As it turns out, not being stressed or exhausted from work makes it a lot easier to write. Who'd have thought?! So, as a reward for getting six out of the ten things on my to do list for the week done, I decided to allow myself to sit down and write after dinner. It is now 1am (five hours later) and I present you with a chapter. Not the chapter I just wrote, obviously, because that was chapter 24. But an equally as good chapter 14.

Chapter 14

Yetti helpfully grabbed my suitcase and duffel bag from the back of the SUV leaving me with only my handbag as I followed him across the car park to a small white tent that had been erected in the spaces closest to the elevator that were not reserved for handicapped parking. Inside, he dumped my luggage on a trestle table and turned to take my handbag from my shoulder. I tried to resist, but Yetti just sighed.

"Ms Plum, I assure you that this is all standard procedure," he explained. "All your belongings are safe. I'm not trying to pry. I'm simply ensuring that you're not endangering the lives of my colleagues."

This raised my hackles. They didn't trust me. They thought I was coming here to harm them? That didn't make sense. Hugh had been begging for me to come. Why would I come all this way just to harm a bunch of men I'd never laid eyes on. Especially when I was planning on staying indefinitely at this point. I gripped my handbag a little tighter on my shoulder and took a step back away from the man.

"Don't you think that if there was something in my luggage that could harm you guys that I wouldn't have made it through security at the airport?" I pointed out. I mean, come on! I'd even had to leave me gun and mace at home.

Yetti made an expression with his eyes that might have been an attempt at a compassionate smile, but was really just a terrifying contortion of his facial muscles. "Ma'am, please," he said. "These are more along the lines of health risks than physical threats."

"Don't call me ma'am," I said automatically. Loosening my grip a little, but not stepping any closer for him to be able to reach my bag. "And what kind of health risks are we talking about?"

The man stared at me for a short moment. Long enough for him to take in my entire demeanour, since he was a trained professional, and make a few judgements about my reactions in this conversations, but not long enough for me to notice anything but the light brown, almost yellow colour of his eyes and the way they crinkled a little at the corners. I needed to work on evaluating people quicker. "I'm getting the impression that neither Tank nor Bobby or Lester prepared you for this," Yetti mentioned, finally dropping his hands to his sides as he leaned against the table behind him.

"Prepare me for having my possessions manhandled?" I asked. "No. No they didn't. Should they have?"

Yetti tried his compassionate smile again, but it still wasn't quite making it. He dropped the farce entirely when I inadvertently cringed. "It's been standard operating procedure to check bags and luggage as they enter the building for some seven years now," Yetti explained. "But the core Trenton team makes up here so rarely that I guess it slipped their minds."

"So what exactly will you be checking for?" I asked, trying to give my friends the benefit of the doubt. I'm sure they just forgot. I'd have to ask them about it later though.

"A number of things, really," Yetti explained, unzipping his coveralls enough to retrieve a folded piece of paper from the cargo pocket of his pants. He then proceeded to re-zip and smooth out the paper while he continued speaking. "One of our team members, Bronson, has allergies."

"Allergies?" I questioned, confused. "You mean, like hay fever?"

Yetti shook his head, handing me the sheet of paper. "No," he said. "I mean like anaphylaxis." My face must have been completely devoid of understanding, because he sighed again. "Bronson is severely allergic to a number of things. Some of them to the point where if he comes into contact with it or something that has touched it, he could die."

I couldn't stop the quiet, "Jesus," that slipped past my lips. That was intense. "What kind of things?"

"Peanuts, tree nuts, shell fish, penicillin, latex, and bee stings," he listed all in one breath, without so much as a pause for thought between each. "He's also lactose and gluten intolerant, asthmatic, and diabetic," he added. "But those are far less risky. On that piece of paper you'll find a mug shot of Bronson to familiarise yourself as well as an action plan in case he does have an allergic reaction. He carries an epi pen on him at all times and you will be required to go through anaphylaxis training as part of your inductions." He paused here and eyed me carefully once more. "When did you last do first aid training?" he asked.

"That would be never," I replied.

"We'll do that when we do the anaphylaxis then," he said with a nod before picking up what must have been his previous train of thought. "On the back of the sheet you'll find a list of items that are prohibited in the Boston Rangeman building and vehicles," he said. "There are absolutely no exceptions to these rules. Non-compliance could not only cost you your job, but Bronson his life."

Geez, I thought, flipping over the sheet and scanning the list. No pressure.

"I trust you understand that we take the welfare of our colleagues very seriously here, Ms. Plum," Yetti stated, maintaining firm eye contact. "As such, I am required to check your bags for contraband today. Is there anything you'd like to declare?"

Blinking, I said the first thing that made the convoluted path from my brain to my mouth. "Yeah, I left all my good panties at home."

A startled laugh escaped Yetti, but he shook his head. "I suggest you study that list. You'll be checked whenever you return to the building over the next few weeks until we're sure you've got the message." I nodded my understanding, even though somewhere inside my brain was screaming that this was an invasion of my privacy. "Feel free to take a seat while I get this underway," Yetti said, indicating the folding chair set up against the wall.

Another nod and I lowering my ass onto the seat as he unzipped my suitcase. I watched him for a few seconds, carefully removing items and setting them on the table space beside. I had to hand it to the man, it was the most respectful act of invasion of privacy I'd ever born witness to. He stacked my clothes and other various items exactly how he found them in the case after rifling through them delicately. The suitcase contained nothing of incidence, just clothes and shoes mostly. When it came to my duffel back, however, Yetti took one look inside and pulled a trash can I hadn't noticed sitting nearby closer to the table. The first to go was the packet of butterscotch krimpets, straight into the bin. No time for goodbyes or sentimental words of appreciation, just out of the bag and into the can. A packet of Reese's Pieces was next to go, followed by the container of brownies Ella had made me. Tupperware and all.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, unable to sit idly by any longer. "Ella made those for me!"

"Can you guarantee they don't have nuts in them?" Yetti countered, over his shoulder

"No, but I don't think you should just throw away something that someone's put their heart and soul into making for a person," I argued.

Yetti dropped another packet of krimpets into the bin as he turned to face me. "It won't be wasted," he assured me. "All the food confiscated today will be donated to the local church."

Suddenly, my throat was tight and my eyes were stinging. This had been a terrible idea. Why on earth had I decided to leave Trenton and all my friends behind? And now I wouldn't even have Ella's baking to ease the transition. I tried blinking and taking some deep breaths to calm down, but all the emotions of the last week along with the stress and exhaustion of travelling had caught up with me. Against my will to prove to this new lot of men that I was more than just an emotional wreck of a woman running from her crazy ex, I felt hot tears tracking down my face. I tried to swipe them and away and sniff back the snot that was beginning to move without Yetti noticing, but it was a futile attempt. I was a pretty ugly crier and the men Ranger employed were way too observant for me to get away with anything.

"Please don't cry, Ms Plum," Yetti pleaded. "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just following company policy."

I shook my head vigorously, trying to use the action to assure him that it wasn't all his fault. Given the week I'd had it was amazing I hadn't broken down before now. It wasn't his fault that doing his job was the straw that broke this camel's back. "Sorry," I groaned several seconds later, interrupting his search for a tissue or a handkerchief as he continued to plead with me to stop. "It's not your fault. I'm just a bit out of sorts at the moment. It's been a long week."

"I'm sure it has been, Ms Plum," he agreed, standing beside me with his hands hanging limp by his side. "Given the rapid transfer, we assumed you were getting away from a threat."

I rolled my eyes, but was grateful that Tank had had the decency to not spread my horror break up with Joe around the Boston office. "Something like that," I agreed.

An awkward silence descended on us after that and I took the opportunity to dig an old napkin out of my handbag. Once I'd cleared up the worst of the damage, Yetti cleared his voice, dragging my attention all the way up to meet his gaze yellow gaze. That attempted compassionate expression was back again, but this time it was a little closer to hitting the mark. Clearly he didn't have to fake it quite so much as he did earlier. He had a soft spot for women in distress.

"I hate to do this," he said, "But I really do need to check your handbag for contraband."

I nodded shortly, holding it out to him without a word. It took no time at all for him to confiscate the half eaten Krispy Kreme I'd been saving and the peanut butter sandwich Lester had packed for my lunch. With the contaminants removed and the lid secured on the trash can, Yetti removed his coveralls and gloves and shoved them into a separate trash can, revealing those Rangeman standard issue abs under his skin tight black tee. He handed me a packet of wet wipes and a tooth brush.

"You'll need to cleanse your hands and face each time you return to the building," he explained. "And brush your teeth if you've eaten while you were out."

*o*

Once I'd jumped through all the necessary hoops to gain access to the elevator and therefore the rest of the building, along with my slightly depleted luggage, Yetti lead me to the fourth floor and the small apartment I would be calling home for the foreseeable future. It appeared exactly as I'd assumed it would; a carbon copy of those back in Trenton. There was a kitchenette with a fridge full of staples and small table, a two seater sofa facing a decent size flat screen, a serviceable bathroom and a bedroom complete with double bed and maybe just enough closet space for the amount of clothes I'd brought.

Yetti left me at the door, handing over a familiar key fob and reminding me that Hugh expected be to be standing in front of him at ten hundred hours tomorrow and not a second later. He had offered to give me a tour of the building so I'd know where to go in the morning, but once he'd admitted that the layout was almost identical to that of the Trenton building, we'd both agreed that it seemed unnecessary.

With the door closed and locked behind him, I'd just kicked off my shoes and sprawled out on the bed in my thinking position when my cell rang. All the way out in the kitchenette where I'd left it and rest of my belongings. I considered letting it ring out, in favour of rolling over and taking nap, but the thought didn't last long. It was probably one of the guys checking up on me like they'd promised to do. So, with a heavy sigh, I hefted myself back off the bed, scooping the mess of curls that had escaped the ponytail out of my face and padded on socked feet back through the small space to my hand bag.

By the time I'd dug it out of the bottom of the bag – how did always and up at the very bottom? – it had stopped ringing, instead displaying the notification that I had one missed call. Before I had a chance to check who it was from, though, the device was ringing and buzzing in my hand. A completely unflattering photo of Lester's grinning face appeared on the screen and I didn't hesitate to drag the green button across to accept the call.

"Hey Les," I greeted, putting the phone to my ear and affecting a cheery tone as I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and dragged it to the bedroom. If I wasn't going to nap I may as well get some unpacking done while I chatted.

"Hey Beautiful," he enthused. "How are you settling in?"

"Everything's great," I lied.

In all honesty, I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of protocols I had to adhere to in order to simply enter the building. Not to mention I was hardcore mourning the loss of Ella's brownies I'd been looking forward to them the entire flight and now they were gone.

A noise came across the line that sounded like a voice in the background, but I couldn't make out what they were saying, or if it even pertained to me.

"I'm talking to her now," Lester replied to the voice. Another muffled run of wordless noise from Mr. Background. "I'm getting there, dude," Lester said sounding exasperated as I unzipped the case and flipped it open. "We've literally only just said hi." And the he was back to addressing me. "Hang on, Beautiful," he said. "I'm gonna go hide in the supply closet so we can have some privacy." There was a series of grunts and a couple of rattles followed by a loud click before Lester sighed. "Right," he said. "Where were we?"

"Are you seriously in the supply cupboard right now?" I asked, picturing the small cupboard on the fifth floor where excess stationery supplies were kept. I didn't think my nieces would have fit inside while it was still stocked, let alone a fully grown man with an above average muscle bulk.

"Of course I am," he retorted. "Isn't it tradition to call your friend from camp from inside a closet?"

"I'm not on camp," I pointed out.

Lester let out a snort. "Feels like it," he said. "I remember my first camp. My mama had loaded up my backpack with enough treats to get me through two weeks' worth of meals without ever having to step foot inside the mess all, but the moment we arrived we were all lined up and told to empty out all our bags while the camp counsellors came along and confiscated everything. Right down to the three year old jelly bean that had been rolling around at the bottom of my bag."

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn't see me and started using my free hand to load clothes into the dresser. "Yetti contacted you?" I asked. It was the obvious explanation to Lester suddenly reflecting on this particular childhood memory. Yetti had contacted Lester and told him about my breakdown and now Lester was calling to make sure I was alright. I might have been touched by Yetti's concern if it weren't for the fact that people were once again talking about me behind my back. It seemed that it was not a phenomenon exclusive to the Burg. Apparently someone had sold the rights to my story to the public without letting me know and now my entire life was fair gain. Everyone would be talking about me no matter what for the rest of my days.

"He did," Lester acknowledged, interrupting my scornful thoughts and making me realise that I was standing frozen in the middle of the bedroom with a single boot in one hand. "But we're talking about me right now," he added, catching me off guard.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said in a mock apologetic tone as I set the boot on the bed and proceeded to retrieve the pile of pants that had been hiding underneath it in the suitcase. "I didn't realise you'd called me to talk about your childhood camp experiences."

"I can't help it," Lester said, and he must have shifted inside his closet, because there was a rattle followed by a crash and soft swear. "Thinking about your first day at camp made me nostalgic."

"I'm not at camp," I repeated. Last I checked, thirty-five year old women did not go on camps. The outdoorsy types might go on camping trips, but unless they were a Girl Guide leader, I hadn't heard of a camp that allowed grown adults to attend unless it was the hippie love or marriage revitalisation kind. And I certainly wasn't in the market for either of those.

"Boot camp," Lester said solemnly. "You'll understand after a few days. Hugh is very by the books."

"Great," I drawled, opening the closet and beginning to line up my shoes in the bottom. "More rules."

Lester let out a slight chuckle. "You'll be okay, Beautiful," he assured me. "You'll have them all wrapped around your little finger in no time."

I plopped down onto the end of the bed and picked up the sheet of paper I'd discarded earlier. "Lester," I said seriously. "They took away at least two of my main food groups."

"Sugar and fat?" Lester tried to guess.

"Sugar and Peanut Butter," I corrected. "Who the hell takes away a woman's peanut butter?"

"Ohh," Lester breathed. "Right. Bronson. I forgot."

"Yeah," I agreed.

"Well, now everything's starting to make way more sense," he informed me. "Yetti was worried about your unhealthy attachment to a box of brownies, but it's more than that, isn't it? You're looking at a future without any of the things you're familiar with. You're wondering why you even agreed to this. Why you agreed to uproot your life and discard all you hold dear in order to help a bunch of men you don't even know," he explained, succinctly summing up my thoughts and feelings since arriving. I'd contemplated just walking out the front door of the building and hailing a cab to take me back to the airport. But then I'd have to deal with my life back in Trenton, and as much as I didn't want to acknowledge that I was currently running away from my problems, I knew I was. If I wasn't, I'd still be back in Trenton, gritting my teeth every time I entered a public place.

"You're doing the right thing," Lester assured me into the silence we'd allowed to lapse. "You need the time to recharge your sense of self in an environment that isn't going to tear you down every time you step outside."

"You don't think I'm running away from my problems?" I asked, unsure.

Lester scoffed. "If anything you've run away to more problems," he said. "The Boston crew all have sticks up their butts. If you thought the Trenton crew was up tight when you first met us, you're in for a wild ride with those B-"

"AAHH!" Suddenly, a very loud, very male shout carried down the line, making me jump so dramatically that I almost fell off the bed. "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, SANTOS!" it continued, and I wasn't entirely sure, but it sounded like Hal. "WHY THE FUCK ARE IN THE CLOSET?"

"Just waiting for the right moment to come out of it," Lester replied calmly, though I could hear the grin in his voice.

"Everyone already knows about you and Bobby," the voice said, a little less loud, but still just as agitated. I could only imagine how fast his heart must be racing at this point.

I won't post until I've written another chapter. Maintaining my ten chapter lead gives my a real sense of accomplishment and allows me to think through my decisions a little more than usual. Maybe one day I'll have an entire story written before I start posting, but for now, I'll stick with my ten chapters. Hopefully my muse keeps up this run and I can get another chapter out this week.