A/N: I'm having a little problem with my email notifications and my ability to PM. I have tried to respond to each review, and if you didn't get a response I am truly sorry. All the reviews were read and appreciated. In fact I have been overwhelmed by the feedback this story has received. Thank you everyone!

Chapter 14

Stephanie was standing outside the bond's office staring at the Buick when he saw her. He was fluent in Italian and he couldn't hold back his laugh when he heard her talking to the car.

"Porca vacca! I hate you."

"You always talk to your car like that? Think you need a life, Babe."

"I've got a life. What I need is a new car."

"What would you be willing to do for a new car?"

"What did you have in mind?"

His laugh was soft and his gaze assessing. He took in the soft frizz of the hair escaping from her ponytail, the swell of her breasts under the stretchy t-shirt and the curve of faded denim that snugged her ass. "Would it still have to be morally correct?"

"What kind of car are we talking about?"

"Powerful. Sexy."

A light rain had started to fall. Ranger stepped closer, pulled her jacket hood up and tucked unruly tendrils of hair in. His finger traced a line at her temple, their eyes met, and he leaned in thinking of kissing her. The blare of a horn reminded him he was on the street, near the bonds office. Not the right place and not the right time. He pulled back.

"Let me know when you decide," he said.

It was nearing nine the next evening when Ranger made his way across the control room floor and into his office. He wanted time alone to think, because suddenly he was a busy man being pulled in a number of directions. It was what he had hoped for when he started RangeMan, but he thought it would work better if the problems came one at a time, instead of falling from all directions to land at his feet. He looked up to see Tank standing in the doorway.

"Got a minute?" Tank asked and came into the office without waiting for a response. He sat and stretched out in the Eames chair that was raising Woody's estimation in his eyes.

"We've got things set in place to repo the green Jag tomorrow, early evening. The timing will be tight so I was thinking we could use that little girl of yours to distract Perin in the bar."

"She's not a little girl and she's not mine, but she'd work well." He picked up the phone and made the call to Stephanie. He put the call on speaker and then had second thoughts, as Tank seemed very interested in the conversation, but to take it off speaker might really cause Tank's interest to escalate.

She answered on the first ring, and he jumped into the conversation.

"I have a job for you tomorrow," Ranger said. "Are you interested?"

"Maybe."

"It's of high moral quality."

"And the legal quality?"

"Could be worse. I need a decoy. I have a deadbeat who needs to be separated from his Jaguar."

"Are you stealing it or repossessing it?"

"Repossessing. All you have to do is sit in a bar and talk to this guy while we load his car onto a flatbed."

"That sounds okay."

"I'll pick you up at six. Wear something that'll hold his attention."

He disconnected and turned his attention back to Tank. "Have you eaten?"

"No. I just got the repo deal lined up for tomorrow. I'm on my way home."

"Come up to seven. Ella always makes enough for two. I don't know what's waiting, but it'll be good."

Tank nodded and they got up and made their way to the stairwell door. Tank turned suddenly and said, "Did I see a Boxster in the garage earlier?"

"Yeah, it was delivered today."

"How many cars do you need?"

"This one isn't for me," Ranger said as they ascended the stairs. "I got it for Stephanie."

Tank came to a dead stop and then a grin split his face. "So that's the way it is," he said, once again climbing the stairs.

"That's the way what is?" Ranger asked coldly. "I know what you're implying, but I loaned her the car, with no strings. I'm moving my abuelo's BMW down to my parents' house. I don't drive it on a regular basis any longer, so I'm replacing it with a newer model, and I decided to get the Boxster at the same time."

"I want to talk to you about Stephanie," Ranger continued. "She's got some bad people hanging around her. I ran into one today and he was carrying, and not easily intimidated. He looks like a street person, but I could smell cop. I'm betting he's a Fed. He's following her every move and that tells me she's into something she may not even know about. I should have put trackers on that car."

"Easy enough to do," Tank said. "We've got a unit that just snaps on the undercarriage. I'll do it tonight, unless she and that file clerk are out cruising the town."

"She's home, that's where I called her, so the car should be in the lot. I'd go, but I'm expecting a call I can't miss." Tank nodded his head slightly, knowing at once what Ranger was talking about. There was only one kind of call that came at this time of night Ranger would sit and wait for.

They stopped their conversation as they entered the apartment. Ranger was right. Ella had more than enough food for two and it was delicious. They washed the chicken mole and warm tortillas down with iced bottles of Carte Blanca and their conversation morphed into mundane details about the running of RangeMan. After dinner Tank continued their pre-dinner conversation as if there was no break.

"Timing isn't real good for you to be gone any length of time," Tank said.

"I've reached the same conclusion, but in this instance I have no control." Ranger changed the subject abruptly. "Get Woody to put the tracker on. He needs to get out of the building and do some field work. Your day is officially over."

"Nah," Tank said. "I'll do it. I'm gonna be out later anyway. I got a date right around midnight."

Ranger couldn't stop the smirk. "Jeanne Ellen?"

"Your sister." Tank was up and out of the apartment before Ranger could summon up the temper to curse.

Ranger was still awake when Tank called two hours later.

"Tracker is installed and working correctly, but I almost got caught. I didn't know if she knew about the surveillance, so I didn't make myself known. She came tearin' out of her building, hopped in the Boxster, and drove outta there like she was a woman with a mission…so I followed her. And there's good news. You don't have to worry about telling her the cop is stepping out. She knows."

"Which woman?" Ranger asked.

"Terry Gilman," Tank replied.

"Did she confront the SOB?"

"No, she turned the car around and went straight to the 7-Eleven. She came out with a big bag of candy and went back to her place. I figured it was okay to leave her since she's not living alone."

"What?" Ranger asked, sitting up straighter in his chair.

"She's got some midget guy living with her. He can't be more than three feet tall."

Ranger reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger. Stephanie Plum had secrets of her own it seemed. It was intriguing and irritating, and not unlike his own life he realized.

"And there's something else," Tank continued. "She was dressed, well, funny. She had a nightgown and sweatpants on and boots."

"Thanks for the report," Ranger said. His hand lowered from the bridge of his nose and a small smile played at the edges of his mouth. Stephanie in a nightgown, sweatpants and boots, and carrying a bag of chocolate. She was down, but not out for the count. She'd be okay.

"That stuff will kill ya, Babe," he murmured as he made his way to his bed.

The Repo job was one Ranger had stepped back and let his staff take the lead on. He'd be there to make sure the car was towed without incident, and he'd be there, because he wasn't quite ready to turn his men loose with Stephanie yet.

She was waiting for him and stepped into the parking lot as he pulled the Mercedes in front of the door. Hard to believe this was the same woman Tank had described to him last night. There was no obvious sign of hurt over Joe Morelli. Her eyes appeared to be wide-open and not swollen from a night and day of crying. Ranger started at the bottom and worked his way up as she walked toward the car. High heels made her legs look impossibly long for a woman of average height. Her skirt was short, tight and was cinched at the waist with a thick leopard-skin belt. The white shirt tucked neatly into the skirt was unbuttoned to show maximum cleavage. And the hair. Her hair bounced off her shoulders as she walked. It was once again tousled in that careful way as to appear completely natural.

He didn't think she'd talk about Morelli, but he didn't give her the chance. She needed to be working from a point of calm control, and he didn't want to risk getting her upset. Ranger looked at her and smiled. "I told you to get his attention . . . not start a riot. Maybe you should button one more button."

"You don't like it?"

She was flirting with him. Maybe Morelli had dented her heart, but not broken it. Ranger reached over and flipped the next two buttons open, exposing her to mid-belly. "That's the way I like it," he said, the smile still in place.

He looked up to see one of Stephanie's neighbors, a bent old man, staring at them from a few feet away.

"I think I just sullied your reputation," Ranger said, putting the car in gear. He used the time as they drove to brief Stephanie on the operation. He showed her a picture of Perin and explained how it would go down. He would have preferred to have someone in the bar with her, but they weren't staffed for that. He had an emergency button for her to use if things went wrong, but the entire operation was straightforward and he didn't anticipate trouble.

He should have been used to it, but it still came as a surprise when fifteen minutes after she entered the bar the sound of a gunshot rang out. The car was in the process of being towed when he walked with forced casualness into Mike's Place. Things were chaotic, and in the middle of the chaos stood Stephanie Plum, swaying slightly, looking at him myopically. She was more than tipsy, he realized. He walked to her side, took her arm and leaned in close to her ear. Wild tendrils of hair tickled his nose as he said, "You never disappoint," and then he quickly walked her from the bar and into the waiting Mercedes.

She flirted with him all the way back to her apartment. Ranger was waging a war within himself that didn't show at all on his face. He thought he'd be welcomed into her apartment when they arrived, midget or not. And then what? He couldn't, wouldn't, take advantage of her possible emotional upheaval over Joe. He wouldn't be a rebound guy. He'd had enough of women calling out other names when they were with him. If Stephanie did it, he'd have to kill Morelli. On top of everything, she was feeling no pain. She'd only been in the bar fifteen minutes.

Ranger glanced over at her. "Are you okay?"

"Never been better."

He shot another appraising look across the car. The carefully tousled curls had given way to something less controlled, but equally appealing.

"Well, maybe I'm a little buzzed," she said. "Think I shouldn't have drunk that whole drink." She leaned closer to Ranger, "You're looking very fine, much superior to that rat-fink, Morelli."

Ranger grinned. "How many drinks did you have?"

"One. But it was a big one. And I'm not much of a drinker."

"Something to remember," Ranger said.

They made the rest of the trip in silence. Ranger knew he wouldn't stay after he'd walked her up to her apartment. She was untouchable on two counts. She had unfinished business with Morelli, and she was under the influence. Even if he hadn't made the decision, it would have been made for him. In the corner of the lot, next to the Boxster, sat Joe Morelli's Ducati.

"You have a visitor, Babe." She followed his eyes and saw the bike.

"Morelli." She sounded resigned. She slumped forward in the seat for a moment before straightening up and attacking her purse, rummaging through the contents wildly.

"Looking for your keys?" he asked.

"My gun," she replied. "But I think it's in the cookie jar." He stayed in place until she was through the door and out of sight. He didn't want to know what was going to happen next, but whatever it was Morelli had it coming.

Stephanie had been out of touch for almost twenty-four hours. The tracker Tank installed was working fine and he was having her movements monitored by his team. It seemed a little extreme, considering he had no hold over her, but he'd never known trouble to find a woman like it found Stephanie Plum.

Ranger looked through the doorway toward the sound of raised voices coming from the bank of monitors. He'd just checked his e-mail and was pleased to see the communication from Holly Reynolds. Financially, from her perspective, the deal was a go. He was meeting with his attorney to sign the final papers. He checked his watch and pushed his chair back from the desk. As he walked into the control room he saw a group of men crowding around the end monitor. Vince looked up and saw Ranger and headed straight for him.

"Boss, Ms. Plum's tracker just disappeared. She'd been parked at RGC for the last hour, and then it just disappeared. Do you think she found it and removed it?"

"Not likely," Ranger said.

Tank came up from the other end of the bank of monitors. "Police band reports an explosion at RGC. No injuries, but two vehicles destroyed."

Ranger pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to Tank. "Call him and push our meeting back thirty minutes. I have to make a detour by RGC."

Stephanie was standing forlornly, looking at a crane lifting a garbage truck off, presumably, what was left of the Boxster. He smiled and saw the tension melt as her shoulders dropped in relaxation.

"That's the Porsche," she said. "It exploded and caught fire and then the garbage truck fell over on it."

"I especially like the part about the garbage truck."

"I was afraid you might be mad."

"Cars are easy to come by, Babe. People are harder to replace. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I was lucky. I was just waiting to see what you wanted to do with the Porsche."

"Not much anybody's going to do with that dead soldier," Ranger said. "Think

we'll walk away from this one."

He put his arm around her waist and led her back to the Mercedes. "I have an appointment with my attorney at Rossini's. It won't take long. Come with me and I'll buy you supper afterwards."

"I…" the growling of her stomach interrupted her. She smiled and nodded and they made the short trip to the restaurant.

"Is this bounty hunter business?" she asked as they walked through the door to Rossini's.

"No, it's real estate. I'm buying a new office building to house RangeMan in Boston." He saw Stephanie's eyes widen and he realized he was letting her see aspects of his life she wasn't aware of. So she and Lula hadn't delved into all his secrets yet. Nice to know.

They found Ranger's attorney in the bar and Ranger introduced him to Stephanie.

"Stephanie Plum," the lawyer said. "You look familiar." He snapped his fingers. "I've got it. You were married to Dickie Orr. He was briefly with our firm."

"Everything Dickie did was brief," she said, seeming relieved when he turned his attention to Ranger. Their business was accomplished in a short time and the attorney left.

They found a table in the main dining room and placed their orders. Ranger slouched back in his chair feeling relaxed, knowing the Boston building was on its way to becoming home to the fastest growing division of RangeMan outside of Trenton.

He looked at Stephanie trying to discern any emotional trauma from the night before. She looked surprisingly calm considering the car she'd been driving all day had just been bombed.

"You never say much about your marriage," he said abruptly.

"Not much to say," she replied. "I found him with Joyce Barnhardt on my dining room table and I threw him and everything he owned onto the street."

"Did you run over him with your dad's Buick?" He hid the smile that wanted to escape.

Stephanie looked up in surprise and didn't bother to hide her own grin. "No. I was less obvious with Dickie." At Ranger's raised eyebrow she continued. "I got Teresa Roblez who works at the Mercer County Health Department to give me a piece of their letterhead. Then I sent a letter to Joyce Barnhardt telling her Dickie had tested positive for an STD, and named her as one of his recent partners. The letter told her to call all of her recent partners and warn them they might be infected. It caused a small Burg uproar."

"How'd it go with Morelli last night? I didn't read about any hit and runs in the paper this morning."

Stephanie looked across the table at him, her guileless blue eyes wide and clear. "He said it was work. Terry's uncle is involved in a case Morelli is working on and Terry is helping him. Then he asked me to marry him."

Now it was time for Ranger's eyes to widen as he looked deeply into hers. "Do you believe him?" he asked her.

She shrugged and kept her eyes on the white tablecloth. "He got paged and had to go in. I don't know for sure what's going on, but I'm not engaged. I can only imagine what kind of work she'd be doing with Morelli." She looked up to see the waiter set their appetizer down and conversation stalled for a moment while she drizzled olive oil over the crusty bread.

She looked up at Ranger, "What about you? Have you ever been married?" His eyes never left her face as he picked up a slice of the warm bread and tore off a piece. Did he want to share with this woman what he'd shared with only Tank and his family?

"A long time ago. I have a daughter who lives with her mother in Florida. She's nine." He could see she was surprised, but she didn't waste the opportunity to discover more.

"Do you ever see her?" Steph asked him.

"When I'm in the area," he replied. He could see the look in her eyes. She was having trouble reconciling this new information to what she thought she already knew of him.

He decided that was enough personal information for the night, hell, maybe for the year. He changed the subject to less personal topics, and the evening passed uneventfully. When he took her home there was no sign of Morelli and no invitation to come up with her. He walked her to the door and saw her inside safely, and then he went home to Haywood, with thoughts of Stephanie and Joe Morelli on his mind.