Author's Note: Good evening, y'all. I haven't blown up a car yet. This is a Stephanie Plum story and no matter how much twisting I do to the universe, there are some things that are just required. So, now it's time to blow up a car and I hope you enjoy my version of it and Lula and Tank's first meeting. They're gonna be the secondary ship in this little to do.

Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"

"How'd he get in?"

"Picked the lock."

"How'd you get in?"

"Picked the lock…look, get yourself a couple of deadbolts…and lock that shit up."

-Ranger and Stephanie in One for the Money (2012)

"At least I didn't leave my Satchel in there…" I remarked while sitting up slowly from the floor, 2 people hovering concernedly over me.

Once again, I am staring at the burning carcass of a Ford Explorer. Unfortunately, it's actually my car and now, I'm gonna have to ride the bus like a Gypsy. My little makeup mirror trick definitely saved my ass because I finally spotted something weird: something weird with wires and a clock counting down from 15. It must have been triggered when I pressed the unlock button on the way out. With a gulp, I backed away and was just about to bolt when the damned thing went off like a stick of dynamite. Since I was already moving, I was merely thrown backwards and thankfully, the door to the Bonds Office was open or I would've been a battering ram instead of a Nutcracker.

Although, hitting Connie's desk ass first (why do I keep hurting my ass doing this damned job?) was far from fun, at least I'm not a piece of chicken from Cluck in a Bucket, extra crispy and extra dead. Oh, fucking Christ…

"At least you didn't leave yo'self in there, White Girl! Jesus fucking Christ!"

There were already sirens approaching and I staggered outside, clutching my satchel to me like a lifeline. My ears were ringing a little and a piece of metal had cut my left forearm but other than that, I'm fine…and alive. Sitting down at the edge of the debris field, I pulled my first aid kit out and slowly started to tend to my arm. It only took a minute because the cut wasn't deep (yay, no stitches!) and I chose a sparkly band aid with the Batman logo to keep it clean. I popped a stick of gum to help the ringing and stood up, making my way back to Lula and Connie slowly.

The fire department finally showed up and started tending to the fire…and Morelli was barreling towards me from the gaggle of cops like a runaway train. Shocking me, Lula pulled a silver cannon out of her bra and pointed it dead between his eyes steadily, stopping him cold.

Even with her black spandex leggings, purple go-go boots and electric blue tube top, she looked like someone you wouldn't want to fuck with. She doesn't like Morelli at all and not just because he's a cop. She thinks that he got Carmen Sanchez killed (which I don't agree with…) and she says that he's got lusty mean eyes like a pimp, especially when he looks at me. After Connie and I told her the whole story about me and him, she appointed herself my Burg Bodyguard against him for life, especially since he's still not backing off…

"You ain't gon' cause no type of shit for White Girl today or I'll splatter yo' brains all over this bitch fuck, Cop. We already got enough shit goin' on wit out you addin' to it. You leave her the fuck alone right now and go get that cutie friend of yours. What's his name…Garanza or somethin'?"

"Gazarra and he's married to my cousin Shirley the Whiner."

"Lucky bitch."

Morelli's face twisted and he said through gritted teeth, "I just want to know if she's okay! I'm concerned about her! She shouldn't be doing this crazy ass job, anyway!"

"Says you! White Girl's one of the best damned Bounty Hunters in the city, asshole and it ain't none of yo' damned concern if she's okay or not! Y'all ain't friends no more and y'all ain't lovers either, thank Christ! Matter fact, Steph, call yo' man and tell him you gon' be okay. Or better yet, brace yo'self because here he comes."

Carlos was running down the street towards the scene with Tank and I darted from behind the police barricade to meet him in a crushing hug. Tears ran down my face and I did my very best to burrow myself into him. He was in his Ghetto Ranger gear: black track pants and a white wife beater, topped by a black zip up hoodie. I ran my fingers through his hair and he pressed kisses to my brow, my cheeks, my lips…

"Are you okay, Babe?" he asked as he held my face in his hands.

"Physically, yes. Mentally…not so much. It was a bomb strapped to the bottom of my car. Someone triggered it when I pushed the unlock button and if…if I hadn't checked the truck, it would've…I would've…" I broke off with a sob.

"I know. You're gonna be okay, Stephanie. You did great." he murmured as he started stroking my hair.

"I did?"

"You're not dead because you were aware of your surroundings. That's good."

His voice cracked a little and I met his concerned dark gaze, managing to give him a small smile through my tears. Even though he hasn't said it, my car getting torched scared him and he's glad that I'm okay. Unlike Morelli, he's not trying to yell at me or put me down or trying to make me quit and do something safe and respectable. He accepts me as I am. And I know that even if I wasn't his Padawan, he'd be that way and it's very comforting, just like his arms. Mmm…

"Ma'am, I think you can put the gun away."

We watched as Tank approached a still fuming (and armed) Lula slowly. Her eyes went from a retreating Morelli to him and the tip of her tongue darted across her lips as she looked him up and down. Interesting…

"He needs to get the fuck outta here. He's not here to be a Cop, he's here to hurt my friend. I ain't got many of 'em and I ain't gon' let nobody, even a Cop, mess with my girl!"

"Okay. Just lower the barrel, then…"he prompted

"Tallulah. Tallulah Ivy Jackson. Everybody calls me Lula, though." she replied shyly, making me and Carlos exchange a look.

"My name's Pierre Michael Sherman III. Everyone calls me Tank, though."

Pierre? Tank's name is Pierre? Damn, no wonder he went to the Army…

"Fuckin' A right, you a Tank. A damned fine one, if I do say so myself. You work with Batman and White Girl?" Lula asked with a nod towards us.

"Yeah.", he chuckled.

"Then I ain't got a problem wit you. Matter fact, here. Take this and keep it outta my reach until Morelli's gone. I can't stand his stupid ass!"

Morelli shot her a dark look as her voice carried across the barricade but said nothing in reply.

"Are you a Bounty Hunter, too?" Tank asked her gently as he put her cannon at the small of his back.

"Sometimes. Mostly I just do filing and I'm White Girl's bodyguard when she ain't rollin' with y'all. All right, he's gone. Can I have my gun back?"

"What you gon' give me?" Tank teased, making her laugh and cock out a hip as she twirled a strand of reddish/purple hair.

"I don't know. What you want?"

"A date."

"Damn…you RangeMen don't dick around when it comes to romantic shit, do you?"

"No, ma'am. So, are we goin' out or what?"

"Fuck yeah. Friday night. Pick me up at 9. I want to get ribs and you best know how to dance, honey."

Tank gave her the gun back and she sashayed back into the Bonds Office, knowing that his eyes would be glued to her ass.

"That's gonna be interesting. Tank usually doesn't talk to women that quickly."

"Lula's got a way about her."

"Mm. I hope he knows what he's in for."

"He doesn't but I don't think he cares. He's been hit by the Thunderbolt."

Carlos chuckled and led me towards his SUV, letting me climb in slowly. I am definitely done for the day. I need a donut, a nap, and to be cuddled, not necessarily in that order…

"Ooh, maybe we can double date!"

"Babe."