Disclaimer: Anything recognizable belongs to Janet Evanovich, and the rest is mine. I'm grateful she lets us play.

Warning: Dark fic. Adult language, adult content, violence, smut. This is written for mature audiences only.


Chapter 28

Tank's POV

I shift back into the shadows as I watch the Rangman and TPD vehicles fly past my vantage point. Those fuckers have a lot of nerve raiding MY home. I just need to get across the street to the garage on an opposite parcel of property that I own under an alias to keep another car. That car is a Jeep Grand Cherokee that no one knows I own. To develop my cover, I've been running counterintelligence by expressing my disdain for Jeeps for years. I'm lucky Morelli tipped me off. I can't believe none of my men at Rangeman were the ones to warn me, and I'm especially glad I escaped them. It would be a kicker to taken in by Ranger, Santos or any of those backstabbing fuckers. Bastards.

I see a break in the headlights and know I have about forty seconds to get across the street. I sprint, quickly falling into the shadows seconds before another car comes racing down the road. Deftly maneuvering my way to the back of the garage, I open the door silently to allow my car to exit. My headlights are off as I ease my way into the alley, which I follow for two blocks before easing my way onto the main road near the exit of a parking lot popular with bar patrons. I quickly join in with the light closing time bar traffic, in a car that blends in with the college type and young yuppies who think they are cool. Shit, that was close.

Driving carefully so as to not draw any attention to myself, I debate what my next move should be. Bitterly, I push aside my original plan of staying in town to get Stephanie. That will have to wait. In the meantime, I'm going to go to Lula's apartment. She owes me. After all, I did get rid of my cats for her. The least she could do is provide me with a bed to get a few hours shut-eye before we head off to Louisiana. I'll come back to Trenton when the heat dies down to exact my revenge of Ranger, or maybe I'll just lure him and his piece of ass to Miami. This is better anyway. I need time to lay an effective trap for Ranger.

I move along the outside of Lula's house and pause to scan the neighborhood for surveillance before creeping forward. It pays to be extra cautious. If I hadn't gotten that tip, I would have been busted for sure. It's hard to know who to trust right now, but Lula is my girl. I think we've got something special between us, and damn it, she fucking owes me. I've given her thousands in gifts, food, drink, and the invaluable prestige of being associated with me, especially for a woman of her past. The only thing I've asked in return is a blow job and backdoor fuck, which I should get for free as her boyfriend anyway.

One of my advantages is that people assume a man as big as me must make a hell of a lot of noise lumbering around. Not me. I'm all muscle and skill, which I demonstrate by noiselessly pulling myself onto the fire escape, under Lula's window. As I'm about to push the glass open, I freeze when I hear the unmistakable sounds of Lula getting fucked. Wait, Tank, you're probably overreacting. She's never had a man bigger than me. She told me I am her best lover. She's probably just using her vibrator, her Harry Horsecock or whatever it's called. I peek into the window, nearly falling off the ladder as I see none other than Vinnie and Joyce Barnyard with her. Fuck! There's not enough bleach in the world to get that image out of my head. I quickly stumble back to the ground, furious as that whore's betrayal. Puta!

I should have known better than to trust a whore. I saw my sad excuse of a mother whore herself out a couple of times, for a hit. As a matter of fact, the hit that did her in was from one of her Johns. She never knew that I saw. It's one of the reasons why I never employed the service of a whore, no matter how much I needed to fuck. As much as it was annoying, being Carlos' wingman always meant that I'd get some pussy when we went out, though the pretty boy would always get the primo pussy. Him with his Cuban accent, perfect teeth, and good looks. No woman ever looked at me until Lula. But now I know that she's a gold-digging whore like Stephanie.

"Bitch," I spit before turning and disappearing into the shadows. This is all Stephanie's fault. She took my best friend, my job, and now my girlfriend. If fucking Farro had done the job I hired him to do, I wouldn't be in this mess right now. Just shows there are some things you have to do yourself, and that's the one loose end I'll make sure to tie up before disappearing for good.

But now, where do I go? Of course, any Rangeman associated safehouses are out, as I'm sure Ranger already has them on lockdown. My cabin in Nova Scotia is too far. Suddenly, it hits me. I'm sure Ranger has Roger and Jones in custody, and even if he doesn't, I'll have no problems getting those two to hide me. I know they shared an apartment in a building outside of Trenton. However, just to be sure, before breaking in, I'll stake it out. The police will investigate the place, but they'll be gone quickly. I drive to the location, looking for a hiding spot as the sun is starting to rise. Getting close, I see that TPD is wrapping up their investigation and already carrying the electronics out of the building. In about twenty minutes, they should be done. I eye a large commuter parking lot about a half a block away from where I know I can hide in plain sight. Parking, I sit in my car, pretending to look at the paper while I wait for my train. Instead, I monitor when it's safe to walk to their apartment.

I spy a small convenience store that sees steady traffic. My trunk is well stocked for any manner of emergency, deception, action. I grab my briefcase and put on a parka. On second thought, I also grab my duffle for good measure. It's still early, and I want to blend with the men who probably heading to the gym near their office before work. If I'm as forgettable as possible, no one will realize I'm not taking the train. I blend in with the crowd and make of point of checking the train schedule before moving away towards their apartment. The coast is clear, and I slowly walk up the stairs. I quickly pick my way into the apartment, preserving the crime scene tape. Yeah, this will do until I can grab Steph and get out of here. I can't wait to make that cat screech under me as I fuck her from behind. Then I'll find out why Ranger lets her lead him by his cock.

I quickly shower, changing into civilian clothes where I can better blend in. Who the fuck am I kidding? I'm a six-and-a-half-foot tall bald black man who weighs almost three hundred pounds of pure muscle. I don't blend in. There's a reason I'm called Tank. I sit on one of the beds, determined to get some a few hours down before I begin my course of action. I pull out my eye mask, set my alarm for two hours, and fall into a much-deserved slumber.

One Week Later, Monday

Stephanie's POV

"No, Bomber!" Lester exclaims, slamming his hand down on the conference room table. I flinch despite myself, and I can feel the warning look Ranger shoots him.

"Estefania, don't do this," Hector says tensely.

"It's been six days. Six!" I retort. "Six days of around the clock patrols and amped-up security for not just my family but all high-value Rangeman assets. This pace is unsustainable, and everyone here knows it. Rangeman will go bankrupt from the mere threat of Tank if this continues."

A heavy silence weighs between the Core Team seated around the table.

"I don't have some crazy death wish. This is the only way to end this now before someone else gets hurt," I say calmly, appealing to reason.

"But it makes you a target and increases the likelihood that you'll be hurt. Your health has improved a lot, but you still aren't full strength," Bobby responds just as levelly.

"That's true, but I feel better than I have in at least a year. Good food, sleep, and breathing fresh air really does a lot for a girl," I say with a slight smile, but Ranger's lips form a somehow tighter line.

I study the inscrutable faces of the four men seated around me before sighing, squaring my shoulders, and sitting up a little straighter.

"The longer Tank is out there, the harder it will be to bring him down. This needs to end," I say firmly, sliding my blank face into place even though there is a small flip in my stomach.

Tuesday

After the shooting in my apartment on four, the guys brought all my property up to seven, and Ranger, true to his word, let me transform his office/guest room into my haven. Though I still seem to end up in his bed at some point every night, having my own space has given me the mental space I need to mull things over. And I've made a few decisions this week, beginning with the decision to end this standoff with Tank today.

I know Ranger would bleed himself penniless, destroy his business, and even sacrifice himself if it means saving me from Tank. That's also true for Hector, Lester, and Bobby. Those four have depleted themselves this week in an attempt to lure the bastard out. But we all know it isn't going to work because Tank doesn't want them.

He wants me.

I finish my last letter, seal the envelope, and place the stack on Ranger's desk before pulling my leather jacket over my shoulders. These letters are a turning point for me. I haven't cared if I lived or died, damn the consequences, but now I have a fresh, tender appreciation of my life. It's bittersweet that at the moment I want a future, I'm saying goodbye. Tank will stop at nothing to kill me, and there is a very good chance I don't come home today. I take a deep breath and quickly let the air out again, determined to do the right thing, especially if it means I can save Ranger.

I glance at myself in the mirror, transformation complete, and give a slight nod at the fierce woman I see reflected. I take the elevator down to the garage, step into my CR-V, and drive out of the Rangeman, headed towards Pino's.

I saunter in alone and take a seat near the exit in a full line of sight of everyone. I narrow my eyes and cross my arms over my chest when Ranger walks in. "Stephanie," he says in a commanding voice. "Come back to Rangeman."

I lean back in my chair, shooting Ranger my frostiest look.

"Hey there, Steph," Linda says, coming over to take my order. "What'll…" she trails off, glancing between Ranger and me. "I'll come back and check on you in a minute," Linda mutters before scurrying away.

"No," I say with determined finality. "I will not be told what to do by anyone, and that includes where I sleep, what I drive, how I dress, and what job I choose to keep. I am my own person. Leave. Me. Be."

At my statement, a near hush descends. I know, without a doubt, that this conversation is being recorded. Great.

"Don't expect my goodwill to last forever. You're playing with fire, Babe." Ranger says, leaning slightly into my personal space. It takes all my self-control not to waver under his penetrating gaze. Then, Ranger straightens up, seems to realize just how much attention our encounter has gained, and turns on his heel, leaving me behind. I wait until the Turbo 911 turns at the end of the block before throwing a couple of bucks on the table for my soda and drive in the opposite direction.

My next stop is the Bonds Office.

"Hiya, Steph," Connie says. "I wondered when you'd be back. Vinnie was just talking about giving Joyce a call. Thank God you're saving us from that fate!" she enthuses, rolling her eyes while pointing at my stack of files with a red lacquered finger.

I finger towards Rangeman's stack first, pulling out a couple and adding it to my pile.

"What do ya got there?" Lula croons, waddling up beside me in a neon green go-go mini skirt and matching boots. "Need a ride? We ain't been out together in so long. I miss you, Stephy. What do you say? I'm packing. Let's go get us some skips."

I take a step back and give Lula the slow once over, my lips curling down in disgust. "No," I state before turning and walking away.

"Harumph," I hear as the door closes with a ringing of the bell that hangs off the top hinge.

Then I drive. Slowly, patrolling, sticking to the main roads, occasionally stopping at the 711, the Tasty Pastry, and Cluck in a Bucket, until I'm confident I've been seen.

I pull into the garage at my old apartment, lock up my car, and secure the door to my basement residence.

God, it really does smell in here. I cough before standing up straighter and aim my weapon at the door.

"Hello, Tank," I say sardonically when the door opens and a thin stream of light filters around the hulking shape. "Looking for me?"

Lula's POV

"Can you believe that bitch?!" I spit out before flopping back onto the couch. "That 'ho had forgotten herself and when she came from. I'd say she's putting the mister before the sister, but rumor has it not even Ranger wants to handle her skinny ass. They already had a falling out at Pino's. Ain't no one want to put up with that bitch. I'm the last friend she got, and she just wants to forget all that history we have together. Some nerve."

Connie looks at me, raises an eyebrow, looks at the stack of filing, and looks back at me expectantly.

"You have got to be kidding me! I can't work at a time like this! This here is an unlawful working condition. There's too much stress and harassment. We supposed to be a team, and now everyone's storming around, shooting, and killing. I don't know how you can even think about filing after being exposed to the negative energy that is Rambette." I say woefully.

"You never do the filing anyway," Vinnie shouts out from his office. "Why should this be any different?"

"Go fuck a duck!" I shout back. "In fact, you can go fuck a whole feathered flock…" I trail off as a TPD cop car pull up in front of the office, lights on but sirens off. "What the hell?"

"Eddie," Connie says, standing and moving in front of Vinnie's open door. "How can we help you?"

"Connie," Eddie says, nodding his head in acknowledgment as the two TPD officers enter Vinnie's office. I watch, stunned, as the little weasel attempts to run out the backdoor only to shake like he's fucked a live lightbulb socket before pissing himself and collapsing to the floor. I should have had my phone out. Shit like that is YouTube gold. Eddie snorts as he leans over to remove the taser leads from the back of Vinnie's neck.

A drop of sweat trails down my forehead. Fucking cops. I hate the police, and I can feel my heart rate picking up. Big Dog is laughing as Vinnie is hauled to his feet, cuffs in place, drooling, and I take that opportunity to slide out the door and hop into the Firebird. I might be a big, beautiful woman dressed to impress, but I know how to be stealthy when required.

Whew, all this stress is making me hungry. Ya know, I think it's time for a change of scenery. Between losing Tank, damn, I'm going to miss that man and his money, and Steph, damn, I'm going to miss the money I made with her or off of her, I think it's time I pulled my cash out of my mattress and head down to Florida. I've got a half-sister I can shack up for a few days while I find a new gig.

I push on the accelerator, swerving around grandma peering over the steering people. Some people just don't know when to turn in their driver's license. I'm catching the tail end of a yellow when I see sirens behind me. I snort. It seems they agree that grandma is a road hazard. Good. It's about time the cops did something useful.

I reach over to pull a chicken leg out of a bucket I left on my passenger seat this morning and look up again. Fuck, those sirens are getting closer. I can feel my hands begin to shake. I really do need to get out of Jersey. This shit is stressing me out.

I pull my eyes from the rearview to the road just in time see a truck pull off the side of the road in front of me. Bastards! I slam on the brakes and attempt to turn the wheel, only my fingers are too slippery from the chicken and sweat, and it slips between my fingers. The tires squeal as I slam into the back of the NJDOT road crew truck in front of me, and I slide to a halt with a sickening crash followed by a thud.

My airbag explodes, and I scream, while my chicken bone goes flying into the air with my electric green bobbed wig as a bloated carcass crashes through the windshield beside me. I reach for the knife I keep in the center dash, switch it open, and slash the airbag. My eyes widen in horror at the carnage surrounding me. It's like a fucking Disney picture horror show. Oh, my God! It's fucking Bambi in my passenger seat! I will never get that stench out of the leather. Is that raccoon on the windshield? What the fuck is going on here?!

"Out of the vehicle!" I hear someone shouting outside my door, and I look out the window to see four officers with their guns pointed at me. "Drop your weapon! Hands up!"

Why the fuck are the police arresting me? This roadkill truck hit me by cutting people off with its irresponsible driving. My car, my baby, she's ruined! This is discrimination. I could have been killed by that truck, and I'm the one getting arrested?! They can't do this. Un-fucking believable.

Tank's POV

Ranger thinks he's got me by the balls, taking away Rangeman and freezing my cash, but he's always been a dumb motherfucker. My ability to make sure number one is always taken care of is why I was born to lead. Stick with me, and you'll be okay.

I finish my e-mail to an overseas colleague, smiling as a text comes in. Perfect. Tomorrow I'll be on my way to slip over the border into Mexico, only to meet up with contacts I have in the cartel. I always have a backup plan, cash squirreled away, IDs, and a way out. Me - I'll be just fine. But I'll be even better if I take care of Stephanie Plum first.

I knew Ranger would get tired of her shit. He came home all dewy-eyed for the wounded little girl but I just knew that it wouldn't last long. No one can put up with a bitch like that for long. There's no way she is that good of a fuck, especially after getting around town like she has.

I get another text letting me know of a Little Girl sighting, and I hop into my Jeep and cruise over to the 711, parking in the back to begin surveillance. Habits are the killer tell of most people, and I'm betting big that Stephanie makes a pit stop. It takes an hour, but my patience is soon rewarded with a stealthily placed tracker before I slip off into the shadows again.

I pull into a parking garage and wait. Part of me just wants to execute her and get out of town once and for all. There is a danger to me sticking around. But the greater part of me wants to make that curly-haired demon suffer the way she's caused me suffering.

Throughout the special forces, I've developed a well-earned description of being creative in the ways I make my captors talk. The very best techniques, such as waterboarding, sleep deprivation, and electroshock, take time to be effective. I found that combining tactics, alternating between terrifying and soothing, accelerates the mental breakdown by keeping my subject off balance. That said, given enough time, I prefer never shedding a drop of blood. Getting into someone's mind and making it mine, now that's my specialty. You'd be amazed at what silence can do to a person. Locked away, small room, nothing. Given enough time, everyone cracks. Or small nuisances. A drop of water, dripping slowly but continuously on someone's forehead leads to a frantic hostage convinced a hollow is forming on their head. I've gotten several good laughs from that one.

Unfortunately, I won't have time for that.

No, the best I will be able to do is make the body a statement. But I wouldn't be opposed to a good fuck first. I mean, everyone else has. I'd like to know if Steph's worth all this bullshit before I kill her.

The tracker movement indicates that Little Girl is moving out of the Burg, and I fire up the engine to slowly make my way towards her. I bet the dumb bitch leads me to where she's been hiding all this time.

I park in a side alley before coming to the property edge. What a hovel. I'll probably catch a disease just by stepping inside. Little Girl must not be as good a bounty hunter as I heard this year. Either that or she owes people money. She should have been giving it to Rangeman anyway, for all the entertainment she's been. Time for me to get my own amusement.

The locks are better than I expect, but frankly, nothing I can't get around.

"Hello, Tank," I hear through the darkness. "Looking for me?"

I pause, letting my eyes acclimate and stifle a cough at the stench emanating from the small space. It's even worse on the inside than the outside. At least it's too small for an ambush.

"I see you, Little Girl," I say, raising my weapon in return. "I might be the only one who does."

Stephanie doesn't waiver, and I take a step forward, effectively placing myself in her kitchen, less than five feet from her.

"It didn't take Ranger long to kick your well-ridden ass to the curb, did it?" I say, shaking my head slightly in mock disappointment. "You are exactly the waste of resources I always knew you were. You were in Rangeman what, four days, before killing one of his men. You've become quite the bloodthirsty little cunt, haven't you?"

I see Bomber's hands begin to shake a little. Bingo. I was always good at pushing on a person's weak spots. She's such a hot mess, it's almost disappointing how quickly I'll be able to break the bitch. Almost. I take another step forward.

"You know I'm going to kill you. I know you do. And you know it's your fault. I gave you one thing to do. Leave. That's it. Leave us all the fuck alone and find someone else's life to destroy. But no. You just had to taste that coveted Manoso dick one more time. Shame. But you know what, for all the entertainment you've given me, I'll let you suck my dick. And just when you realize just how good you could have had it, I'll put this pitiful, miserable, worthless life you have to an end," I say, taking another step forward so that I'm less than two feet away. "On your knees, bitch."

And then Little Girl begins to laugh, a deep, throaty, belly laugh that fails to meet her eyes and makes me feel completely off balance.

"No," she says suddenly, all traces of mirth wiped away from her intensely serious expression. "I see you, Tank, for exactly the parasite you are. Even a month ago, I would have believed you. You're good. But you see, I'm wiser now, and I know just how wrong you are."

A rage explodes from my core. No one says no to me! I'm going to teach this bitch a lesson, and I swing my arm back to knock her across the face with my 9mm. But instead of coming forward, I'm trapped! I give a growl of rage as I turn my head and find myself face to face with Ranger.

"Good, I can take both of you down today!" I bellow, shifting to sweep my leg behind Ranger's ankle to knock him off balance. But before I can, someone grabs my other arm and twists it behind my back. What the hell is going on? This space is too small for there to be so many people. Instead, I see Lester, his face dark with fury.

"Suck this, Tank," Little Girl says, her voice thick with malice, and as I meet her stormy blue eyes, my own vision explodes with stars as her knee connects with my balls. In my periphery, I see Bomber slide out to the side before I spit up bile as I'm slammed against the wall and cuffed.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you," I hear to my left as I close my eyes against the blinding sun of the day as I am dragged to the cop car parked in the driveway before the door. Goddamn Stephanie Plum.

Monday, Before Steph's Meeting with the Core Team & One Day Before Vinnie's Arrest

Ranger's POV

"Harry," I say, rising as Harry the Hammer and his two colleagues enter my conference room. "Thank you for coming to Rangeman. I appreciate the inconvenience this is to you, but security is of the utmost importance to me right now."

"These are trying times. I hear one of your men went rouge, Tank. I abhor disloyalty. You're a good man. How can I help you, Ranger?" Harry said, dispensing with the formalities and getting down to business. Harry is seated at the table in front of me, one man sitting on the right and the other standing to guard his rear.

I sit as well, with Stephanie to my right and Lester at the door.

"I have a business proposition for you. I want to purchase the Bond's Office. Clear title and control. I think you'll find my price is generous," I state, sliding a contract across the table. "I've discovered some things about the operation Vinnie is running I find, frankly, unacceptable."

Harry gives me a long look. "Look, we both know Vinnie is a pervert, but that's never been a problem before," Harry says, giving a slight shrug.

"This is about Vinnie selling out his family for cash," I state harshly.

Harry's face hardens. "Do you have proof of this?" he asks sharply.

Steph slides a second folder with a copy of the ledger and transcripts of the audio Connie recorded to Harry. As Harry begins reading, his shoulders sag as though a great weight has settled on them.

"Rangeman wants to diversify its portfolio and go directly into the bonds business. Stephanie is now a member of the Rangeman Core Team and will be leading the bonds and FTA capture branch. You helped give me my start in Trenton, and I don't forget a favor. I'm offering to buy the existing office outright at a profit to you, but I will only make this offer once," I state firmly.

Harry lets out a long sigh. "I've grown tired of my son-in-law, and I'm ready to wash my hands of him. Do you want me to take care of him, Stephanie? I would do it for you."

Steph gives her head a small shake. "No. No more bloodshed. I've filed a complaint through my attorney with TPD, and I'm ready to let the system take care of him."

"The office will be in good hands," Harry says, taking a pen out of his jacket. "You let me know if you need anything, Stephanie. I am in your debt."

Harry passes the contract back to me, and I sign before giving it to Pete to review.

"This is in order," Pete announces a minute later before handing Harry a check.

Harry turns at the door and looks at Stephanie. "I think you're going to need a new office manager," he says with a wink.

Tuesday, Evening of Vinnie's, Lula's and Tank's Arrest

Morelli's POV

For the last week, I've been pulling over those thugs in black with a vengeance. I managed to sweet-talk Amelia in the permit office to "lose" Rangeman's permits for concealed carrying. Therefore, I was able to ticket about ten different thugs. Suddenly, more and more people are starting to see Rangeman for what it is, a group of mercenaries who will do nothing but destroy our fair town. I'm only hoping to get an opportunity to ticket Manoso, but he's been harder to find than a needle in a haystack.

Manoso has, for all intents and purposes, disappeared off the face of the Earth. I know he's still in Trenton. He visited with Chief Feldman last week. I also know he spoke to Vinnie about something or other. Yet, on all of his trips out of Haywood, he's been hiding out in one of the fleet vehicles.

I know that some of my fellow brothers in blue, most notably Gazarra and Constanza, are telling me to leave Rangeman alone. That if I continue to target them, I'll lose my badge. What the fuck do they know? They will both be stuck in uniform for the rest of the measly careers. I mean, they both joined TPD before I did, and they are still in uniform. I don't know how Gazarra can afford to feed his family on a uniform's salary.

I am also trying to get Stephanie back. Not that I really want her, but I don't want Manoso to have her. It would actually be better if I can break her. With everything that Tank has done, it shouldn't take me long to succeed. Tank and I have been working together to ensure that the skips which were most likely to go along with our plan would use Vinnie as their bail bondsman. Between my nudging them to Vinnie, Tank's deal with the weasel, and Lula's double-crossing, Stephanie didn't stand a chance. The only problem was that none of us expected her to go Rambo on us.

Stephanie used to be a good-looking woman. I mean, she was never drop-dead gorgeous or a head-turner, but she did have a sexy air to her. Steph has wonderfully long legs and a nice tight ass that I have spent the last three years trying to tap. She gives the perfect image of a Burg housewife if only she would toe the line. I know that if I were ever to manage to marry Cupcake, all I would need to do is knock her up to tie her to me forever. I have the necessary medication to make sure she gets knocked up; the only thing missing is Stephanie.

I need Stephanie to be my wife to give me the legitimacy I need to advance my career. I've been fucking Terry steadily for the last ten years, and although she is the woman who holds my heart, I can't marry her. The bitch just has to be a mob princess. I've also dabbled with Joyce, a couple of nurses in St. Francis, and any number of other random women. When I go undercover, I use my time to tap as many different asses as I can manage. Cupcake prefers to live in Denial Land, making it easier for me to continue fucking my many mistresses, and I expect that will continue to be the case after we are married. Perfection.

Tank knew that Manoso had one more mission left. He knew that Manoso was planning on giving up his government contract. He managed to manipulate the system that Manoso's last op would be a long, convoluted deal that would keep him away for at least eight months. Once out of the picture, we would be able to begin the destruction of Stephanie Plum.

Our plan started off great. Manoso stopped to see Stephanie before leaving, feeding her some bullshit lines, forcing her back into my bed. So predictable. But Cupcake being the disaster that she is, managed to fuck it up. Farro was a genius inspiration on Tank's part. Now, I've known Stephanie for over thirty years, but even I never could have imagined the way she changed. We started off with a woman who was so sexually repressed that transformed into a slut overnight. Stephanie used to prefer having sex with the lights off, missionary only. Now, she is allowing men to fuck her in bathrooms, in dark corners of seedy bars, and anywhere else she can get her kicks. I've often hovered around, hoping she would get drunk enough one night to allow me to take her ass for the first time, but she suddenly developed a tolerance for alcohol.

Then a couple of days ago, everything started to collapse, and I'm not sure how much time I have left before my brothers are on my porch, looking to lock me up with everyone else. Vinnie was arrested yesterday. He called Harry, hoping that he would bail him out in more ways than one. Nobody was more surprised than me when Harry washed his hands of Vinnie. Apparently, Harry draws his moral line at purposely causing your cousin to get hurt, and in turn, profiting off said cousin. Then, Lulu was arrested. How she managed to make bond, I don't know, but I pity whoever has to go after that fat fuck if she goes FTA. It's only a matter of time before Tank gets taken in. I'm walking on fucking eggshells, wondering if any of them are going to implicate me. I worked too damn hard to lose everything for a mercenary, a pervert, and a 'ho.

I know that screwing with the gun permits was wrong, but I really don't think they can pin anything on me. Also, there is nothing wrong with recommending a bail bondman to perps. I don't really see how any charges can stick, but if they have shit on Tank, I'm in trouble. I keep thinking that now may be a good time to transfer to Boston. I have an offer on the table. Maybe I'll take that offer.

I'm driving home after my shift, continually checking my mirrors for tails. So far, I don't see anything. When I arrive on my block, I drive around twice, making sure no one is hiding in plain sight. Once I determine that I am alone, I park my SUV in the driveway. I head to the door and open it. Bob comes running over to me, happy to see me, and I let him out the backdoor. As he's relieving himself, I fill his bowl with kibble and give him fresh water. I let Bob back in, where he attacks his food. I check my fridge, finding that my mother dropped off a tray of lasagna. I take it out of the fridge and place a huge slice on a plate, before heating it up in the microwave. Once ready, I carry my plate to the table to eat along with a cold tall one.

I just finish my meal when there is a knock on my door. I grab my revolver from behind my back, carefully stalking to the front door. I look out the peephole, recognizing Vito Grizioli. I immediately open the door after stowing my weapon.

"Uncle Vito, what a pleasant surprise. Why don't you come in?"

I lead Vito to the kitchen, where I offer him a glass of wine. He accepts. I grab a second beer for myself, joining him at the table. Bob seems to know that power that Vito wields and makes himself disappear.

"Joseph, I've known you for a long time. I always respected you and thought you were a good cop, a man with a solid line in the sand between right and wrong. I've watched these last few years as you played with the hearts of two women, only to leave them both broken and wanting more. However, your playboy ways have finally come back to bite you in the ass," he says solemnly, and I feel my dinner settle like a rock in my stomach.

"I don't understand, Uncle Vito," I respond, trying to sound as innocent as I can.

"Of course, you don't. You see yourself as being above the law, untouchable, but you're not. You are every bit a mortal man. You cannot hide from your mistakes. You will pay for your indiscretions," Vito says coolly, taking a sip of wine and setting his pistol on the table.

I swallow thickly. "My indiscretions?"

"Yes, Joseph. My niece Theresa came to me this afternoon, crying. She went to her doctor after feeling under the weather for the last few weeks. After explaining her symptoms to the doctor, it was confirmed that she is pregnant. When I asked her who shared her bed, her only response was you, Joseph. Now, you will do what is right by my Theresa. You will marry her tomorrow. I already arranged for a private plane to take you and Theresa to Las Vegas. I will be accompanying you. You will stand before a Justice of the Peace and marry the mother of your child. Then, you will both spend two months in Sicily, under my watchful eye on your honeymoon. When you return to Trenton, you will work for me," he declares, his tone clearly implying my way or the highway.

Shit, I almost feel that it will be better to be in jail than married to the mob. There goes transferring to Boston. And what about my mother and grandmother?

"I've already spoken to your mother and grandmother. They are on their way to the airport right now, ready to watch you marry Theresa. While they both would have preferred, as would I have, that you and Theresa married before having a baby, we are glad that you have a child. Neither of you is getting any younger, you know. We are also thrilled that the foolishness between you and that Plum woman is over. She was no good for you, Joseph. Now, go upstairs and pack a bag. You have five minutes." Vito takes another sip of wine and rests his hand next to his pistol, giving me a level look.

I know that this is not what I want, and I also know that right now, there is no getting around marrying Terry. My life is over. My career is over. It's only a matter of time before I'm behind bars, and everyone knows that cops don't fare well in prison. I quickly ascend the stairs, entering my bedroom. I open the closet, pulling out my duffle. I begin to throw clothes haphazardly into my bag when my revolver falls out of my pants. I glance towards the door, which is thankfully closed. I pick up my service weapon, take a deep breath, weighing my options silently in my head.

If I go to Vegas and marry Terry, I'm as good as dead. My life, as I know it, is over, forever. My dreams will never be attainable. If I attempt to run, I'm dead, because Uncle Vito and his goons will kill me or drag me to Vegas to make an honest woman out of Terry, and even then, I'll be living at gunpoint. So, whose gun do I want to die at the end of? Someone else's or my own? I refuse to live at the gunpoint of another man. My only real option is my gun. I say a silent prayer, asking for God and my mother for forgiveness, before raising the revolver to my temple. I press my finger against the trigger, and pull, cursing Stephanie Plum for not marrying me.


A/N: You are such wonderful, loyal, supportive, incredible readers. You guys went and made me cry. After my months-long hiatus as real life was overwhelming all of my time, you patiently waited and in return gave me my highest single day readership ever. Your comments mean so much to me and make this such a fulfilling hobby. Thank you so much.

This chapter was co-written with misty23y, especially Tank and Morelli's POVs. Thank you, Babe, for lending your talent (and excellent evil machinations) to this story. Writing action scenes is outside of my comfort zone, and this chapter went through several layers of revisions. I would really appreciate your feedback to help me continue to develop my writing skills. Also, I KNOW this wouldn't be as detailed as it is without your previous comments, which definitely got my gears turning. The ending of this story is as much yours as mine. One more chapter and the epilogue to go!