Janet Evanovich is the rightful owner of the Stephanie Plum stories and characters.

Author's Note: Since the traffic-o-meter has been down for three days I can't tell how well the last chapter was received. Hopefully the lack of reviews for the last two chapters has been because of the fanfic website technical problems and not because the story has become disappointing to the readers.

A Total Eclipse of the Heart

….xxx….xxx….xxx….xxx….xxx….xxx….xxx….

Chapter 21

The RangeMen were quiet and focused as they loaded the vehicles with the equipment they needed for the operation they were about to undertake. Hector was standing next to the van giving last minute instructions to the Miami RangeMen who would be monitoring communications. Bobby was assessing the medical equipment and adding items he thought they might need. The beach house was quite a distance from any public or private medical facilities. He could be required to treat anything from contusions to gunshot wounds for the men, but they could find Stephanie drugged, dehydrated, beaten, injured or worse, and as medic, he wanted to be prepared for anything. He was glad that Jack would be coming along. Another medical opinion would be welcomed He liked working with Jack because he understood the concept of the military type operation they were planning.

Nick stepped out of the elevator carrying a duffle bag of supplies Bobby had requested.

"Thanks, Nick," Bobby said. "This should just about do it."

"Looks like the rest of the team is almost ready, too." Jack caught Bobby's attention and nodded toward Hector. "I met Hector for the first time when he came down with you to help with getting Sandor arrested a few months back. I thought he was kind of intense then, but I gotta' tell you, right now he looks wound tighter than a bobcat ready to pounce on its first meal in a week."

Bobby produced a gentle smile. "Yeah, he and Steph have a special relationship. He's very protective of her…we all are…but with Hector it's different. When we didn't find her at the Wild Horse tonight…well, you could say he didn't take it well."

"Didn't take it well?" Nick repeated sarcastically. I'd rather poke a stick in a beehive than stand within six feet of that boy. Is he even safe?"

Bobby knew what Nick was implying. It was important that each team member be focused and at the top of his game. It could make the difference between a successful, safe mission and a failed one riddled with injuries. "Hector isn't military, so he doesn't have the discipline and training that most of us do. He gained his professional skills in a less traditional way, but he's very good at what he does for us. Ranger only hires the best, Nick, you know that." Bobby closed the back gate on the SUV and leaned against it. "Don't worry, both Ranger and Lester are able to keep him steady when necessary, and Jack will be with us too."

"Jack?"

"Yeah Jack," Bobby nodded. "He can work miracles with Hector. Between the three of them, Hector will be just fine."

The door to the stairs opened and Ranger came through, followed by Jack and Lester. They were already suited up and, like the rest of the team already assembled, Ranger and Lester were both carrying multiple weapons in various places on their bodies.

Ranger shook Nick's hand. "You'll have ears?"

"I'll be in the control room. If you need anything, just talk. I'll be listening. Good luck, Carlos." Nick's firm grip reflected his sincerity. He turned from Ranger and shook the hands of the other team members then headed over to his own men to give them last minute instructions.

"Let's do this," Ranger said with determination. They all nodded and headed for their vehicles.

As the last tail light disappeared from the garage, Nick Hodge stood for a moment in the now vacant garage, shaking his head in wonder. Two years prior, when he first started hearing the reports of the curly headed bounty hunter and her incredible adventures, little did he know just how important her safety would become to an entire company of emotionally constipated men.

…XXX…XXX…XXX…XXX…XXX…XXX…XXX…

Even with fear holding court in the recesses of her thoughts, Stephanie somehow managed to return to the slumber Jake had oddly interrupted. Her dreams this time were not as peaceful and secure. A hodgepodge of images swirled about her unconscious mind. She was present at events that didn't make sense. She spoke with people, some of them familiar, some of them not, who did unpredictable things and whose objectives weren't clear. The nightmares manifested themselves in a display of physical agitation, and she awoke to find herself caught up in the twisted sheets. It took a good fifteen seconds to untangle her limbs and when she was finally free, she got up and stumbled into the bathroom to get a drink and run some cool water over her face. She closely examined her features in the mirror. Her eyes were dark underneath, puffy and ringed from her lack of sleep and the stress of her captivity. Jake's comment about her fair skin was right on the money. Despite her lengthy reprieve in the sun earlier with Colleen, her color remained mystifyingly pale except for the slight red glow coming from the sunburn on the end of her nose. She opened the door and flipped off the light, resigned to another attempt at sleep. Not having a clock in the room continued to be a source of frustration. She had no idea how late it was ot how long it would be before the sun rose, signaling the beginning of her sixth day in captivity and her third day in this house.

It was dark in the bedroom. Stephanie reasoned that there was either no moon or it was extremely overcast. A bright flash of lightning illuminated the distant sky and the debate was settled. She paused for a moment. It was several seconds before the thunder rumbled and she was immediately transported back in time to her Grandma and Grandpa Mazur's house in the Burg.

Her parents had gone out of town for a weekend trip to New York, and she and Val were sleeping in the double bed of their grandparent's guest room. She couldn't have been more than six years old and Val must have been eight. A terrible thunderstorm moved in right after her Grandma Mazur had tucked them both into bed. A few minutes later, Grandpa Mazur poked his head into the room and asked if the girls were doing okay or if the storm was bothering them. Stephanie had her face plastered to the window excited by the lightning show. Val was way under the covers trying desperately to block out the storm. Grandpa Mazur sat down on the bed and pulled the covers back from Val's face.

He spoke gently in his unmistakable deep voice, "did you know that if you count the seconds between the lightning flash and the first rumble of the thunder you can tell how far away the storm is?"

Val shook her head slowly back and forth.

Just seconds later another flash lit up the room and Stephanie whispered her count. "1...2…3…4…5...6...7…8…9...10...11…" Rolling thunder sounded in the distance and she looked back toward the bed. "How far away is it, Grandpa?"

"Well," he said sagely. "Every time you count to five, that's a mile away. You counted to eleven, so I'd say that storm is just over two miles from here."

Stephanie didn't have much of a concept of distance and he read the confusion on her face.

"Two miles is further away than the river. So that storm could be in Pennsylvania somewhere."

The memory of her Grandpa's lesson warmed her and she took a few steps toward the bed.

Stephanie felt his presence before she saw him. It was not the tingle she felt when Ranger was near. It was a tightness in her throat and chest that warned her of impending danger. She froze mid-step and turned her attention to a corner of the room near the door to the hall. The shadowy figure slid away from the wall and in three short steps was close enough for Stephanie to make out the face of Marcus Sandor.

Stephanie was so paralyzed with fear that she couldn't form the words her mind was screaming at her to project. For what seemed like minutes, but was probably only a matter of four or five wildly, pounding heartbeats, they stared at each other. Stephanie was acutely aware that every fiber of her being was saturated with terror, and there was no stopping it from being reflected on her face. The look on Marcus Sandor's face was pure hatred. He took in her appearance from waist to eyes, and there was none of the lust or appreciation she had seen in his cousin's earlier visit. Marcus' gaze oozed a frightful mix of disgust and anger.

"Stephanie Plum," he drew out slowly. "I've been waiting to see you." For all the potential violence he was exuding physically, his voice was surprisingly smooth and deceptively low key.

Stephanie decided to try the same technique that had worked with Jake. "How did you get in here?" At her own words, she broke their visual connection and risked a glance at the French doors. They weren't open, but she couldn't tell from where she was standing if the sliding bolt had been released. In a bizarre response she could only attribute to her mind's attempt to avoid dealing with the current situation, she felt a brief moment of annoyance that this house with all its locks and security was no better than her apartment. The revolving door of crazies and stalkers found no resistance to acting on their perverted whims here. Self-preservation took over and she tucked that feeling away with her second mental eye-roll of the night.

"I came through this door." Marcus indicated the one that lead to the hallway.

Nervousness seeped through Stephanie's words. "Forbes shouldn't have let you pass. Grayson said I'd be safe here."

Marcus relaxed his tense stance, took two steps toward the door, grabbed the doorknob and twisted it slowly. There was some light in the hall, and when he pulled the door opened just a foot or so, Stephanie could see the slumped figure of her guard on the floor. Marcus closed the door again and casually leaned up against the frame.

"I brought Daniel a drink. He'll have one hell of a headache in the morning and he'll be mad as hell, but he won't be disturbing us anytime soon. I didn't do any permanent damage. He and his twin brother Denny have worked for my uncle for years."

Stephanie was positive she knew the answers already, but she had this list of questions that she automatically fell back on when confronted face to face with one of her stalkers, and she couldn't help but blurt them out. It always seemed like a good stall tactic to give her time to think of ways to escape the situation.

"What do you want?"

"I think that's pretty obvious. We went to a lot of trouble to get you here."

"Grayson told me he plans to use me to make a deal with Ranger."

"Yeah, good old Uncle Grayson always has a plan." Marcus' tone of annoyance and disrespect was not what Stephanie expected. "He sent me away, like an insolent child, being sent to his room. He thought it would be best to put some distance between me and you until things were settled. He'd be surprised and upset to see me here right now." He let out a small laugh. "That's one thing the old man may have been right about. He knew I'd have trouble keeping my hands off you."

It was Stephanie's turn to ignore words and implications. She kept the conversation going. "He's bailed you out of trouble before." She took a small, hopefully unobtrusive, step toward the bed, knowing her only available weapon was lying under the sheets.

Marcus didn't seem to notice her movement, or if he did, it didn't concern him. "He's bailed me out plenty," he smiled. "I was hell on wheels. Still am, I guess."

"You need me to get the deal." She took another small step or two. "Ranger's men listen to him, you know that. If he wants those charges dropped, Tony will make sure it happens. He'll follow orders."

"I'm not an idiot! I know what goes on at RangeMan." Marcus' response was sharp. "My uncle's a fool if he thinks he'll get his way. I know better. RangeMan doesn't negotiate."

"Then why am I here?" Stephanie was just a couple of feet from the bed now.

"That depends on who you ask," he replied casually. "My uncle may have his plans for you, but I have a few plans of my own." His body language and his tone altered with his last statement. His eyes skimmed down and back up her body.

Stephanie suddenly felt naked before him; even though she was modestly covered in the t-shirt and stretch Capri pants she had fallen asleep wearing. The shift in his intensity was palpable. The room was dark, but the storm was picking up, and the increased frequency of the lightning strikes filled the room with flashes of revealing light.

"I don't think your uncle would approve of your plans." Stephanie was striving for control of the situation, but the authority with which she had used these words with Jake was absent. Her remark was weak and held no power.

Stephanie diverted her concentration from Marcus to the bed, estimating her chances of getting to one of the two shoes still lying at the ready for her call to arms. She once again returned her focus to the man against the door, and as if by magic, he had shortened his distance from her between lightning strikes. His intent was perfectly clear and Stephanie had no more time to plan. She took a flying leap and landed on the bed hoping to grab a shoe and roll to the other side in order to put space and an obstacle between them. As she frantically rooted through the bed sheets she felt a tug at her leg. She was ruthlessly yanked and spun to her back, and Marcus Sandor came down on her, pinning her to the bed with the hefty weight of his body.

"That's the problem with you women. You think too much. It doesn't matter what you think, or what Emily Barnes thought, or any of a dozen other cunts. I'm the one doing the thinking here. I'm the one making the decisions!"

His face was inches from hers, but he was loud and angry. His hot breath covered her face and she was consumed with suffocating fear. Marcus moved his hand under her shirt and roughly seized one of her breasts. Pain shot through Stephanie's chest and she released a agonized yelp.

"How does it feel, bitch?" he spit out. "How does it feel to know there's no one coming for you? No one is backing you up this time, are they?"

When Stephanie didn't answer, he shook her callously and repeated adamantly, "are they?"

"No," she whimpered. Tears were welling at the edge of Stephanie's lids and she fought to restrain them.

"Damn straight, they're not. Your precious RangeMen don't even know you're alive." His taunting of the truth tore a hole in Stephanie's heart. "And what about Ranger, the Great Carlos Manoso? Hmmm, bitch? Where is he now?"

He released her left breast and switched to the right one, forcing the tears she had been bravely holding back to spill with a grunt.

"I'll tell you where he is. He's already found another cunt to slide into at night. Men like us can't go for long without a woman warming the bed. We're a lot a like, Ranger and me. We both like to be in control. We both have the best military training. He should never have let me go, Stephanie. I was damn good at my job."

Despite the tears and the pain, Stephanie was angry enough to spit out through gritted teeth, "you're nothing like him, you sick son-of-a-bitch."

Marcus laid an arm across her chest, tightly pinning her arms to her side and slid the other down to the waistband of her pants. He took a firm grip of the elastic and started to work them down. "I'll show you what I'm like. You bitches are all alike. You think you can lead a man around by his dick and get what you want." He grasped both her hands in one of his and forced them over her head. The action brought his face back to within inches of hers and he brutally attacked her mouth, biting at her lips and forcing his tongue into her mouth.

Stephanie gagged at the vulgar intrusion. Her only option was to twist her head to one side, forcing his mouth off of hers and closer to her ear. He nipped at her ear, sat up and slapped her across the face. She gasped at the sharp, stinging pain.

"You're a god damned bastard!" Stephanie fiercely spit in his face.

"Fucking bitch, shut your damn mouth." he growled, as he put a hand over her face. "If you fight me, a slap on the face will be the least of your pain. Just like that little cock tease Emily. She fought me, and she paid for it."

Stephanie struggled violently against his control, panicked that she could no longer breathe. Her movements forced his hand to shift from her face and she took a deep gulp of air.

Marcus responded by tightening his grip over her head and forcing her legs apart with his free hand. He clutched her crotch and aggressively pushed against it with a bruising force. "You have to stop fighting me, because this will be mine one way or another. You should take a lesson from Colleen. Now there's a girl smart enough to know when a man's in charge and gives him what he wants…without resistance." As he spoke, Marcus continued to pull Stephanie's pants down the rest of the way, overpowering her continued attempts to deny him. When only her panties were left, he paused to catch his breath, running his fingers over the lacy edge of the waistband. He gripped it tightly in a fist and ripped them off completely. He immediately began fumbling with his belt and resumed his lecture. "Yes, ma'am, my uncle has a fine piece of ass in that Colleen. She was warm and wet. So delicate, too. It wouldn't have taken much to hurt her, but I had to be careful with that one. She's practically family."

Marcus had succeeded in removing enough of his cock from his pants to position himself poised and ready between her legs. Tears were streaming from Stephanie's eyes, but she still wasn't giving up the fight. She writhed and jerked and thrashed her body to prevent him from violating her. With every movement his grip became tighter, and his eyes grew darker and crazed filled.

"You know what the best thing about Colleen is?" he asked. "The best thing about sweet Colleen is that she never said a word to my uncle…and neither will you, Stephanie Plum…if you know what's good for you."

His salacious grin was a portent of his next move, and Stephanie realized the fight was lost. She wasn't going to get away. She closed her eyes and tried to take herself away; to ignore the inevitable and find a path that would remove her awareness of the horrible act. He may take her body, but, by god, she wasn't going to give him her soul. That belonged to Ranger.

"MARCUS!" The deep booming voice coming from the end of the bed put a stop to his lecherous intentions. Marcus turned to look over his shoulder allowing Stephanie a view of a fury-filled Grayson Murdock, his body rigid in anger in response to the admission that had just spilled from Marcus' mouth. "What the hell were you thinking? How could you touch Colleen? She's mine, you bastard. I'll kill you for what you've done."

Grayson reached for Marcus and grabbed him by the shoulder. He cocked back his right arm and folded his hand into a fist in preparation of throwing a punch to his nephew's face.

Marcus was quick. He swung off the bed, dodging the failed attack and swiftly sprung to his feet. He lunged toward Grayson and put both hands around his neck. Grayson did the same with his hands, and the two men became embroiled in a violent battle. Angry, bitter words rolled from Marcus' tongue. Words that indicated a deep seeded hatred for his uncle had been brewing inside him for a long time.

Grayson's anguished face reflected his bewilderment at his nephew's betrayal, but he fought Marcus rigorously.

Marcus ruthlessly battered Grayson until he gained the advantage and backed his uncle up against the wall. There was unchecked loathing in his eyes as he began choking the life out of the man who had raised him from a child.

Grayson was in prime physical condition for a man of sixty-eight, but he was no match for the brute strength of his military trained nephew. Marcus continued to squeeze until there was no fight left in Grayson and his body ceased its struggle.

During the fight, Stephanie had frantically searched for her pants. She had found them balled up in the sheets, and she had clumsily put them back on. She finished just in time to look up and see Marcus, breathing heavily, step back and coldly allow his uncle's body to drop to the floor.

A grief-stricken cry made Stephanie look to the door. There stood Colleen. She was holding a gun she had pulled from Forbes' unconscious body. Distraught at the sight of her lover's fate, she lifted the gun in a trance-like motion, and without a second's delay, she pointed it at Marcus and pulled the trigger three times.

After all the commotion of the fight and the deafening noise of the discharging weapon, the room became unearthly quiet. Colleen didn't move or speak and neither did Stephanie. They remained frozen, staring at each other for several moments.

The French doors suddenly swung open and Jake Murdock burst into the room. He took in the sight of the bodies of his father and cousin lying on the floor, and he saw Colleen still standing in the doorway, the gun held at her side. He stormed across the room screaming at her, "what have you done, you bitch?" He harshly backhanded the stunned Colleen. The force of his strike caused her to drop the gun and stumble backward into the hall, tripping over the limp body of Daniel Forbes. Unable to catch herself, she screamed as she tumbled down the grand staircase and out of sight.

"COLLEEN!" Stephanie screamed as she witnessed the young girl disappear down the stairs. She made a move to follow Colleen.

Jake turned on Stephanie. "I have to get out of here! You're coming with me." He made a grab for her, but Stephanie was quicker and pulled away. The act gave her just enough time to reach for one of the elusive Jimmy Choo shoes before Jake's second attempt succeeded in clutching her by the left arm. He pulled her off the bed and headed toward the French doors.

The last thing Stephanie saw before she was dragged from the room...was Colleen...weakly crawling on all fours toward Grayson's lifeless body, tears streaming from her eyes and sobs of sorrow heaving from her chest.

Jake had a tight hold on her left wrist and the pain she still felt from her prior injury prevented her from fighting his demands. He dragged her across the deck and down the stairs at the far end. The threatening rain had started to fall, and Stephanie slipped a number of times during their descent. When they reached the bottom Stephanie was able to gather enough balance and force to swing the shoe heel first into the side of Jake's neck from behind. He released her grip and fell to the ground gripping the shoe still implanted in his neck. She turned to run but he managed to grab her foot, and she was pulled to the ground so quickly she barely had time to catch herself with her hands. Instantly Jake was on his feet, and he came over her prone body. He reached down to grab her arms and secure them behind her back.

The threatening movement triggered the response that Lester had drilled into her that day on the mats. Over and over again he had made her practice the reaction that would give her the greatest chance of preventing capture from this position. Her freshly trained instincts kicked in, and she thrust her right elbow ferociously back into Jakes gut. It was enough to make him stop his advance and grab his stomach in a protective clutch. Stephanie immediately rolled herself over and planted her right foot firmly into his groin. Jake fell back onto the patio completely debilitated from the painful kick.

Stephanie gave only a brief glance at the man lying in agony as she skittered to her feet and turned toward the ocean.

She was free and she didn't look back. She ran across the back yard to the steps leading to the beach. Lightning still flashed giving her an occasional glimpse of her bearings, but when she reached the first step she counted out each one as she descended. Right on schedule she felt the soft sand under her foot as she mentally ticked off step number twenty-three. She ran toward the water and only then ventured a look behind to see if Jake was following. There was no sign of him but she did see her footprints in the sand giving away her escape route. She ran a few steps in the other direction and then moved closer to the water. With each receding wave her footsteps vanished so she returned to her first route and headed for that house down the beach.

Rain pelted Stephanie as she ran along the shore. She ran as fast as she could in the sinking sand, but soon tired and had to slow to an easier pace half way to her destination. She quickly realized she had miscalculated the distance to the house. What she had originally thought was only a quarter of a mile felt more like half of one. The fact that she was tired, hurting, and panicked may have had an impact on her perception, but nonetheless, when she finally reached the beach directly behind the neighboring house, she dropped to her knees for a quick breather. As the waves smoothly wrapped around her body, she wanted nothing more at that moment than to let them embrace her and drag her out to sea to experience the comforting rocking motion it would supply.

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, then she stood. This house sat lower than Grayson's, and there were only a few steps she had to negotiate in order to reach the level of the back yard. She followed a stone path through a pristinely landscaped lawn, and it led her to massive stone patio off the back of the house. She fell against the door and pounded repeatedly. No one answered. She tried again, but the result was the same. The house remained dark and the door unopened.

In her exhaustion, Stephanie collapsed on the back step and leaned her face against the cool partitioned glass. She closed her eyes and tried to come up with another plan. The rain was falling harder now, and she was soaked to the bone with a combination of both sea and fresh water. The wind had also picked up and the stiff breezes coming from the ocean gave her goose bumps. She started to shiver. She realized she needed to find shelter and rest before she could go on any further. She opened her eyes and grabbed the door, lifting herself along the glass as she rose. Half way to a standing position she saw a decal displayed to deter intruders. She ran her fingers along the words on the black and gold oval sticker.

'This home protected by RangeMan Security L.L.C.'

Charged from a renewed source of energy and a fresh plan, Stephanie finished standing and looked across the patio. With the assistance of the now almost constant flashes of light from the angry sky, she was able to spot a decorative fountain edged with large granite landscaping stones. She made her way to the fountain and loosened one of the stones from the border.

When she had spent those many hours with Hector on her breaking and entering skills, she had asked a hundred questions about the various gadgets and wires that were stored all over his crowded workspace. He had been just as patient with her questions as he had been with her trials with the locks, and he placidly explained the uses of each one. She knew from his detailed explanations that, while some homes in lower income areas only wired certain windows that were susceptible to break-ins, wealthier clients often chose to wire them all.

Stephanie clutched the heavy stone to her stomach with both hands and carried it back to the house. She flung the stone through the closest window and prayed that these people were fucking millionaires.

The glass shattered. She didn't hear an alarm but RangeMan often used silent alarms that were monitored by the control room, so she didn't worry. There was a small potting shed at the edge of the patio. It was locked so Stephanie grabbed another stone and beat at the hasp until it broke. She let herself in and found a stack of beach towels folded in the corner that she used to wrap herself in for warmth. Not knowing who would come looking for her first, she crawled under a worktable, hid behind a large ceramic pot and waited.

….xxx….xxx….xxx….xxx….xxx….xxx….xxx….