A/N: Includes prompts from the January 2022 writing challenge from the Janet Evanovich Fan Fiction Facebook group.

Activity: New Year's Resolutions

Dialogue Prompt: I need to get into shape. If I were murdered right now, my chalk outline would be a circle."

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Chapter Three

Ranger opened the car door for Stephanie and she slid into the luxurious interior. The Porsche was as dark on the inside as it was on the outside, and a sense of foreboding drifted through her. Maybe a man that dressed in black and drove an all-black car, just liked black, or maybe it was because his life was devoid of color and cloaked in secrets. In her experience, the quietest ones always had the loudest stories. An involuntary shiver went up her spine. Ranger's life was none of her concern. This was just business. The little voice in her head said that was a nice story. Too bad it wasn't actually true.

The leather seats cradled her like they had been custom made to fit like a glove, enveloping her in their soothing luxury. Soft, warm and inviting. Stephanie looked around, and took it all in. Apparently, this was how the other half lived. The interior was immaculate and had that new car smell, unlike her Nova, that smelled like stale fast food and cheap weed. Not a speck of dust or errant parking receipt anywhere. No coffee cups, food wrappers, or loose change.

This was a man that liked order, which probably meant he was a planner, overly rigid, maybe even downright controlling. Stephanie had a feeling that meant they weren't exactly going to get along. Stephanie usually flew by the seat of her pants and tended to do things based on her gut instinct.

Granted, that didn't always work out in her favor, like the time she sprinkled sugar on her head and pretended it was pixie dust that made her invisible, and walked into the boy's restroom. Nope, that hadn't turned out quite so well. Stephanie's mother grounded her for a week over that little fiasco.

You would think after all these years, she would have learned to control her impulsiveness, but you would be wrong. In some ways, it had only gotten worse. Some, including her mother, would say that she did things without thinking, but that wasn't fair. She often thought it was a bad idea, right before she did it anyway, because that was the thing about bad ideas. They all seemed so logical and reasonable until you were mistaken for a hooker and riding home in the back of a cab pantyless.

Her gaze drifted over. Ranger looked like a guy that was always thinking three chess moves ahead. Hell, Stephanie didn't even know how to play chess. There was a ninety-nine percent chance this had bad idea written all over it in neon orange letters, but that didn't mean there was no chance and no hope. There was still a one percent chance this would turn out just fine. Good thing she wasn't prone to good judgement or common sense.

The dashboard reminded her more of a cockpit in a jumbo jetliner than a car. She had no idea what half the gadgets did or why one car needed quite so many. Not even the gas gauge worked in the Nova, let alone the heater or the radio that was perpetually stuck to a heavy metal station, which seemed all kinds of wrong. There were only so many times you could listen to Motorhead before your eye started to twitch and you contemplated just driving into the ditch.

Ranger climbed in beside her and the car growled to life. The gentle vibrations of the engine pulsed through her. A powerful car that no doubt suited his personality. This was a man that was in control, which probably meant he lacked spontaneity or a sense of humor. She gave a soft snort. The stick up his ass had to be uncomfortable.

He gave her a questioning glance, and she would have sworn he read her mind when his eyebrow quirked up and he gave her a sardonic look. Stephanie looked out the window and pretended to ignore him, which was impossible. His masculine energy filled the car along with that delicious scent that was decadent and dangerous. It tingled her nostrils and pulled at her memories of last night. The way he touched her, the way he moved inside of her. Stephanie forcefully pushed the thoughts away. Nope, not going there. She shifted uncomfortably in the seat.

Breakfast and business, and that was the end of that. It miffed Stephanie that her body could betray her this way. Her brain was clear. This Ranger guy was an ass. He had that big dick energy about him, and she did not like him. The problem, her smartass little voice reminded her, it wasn't just his energy that was big. Her body seemed to think he was on par with pineapple upside down cake. Maybe even better.

Stephanie stole a couple of glances at him as they drove. His skin really was flawless, and somehow it just seemed unfair that any one person could be quite so physically perfect. Maybe that's why he didn't have a winning personality. Men like that didn't need to. Women flocked to them, and men envied them.

Her eyes slid down his perfect body. His cargo pants had been ironed into a sharp crease and it looked like his t-shirt had been pressed too. She suddenly wondered if there was a Mrs. tall, dark, and psycho. Her eyes shot to his hand, wrapped around the steering wheel. No ring, and no telltale tan line either. A little sigh of relief escaped before she could stop it. At least she didn't have to deal with him being married on top of everything else. Still, her eyes stayed glued to those elegant fingers that had skimmed across her body and touched her in ways she didn't even know were possible.

A whimper escaped her lips before she could corral it, and she cleared her throat to cover it. His eyes cut back to hers for a fraction, and a smile ghosted over his face. Stephanie resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. She vaguely thought her New Year's resolution shouldn't have been to lose a few pounds, it should have been figuring out how to be better adult. She kind of sucked in that department.

By the time they made it to the diner, sweat misted Stephanie's skin and that flutter low in her belly had turned into an ache. The car felt like it was a hundred degrees, and she had her seatbelt off and was out the door gasping for fresh air almost before the car came to a complete stop. She yanked off her coat, and vaguely wondered if she was too young for a hot flash. The cool air hit her overheated skin, and she did a mental eye roll. Apparently not too young for a Ranger induced hot flash. She needed to get it together and keep it together before she did something stupid like rub all over his perfect body like a cat.

Ranger rounded the front of the car and his gaze travelled over her.

"You look a little pale and sweaty. Are you OK?"

Stephanie gave a dismissive wave. "Fine. Just a little too much champagne." Her voice sounded breathless.

They both knew that wasn't true, since she'd stuck with ginger ale after the first glass. He said nothing, and just gave her a look that said she was lying, and settled his hand low on her back. The weight and the gentle pressure soothed her even if it felt like a hot coal burning through her sweatshirt.

The diner wasn't in the best part of town, but still a step up from Stark Street. It sat in the midst of several factories and steel fabricators. The floors were black and white checked tile and the booths were red vinyl that had seen better days. Some were patched with duct tape, and Stephanie threw Ranger a questioning look. Ranger didn't seem to notice, and appeared completely unfazed by the somewhat shabby interior.

Stephanie figured as long as it had good food, who really cared if the booths were held together with duct tape. Everybody knew duct tape could fix just about anything. Ranger's fingers absently stroked her back in what seemed to be a completely unconscious gesture and Stephanie's heart gave a little stutter. Too bad duct tape couldn't fix stupid.

The diner was fairly busy, and the counter seats were filled with blue-collar workers. Ranger chose a booth along the far wall where he could watch the door and keep his back to the wall. She figured that was one of those occupational awareness things she should learn. She picked up the menu tucked between the ketchup and the syrup and took a quick look.

The server ambled over and pulled a pencil from behind her ear. "What can I get you honey."

Her voice was gravely and sounded like she smoked a couple of packs a day. She had on faded jeans, sneakers, and a yellow t-shirt. Her dark hair was thrown up in a haphazard tangle on the top of her head. Stephanie figured by the deep lines around her mouth and eyes she was pushing sixty, and didn't look like a woman that took much crap or had a lot of patience. Stephanie thought maybe she should ask if they were hiring.

"I'll have the breakfast special, a short stack with extra syrup, and coffee with cream." Stephanie replied.

"Two boiled eggs, wheat toast, no butter, and coffee, black."

Stephanie's eyebrow rose a fraction. That man didn't know anything about food. No wonder he was mean as a snake. Black coffee and dry toast would make anyone pissy. She eyed him with new found suspicion.

The server jotted down their orders. "I'll be right back with your coffee." With that she was gone.

Stephanie gave her credit for not even lifting an eyebrow at dry toast and black coffee, but then she'd probably seen and heard it all.

Ranger's phone chirped, and he answered. "Yo!"

He carried on a quick conversation in Spanish that far exceeded the bounds of Stephanie's high school Spanish class. She watched him as he talked. No agitated hand gestures, no weird facial tics, just a blank canvas. The man was a mystery. One she had no interest in solving, she reminded herself.

Ranger hung up, and neither of them said anything for a couple of minutes. The server dropped off a couple of mugs of coffee and plunked a carafe on the table. Stephanie was grateful for the distraction. His gaze felt like it dissected her, taking in everything and cataloging it for future use. It was unnerving. Stephanie dumped a boatload of cream in her coffee, and took a sip, letting the warm liquid slide down her throat, buying her time. Ranger didn't seem like a guy that was big on small talk, and Stephanie forced herself not to fill the silence with nervous chatter. She picked at the edges of her paper napkin and tried not to fidget under his scrutiny.

"What's involved in these jobs?" Stephanie finally asked when the silence became too much.

Ranger took a sip of his coffee, and Stephanie studied him. It was a weird contradiction. He was a chameleon, but would never blend in. He seemed equally comfortable in a custom-tailored Armani suit at an exclusive New Year's Eve party, as he did in cargo pants and bates boots, ready to kick in doors. Yet, his energy and presence would command attention in any room. He started answering her question, and she was momentarily lost in the sound of his deep, rich voice that was commanding one minute and seductive the next. She gave herself a mental head slap and tried to focus on what he was saying, but she couldn't quite ignore the little sparks dancing along her spine.

"Distractions are really just honey traps. You get a mark's attention, flirt and lure them out or tag them with a tracker. Searches are mostly paperwork. Digging into a skip's background and trying to figure out where they might be hiding. Clean-up, we like to refer to that as renovation. That mainly happens in the area around Stark Street, since it's going through a gentrification process. A developer buys a piece of property, and wants to renovate it, but finds a bunch of squatters. Mostly druggie hang outs. We go in, clean up, and provide security."

Stephanie nodded. It all seemed pretty straightforward.

"In between, you'll train in some basic self-defense, and I'll pair you up with a partner for your first few skips. Vinnie give you a skip?"

"Yes, a few."

Stephanie reached into her bag and pulled out the files. Ranger flipped through them, nodding. He rearranged the stack and handed them back.

"We'll go after those three first." He motioned to the reordered files with his head. "You do anything on these yet?"

"No."

"OK, we'll start by showing you how to use the search programs, although two of them will be easy enough to find."

"How so?"

"Dixon's a drunk. He's probably passed out on his mother's couch again, and Maria is back working her corner on Stark Street."

"You seem to know a lot about criminals." Stephanie mused.

Ranger did a palms up gesture. "It pays to know people."

Stephanie flipped through the files. "What about this third one? Ziggy?"

"Not a nice dude. Armed and high. A bad combination, babe. He hangs out at a gym on Stark Street sometimes. Promise you won't try this one on your own."

"Sure." Stephanie said breezily, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. He didn't have to act like she was completely incompetent or an idiot. Although he'd be half right.

Ranger glanced up. "You know anything about guns?"

"I know I don't like them."

"You need to learn how to handle one, and get comfortable with it."

All of a sudden, Stephanie had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. This wasn't some cool adventure to make a fast buck. This was serious, and she didn't have a clue what she was doing.

"I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I want to." She whispered and stared down at the scarred Formica tabletop, wondering how her life had ended up here. No job, no money, eviction looming on the horizon.

"If you don't do it, someone else will, but you need to make up your mind and have your head in the game. Look, just be prepared and be cautious. You don't want to get your head ventilated by someone like Ziggy."

Stephanie took a big gulp of her coffee and pushed down the rising panic as she eyed Ranger over the rim of her coffee mug.

"Don't take unnecessary risks, and don't make judgements about a skip, assume they are all dangerous. Just do your job and bring the skip in, and trust the system to do the rest."

"Do you trust the system?" Stephanie asked.

Ranger shrugged. "Beats the shit out of anarchy, I guess."

Stephanie gave a sage nod. She guessed Ranger had a point, even if it wasn't a ringing endorsement.

"Do you think I can do it?"

"No." Ranger immediately replied.

Stephanie narrowed her eyes at him. If he was trying to discourage her, that was the dead wrong answer.

"But you're going to help me anyway." She pressed.

"Yeah, but like I said, just don't tell anyone."

"Why?"

"I've got a reputation to uphold. I can't go around looking like a good guy."

"Why not?"

"Mercenary." Ranger replied and gave her a look like she might be daft.

Stephanie just rolled her eyes; he had a fair point.

"OK, so where do we start?"

"First thing we need to do is get you outfitted, and while we do that, I'll tell you about the law and how to get around some of the more annoying parts of it."

Stephanie tried not to wince.

"This isn't going to be expensive, is it?" Stephanie did a quick mental calculation. She had all of about forty dollars to her name.

"My time and knowledge are coming to you free of charge because even though you have a nasty temper and a foul disposition, I like you. That and I always wanted to be Professor Higgins."

"I don't have a nasty temper." Stephanie huffed and Ranger just smiled.

"Handcuffs," Ranger stopped and gave her a pointed look. "Real ones are about fifty bucks, and a serviceable gun will run you a cool five hundred."

Stephanie sighed. It looked like she was going to be working for Ranger for a while to pay off that debt.

The server dropped off their food, and the sweet smell of pancakes temporarily took Stephanie's mind off of her impending doom. She might be on the fast track to hell, but at least she could have a good breakfast on the way.

As she poured syrup on her pancakes, she saw Ranger watching with a mixture of fascination and disgust on his face, so she dumped a little extra on, just for good measure.

"How many miles do you run to work all that off?" Ranger asked conversationally, like his head wasn't about to explode.

Stephanie popped up like a meerkat in a burrow. "Run?" She looked at him like he'd sprouted a second head. "Why would I do that?"

"You don't run?" Ranger asked, astonishment evident in his voice.

"Only if someone is chasing me. Why do you ask?"

She was thinking the man really might be looney. If the black coffee hadn't been the clencher this was.

Ranger reached up and rubbed the back of his neck like he was looking for patience or maybe the right answer.

"This job is physically demanding."

"Well, then sure. I mean I run. All the time." She stammered. If barreling through the mall counted as running, she was golden.

Ranger gave her a dark look. "Liar."

Stephanie blew a curl out of her face. "Ok, I think about running."

Ranger grinned at her. "Exercise improves your sex life."

Heat washed over Stephanie and a flush streaked up her neck and stained her cheeks, and she almost choked on the big bite of pancake she'd just shoved in her mouth. She grabbed her water and took a long drink, and sputtered and coughed.

"Funny." She quipped and focused back on her pancakes like they held the secret of where Jimmy Hoffa was buried, refusing to meet his gaze so she didn't have to see that self-satisfied smirk on his perfect face.

Stephanie thought if sex with Ranger had been any better, she might have been comatose. Not exercising might have saved her life. She always knew that shit could kill you.

Half an hour later, Ranger dropped her off at her car.

"I've got some things I've got to do. I'll pick you up in the morning." He told her. "I'll be at your apartment at six, we can go for a run and then we can get you set up at RangeMan and get you outfitted with the proper hardware."

"Six? In the morning?" Stephanie threw him a dubious look.

Ranger just looked like he was thinking about smiling.

Stephanie rolled her eyes, climbed out, and closed the car door. The man was insufferable. She got in her POS Nova and popped the snap on her jeans and looked at the little roll of fat that squeezed over the top.

"I need to get into shape. If I were murdered right now, my chalk outline would be a circle." She huffed to no one in particular.

If what Ranger said was true, the odds of ending up murdered had gone up exponentially. A little shudder worked its way through her. Maybe this was a bad idea, but then what choice did she have? It wasn't like she was flush with good ideas or job offers, and she was not moving home.

As much as she hated to admit it, Ranger was right. She needed help, and she could probably stand to get in shape. She had a bad feeling Ranger being right was going to be a regular occurrence. Not that she would ever admit it. She'd wanted to smack that smug look right off his face. She could do this. Get the basics and then she could strike out on her own, and be rid of his annoying ass, even if it was nice to look at.

After a few cranks, the engine finally caught and Stephanie motored towards her apartment. She noticed a haze building around her and realized her car was smoking. Not the benign white exhaust of condensation on a cold day or the regular haze of burning oil. Nope this smoke was thick and black, and billowing out from the underbelly of the car. She gave the dash a hard shot with her fist to see if any of the gauges would work, and sure enough, the red oil light blinked on. Apparently, that was one more to add to the list of gauges that didn't work.

Maybe she could borrow a few from Ranger's Porsche. It seemed to have extra. Stephanie pulled into a gas station on the next corner, bought a quart of 1O-W-30, dumped it in the car, and checked the dipstick. It was still low, so she added a second quart. Stephanie ran her hand through her hair and resisted the urge to scream at the sky. The Nova wasn't going to last much longer, another reason she needed money and fast.

Her phone dinked, and she took a quick glance while she waited at the stoplight.

"Renovation job tomorrow. I'll swing by at 6PM and bring dinner to discuss."

Stephanie assumed the text was from Ranger. She had no idea how he got her number, but she decided it was better not to know. Besides, how hard could a little interior decorating be. She needed the money, and he promised to pay her after each job. Maybe things were looking up.

"OK," she texted back.

Her fingers slid over the keys and she saved his contact under batman just for spite. If he wanted to be all broody, mysterious, and dress in black, she'd have a little fun with it. Her own private joke at his expense. She knew it was petty, but it gave her a small thrill of satisfaction. So much for being an adult. That shit was overrated.

The light turned green, and Stephanie chugged on down the road in a blue haze of smoke, thinking of all her bad decisions, this might be at the top of the list. Nothing like jumping from the frying pan straight into the fire.