As promised, Ranger was at my office at 7:55 AM. I asked him what I needed to take with me, and he said nothing. I was surprised by his answer, but I wasn't about to argue. I slid my keys and phone in my blazer pocket and followed him.
I was surprised when we walked into the gym. I had assumed we'd be in a conference room, but there were men standing along the walls and sitting on weight benches when we arrived. They were all dressed in Rangeman fatigues, making Ranger and I stick out from the crowd in our outfits. Ranger protectively put a hand at the small of my back and walked me to an empty weight bench, where I sat.
My eyes darted around the room at the many familiar faces, some whose names I knew and others I didn't. Hal, Ram, Carl, Hector, Cal…Many of these men had protected my body on various occasions, and for that, I was grateful.
Tank and Ximena were next through the door. They crossed to me, and Ximena sat on the bench next to me.
"Bueños días, Chica," Ximena said, giving me a goofy, playful peck on my uninjured cheek. "¡Muy caliente! Va va voom!" she said, gesturing at my clothing and wiggling her eyebrows like Lester usually did.
"You doin' okay, Bomber?" Tank asked in a low voice.
"I'm good, Tank. Thank you."
He gave a single nod of knowing approval and crossed to Ranger, where they began a low conversation. Ranger wore his blank face, and Tank didn't look pleased.
"Nice hickey," Ximena said, studying my neck.
"What?" I half-shrieked in response.
She let out a belly laugh that exuded good humor. "Please tell me that is from Carlos. I'm never gonna let him hear the end of it," she joked.
I was horrified, not having realized that Ranger had left 'his mark.' I separated my curls with my fingers, pulling them down around my neck to try to hide the mark.
Ximena let out a low whistle and elbowed me in the side. "Is that Joe?" she asked, gesturing to the gym door.
I looked to see Joe walking into the gym, looking a bit uncertain. He looked exhausted with stress lines between his eyebrows and dark circles under his eyes. I almost felt bad for him. Almost.
"Yep. That's him."
"Damn, girl. How do you attract such fine-looking men?" she asked.
"It's not intentional," I assured her, and she laughed.
Joe glanced over from across the room, his eyes meeting mine. I gave him a serious nod of acknowledgment, but he didn't move. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it without speaking. He raised his hand in an awkward half-wave, then went to stand with his back against the wall.
I noticed Ranger and Tank's gaze had landed on Morelli. They had a few more verbal exchanges, then Tank looked at his watch. He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, then walked to the center of the room.
"Morning," Tank said in his booming voice.
The men, who had been mingling, quieted.
"Welcome to the June staff meeting. We'll start with announcements. What've ya got?" Tank asked the men.
Hector, an expert with locks, technology, and security systems I'd worked previously, stood. He was Latino and shorter than me. His arms, neck, and face were covered gang tattoos.
"I know time in the control room can get boring, but the pornography sites a few of you idiots have been visiting are full of spamware and viruses. I'm sick and fuckin' tired of cleaning up your messes. If you don't cut the shit, I'll put a list of names on Manoso's desk. Don't think I won't."
With that, he sat.
Ximena stood next. "Rangeman Newark is on target for a fall opening. I don't want to poach anybody away from Trenton, but I will need experienced men to train the new hires and I need to fill leadership roles. Let me know if you're interested, and we'll talk."
No one else spoke, so Tank spoke again. "If there's nothing else, we'll move on to the leadership team report."
Ranger walked to the center of the room.
"We have two new full-time hires this month. The first is Stephanie Plum," he announced, gesturing toward me. "She's working as executive assistant to Ximena Santos, and she continues to work as a bounty hunter on Rangeman's behalf. Most of you know her for her prior contract work with Rangeman, but please welcome her now that she joins us full time."
Nobody seemed particularly surprised or unhappy to see me at the meeting. I got a few nods and waves plus some smiles from familiar faces. I took this all as a good sign.
"We also welcome Joseph Morelli," Ranger announced, gesturing toward Joe. "Joe's a former Trenton detective and plain-clothes cop in crimes against persons. He did some time in the military prior to that. He and Plum are partners."
The other Rangemen stared at Joe, sizing him up. Some of them knew of him from past encounters, but few of the men actually knew him well.
"We need four volunteers for contract bodyguard job next weekend," Tank announced, sharing specifics about the job. Four men volunteered, and that conversation was done.
Several additional jobs were negotiated, and a few men requested coverage for shifts they'd been scheduled for but had conflicts.
"Now that the pleasantries are done," said Tank, "it's time for the welcome party. Morelli and Plum. To the mats."
He gestured at a padded area in the corner of the room that had been set up for hand-to-hand combat practice, and some of the men clapped, cheered, or gave low whistles.
I looked around the room and could feel myself pale. Were we supposed to fight? For starters, I wasn't dressed for any sort of fighting. Second, I had no idea how to fight. Sure, I could throw an occasional elbow to 'the boys' or scratch a guy in the face when truly threatened, but actual fighting? No.
I looked to Joe, and he looked as confused as I felt. He pushed off the wall and sauntered over to the mats, deciding to play it cool. He took off his tennis shoes, emptied his pockets, and took off his gun belt. I put one foot in front of the other, feeling like I was headed to the guillotine in my business attire and stiletto pumps. As I walked in front of Ranger, he gave me a barely perceptible wink. I was unsure how to interpret the wink, but it led me to believe he wouldn't let anything bad happen to me in this strange initiation activity. That was a relief.
I got to the padded area and kicked off my shoes, tossing them aside with my blazer. I tied up my hair with an elastic I'd left on my wrist, and I approached Morelli cautiously. He gave me a mildly inappropriate once over with his eyes to let me know he liked what he saw. I scowled in return, thinking I might like to punch him..
"As an employee of Rangeman, we have expectations about the skills our employees bring to the table," Tank boomed. "We are an elite security firm, and the ability to protect ourselves and others is key to our success. Integrity, honor, loyalty, and trust are the backbone of this organization. When one pillar is broken, the organization collapses."
Morelli was standing straight, looking between Tank and I. Something caught his attention, and his expression changed to his blank cop face. He leaned to my ear and whispered, "Nice hickey, Cupcake. Did your boyfriend give you that?"
Something inside me snapped, and I grabbed the front of his shirt, getting up into his face.
Before I could claw Morelli's eyes out, Tank intervened by pushing the two of us apart.
"Wait, Plum. I'm not finished yet."
Morelli and I locked stares, the tension between us palpable. My palms were sweaty, and I was trembling with nervous energy.
"Usually we let new partners duke it out so they can learn each other's fighting style," Tank explained. "After all, it is all about trust. You are responsible for your partner's safety, and they are responsible for yours. You have to know your team's strengths and weaknesses. But today, a fight between Plum and Morelli wouldn't be a fair fight," Tank said, shifting his gaze to me. "Plum got injured on the job last night as a result of Morelli's incompetence, and the trust has been broken. The partnership failed."
At this statement, Morelli's face transformed to anger. Someone was questioning his abilities, and he didn't like it.
"The loyalty of this team needs to be rebuilt. You can sit this one out, Bomber."
I almost collapsed with relief as I turned and walked away from the mats, stuffing my feet in my high heels and holding my blazer in my arms.
"Today, Morelli will choose his opponent," Tank announced.
The men cheered excitedly, apparently relieved to watch a real fight instead of my weak attempts to bitch-slap Joe on the mats.
"Who do you want?" said Tank.
"Manoso," Joe responded without hesitation.
I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to face Ranger, who had a smug, knowing grin on his face. He expected this. He welcomed this. He looked forward to this. He closed the distance between us and gazed down at me with his gorgeous, playful brown eyes. I studied him for a time, realizing he was really going to do this.
"Is this really necessary?" I whispered.
"It's a rite of passage," he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
"Neither of you are fully recovered from injuries," I begged. "Please don't get killed. This macho crap is stupid."
Ranger nodded, then kissed me with a lot of tongue and ass-grabbing, clearly making a show of it for Morelli. My brain knew he was showing off, but that didn't change the fact he made my panties wet. Ranger's men cheered at the show.
As Ranger turned to walk away, I felt panic rise inside me.
And suddenly in that moment, I realized… he knew. He knew everything. The coming home in the night, the hickey, the public groping and kissing …. He knew that I had an encounter with Joe Morelli, and this was his way of claiming his territory.
I'd seen Ranger and Morelli fight once before in Hawaii, and it had been awful. Ranger had fractured a bone in his hand rearranging Morelli's face, and Ranger had required seven stitches to fix his face where Morelli had done the same.
I grabbed Ranger's wrist, and he turned to face me again.
"I am so sorry," I said in horror. "I swear, it will never happen again. It was a mistake. I…"
He cut me off with another showy kiss.
"I know," he said with a smirk, then he swaggered toward the mats.
The urge to throw up was overwhelming, but I stood frozen like a statue in the center of the room, unable to move… unable to breathe, not wanting to watch but unable to look away. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion, and I was the cause of the accident.
Ranger emptied his pockets, removing his cell phone, keys, and other random accessories before taking his gun off his belt and stepping sock-foot onto the mats.
"May the best man win," Tank taunted.
Joe and Ranger began to move, sizing one another up as they circled the mats. Joe attempted the first punch, missing Ranger by millimeters. In response, Ranger kicked Joe's feet out from under him, knocking him onto his back in one swift move.
I cringed thinking of Joe's damaged brain and Ranger's lingering concussion. This was a stupid, unnecessary show of toxic masculinity.
Joe landed with a loud woosh of air. He attempted to get up but was too slow, and Ranger pounced on top of him, throwing punches at his face. Joe threw and elbow, and it connected with Ranger's face, stunning him. Joe shoved him off his chest and scrambled to his feet, trying to find a more favorable fighting position.
Joe rushed Ranger before he could get up, and they went ass-over-tea kettles, rolling around on the floor. Joe's knee connected with Ranger's bad leg, and Ranger cried out, trying to scramble away. Joe jumped on Ranger again, but Ranger came out on top with Joe on his stomach beneath him, Joe's head in a firm head lock. Ranger said something in Joe's ear, and Joe sneered in response. He kicked and fought to get up, but was unable to break Ranger's grasp.
A cheer went up from the men, celebrating Ranger's apparent success, and Ranger flashed a grin. Ranger released Morelli and got to his feet, straightening his shirt and jeans. Joe slowly drug himself to his feet, looking like an angry bull. He rushed Ranger, and I cringed as their bodies connected, collapsing into a pile once more.
In that moment, the difference between Ranger and Morelli was striking. Ranger's eyes were stone-cold scary, a predator stalking his prey. Calm, cool, and calculated. Morelli's eyes were angry, his hot-headed Italian temper ruling his fight.
Morelli was on top this time, his fist connecting with Ranger's face. Blood gushed from Ranger's lip, but he seemed unfazed by the blow. Ranger's fist connected with Morelli's stomach, and Morelli crumpled on top of Ranger. Ranger threw him off and pounced like a lion, his fist connecting with Morelli's nose. Blood gushed from Morelli's nose, and he cried out, his hands moving to protect his face.
"Had enough yet?" Ranger asked, his voice cold.
"Fuck you, Manoso," said Morelli.
Ranger stood and spit in Morelli's face.
"Touch her again, and you're fired."
I quiet murmur went through the crowd of men watching, and many of their eyes looked to me. My face got hot, and I looked at the floor.
Joe sat up, wiping his bloody nose on his shirt. He sneered at Ranger. "You'll always have to wonder if she'd rather have me," Morelli taunted, wiping the spit off his face.
Ranger turned and kicked Morelli in the stomach, and Morelli collapsed into a fetal position, moaning in pain.
The men cheered again, but I'd seen enough of this ridiculous, macho exchange. I raced out of the gym, my feet carrying me up multiple flights of stairs to the apartment. I had half a mind to quit my job and never talk to either of these morons again.
I was working on my laptop on the small apartment table when Ranger came in twenty minutes later. His face was bruised and bloody, his clothes rumpled. I did my best to ignore him, continuing to run skips through my background check programs to find hints about their potential whereabouts. He stood behind me, his energy seeping out of his pores. He put his hands on my shoulders, and I cringed.
"Don't touch me," I said with as much malice as I could manage, anger still roiling within me.
He removed his hands and stood quietly for a while, then he went into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He emerged ten minutes later, cleaned up and dressed in similar clothes as he'd worn before. His overnight bag was slung over his shoulder. He had put liquid bandage on his split lip, and a bruise was blooming on his cheek.
Our eyes locked, but nothing was said as unspoken communication passed between us. Some of my anger eased, and I let out a sigh of resignation.
"Did you sleep with him?" Ranger asked, curiosity getting the best of him.
"No, I wouldn't do that," I said defensively. "He kissed me, then I left. I couldn't…."
"Must have been some kiss to leave you shirtless," said Ranger, his voice flat.
I stared at my hands uncomfortably. "It's not like that."
He let the silence sit between us, as if giving me a chance to fess up. I had nothing more to confess, so I let it sit.
"Do you want me to move out?" I asked.
"No," said Ranger decisively. "Of course not. I want you to stay here permanently."
I got to my feet and walked to Ranger, taking one of his strong hands in mine.
"If you want him, have him. But I won't share," said Ranger. "I told you that before."
His words cut me like knives, and I stared at the floor, wishing I could disappear.
"I know," I said in a near-whisper. "I'm sorry I hurt you. It won't happen again. You're all I want."
Ranger tipped my chin toward his face and looked into my eyes, his gaze softening to one of affection.
"Hypothetically speaking, if I proposed to you, would you accept?" he asked inquisitively, his eyes twinkling with an air of amusement.
I nearly choked on my own spit. "I kiss Morelli and you start talking about marriage?"
"Only hypothetically," said Ranger.
"You're sick," I scoffed, and Ranger gave a bark of laughter.
"I don't know if I ever want to be married," I admitted.
"Me either," responded Ranger.
"I guess if I had to be married to somebody someday, you'd be at the top of my list. Why are you even talking about this? Did you hit your head down there?"
"Just a conversation I had with my mother last night," Ranger said, adjusting the bag on his shoulder.
"Your mother is pressuring you to get married?" I inquired. "She sounds like my mother."
"No," he said, "but she really likes you. I get the impression she'd like to see me settle down."
"And you'd do that for her?"
He shrugged. "Like I said, I'm working through all this. I don't know. I'm thinking about it anyway."
Curiosity got the best of me. "You said you're seeing a therapist. Why?"
Ranger seemed uncomfortable with my question, so I instantly back pedaled.
"Sorry, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want. That was rude of me."
Ranger gave me a smile that didn't travel to his eyes. He took my hand and led me to the couch, where we sat.
"I've had a hard time since Atlanta," he admitted. "Post-traumatic stress and anxiety. I dealt with it after my time in Special Forces too, but this time it's different. In my line of work, I can't afford to lose my edge using a bunch of medication anymore, so this seems like the best solution. And sleep seems illusive unless I can hold you. Unless I know you're safe."
My brain rolled around the information he'd shared. I'd noticed his trouble sleeping, but it had never occurred to me anything else was wrong. Ranger was good at hiding it.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you were dealing with that. I wish you'd told me sooner."
"I didn't want anyone to know, but it's only right for you to know. You're my partner. You live with me. You have a right to know."
"I won't tell anyone." I paused. "So that's why you came home last night?"
He nodded. "I couldn't sleep. That, and I got a text from Hal about your Rangeman entrance last night."
I cringed, then changed the subject. "Do you want me to go to Newark with you? How can I support you?"
"No," he said. "You've got work to do here. I'll be fine. I close enough I can run home tonight if I need to."
"What are you going to tell your mother about your face?" I asked, gently touching his bruise.
"I'll tell her I accidentally woke you creeping into the apartment last night."
I broke out in to raucous laughter.
"The apartment feels right with you in it, Babe. I hope you'll stay."
"Of course," I answered. "Just no more fist-fights, please."
Ranger headed back to Newark to take his mom in for surgery, and Ximena and I made a quick stop at the police station to pick up paperwork for Leo Zacharias and Fran Gilmer before heading for the bonds office in her red Jaguar XE.
"Some morning, eh?" Ximena said.
I rolled my eyes, and she laughed.
"I'm going to have to take up drinking if my life stays this dramatic," I admitted.
"Alcohol is bad on your liver. Let's eat our feelings instead," said Ximena, pulling into the Cluck-in-a-Bucket drive thru. We ordered Double-Clucky Breakfast Sandwiches with hash rounds and sodas, and we dug in as we drove.
"I think Ranger's lost his damn mind," I said.
"No kidding. I had to fix Joe up, and Lester hauled him home. He was a mess when Carlos was done with him."
I visible cringed. I knew in my heart that Morelli had taken advantage of the situation last night, but I was responsible for what happened, too. As much as I would have liked to punch him, I hated that this was the price he paid for both our sins.
"Men are crazy when they're in love," said Ximena through a mouthful of food. "But Carlos takes it to a new level of crazy.
"No joke. He asked me how I'd answer if he proposed today," I said, digging around for my last hash round.
"Holy hell!" cried Ximena. "You've gotta be kidding me."
"It wasn't a proposal," I said. "It was a hypothetical."
"I can't imagine Carlos settling down. What did you say?"
"I didn't commit to anything."
"What would you say?" she asked, staring at me.
"I guess I'd say I have to think about it."
"Chica, you'd say no and run for California," laughed Ximena.
"That's not true!" I argued, trying to convince myself of the statement.
She gave me a knowing stare as we pulled up in front of the bonds office. We cruised inside, and I was surprised to see Lula sitting on the black leather couch. She was dressed to kill, with her boobs barely contained in a black leather bustier, black leather pants that barely fit, and strappy black heels.
"Mornin'," said Connie. She was at her desk wearing a magenta sweater with a low v-neck, black slacks, and black heels. "What happened to you?"
"Leo Zacharias's HurryCane," I said, flopping down in a chair. "I have his body receipt, plus one for Fran Gilmer. Thanks for doing the papers." I handed Connie the paperwork. "I didn't expect to see you here," I said to Lula.
"Humph," she responded, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "I was just stopping by to say hi. Didn't realize I'd get to see my replacement," she said, gesturing at Ximena.
"She didn't replace you," I said defensively. "I'm Ximena's assistant."
Ximena extended her hand to Lula, and Lula reluctantly shook it.
"I'm Ximena," she said as introduction. "You must be Lula. I've heard a lot about you. I know Steph really values your friendship."
"Mmmhrm. Yeah. Sure," said Lula.
"And Steph's right, I'm her boss, not her partner. Her partner is Joe Morelli."
In chorus, Lula and Connie shouted, "What?"
"Yeah," I sighed. "Nobody asked me. I don't want to talk about it."
"And 'nobody' is Ranger?" asked Connie.
"Mmmhrm."
"Well that is uncomfortable," scoffed Connie. "You only screwed the guy for the past sixteen years."
"Jeez! It wasn't that long," I said defensively. "It was a while in high school, then we weren't together for a decade. Give me a break."
"Isn't work at Rangeman pretty physical? Is he even able to do the job?" Connie asked curiously.
"I asked the same thing, but so far, he's capable enough."
"Well, I can't compete with that," scoffed Lula. "He's still tall and strong, and he probably looks good in those horrible black cargo pants all you Rangeman fools wear. I don't care if half his brain is Jello, that man is fine. He's like an Italian crème cake, and I wanna eat him up."
"Good gravy," I whined. "Can we change the subject already?"
"Why the hell aren't you in those cargo pants?" Lula asked me.
"I opted for business attire this morning," I explained. "I had a meeting."
Ximena gave me a knowing grin, but nothing was said.
"Is Vinnie writing bonds?" Connie asked Lula.
"Nope. We're pursuing a new business venture. We're gonna be entrepreneurs."
'Wow, good for you guys," said Connie. "What are you working on?"
"I'm not at liberty to say right now," said Lula, "but you'll be invited to our grand opening fo sho. Vinnie and I have a lot of unique talents and skills we bring to the table as business people. Get excited! This is gonna be fuckin' awesome."
I had no idea what kind of "talents" Vinnie brought to the table, and frankly, I didn't want to know. I knew the talents Lula brought to the table, and so far as I knew, none of them provided gainful, legal forms of employment. I could only assume they were opening a brothel.
"How was your date?" I asked Connie.
"Fabulous," she said, fanning herself. "Dinner was good, but what happened afterward was better."
We all broke into a girly fit laughter.
"He made me happy. A lot of times," said Connie. "And there is a LOT of him, if you get what I mean."
"You lucky bitch," said Lula. "I've hit a dry patch, what, with starting this new business venture with Vinnie and all. I need to find me a man. I'd like to find Mr. Right, but at this point, I'd settle for Mr. Tonight or Mr. Good Enough."
"I need a man like that too," sighed Ximena. "Pass him along when you get tired of him." She took a giant swig of Coke.
I had a hard time believing Ximena had a hard time finding men. She was gorgeous and smart. I suspected her problem was she was too focused on her career, leaving little time for pursuing romance.
"I suspect he'll be done with me before I'm done with him," said Connie. "Lester is a player, but I have to admit, the man has skills, especially in the sack."
Ximena spit her Coke out all over the carpet. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," she shouted, plugging her ears. "I don't want to hear this!"
"What's her problem?" asked Lula. "Does she have Tourettes?"
"She's Lester's sister," I said, sitting back to cross my legs. "She probably doesn't want to hear about her brother's very active sex life."
"That explains it," said Connie, adjusting 'the girls.' "Boy, to have that family's genetics. Wish we could all look that good."
"Oh, I don't know. I'm pretty sure I've got superior genetics, too," chimed in Lula. "I've got tits, ass, and some pretty fucking incredible legs. Lotsa women wish they had this. Hell, lotsa men, too!"
Lula was right. She had a lot of ass and a lot of chest. I couldn't vouch for men or women wanting it, though. I, for one, had no desire to wrangle that much boob on a daily basis. It might have had limitations, but my B cup was just fine by me.
Lula elbowed Ximena in the hip. "It's safe to listen now. We're talking about my superior boobs."
"Good," Ximena said, taking a seat on the couch next to Lula. "Please exclude me from all future conversations about my brother's sex life. Please and thank you. But I do like your outfit."
"Thanks," Lula said, making sure the girls looked good in the bustier. "It's from my former profession."
"Stripper?" asked Ximena.
"No. Stark Street hoe. A damn good one, at that."
"What's on the agenda today?" Connie asked me.
"I've got a little time this morning before I have to be back at Rangeman at one," I said. "Ximena and I are going to ask around a little more about Dickie, and I'm going to see if I can get my hands on Eloise Fitch."
"What's her story?" asked Ximena.
I pulled the file out of my messenger bag and began to read.
"Eloise Fitch, age thirty-five. Arrested for drunk and disorderly and assault on an officer after leaving The HandleBar. Lives in Hamilton Township, works at the button factory. Has an ex-husband, no children. Lives alone in an apartment off Route 1. Drives an older white Hyundai Elantra."
"The HandleBar?" asked Ximena.
"Biker bar," I responded.
"You mean bicycle bar," said Connie. "It's right off the bike path."
Ximena nodded.
"I'd need to be drunk and disorderly if I had a job as boring as the button factory," said Lula. "Watching all those little round buttons go by, day after day. Drilling two holes or four holes in every one. Making sure the holes are just right and there's no cracks or breaks. Hell no. I couldn't do that shit. I'd rather be a hoe. At least every day is different when you're a hoe."
"You've got a point," said Ximena. "Jobs like that are soul-crushing."
"I know you're cleaning up your stack, but we've got to get these open files under control," said Connie. "If we don't catch up soon, Ranger's gonna need to bring in another bounty hunter. The cash flow situation isn't working right now."
"I already handed some files off. Ranger has his men working on them. I can get a status report."
"Glad to hear it," said Connie. "At least we don't have anything coming in right now."
"Still haven't written any bonds?"
"Just one," she said. "Frequent flyer. He'll show for court, though."
"Let's hit the road," I said, scooping up my messenger bag. "I don't have a lot of time before I have to be back at Rangeman, and these skips aren't finding themselves."