattan over this fucking car. And the sexy-beyond-belief woman sprawled out next to me.

"I absolutely canNOT believe that you drive around in this everyday. How are you not aroused by this vehicle?" I asked her incredulously.

"Well, if you must know, I had to keep an extra change of panties in the center console for a whole week after I got it." She smirked at me. I nearly died.

"You're killing me, Marrero." I groaned, shifted into reverse, and zoomed out of the parking garage.

We made it to the streets of downtown Trenton. Traffic was bumper to bumper as I downshifted at a stoplight. Dayna was staring out her window at the passing nightlife.

"I find it hard to believe that an ex-employee would want to bomb an entire building," she countered. I shifted my eyes to look at her, not turning my head. Not to mention your crazy fiancé, too, I thought.

"People can do some whack shit when they're motivated." I couldn't get the thought of Brent with that other woman out of my head. I was dying to tell her, but once again I talked myself out of it. I was such a fucking pussy.

Suddenly, I just HAD to see what this car could do. I revved the engine, and as soon as the light turned green, I weaved through traffic and hit the ramp to Route 1 North.

"Um, Lester?" Dayna asked me. "I thought the Leiderman –

She was interrupted by the Infiniti's engine opening up, the turbo screaming, and the car rocketed forward so fast that the force knocked us back in our seats. I had the fucking gas pedal to the floor, double-clutching, flying through the gears. The Infiniti was absolutely hauling ass. Sixty, seventy, eighty, ninety…I glanced at Dayna.

"LESTER!" she screamed. She was grabbing the sides of the leather seats with white knuckles. Her eyes were darkened to midnight blue and her lips were parted in surprise. Sweat had formed a thin sheen on her entire body. Her nipples were hard through her tank top.

I immediately took the next exit and squealed to a stop in the parking lot directly across the street from the Leiderman building. I was breathing heavy and shaking like a leaf, hard as granite in my cargoes. I was sweaty from the adrenaline rush. I ripped my black t-shirt over my head, leaving me in a tight black tank top.

"Damn, I'll bet serious cash that you've never done that before in your own damn car." I tossed my t-shirt into the backseat and ran my hands through my hair. Dayna's eyes flashed fire and I knew she was pissed.

"I can't tell you how many times I've seen people all bashed up in my ER because they'd been driving like that," she said through clenched teeth. I slowly leaned next to her and put my lips directly next to her ear. I watched her eyelids flutter shut as I gently closed my thumb and forefinger around her left nipple and gave it a slight tug.

"You're not gonna tell me that turned you the fuck on?" I grumbled. She let loose a long sigh and chewed on her bottom lip. "Don't lie to me, Marrero." I gently bit her earlobe.

"Fine," she gritted out. "You win."

Satisfied at the rise I got out of her and chuckling quietly, I hauled myself back into my seat and adjusted myself in my cargoes. "Hmmm. I'm sorry, I seemed to have forgotten our "just business" pact a second ago. My apologies."

"Santos, I swear –

"Just stop." I reached into the backseat to get our surveillance equipment. I hauled a black Nike gym bag into my lap and began digging around.

Manny's voice filtered into my ear. "Santos, are you in position?"

"Ten-four," I replied. "We're across the street from the front of the building. We can see the doors perfectly from here."

"Roger that."

I took Jamie Hackett's psychiatric profile from the dashboard and opened it, locating a mugshot of our little pyromaniac. She was a small woman, older, with dark brown hair…holy fuck. The arsonist Jamie Hackett WAS the woman in the surveillance tape. I nearly died when I put two and two together. My theory from yesterday was most likely correct, but we needed more hard evidence.

"What?" Dayna asked me, eyeing me warily. I must have looked insane with delight.

"Nothing," I said nonchalantly. I tossed the folder back onto the dashboard and hit the power button on the DVD player. I waited a few seconds and a movie began to play.

"The Notebook?" I exclaimed to Dayna. She frowned.

"So?"

"Come on. This is NOT the type of car that you watch The Notebook in. In this car, you're supposed to watch things like Romeo Must Die, or Fighting, or even The Hangover. But not The Notebook!" I was appalled. I snapped off the TV.

"Hey. The car title says Dayna Christin Marrero, not Lester Alejandro Santos. Hence, the car is mine. In your "Lescalade", YOU can watch your martial arts crap." Dayna switched the movie back on.

"No puedo creer que estoy viendo esta mierda," I muttered as I let my head fall back against the headrest. Dayna paused the movie and turned to me, a weird look on her face.

"What do you mean, you can't believe you're watching this shit?" she demanded. I stopped cold. Fuck.

"Is that what you think I said?"

"No. It's what I know you said," Dayna replied angrily.

"Took Spanish in high school, did we?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. But that's not how I know."

"How DO you know?" I asked her, raising my eyebrows.

"I grew up in Miami. Believe me, Santos. I know Spanish."

No shit. "Seriously?" Well, slap my ass and call me Sally Sweet. "Hunh. There is SO much I don't know about you."

"I know," Dayna replied, smirking.

"So, you're from Miami. What, are you part Cuban or something?" I turned my head to look at her.

"Let me guess. I suppose you'll have some snotty comment about that." Dayna made a face.

"Nope. I just didn't think you had it in you."

"My last name didn't give it away?" Dayna asked incredulously. Fuck. I'd never even thought of that.

"It's the hair and the eyes," I said defensively, turning my head back to stare straight ahead at the damn Leiderman doors.

"Hmmm…not good enough, Santos."

"Can you speak Spanish?" I asked her.

"Only if you want me to."

"I'll let you know when I want you to." I eyed her without turning my head. My lips tugged upwards in the promise of a smile and I saw her blush in the street light. She was so fucking beautiful, with her hair tumbling around her shoulders and falling to her waist.

I settled back in my seat and adjusted my two-way receiver. The night was hot and sticky, and I was glad I'd 86ed my t-shirt. "So how far do these seats go back?" I hit a button and my driver's seat began to recline.

"Why?" Dayna asked warily. She tossed the DVD remote aside and sat up, facing me.

I had my phone out and I was scrolling through RangeMan emails. I didn't look up. "Just curious."

"Bullshit." Dayna was smiling knowingly, and I thought I detected a hint of teasing in her voice. "Let's play a little game, Lester."

I was immediately intrigued. I turned to face her and tossed my phone in the backseat after putting it on vibrate. Just in case her "little game" wasn't one we'd want to be interrupted from playing. "Game…"

"Yes, game. It's called…Truth or Dare."

Holy fuck. Dayna Christin Marrero wanted to play Truth or Dare with me on a stakeout, in an orgasmic vehicle with reclining seats and the fucking RangeMan Control center chatting in our ears. I bit my lip to keep from screaming obscenities directed toward Ricardo Carlos Manoso and his no-turning-off-the-wire rule.

"Do you think that's such a good idea?" I asked. I didn't recognize my voice again. I figured I'd better see an ENT if this hoarseness and rough, scratchy talk didn't improve. I suggested it would improve if Dayna Marrero moved to Uganda.

"Why not? We're just friends, right?" she said. "Co-workers?" The shit-eating grin on her face suggested otherwise.

"Sure. Yeah. Right." I cleared my throat and bit my lip. "Friends to the end, man."

"Good. You go first." Dayna's eyes were sparkling.

"Um…truth."

"Okay. Is it true that you once did Ranger's sister?"

Jesus. She was pulling shit out from under a rock that I thought I'd buried. "Where did you hear that?" I laughed nervously.

"Tank."

"Oh. Then yes, it's true. No point in lying." Dayna cracked up. "Look, it was awhile ago. Ranger tells me she thinks I'm scum, but sometimes I get a text from her asking me to come over."

"Geez," Dayna said. "You seriously leave that much of an impact on a woman, huh?"

"You tell me."

Dayna smiled a sultry smile and blushed. "Okay, my turn. I choose Truth."

"Aiight. Is it true that you once did it on the hood of this car with your ex at a street race?"

Dayna's jaw dropped and she blushed furiously. "How did you…"

"Oh, yeah. Cal talks, too!"

"I'll kill him. And it wasn't a street race. It was a Nismo performance event out in Cali." Dayna adjusted her earpiece and reached to her side to turn down the volume. "You're next. And I'm choosing for you. Dare!"

Shit. "It can't be anything against RangeMan company policy," I told her. "Ranger'll be here so quick…"

"Relax," Dayna told me. "I dare you to switch off your two-way."

"Fuck no! Control knows if one of us goes offline."

"That's why it's a dare, Santos." Dayna smiled evilly. "For a full minute."

"What will I get for doing this?" Besides fired.

"Let's just say, that for each truth or dare that you complete successfully, from now on, my seat will recline just a little bit more." Her eyes sparkled.

Jesus Christ on a bicycle. My fucking voice deepened again. "And what will happen when it goes all the way back?" I grumbled.

"I'll be taking a short nap," Dayna said, punching me lightly in the arm. "You keep an eye out for the crazy arsonist bitch."

This girl was a total tease. My chances of making it through this stakeout were slim to none, because my fucking cock was going to explode and I'd bleed to death all over her black leather seats.

"Hunh."

"I'm kidding, Lester." Dayna rolled her eyes.

"What happened to the business-only thing?" I asked her.

"According to RangeMan's company policy handbook, it IS legal to perform a body cavity search on a fellow employee if they're suspected of smuggling drugs or weapons onto RangeMan Enterprises property. And you know what? I think I might have a bag of weed in my vagina." Dayna shifted around in her seat and wiggled her hips like Shakira.

"Where do you come up with this shit?" I growled. "Are you high?"

"You don't want to get in here," she replied, tapping her head. "Sometimes I have to give myself therapy."

The only words I wanted to hear coming out of her mouth from that point on were my name, how much she liked what I was doing to her, and whether or not she wanted it harder. I absolutely did NOT care if she protested because there was no way in hell she'd ever stop me. I was sick of her innuendo and foolish teases. She was manipulative and sly, creative and cruel. She was intelligent and beautiful and if Brent the Cheating Bastard wants to marry her he'll have to run me over in a fucking garbage truck first. Dayna Marrero had me wrapped around her little finger and I was enjoying and yet dreading every second of it.

"This is what's gonna go down," I said to her, getting up close and personal. "You're going to recline that fucking seat." I pointed to her passenger's seat. "I'm going to come over there and –

"What about our agreement, Santos?" Dayna said, her eyebrows raised in mock amusement. "I told you last night that it was for the better if we didn't mess around anymore." I knew she was baiting me, to see if I'd actually follow through with her request to keep things rated G between us. At this point, I didn't care.

"I don't give a flying FUCK about any kind of an agreement. You're the one who started all of this shit tonight, with your sexy car and your lacy little tank top, which by the way looks A-mazing on you, and your ridiculous game…"

"ME? I started all of this? You and your speeding on the highway, driving like Vin Diesel! And since we're on the subject of tank tops, you're one to talk!" Dayna exclaimed.

"Okay, fine. It's your turn to pick, and I'm choosing for you. Dare. And your dare is to recline that fucking seat before I throw an abdominal aortic aneurysm due to the fucking hard-on I've had since the night Hal got shot and you came waltzing into my life!"

Dayna's eyes became pools of midnight blue. She unclenched her jaw before speaking. "Yours is already reclined. And I guess it's only fair that you reimburse me for the countless pairs of panties you've caused me to ruin since that night."

I growled deep in my chest at the thought. "That won't be a problem. I'll take you to Victoria's Secret or wherever the fuck you wanna go tomorrow. But you won't get out of having me approve them before I buy them."

"Deal." We shook on it. Without letting go of her hand, I yanked her across the center console so she was sprawled across my lap and drew her face to mine so that I could kiss her.

I had my tongue deep in her mouth and my fingers around her bare nipple when the two-ways crackled to life and I heard Hal say my name.

"Santos," he exclaimed.

"What, Dominguez?" I'd reluctantly taken my hand out of Dayna's tank top to answer him, and she protested a little. I silenced her with a little thwack on the ass and she sat up and began placing hot, wet kisses down my neck. Sweet Lord, I was losing it. Fast.

"There's a black Hummer H3 pulling up at the Leiderman building. Do you see it from where you are?"

"Uhhhhhhh," I groaned, as Dayna's warm, soft lips found my pulse point. I accidentally had my hand on 'talk' and she must have heard me through her earpiece, because she chuckled against my neck. Hal had heard it, too.

"You okay, man?"

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry about that. Um, I see a black Hummer pulling up in front of the doors. Want me to check it out?"

"Use your night vision binoculars."

"Ten-four." I pulled Dayna's face back to mine and began to kiss her again, slow and deep, turning us both on to the point of insanity. She ground her warm crotch against my huge erection and made these little sighs that drove me wild.

"Hal could write you up for insubordination, you know," she mumbled against my lips, smiling.

"Fuck that," I replied. "Hal's not my boss." Dayna was now straddling my waist in the driver's side of the Infiniti, her front pressed against mine. Her lips were back on my neck and I was fast approaching meltdown. I wanted to be inside of her more than I wanted to take my next breath, and Hal was making me look at some vehicle for him.

"Santos!" Ranger this time. Since Dayna and I were both so wrapped up in each other, we jumped a mile. She growled in frustration and climbed off of me, back to her passenger's seat.

"Yo," I said to Ranger.

"We're waiting for you to give us a positive ID of the driver of the Hummer." Fuck. I located my night vision binoculars in the backseat and trained them on the SUV. Brent Hannigan was opening the driver's side door and he stepped out, wearing a black t-shirt and dark denim jeans. His dorky blond hair was blowing in the night breeze as he headed around to the trunk of the truck and hauled the hatch open.

"Is that her?" Dayna hissed, grabbing the night vision binoculars from my hands and training them on Brent. Fuck. Her mouth dropped open as she stared through the binoculars at her fiancé in disbelief. "Ohmigod!"

TBC…what will Dayna do if and when she finds out Brent might be behind the Leiderman bombing? More to come soon!