A/N: So sorry for the delay, but life has been a little crazy lately. I refuse to make promises I can't keep, so I'm not going to promise postings at specific intervals. I will tell you I have a good idea where we are going and will continue to post chapters as often as possible. Also, I WILL promise that I won't leave a story unfinished (I hate that!)

Thank you for your reviews, favorites and follows. I do this because you all make me believe I can. Please let me know what you think. As always, anything or anyone recognizable is not mine.

Chapter 14

I came awake slowly, feeling like I had been on a three day drunk. My head was pounding, my nose was stuffy and my mouth tasted like donkey dung. The events of the prior evening came flooding back and I didn't even need to roll over to know I was alone. There was no warm body pressed up against my back and those strong arms were long gone.

For once, I was glad he had slipped out before I was awake. The thought of having him witness my melt down brought a flush of embarrassment to my face even now. He must think I'm totally pathetic. I wasn't the one who had been undercover for months and forced to do God only knows what to maintain my cover and then who had been held and beaten for days. I was just the loser who was crumbled up in a blubbering mess at the bottom of the tub after one damn day on the job.

I crawled out of bed and made my way to the bathroom to take care of my most urgent needs and to brush my teeth. The image that greeted me in the mirror was truly horrifying. Falling asleep with damp hair is always a bad idea and this morning was no exception. On the plus side, the heat from last night's shower had really brought out the bruising on my face and my lip looked like it had been inflated with a bicycle pump. All of this really distracted the eye away from the funky hair.

I went out to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and say good morning to Rex. While I waited for the coffee to brew, I munched on a strawberry Pop-Tart. I devoured my cardboard like pastry quickly, saving a corner to drop in Rex's bowl. Wriggling out of his soup can, Rex seemed to pause as he spied my hair, but had no comment as he stuffed his treat into his cheek and high-tailed it back to his can. This is why hamsters are better than men.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and checked the expiration date on the milk. It was only a couple days past the date, so I took my chances and added the milk and a heaping spoonful of sugar to my coffee. Taking my steaming mug into the bathroom, I decided a quick shower was the only way I was going to tame my hair.

The water stung where I had scrubbed my skin raw the night before, reminding me of last night's breakdown. Pushing those thoughts away, I stuck my head under the spray. I worked through a large dollop of conditioner and used my fingers to try to untangle my curls before rinsing my hair and turning off the taps. There was only one clean towel on the shelf, reminding me that I had to do laundry soon. I grabbed the towel and used it to dry myself before wrapping my hair up in it.

I opened the bathroom door and shivered as a rush of cool air poured into the warm, steamy bathroom. As I turned toward my bedroom door I heard "Damn." from the kitchen door. I screeched as I turned to see Lester standing in the doorway with a cup of coffee and a shit eating grin on his face.

Yanking the towel off my head, I wrapped the soggy cloth around my body and stormed into my bedroom with as much dignity as I could muster. I knew there was no danger of Lester intruding into my bedroom, but I closed and locked the door behind me all the same. My laundry situation became more critical as I dug through my closet trying to find clothes to wear. I finally found a t-shirt with a small jelly donut stain on the front and a pair of jeans that fit perfectly five pounds ago. I decided this was the laundry gods telling me to lay off the donuts.

Now fully dressed, I opened my door and went to find out why the hell Santos was in my apartment. I found him sitting at my dining room table drinking coffee and reading the newspaper.

I gave him my best 'Burg death glare and said, "What are you doing in my apartment drinking my coffee and seeing me naked? And whose newspaper is that?"

Lester grinned and replied, "I stopped by to check on you and poured myself a cup of coffee while I waited for you to finish your shower. Seeing you naked was just a bonus. And paper was in the hallway in front of your door, sort of. Well, maybe it was more in front of the door across the hall, but it was in front-ish of your door as well."

Here is the thing about Lester, he is incorrigible and an unapologetic flirt. But he was also loyal to a fault and one of my biggest supporters. It was impossible to stay mad at him, even when I tried. "Next time knock." I growled before heading into the kitchen to freshen my cup of coffee. Spotting a white bakery bag on the counter beside the coffee pot, I instantly forgot about the signs from the donut gods, pulled out a Boston crème and decided Lester was forgiven.

I walked back into the dining room with my donut and coffee and flopped into the second of my two dining room chairs. Since most of my meals were consumed either standing in the kitchen or sitting on the couch, my dining room went mostly unused. Lester had folded up the newspaper and was watching me intently as he sipped from his mug of coffee.

"You're freaking me out a little with the staring, Les. What's going on?" I asked between bites.

Les took another sip of his coffee before replying, "I'm wondering if you have buried yourself in deep denial or if you are handling everything better than I had hoped. Your eyes are a bit puffy, but other than that you look fine."

I snorted at his observation and said, "We need to discuss your standards for looking fine. I look like a Technicolor freak show. But I am fine. I had a minor breakdown last night but Ranger came by and that helped."

As I said this, Lester's blank face fell into place. "What do you mean, 'Ranger came by'?" he asked.

I didn't want to admit how badly I had fallen apart the night before, so I gave Les an edited version. "He showed up late and held me until I fell asleep. He was gone before I woke up this morning. We didn't even talk. I was going to go in early to Rangeman today so I could apologize for losing it last night. He must think I'm a complete loser."

"Steph, Ranger is still in the wind. He couldn't have come by here last night. It would have been against mission protocol and it's not like Ranger to disobey a direct order. Are you sure you didn't just dream Ranger was here?" I could see concern replacing Lester's blank face as he asked me this question.

Now I was in a quandary. If I insisted Ranger was here, I might cause trouble for him. I didn't know about missions and protocols and orders, but I did know Ranger showed up when I needed him. Lester was giving me an out with the dream question but then the guys might wonder if I had lost my marbles. Deciding they probably already thought I was a little crazy, I allowed, "It certainly felt real last night. But I guess if Ranger is still in the wind, it must have been a dream."

Lester looked relieved and I knew I had made the right decision. If Ranger was not supposed to be here last night, I would keep his secret. I knew in my heart and mind he was here, and that was all that mattered.

After Lester left, I grabbed my make-up and put a lot of effort into trying to hide the bruises on my face. I was out of clean clothes and I was hoping if I stopped by my parent's house for lunch, my mother would offer the use of her washer. There wasn't much I could do about the split lip, but the swelling seemed to be going down and it already looked better than it had when I woke up.

I gathered up my laundry and loaded it into the back of my latest POS car. I knew Tank had deposited my capture fee from Marcel Chagall into my account, but I hadn't had time to go car shopping yet. My current ride was a seven year old SUV that was easy enough to get a skip in and out of and didn't consume oil at an alarming rate. I knew it was just a matter of time before something happened to it, so I didn't feel the need to rush out to replace it just because I had the means to.

Stopping by the bonds office, I picked up two new files from Connie and caught up on the latest gossip. It seems Joyce Barnyard had been caught having a nooner with the mayor's wife. This wouldn't have been especially juicy gossip except that it came out she was also involved with the mayor and his barely legal son. After a full body shiver and a heartfelt "EWWW," I opened up the first of the two files Connie had handed me.

Bernice Myzak was 78 years old and wanted for assault. Horace Greene had been seated next to Bernice at the VFW during Thursday night bingo. Horace was 84 years old and had just received his order for a male enhancement 'intimacy package' and was anxious to try it out. He had gone to bingo hoping to hook-up with one of the more adventurous ladies in attendance. What Horace failed to take into account was the seriousness with which these women approach a game of bingo. When Horace's more racy suggestions caused Bernice to miss the "B17" that was called and someone else called "Bingo" before she could, she started pummeling Horace with her cane. When her friends were finally able to pull Bernice off Horace, he had a goose egg sized knot on his head and what was later determined to be a hairline fracture in his left arm.

I decided to check with Grandma Mazur to see if she knew Bernice and opened the second file. Frankie Salazar had been in Valerie's class in high school. Frankie was accused of public intoxication and being drunk and disorderly. Generally that isn't a big deal, but while he was drunk Frankie decided to get behind the wheel and drive. Fortunately, no one was injured when Frankie had crashed the vehicle into a lamp post. Unfortunately for Frankie, he had chosen as his ride an unmarked police vehicle. This added grand theft auto and destruction of public property to his list of crimes.

If you can catch a drunk sleeping off the prior night's bender, it makes taking them into custody pretty simple. If they are hung over enough, they won't run, but you run the risk of having them puke in the back seat. The bond agreement showed Frankie lived by himself in a row house just outside the Burg, so I decided to stop by and see if Frankie was home. Hopefully I would be able to pick him up and take him in before heading over to my mother's house to do some laundry and talk to Grandma about Bernice.

I parked a couple of houses down from Frankie's and tucked my gun in my back holster. I slipped my pepper spray into my front pocket and my cuffs were hanging out of my back pocket where I could grab them easily. I studied the house as I walked up the street and climbed the steps to the small stoop in front of the door. There was no movement behind the curtains and I didn't hear anything from inside.

I knocked on the door and waited a moment before knocking again. The third time was more of a pounding than a polite knock, but I was rewarded with a man's voice yelling "Coming" from behind the door. I stood just to the side of the door where I couldn't be seen through the window or the peephole. The door was thrown open and a rather scruffy looking Frankie Salazar glared at me. I plastered a fake smile on my face and said, "My name is Stephanie Plum. I work for Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. You missed your court date and I'm here to take you down to reschedule." As I was talking, I stepped forward and placed my foot in the door to prevent Frankie from slamming it shut.

"I know who you are, bitch, and I'm not going anywhere with you. Those charges were bogus. It wasn't my fault Morelli left his piece of shit cop car sitting there with the keys in the ignition. If he hadn't been so eager to get his tongue down Terry Gilman's throat I never would have taken his car for a spin. If you ask me, that fucker should be the one paying the city back, not me."

With that, Frankie gave me a shove backwards and tried to slam the door shut. Poor Frankie underestimated the strength of one extremely pissed off bounty hunter. Despite the shove, I was able to keep my foot in the door and launched myself into Frankie's midsection. Years of poor eating and booze had taken their toll on Frankie and he folded as my shoulder drove the air from his lungs. While he was still bent over double I stood up and drove my elbow into the back of his neck, knocking him to the ground. While he laid there struggling to breath, I straddled his back and pulled an arm behind his back. I quickly secured the bracelet on the first wrist before pulling the second arm back and securing the other wrist.

Frankie was still gasping for air as I pulled him to his feet and marched him out to my car. He continued to curse and call me every name in the book as I drove the short distance to the police station. I considered using my stun gun on him just to shut him up, but I didn't want him peeing in my car if he lost control of his bladder when he was shocked.

Carl Costanza and Big Dog were coming out as I pulled up to the receiving door. "What 'cha got, Steph?" Carl asked.

"Frankie Salazar." At the mention of Frankie's name, both Carl and Big Dog suddenly looked very uncomfortable. Great, apparently I was the only one who hadn't heard about Morelli's undercover work with Terry. Both hurried away without another word. With a sound of disgust, I wretched open the back door and grabbed Frankie's arm to haul him out of the car. I walked him up to the desk sergeant, cuffed him to the intake bench and collected my body receipt. As I was walking toward the door I heard my cousin-in-law Eddie call my name. I considered ignoring him in case he was looking for a babysitter, but I decided that was too mean. I turned and waited for him to catch up.

"Hey, Steph. How are things?" he asked.

"Going okay, Eddie. What's up?" Eddie was a good friend as well as being related by marriage, but it wasn't like him to just stop and chat.

"There's some talk on the street and I was wondering if you might know something about it." he replied. I'm sure I looked confused as Eddie continued. "Word on the street is Joe can't be trusted. I've heard that from two different informants this morning and others are hearing the same thing. Something to do with Manoso. Ranger has way more street cred than Joe, and if there is going to be a loyalty war between the two, Ranger will win hands down. Makes it hard for a man like Joe to do his job if he doesn't have snitches."

It would have been difficult for Ranger to get the dirt on Joe out on the street so quickly, especially when he had been with me most of the night. Plus, that didn't feel like something Ranger would do. He would handle things more discreetly. However, many of the Merry Men had contacts on the streets and it sounded like they had been busy last night. I decided to give Eddie the condensed version.

"Joe and Ranger were both working undercover but from different sides of the job. Joe gave up Ranger to try to protect himself. It didn't work and the whole operation went to hell. I can't tell you much more than that, but I can tell you I think Joe would be willing to throw anyone to the wolves to save his own ass."

"Damn, Steph, that's cold. Cops are supposed to look after their own. I know Ranger isn't a cop, but he fights on the same side we do. Joe never should have done that." Eddie said, shaking his head in disgust.

I agreed. Asking Eddie to pass along my regards to his wife, Shirley the whiner, I left out the door I had come in. I didn't think Joe was at the station, but I didn't want to run the risk of bumping into him if he was. I made it out to my SUV without incident and headed for my parent's house.