Just so you all know, I left some characters in the book I'm currently reading (Gregor and the Code of Claw by Suzanne Collins, if you must know) in serious danger, because my muse demanded I write. So here's a chapter and I'm off to save some kids from some giant, murderous rats.

Chapter 36

Steph's POV

I pulled into the driveway early Friday evening and came to a complete stop in front of the closed gate as I rummaged in the glovebox for the fob I knew I kept there. After several moments I remembered that the fob was kept in the glovebox of my old car. The one that had died a horrible death in the carpark of the hardware store several months ago. The way I saw it, I now had two options: Stick my head out the window and wave at the security camera, or go park on the street until I could get a replacement. I chose option B.

With my duffle bag hiked over my shoulder, I crossed the street and pushed through the tinted glass door of the lobby. I'd never spent much time in the lobby, since the parking garage was the standard entrance and exit of the building. It was spacious and grand with marble floors and the typical array of greenery you would expect from a hotel lobby. A desk was located near the back wall in front of a bank of elevators. Behind the desk sat a Merry Man I'd never met before. I was pretty sure I could have just walked right past him and made my way up to the seventh floor if he was so inclined to let me, but I felt obligated to explain my presence so he wouldn't go running to Tank or calling an intruder alert, or trying to tackle me to the ground.

"Hi there," I said, dropping my duffle on the floor beside me as I leaned on the counter. "I, uh," I dug my ID out of my purse. "I'm Stephanie Plum. I technically still have an apartment on seven and…"

"Ms Manoso," he greeted. "We expected you to enter via your usual means in the garage. Was there a problem?"

I blinked at being called Ms. Manoso, since it wasn't my name in the least, but at least he knew who I was, I guess. "Uh, yeah," I confirmed. "My key fob kinda died in a car explosion a few months ago."

He nodded his understanding. "I'll have Hector get you a replacement as soon as possible," he assured me, rising from his chair. My mouth fell open as he stood to his full height. He just kept going! I was starting to wonder how he'd fit all of that into a regular sized chair. He was taller than Tank, for sure, but nowhere near as wide. "If you'd like to step over to the elevator I can get you on your way," he said, gesturing with one long arm toward the bank of steel doors. "Unfortunately, I do not have authorisation to access the seventh floor for you, but I can send you to the fifth floor where Tank will most likely be waiting to fix things up for you."

"Thanks," I said crossing to the elevator as the doors slid open. "I'll be sure to put in a good word for you with the big guy, uh…"

"My name is Gerard," he informed me. "It's good to have you back, Ms. Manoso."

I shook my head as I stepped into the box. "It's Steph," I told him. "Call me Steph."

The doors slid closed and I was on my way to the fifth floor. A heavy sense of dread settled in the pit of my stomach. I had planned to go straight from the garage to the seventh floor, avoiding the highly populated space of the fifth floor for as long as possible. I'd wanted to ease myself into this weekend, which was why I was arriving now. I wanted to spend a little bit of time with the guys before Julie arrived tomorrow morning, catching up. Going straight to the fifth floor without passing go or collecting two hundred dollars what not part of that plan. Of course, the original plan had involved me still having the fob that had perished in my old car.

I barely had time to process the fact that I would likely be engulfed by a group of men before the doors were sliding open once more. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I picked up my duffle bag once more and took a step, intending to go find Tank for his assistance. I needn't have bothered, though, as he stepped into the elevator before I could even replace my foot and took the bag from my hand, waving his key fob over the sensor on the panel.

"Hey," I greeted awkwardly.

"Hey," he returned.

"We still on for dinner tonight?" I asked.

"We'll be there at seven," he assured me. "Ella is making your favourite."

A smile graced my lips, and I saw Tank mirroring my expression in the reflection of the doors. It was a joke. We all knew that anything Ella cooked could be classed as my favourite. Her ability to tantalise my taste buds was above and beyond the call of duty. But I wasn't complaining. It'd been months since I'd savoured one of her meals and I was looking forward to seeing what she had in store for me.

Just then the doors opened, revealing the entrance hall of the seventh floor. I suddenly found myself rooted to the spot. My legs felt like they were made of stone, unable to move as I stared at the front door I had shared with Ranger.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" Tank asked.

Somehow, his offer broke the spell that had bound my legs and I took a jerky step forward. "No," I said firmly. "I can do this on my own. I'll see you at seven." I nodded, as if I was confirming my words for myself as well. I took the bag from Tank's hand and exited the elevator, he followed long enough to fob the door unlocked and then returned to the box.

"If you need anything you know where I'll be," he said as the doors closed.

Alone with the door, I just stared for the longest time. It was in pristine condition, not that I expected anything less of the Rangeman, I mean RCM Security building. Everything was always pristine. Ella wouldn't allow anything less. The inside of the apartment was probably in the same condition as always: fresh flowers on the sideboard, staple food items in the fridge, and toiletries in the bathroom. But there was one thing that had me hesitating.

Ranger's presence in the apartment had always been a living thing. It had lingered for months after his death, even as I began to clear out items that there was no sense in me keeping. His scent permeated the air long after his was gone and at every turn I could clearly picture the way his body interacted in reaction to its surroundings. The way his hips swerved to the left to avoid the handle of the umbrella that perpetually stuck out of the umbrella stand at an odd angle. (I don't even know why we had an umbrella stand, it wasn't like we were stepping straight out of the apartment and into the weather. And furthermore all fleet vehicles and by extension, my vehicles always seemed to come with a standard supply of items; travel umbrella included.) The way he'd glance at the reflection in the photos on the wall every time he past. It always looked like he was checking his appearance, but I knew he wasn't that vain. He was checking reflections out of habit. It was a surveillance thing. An awareness of the surroundings thing. I tended to check the reflections as well, but generally, I got distracted by the horrendous state of my hair.

The lingering sense of Ranger was what ultimately drove me to move out. I couldn't deal with my emotions properly when I kept waking up in the night with the feeling that he was just out in the kitchen getting a bottle of water. I needed to distance myself from the things that reminded me of him on a daily basis. I needed to remove myself from the situation until I could get a handle on myself.

Now, standing in front of the door once more, I still wasn't sure I had that handle I'd been seeking all those months ago, but I was in a better headspace. Regardless, I was dreading what I would feel when I re-entered the apartment after so long.

I knew that all I had to do was say the word and Tank would organise for me to use one of the apartments on the fourth floor for the weekend, but it seemed like a pointless effort. I was staying at Rangeman to spend time with Julie. Julie who wasn't at all aware of how badly I'd been handling my post Ranger life. Julie who was so excited to come visit and hang out and catch up and do all the things teenagers were keen to do. If I was staying on the fourth floor, she would immediately know something was wrong. I wasn't going to pretend that I'd never moved out. There was no point to that lie, but I had be okay with living in the space her father had created at least for the weekend. Maybe with Julie there with me it would be a bit better.

Taking a yoga breath, I finally screwed all my courage to the sticking place and opened the apartment door. I let it close behind me as I set my duffle down on the floor and my handbag on the side table next to the dish that usually held at least one set of keys. On automatic pilot, I started removing my shoes and tucking them into the bottom of the cupboard behind the door. Once they were off, I straightened and just took a moment to let the feel of the apartment sink into my pores.

It still smelled like him.

Of all the things I'd expected to encounter with this homecoming, I never even thought of his smell. I'd lived almost eleven months without so much as a hint of Bulgari and that unmistakable Ranger smell. But it was all that filled my nostrils. I breathed deeply, letting it fill my lungs and slid down to the floor.

For the longest time I just sat there and let all the emotions I'd been holding in for so long wash over me. Tears were streaming down my face and it was difficult to breathe. A few months ago, this would have been the point where I went for a run or held my breath under the surface of the bathwater, to give a real physical reason for the pain in my chest other than the grief that had claimed me. Now, though, I just let it consume me. Every cell in my body ached with Ranger's absence as sat on the floor in the entrance way.

After a while, I flattened out onto my back, taking up the Night Time Goddess Stretch I'd learned in yoga. It was supposed to help you relax and clear your mind. I often used it in conjunction with a couple of other poses before bed to help me sleep, but this alone was sufficient in calming me at that moment. My tears dried. My breathing evened out. My muscles let go of their tension. I was almost ready to get up and face some more of the apartment when there was a knock on the door.

My first thought was that I'd wasted so much time freaking out that it was already seven o'clock and Tank, Lester and Bobby had arrived for dinner. I hadn't even made it to the kitchen yet and they were here to fill the space and block some of the natural energy of the apartment I was hoping to come to terms with before they arrived.

A frustrated growl left my lips as I staggered to my feet, entirely ungracefully, and peeked through the peep hole I'd never saw the need for before. I mean, come on, it's the top floor of a completely secure building and we have remote access to the security footage from the cameras posted anywhere on the premises, but we'll just look out this little peep hole right here.

The person I found in the lobby was not Tank, Bobby and Lester, but Hector. He was staring directly at the peep hole with his pale, unwavering eyes. It was scary. Then he just raised an eyebrow and held up a key fob. I wasted no time in opening the door.

"For you," he said simply, handing over the device. "It is programmed the same as last one."

"Thanks," I said, tucking the fob into the back pocket. I cast around for something to say. Something that didn't seem completely lame, but all I could think of was, "I missed you."

His grin was so wide and genuine that it crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Of course you did," he assured me. "I missed you, too." He opened his arms a little in a clear request for a hug and I stepped right into it without hesitation. We weren't what you'd call close, Hector and me, but we had a weird bond. He always seemed to know exactly what I needed at any given moment. And in times when I wasn't even sure what I needed, it was a real comfort to know that someone was looking out for me. Probably, Hector was a mind reader or something, but I was okay with that. In a Post-Ranger World where I and everything around me was in a state of flux and I often couldn't tell up from down, I probably should kept at least him around.

"We're, uh, having dinner tonight," I stated as he released me. "BLT are coming up. You're welcome to join, if you liked. I'm sure there'll be more than enough for one extra."

Hector was already shaking his head before I'd even gotten the invitation out. His eyes were still twinkling. "No, Estefania," he said softly. "You need to reconnect with them first. The rest of us will come later." And with that, he kissed me on each cheek and turned away, slipping through the stairwell door without a sound.

Returning to the apartment, which was just as silent as Hector's exit, I headed straight for the sound system in the living room. An iPod was still set in the dock. It was the one we always kept there to save having mine out of my bag or his out of, well, wherever the hell he'd kept it. I knew he'd had one, and he could produce it at a moment's notice, but it wasn't kept in any logical place that I could see. I hadn't even found it while riffling through his belongings after the funeral. Now there was a mystery.

I set the iPod to shuffle and hit play just for some background noise to cover up the absolute stillness of the apartment. The song that emitted from the state of the art speakers was not any of the rock or pop I had loaded on the device, but one of Ranger's many soothing classical pieces. For a moment I just stood and listened, the music seeped through my veins, then I turned and made my way back to the hall and across to the kitchen.

I inspected the cupboards, the drawers, the fridge, everything was just as I'd expected to find it, peanut butter and Oreos in the cupboards, along with my not so secret stash of Butterscotch Krimpets. All the utensils were located exactly where they always had been. And in the fridge was an array of fresh fruit and vegetables, bottled water and a few ready-made snacks and meals. Ella had thought of everything. And I could only guess that she provided the fresh, healthy foods for nostalgia's sake, since I would never have willingly eaten them in my past life.

I took my time going over the other rooms. Living room, storage closet, even Ranger's home office. I had no problem sitting behind his desk, and looking through his drawers. But there was one section of the house I was avoiding. The most intimate part. The part where we'd shared our inner most selves. The bedroom. I just couldn't bring myself to breach that threshold just yet.

And I was saved from doing so, because just as I'd finished check out the small second bedroom Ranger had added in recent years to accommodate for Julie when she visited, there was a knock on the door, followed by a short pause and then three very familiar voices arguing about god only knew what.

Switching off the light, I padded back through the apartment, taking a moment to kick the duffel bag under the side table before peeking through the peep hole. Tank stood facing the door, arms – one flesh and bone, one mechanical – crossed over his chest, rolling his eyes. Bobby and Lester appeared to be bickering behind his back, but all it took was for Tank to raise his robotic arm for them to quiet down.

"She's watching us," Tank rumbled, looking directly at the peep hole.

How the hell do they do that?

I opened the door and crossed my arms, mirroring Tank's stance. "How do you do that?" I asked.

"It's a sixth sense," he replied without even a hint of humour. That was Tank for you. Everything was a serious matter.

"That or his robo-arm has a scanner that he hasn't told us about," Lester piped up from behind him. "That's probably why his arm's so big. It's full of secrets."

"Hi Lester," I said, rather sheepishly. The last time I'd been in the same room as him, I'd pretty much ignored his presence, and I kinda felt bad for that, given that not even a week later I was offering Cal one of my muffins. Then again, I'd ignored everyone for a lot of months. It just felt more personal, what with all the coaxing Julie had done that night.

"Hey Beautiful," Lester grinned, rocking back on his heels and stuffing his hands in his pockets. Apart from the fact that we'd just greeted each other more formally than we ever had in all the time we'd known each other, it felt like no time had passed. Like I hadn't treated him like shit for the last year.

It was Bobby's turn to roll his eyes, now. "Geez," he muttered. "Just hug it out, you know you want to."

Lester glanced from his partner to me warily. Like he didn't want to do anything without my permission. Suddenly, he seemed tense. The thought of accidentally offending me, now that I was talking to him again, clearly terrified him.

I sighed and threw my hands out to the side, deciding to pretend everything was fine. If I pushed the awkwardness away, maybe it would disappear. "Well I don't know what you're waiting for," I said, trying to sound exasperated. And in the next second I was not so much enveloped in his arms as thrown over his shoulder and carried into the kitchen.

Happy New Year BTW! And thanks for everyone's support.