All characters named in this story were created by Janet Evanovich, except the rookie cops and the teen gang members and Jacob Stanton (the House Monster), created by AutumnDreaming for this story.

All of Morelli's cop experiences in this story have been creatively adapted from the experiences of Ralph L. Dettweiler, former Sergeant of South Carolina Sheriff's Department, found at

Additional inspiration was gleaned from Charles Martin's novel Chasing Fireflies.

Steph's POV

"Backup is coming!" Morelli shouted. I could hear the sirens in the distance. I guess he had stopped called them as soon as the first shots were fired.

As soon as my feet hit the ground, I slipped out of the harness and ran for the Hummer. "Cupcake!" Morelli yelled, racing after me. "Wait! Where are your pants?"

I jumped in, turned the key, hit the gas, and took off after Stanton. He was tearing away in the Eclipse. The other car, a red 350Z, was off the road and down an embankment. It was easy to see why. There was a German Shepherd standing on the hood, doing his best to tear off the windshield wipers. I wondered why they hadn't shot that crazy dog. My bet was they were so scared of the adrenaline junkie dog that they couldn't get a shot off, and they were in enough trouble for auto theft that they didn't need to add weapons charges to the list.

The Eclipse was disappearing into the distance. The Elicpse had taken off like a shot with a couple hundred horsepower. The H1 had taken off, sort of, with a couple dozen mule power. I finally hit 60 mph after about 20 seconds with my foot to the floor shouting obscenities. I almost got out to push as I approached the hill at the gas station. I loved Ranger, I really did, but this monstrosity was not my idea of a cool car. I'm sure he thought it would make a nice bomb shelter, but I was never going to catch an FTA in this thing, not to mention it was impossible to fit it into a regular parking space at the mall.

I had my foot to the floor and still was not speeding as I passed the first of the inbound black and whites. Surely Morelli had given a description of the cars to the police, and if they'd passed the Eclipse, they would already have him. But the miles passed, and there was no sign of the gold Eclipse or Stanton.

I was almost back into Trenton when I saw him…at a gas station! I almost fainted with relief until I realized I had two problems. One, I couldn't stun him in the gas station. I'd learned my lesson. Two, I didn't have any pants on. Sure, my bikini briefs were cute, but I didn't want to be on the front page in them. This is in addition to the fact that I had fresh puke on my back and in my hair. Crap!

I watched Stanton, looking for any opportunity. Either he'd paid by credit card, which would place him at the scene – unlikely – or he'd have to go inside to pay cash. I took the keys from the ignition, wrapped my jacket around my waist like a skirt, and took off running across the street barefoot the second he turned to walk into the store to pay.

My plan was to take his car, strand him there and call the cops. The driver's door was unlocked! Yes! I slid in behind the wheel, but there were no keys. Damn! I slipped into the back seat and lay down on the floor thinking that when he returned I would stun him. Hey, it had worked on Ruzick…sort of. But then I remembered Morelli's ranting and raving about my being a homicidal maniac and nearly killing innocent bystanders, and I decided against it. I also decided against it because I didn't have my stun gun with me.

Cold air washed over me as Stanton got back into the car. He turned the key and the engine purred like a kitten. He hit the gas and we went skidding out of the drive and down the street. Now what? I tried not to panic. Patience, I thought. I have to have patience.

Stanton's cell phone rang. "Yeah?" he answered gruffly. He pressed the cigarette lighter in and tapped a cigarette out of a pack of Camel's. "No deal. You tell Sanders that if I'm taking care of business on my end, I deserve a fair cut…on everything he's got going on. If he's not man enough to make the deal with Boone, I'll make the deal, and he'll get nothing from me." He slapped the phone shut. The phone immediately rang again. "What is it now, Dish?" Stanton growled. "Was that in any way unclear?" There was a pause. "Yes, I know they're living with the cop. It's been taken care of." He hung up again.

What did that mean? Did that mean Stanton thought Morelli was dead at the warehouse? Or did he know Morelli didn't show up and he had something else planned?

I wasn't waiting to find out. I cautiously felt around for the driver's side seat release. When I found it I took a deep breath and waited for him to stop the car. We were back in Trenton, and he was stopping for lights occasionally. I recognized a few buildings. We were near North Clinton! We were two blocks from the cop shop! I waited until he was stopped at Lincoln and North Clinton. I reached under the seat and pulled the seat release, shoving all of my weight into the seat and pushing Stanton into the steering wheel. The horn was blaring. His arms were flailing and he couldn't reach his gun. I reached past him and pressed the down button on the driver's window. I screamed for help as loud as I could. He was trying to shove me back, so I locked my legs against the back seat and held him tight as I could. Two uniforms were running down the street towards us from the station.

I was feeling confident. I was in control. Sure, they were going to catch me covered in my own puke and running around in my underwear, but I was the one who brought in the bad guy. I was psyched. I was only seconds away from making the capture.

Then, I was on fire. Stanton had managed to press the cigarette lighter against my shoulder. I rocketed away from the pain, falling into the back seat. He pushed back and hit the gas, almost running over one of the officers who barely managed to jump out of the way. I was screaming in pain and fury. Stanton had pressed the lighter back in to heat it up again for round two, and this gave me pause.

We were racing up North Clinton past the cop shop when a familiar grill caught my eye. For a split second I had this image in my mind of a mean-spirited kid with big buck teeth grinning maliciously from behind the face mask of a football helmet. Then I recognized the grill. It was the Hummer. And it was coming right at us, fast.

I dove down in a ball behind the passenger seat as Morelli ran head on into Stanton. Stanton hadn't been wearing his seat belt so he bounced his head hard off the windshield, shattering it. Before he had a chance to spit out his broken teeth, Morelli had wrenched open the door and ripped him out of the seat. "Steph!" he yelled.

"I'm okay!" I called back.

The passenger seat was yanked forward and Ranger pulled me out. He gave me a funny look as he made note of the burn still smoking on my arm and my lack of apparel.

"Are you sure you're not hurt, Babe?" he asked, wrapping my jacket more securely around my waist.

I heard a bang and crunch as Morelli was liberally using excessive force to subdue Stanton. Ranger kept my eyes on him, not allowing me to turn around.

"Where are your shoes?" Ranger asked, picking me up like a small child and carrying me back to his truck.

"A dog ate them."

"Babe," he laughed. "You never disappoint."

"At least I didn't total out the Hummer. This time, you can blame Morelli."

"Can't," he said, smiling. "It's a tank. There's not a scratch on it."

I turned and looked. He was right. Just my luck. Everytime I have a car I love, it blows up. Everytime I'm saddled with a car big enough to have it's own gravity, it lasts forever.

"I don't suppose it comes in another color?" I asked hopefully.

"What color did you have in mind?" he asked with a playful almost-smile.

"Pink?" I asked, knowing the look that would get me.

"Babe, you're never going to talk me into putting my name on a pink car. How about blue?"

"I already have a Big Blue."

"Blue's your lucky color." He leaned over and kissed me.

I pulled back from the kiss when I heard Morelli bodyslam Stanton onto the hood of the Eclipse. Immediately, my eyes shot across the street to Morelli. I was afraid he was watching us and was taking out his frustrations on Stanton. But he wasn't looking. He was dragging a cuffed and disheveled Stanton over to the station. It didn't appear he had called for an ambulance. I turned back to Ranger. "Well?"

I got his usual answer. A know-it-all smile.

"You think you can read my mind? Well, you can't."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Then I guess you don't need a Coke and fries."

"You think that's the cure for everything."

"Not for everything." Carlos Manoso, master of the double entendre.

"So?"

"So, what?" Ranger was enjoying toying with me.

"Are we going to McDonald's or what?"

"Sure," he said, smiling again. He pulled a black windbreaker from behind the seat. It had "Security" printed on the back in big yellow letters. "Here, put this on," he said, handing me the jacket. I slipped into it and tried to stop shivering. "You did good, Babe," he said. "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks," I said. "I still rolled in puke."

"I noticed."

"Before or after you put me in the truck?"

"Does it matter?"

"No." He turned into the McDonald's drive through lane. "Besides, it's my turn to clean you up."

"What?"

"Morelli cleaned you up last time."

"Hey!" I was about to go into a rant, but Ranger's face cracked in a smile, and I knew he was having me on. "You're such a jerk."

Ranger's cell phone rang. "It's Morelli," he said, handing the phone to me.

"Morelli! Stanton just took a call from Dish. Stanton wants Sanders to cut him in on all of his deals with Boone or he's threatening to take over and cut Sanders out. And he knows Lucas and Joe are at your house and he's planning something. He said they've been taken care of."

"You heard this?"

"Yeah. We've got to keep Stanton locked up and we can't let him call anyone, especially Dish, or he's going to tip off Sanders and Boone!"

"I don't think that will be a problem since you're willing to press kidnapping charges, right?"

"Uh, right. But, uh, does it matter exactly how I came to be in the car?"

"Were there witnesses?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

Morelli groaned. "One thing at a time, Cupcake. One thing at a time."

I closed the phone. "I need to go back to the station to press charges," I told Ranger.

He handed me a large Coke and an extra large French fries. While I took a long pull on the straw, Ranger studied me, then let his gaze move over my bare legs. "You're poaching," I told him.

"You back with Morelli?" he asked.

"I don't know. It feels like we're back," I said.

"It always feels like that," he said ruefully, pulling out of the drive.

I nibbled on a French fry. "Yeah, but I think maybe something is different this time." I ate a few more French fries, unable to put my finger on the exact nature of the change. "Ranger, do you think I should marry Morelli?"

He wasn't expecting that, and I didn't get the answer I was expecting. "Not right now."

"'Not right now', as in 'no, never', or 'not right now' as in 'yes, but it's not time yet'?"

"Babe," was all the answer I was going to get. This time, Ranger didn't look at me when he smiled.

"You're not helping," I complained as we pulled into the Trenton PD parking lot.

"Yes, I am."

He cut the motor and escorted me into the building through the back.

To be continued...