All familiar characters are Janet's. The inevitable mistakes are mine. I did use actual challenges from what I watched in 'Best Ranger' competition videos, but I feel better saying I may have used some creative license in the arrangement of them over the 3-day event. Thanks again, MamaJoyce for the idea.

Chapter 3

Tank's POV

"The other Army Rangers are able to run fast and expertly shoot things, but you've survived me and have made it through loving me without too many complaints," Steph told the Boss. "I can honestly say no one except you are badass enough to have accomplished something as challenging as that. I'm not easy."

"You may think that, but we see you differently, Steph," I told her. "You keep our instincts and firing skills finely-tuned. Keeping you alive can take as much planning and firepower as invading a small country."

"So I get a little credit for this impending win?" She asked, nudging the dog and doughnuts further into our vehicle so she could sit on the seat beside them.

"This year, definitely," I assured her. "You just gave the Boss one hell of an incentive to smoke everyone participating. Ranger's pace will no doubt kill me, but I'll enjoy going out as an undefeated champion."

She leaned forward and tapped Ranger's shoulder. "You have to make sure Tank doesn't die. He and Mary Lou are going to be our 'Best People' when we do tie the knot. So he has to be alive at the end of this weekend."

"I'll keep that in mind," Ranger replied, smiling as she kissed him before sitting back down.

It won't be pleasant and he'll refuse to let me quit, but I will survive. Ranger will never upset Stephanie if there's any way to prevent it.

We got to the private airstrip only minutes later than we were due to arrive, despite Morelli showing up at the bakery and trying to fuck things up again. What was a surprise was seeing Brown and Santos loitering outside of the hanger.

"Where were you guys?" Santos asked. "You and Ranger are never late. You two being together and not here on time ... we thought WWIII must've broken out or something and we hadn't been called in."

"That was my fault," Steph told him.

"It was Morelli's fault, Babe. Put the blame where it deserves to be shoved."

"Yeah, but I know anytime we go into the Burg, there's a chance of running into him. I'm going to have to go on a doughnut crawl through neighboring townships to find an equally good bakery so I can completely skirt around Chambersburg in the future."

"There's a Cuban bakery in Bordentown you'll like," Bobby added. "Or a Portuguese one over in Orange. Not that I've been to either. I'm just sayin'."

"What are you doing here?" Ranger asked them. "As if I couldn't guess."

"We know you planned to have some of the Miami guys pulling Plum-duty this weekend, but this is Steph's first year going to watch you compete. She should have us there to walk her through every stage of hell in real time."

"Plus, the Miami guys are good, but they aren't us ... and you're carrying precious cargo," Lester told us.

"See? I knew Monroe would grow on you!" Steph said to Santos.

"He was talking about you, Steph," Ranger told her.

"Really? Ummm ... thank you. For that comment and compliment ... I'm willing to share mine and Monroe's doughnuts with you guys if you're hungry."

"Don't feel too flattered," I informed them, "Steph was ready to hand those out to try to tip the odds in our favor."

Santos snorted. "Like you partnered with Ranger need the help?"

"They don't, but I wanted to feel like I'm part of this somehow, when logically I know it's all on them," she answered. "I hope you guys really are up to keeping me company. Ranger knows that I hit, curse, cry, and crush hands, when I'm nervous. I can't do any of those with Monroe, so you guys will be bearing the brunt of my 'cheering'."

"We can take it, Steph," Lester told her. "And dibs on any Samoas you have in that box."

"I have two. And they're all yours once we get going. I'm now really anxious to see what my guys can do when it doesn't involve an SOS from me."

"Those emergency calls are getting few and far between," Ranger pointed out, pulling her to him. "Your skills have improved right along with ours."

"Yeah, but your skills started at the tippy top. So to improve more than that means you're basically God. I just haven't rolled in garbage in at least a year."

"All progress is worth noting," the Boss reminded her, and then he gestured for the rest of us to get our asses on board or be left behind.

During the three-hour flight, he and I went over what we've done in previous years and how we can possibly shave off some time in order to take home the title of 'Best Ranger' again this year. Bobby and Lester added their two cents whenever they felt they could offer relevant advice, and Steph sat beside Ranger leaning into him as we all discussed things she may not have understood but was fully interested in learning about.

She alternated between asking questions or for explanations when we used an unfamiliar name or abbreviation, partially distracting Ranger with a hug or an unconscious hand-slide up his leg, and petting Monroe's head whenever his massive skull rose up from the depths of the jet's carpeting to take stock of the collective mood around him.

We landed outside of Atlanta with a game plan, a renewed burst of energy, and a tunnel vision-like sense of purpose. We may not be perfect men on even a good day, but we for fuck's sake can always be perfect Rangers ... who continue to lead the way for the kids coming up behind us.

As we were putting our bags in the back of another vehicle that will be ours for the next couple of days, Steph's curiosity was piqued again.

"I was so focused on the contest itself, I forgot to ask if you found a dog-friendly hotel for us to stay in? Or if you were thinking of using the seventh floor of your Atlanta building, because though you sold it ... it stayed in the partner-family and you've just factored in the longer commute time?"

"Neither," Ranger told her. "Since this is a yearly event, and I have periodic business at Fort Benning that has nothing to do with the competition, it made sense to purchase a place near the base where I can stay whenever I need to."

"You own a house here in Georgia?" She asked after a few beats.

"Yes. A four-bedroom, two-and-a-half bath, almost three-thousand square foot home on two acres of fenced and gated land, to be exact."

"Holy homestead, Batman! Four bedrooms? You didn't think 'studio apartment' for a place you may only see a handful of days out of three-hundred-and-sixty-five of them?"

"Tank is my best friend, Babe, but that doesn't mean I want to live in close proximity to him. I wanted plenty of space and privacy when guests are required."

"I doubt distance from me was your sole reason for purchasing the place," I pointed out.

"Not the only reason, no, but it was in the top five," he replied.

Steph suddenly looked uneasy, taking extra care to make sure Monroe's leash wasn't twisted where her hand is suddenly white-knuckling it.

"Ummm, was I in the top five too?" She asked the Boss.

He pushed on the door of the trunk in order to shut it and looked over at her. "You're in the top spot no matter the subject or situation."

"The place does have 'domestic bliss' and 'family home' written all over," I said to get back at her for that uncomfortable shower discussion from this morning. "You know Julie's only one state away from here."

Lester nudged her. "Sorry you asked now?"

It took her a second to reply, but her eyes never left Ranger in the time that lapsed before she simply answered Lester's question with a ... "Nope."

Ranger chose a place that was halfway between the air strip and Fort Benning so neither drive would feel unending, and eighteen-minutes later he was parking in his two-car garage.

"Wow," was Steph's reaction when she got out and scanned the two-story, gray stone and wood-siding home that will likely become one of many vacation options she'll have to choose from on the days other than these four that Ranger may be willing to take off from Rangeman.

"That word is reassuring," he told her, holding their bags with one hand so he had a free arm for her.

"It is. I don't know what I was picturing, but it wasn't this. Tank was right. It is a family place, with a side order of fortress. Too bad from what I hear, we won't be spending much together-time here for most of our Georgia visit."

"We'll be back, Babe."

He unlocked the front door for her and they disappeared inside. The guys and I hung back to give Ranger time to show her and Monroe around the place. Lester is physically unable to hang around with nothing to do for too long, but they deserve a moment alone together somewhere outside of the seventh floor of Rangeman

"How long we givin' them?" Lester had to ask, less than a minute and thirty seconds later.

If you took a hyperactive puppy and a sleep-deprived toddler and combined both into somewhat of a man shape, you'd have Santos. An effective torture-technique to use on him would be to make him sit still and shut up for five minutes straight with no food, phone, or mirror, for him to use as a distraction.

"Long enough for you to haul all of our bags inside," I answered, slinging my bag at him as punishment for being an impatient idiot.

There is more going on here than just a yearly competition.

Steph and Ranger were back in the kitchen when we all wandered in. She was already peeking behind every closed cabinet door, and I noticed no time has been wasted putting a food and water dish down for the mutt. I sighed to myself. Guess Monroe's definitely staying with us.

"If this pantry was stocked with TastyKakes, I'd be able to say this place is perfect."

"You brought doughnuts with you," Santos reminded her. "What more do you want?"

She stared at him. "TastyKakes. Like ... I ... just ... said."

"Well, if doughnuts don't do it for you. I'll take more than the ones you offered."

She shoved the box his way. "Help yourself ... to the two you originally asked for. No more than that. Bobby, Tank, you can help yourselves to however many you want. I'm too nervous/excited to eat."

"There's nothing to be nervous about," Ranger told her.

"Says you. I want this so bad for you, it's actually turned physical since we landed."

"You don't have to worry, Steph," Santos told her around a mouthful of fried dough. "The Boss and Tank have this in the bag. What you see them doing in the gym and at the gun range, is nothin' compared to how hard they train behind the scenes. You need to be nervous about how hard the other Rangers are going to take losing again to guys almost double their age."

"Did you just call us old?" I asked, crossing my arms over the chest that's taken two decades to perfect, that's threatening my T-shirt seams right now.

"Not old ... experienced. These young bucks think they know it all and can do it all because they are so young and believe they're invincible. I think you showing them up year after fucking year is a good lesson in humility and in staying alive. Being a hothead can get your head blown clear off and shoved in a body bag with the rest of ya if you're not careful. You and Ranger are probably saving lives by doing this."

Steph opened the Tasty Pastry box and offered him his second favorite ... a jelly doughnut.

"Ranger is incredible at showing people what they need to do in order to survive," she said to us, "but I love hearing someone else saying all the stuff I feel when I think about him."

The Boss did an abbreviated version of a dismissive headshake. "Tank and I just do what we've been trained to. It's really as simple as that."

"Yeah, right," Steph replied. "Nothing you do is 'simple'. It's either excruciating or it's you preparing to withstand what you know is about to be excruciating."

Bobby and Lester each toasted her with their pastries. Ranger just acknowledged her words with a kiss.

"There is excruciating, Babe, and there's just uncomfortable. Anything uncomfortable is usually something you can push to the back of your brain and ignore until the mission's completed."

"If you say so."

"It works. It's how we survive ninety-five percent of the time. I'm going to go change before we head to the base," he told us.

I nodded. I'm going to do the same.

"Tank and I are just touching base today," Ranger said to Steph before he turned to leave the room. "You can relax here if you'd prefer."

"Nope. I'm with you every step of the way ... if I'm allowed to tag along."

Santos snorted. "You're 'The Ranger Manoso's' woman. That means you have more right to be on base than even recruits training there."

"Then the Army Ranger's system is flawed. My only skill is that I can make Ranger laugh against his better judgment. That isn't exactly life-saving."

"You'd be surprised how wrong you are about that," I said quietly as Ranger hit the stairs.

Steph was going to follow him, but Monroe decided he wanted her participation in a game of tug-of-war that he knows he'll always win if someone other than Ranger is holding the opposite end of the pull-toy. It was almost comical how Steph's eyes followed Ranger up the stairs and then shot to the floor Monroe had planted his ass on while he whimpered around the ball end of his toy.

She could have just asked one of us to play with him while she went with Ranger, but she has a sense of responsibility as strong as Ranger's. So she decided she had to amuse Monroe, even with Lester and Bobby not far away from the two of them.

"Holy crap!" She'd said when Ranger came back down minutes later, and she saw that the Boss changed out of his Rangeman uniform and into Ranger cammies.

I'd done the same, but you couldn't pry her eyes off of Ranger long enough for her to notice that I'm looking pretty damn good in mine.

"You can't leave the house looking like that," she told the Boss.

"Like what?"

"Hot as hell," she answered, grabbing the collar of his shirt to pull him in for closer inspection.

No one except Stephanie can move Ranger, likely because he's never opposed to her trying to or to what happens when she does.

"I'm happy you approve," he told her.

"I don't approve. That's what I'm saying! I'm not allowed to have my gun on me, so how am I supposed to 'encourage' people to keep their eyes off of you while you're wearing those? I can't manage it, and I know what's under those looks even better."

"Tonight there won't be anyone except fellow Rangers. And tomorrow it'll only be the same guys and a few new ones plus their families, Steph," I informed her. "Three quarters are going to be scared to speak to the legend, let alone have designs on his person. And I'm confident you can take any family members that may stupidly and lethally believe they have a shot with the Boss."

"They'll face something even scarier than Monroe if their stares linger," she stated.

"My virtue will be safe and sound with you around, Babe," Ranger promised with a kiss that was probably just a polite way to get her to stop talking.

She pulled back. "Was that a joke?"

His face remained expressionless. "You'll never know."

She rolled her eyes but stopped ogling and worrying ... about Ranger getting mauled at least. She always has a backup issue to fret about. This time is no different.

"You have my base pass, right?" She asked. "I don't wanna be told I'm not cleared to be with you or be standing on the sidelines to cheer my guys on."

I didn't laugh, but I wanted to. Bobby and Lester had no such qualms. They let out lengthy bursts of incredulous laughter.

"Thanks. I needed that," Bobby told her, wiping amused-tears from his eyes.

"What's funny?" She asked.

"That as powerful as you think Ranger is, you don't know the full extent of just how respected and idolized he is in our community ... and bases around the world. This one specifically" Bobby explained.

"You being Ranger's fiancée means not only has your pass been approved, and likely framed, no doubt a warning has been resounding around the entire state that you be taken care of as well as he takes care of you," Lester tacked on. "No one else would've been allowed to bring a canine companion without it being a medical requirement."

"So I'm going to have more than just the two of you and Monroe watching everything I do?"

"Count on it."

"Great. Good thing I'm going to be so focused on Ranger and Tank, I won't have time or the brain power to think too hard about that."

"You'd better pace yourself," Bobby warned her. "You've got a long weekend ahead of you."

I cut my eyes to Ranger. "And here I was thinking that you and I are the ones who were gonna be steadily tortured over the next three days, but sounds like your woman is the one going off to war."

"Hey ... you signed up for the torture," Steph reminded me. "I'm going to be the one having to stand quietly by and watch the guy I'm gonna marry and our best person look miserable and be in pain and not be able to do anything to help you. That's not going to be easy, which I think is the main reason Ranger arranged a security detail, not to make sure I'm safe ... but to keep me from interfering with the competition."

"We'll be fine," Ranger promised her. "We know what our bodies can handle and exactly how we'll use them to make it first to the finish line again."

"Alright, since I trust you and believe that completely. When do you guys have to be there?"

"Today ... any time we show up. Tomorrow morning we leave at 0200 hours. The competition starts hours before sunup."

"I'll take Monroe for a quick walk before we leave so he doesn't destroy the house while we're gone. I'm sure Bobby and Lester can handle him, but why chance it?"

Ranger looked at Santos and Brown. He didn't have to say anything to have them bookending his 'Babe' before she could even reattach a leash to the hulk's collar. By the time the four returned, Monroe happily carrying in his mouth what he thought was 'a stick' which is actually a small tree, Ranger and I were anxious to get back to integrating ourselves into base life.

"Does this thing really have to start before the sun's even committed to being up?" Steph asked during the short drive. "You guys deserve to have some light leading your way."

"Except we're trained to be leaders during daylight, moonlight, or no light," Ranger said. "This weekend is designed to cover every possible scenario."

"I thought you were gonna say at least it starting off dark means you won't have to see how far you have to run."

"We run for fun, Steph. This is just another workout for us."

"Some of us run for fun," I added.

When it comes to running to nowhere, I lean more towards Steph's attitude than Ranger's, especially when it will include wearing a seventy-pound pack at various points. I run regularly to keep in shape so I won't slow Ranger or my team down. I agree to haul ass over the next couple of days for the sheer joy of blowing shit up at random points without having to put up with the TPD sticking their nose in and asking questions.

"And some like to bitch when they're doing it," The Boss couldn't resist saying.

"Wait … are you talking about Tank or me?" Steph asked. "You know I'm bitchier when you try to get me to exercise before the birds are still just dreaming about worms."

"I was referring to Tank. I find your complaining cute and also amusing, not irritating like Tank's is."

"I'll take that," she said.

She could say that, since she doesn't have actual days of running mere hours now ahead of her.

We arrived at Fort Benning and were immediately hailed as royalty once word got around that The Mighty Manoso had landed. Steph clearly enjoyed the fuss being made by every Soldier on base at seeing 'Ranger' in the flesh. But he - like I - would have preferred skipping the celebrity shit altogether and using the time spent making small talk doing something more relevant to the contest and the men responsible for setting it up and keeping it going.

I understood why coming here with Stephanie was important to the Boss. Despite her recent proposal, whenever Ranger was approached by a lifer or newbie, Steph hung back ... staying a Ranger's-arm-length away from him. And each time, Ranger would use his grip on her hand to reel her back in to introduce her to whoever he was talking to and purposely incorporate her into the conversation.

He wasn't here to show off, he wanted time to familiarize her with this side of his life. She's only known him as 'Her Ranger'. Here she's seeing what made him one while he tells her without saying anything that she's welcome to every part of him, and he wants her comfortable with every aspect of his life.

By the time we left to get a few hours of sleep before we drag our asses right back out of bed, I'd say Ranger has met every goal he's ever made when it comes to Stephanie. With the sound of crickets still loudly chirping, everyone left the house the following almost-morning and headed back to where we left just a short time ago.

Ranger kissed Steph for the last time this weekend, and then only moments after he and I got our numbers and into our starting position, our shot to prove that we're once again the best of the absolute best, broke the stillness of the coming dawn. Ranger and I took off at a run, our boots completely in sync with each other's at a good but purposely measured clip. It felt too good to have a rifle back in my arms.

As horrific as war is, there are elements of battle I enjoy. Being put to the test everyday and coming out of it relatively-unscathed, is an addictive feeling. A feeling that can turn deadly for returning Service Members if they can't find equally adrenaline-pumping activities to engage in after they're back home.

I could hear Steph's whistles and Monroe's howling-response in response to our coming out first in the kick-off run, where we're now each to move onto pull ups without hesitation or time to take a deep breath after powering through miles to reach dawn and these grown-up monkey bars. No surprise that Ranger had no trouble with either the mini-marathon or the test of our upper body strength when he should be at least a little winded. He would've completed this challenge using only one arm if he didn't have to distribute his energy carefully in order to get through what we know lies ahead.

I'm not proud to admit that he had to literally carry my ass across the finish line our first time out. I had fractured my Fibula when I'd landed on it during a rushed rope-descent dismount. And while I kept up pretty steadily over that weekend, right up to that last test, I wasn't going to make it through the march at the end. Not only wasn't Ranger willing to be disqualified for our team not completing the mission if one man couldn't man up and complete it, he wasn't going to let me blame myself for not finishing the race.

Without even asking my opinion on the matter, he shouldered my weight and got us both to the end and also the first to finish. Shocked the shit out of me on both counts. The boot I was fitted with right after a medic was called in, I wanted to kick my own ass with. But Ranger wouldn't let me. Not only was that the stateside-start to his overseas 'living legend' reputation, it was a personal battle he and I got through together. We'd survived a lot before that, but that moment of pain and pride proved that we weren't only Rangers … we're true brothers, blood and otherwise. Not only would I die for him after that, I'd be the first to volunteer to do it.

With Steph's "Go Range Men!" shout still ringing in my ears, the Boss and I finished our arm-workout and began another run towards the next round of physical hell. That involved wading through water-filled ditches with barbed-wire covers just so we could get helicoptered to the scene of a mock rescue where Ranger and I had to perform triage and then grab and carry a heavily-weighted stretcher, simulating an injured Soldier in need of an on-foot carry-out. Having our entire bodies burning, dripping wet with frigid water, and already feeling the day, it sounded easier than it was to get it shouldered and steady, before we began yet another trek to get our injured phantom-Soldier lifted to safety.

Once the stretcher was destined for a more pleasant place than we are, Ranger and I endured a twenty-plus forced march that brought us into day two. I thought the harnesses we had to use were overkill, but apparently safety is first when you aren't expecting bullets to fly by and find a home in your heart or heart. And we weren't forced to tie our own rappel seat, which is a relief since those are pretty tough on the nuts.

Ranger just gave his safety gear a derisive glance before we scaled walls using only handholds and whatever dexterity our fingers and booted feet have left. I was never a fan of climbs, ropes or otherwise, especially having broken a bone after one, but the slide down the other side felt damn good. It was almost a chance to rest when only air and a loose hold is required to make it back down to the ground.

Having to then climb a tower only to immediately repel back down it, should feel like more of the same, but that brief feeling of being able to fly, canceled out the pain going into the resulting fast descent. We quickly moved onto clearing a purposely downed helicopter and rescued a trapped airman who needed to be strapped to a board and carried out under 'enemy' fire. This is what I'd been waiting for.

Ranger and I took turns throwing and launching explosives to clear our path and also to protect ourselves and our rescuee so Ranger would be able to lead me and the poor guy tied to the gurney ... through cement tunnels and across thinly-cleared forest trails until we reached the pick-up point. Our guy was airlifted out while Ranger and I provided coverage again so our people wouldn't be shot down. If this were a real war, we all need to survive ... those in the air and those of us left on the ground.

I shot my eyes to Ranger, ready to grin at the unprepared youngin' that was grunting nearby, but one indulgent glance back showed no teams had caught up to us. That was fucking humbling. I'm the grunting idiot. But ... shit ... every part of me is either sore, bleeding, or completely numb. But that ceased to exist when we reached the fun part, target practice with grenades where we blew up the enemy so we can ranger-crawl over to where another enemy asshole needed a grenade chucked at him. I could do this all day. Pick up, pull pin, throw! It's a smooth move and a steady cadence I felt was meditative. This is what we do, who we are.

"You done playing?" Ranger asked, sounding like he'd been out for just a brisk walk, not a man who hasn't slept in forever and had worked hard every one of the minutes we've been awake.

Damn him. I'm wet, exhausted, and even my eyelashes hurt, but if he's barely showing the strain, than I'll fucking hide it too. We headed out and began to haul ass to the next set of knee ups, but to prove he chose the right partner, I answered like talking wasn't too much to fucking ask of me.

"You know me, any time I get a course that involves multiple kill shots to pass, I'll show up even if my body doesn't agree that it's able to."

He nodded. We each have something mental and something physical to get us through to the next phase of this. My mental push is to make Ranger proud. My physical prod is to get to blow some shit up. No doubt his motivation is different. One is likely to inspire other Rangers into believing they can do anything if they work hard and put their mind to it, and Ranger's other I'd guess is all wrapped up around Steph.

Being a big guy with a lot of muscle, these sit ups, pull ups, and knee ups, aren't my favorite challenges. And like with everything else, Ranger smoked me. I hate when people who know shit about us throw out 'robot' as a taunt or insult. But times like these, I understand the confusion. Seeing Ranger in action has you believing he's on another level. Still human ... but more. I know he has to be hurting, but no one - except maybe Steph or Julie - would be able to detect it. I teased Stephanie about her believing he's a superhero, but I'll be damned if he doesn't have me believing it myself during drills like these.

I was relieved to get my rifle back in my hands, but that meant we were walking into day three. Climbing I could consider fun, and even balancing stomach-down on a rope with only your hands and one foot propelling and securing your body across a body of water, can be relaxing ... even exhilarating when you feel your fingertips connect to that Rangers banner. Having to land in ball-freezing water seconds later I would happily bypass.

When I could feel myself wanting to blow my own legs off as they began to shake and feel like they're unable to get me to the finish line a-fuckin'-gain, I looked sideways at Ranger. With a two-second stare, he seemed to will more fight and strength into me. Either that or he was issuing a mental threat that if I wreck his chance of being deemed 'Best Ranger' in front of Stephanie and null her marriage proposal, I'll be in far more pain once we get back on our home turf.

I sucked it up and put everything I had left in me to match Ranger's running pace. I knew all the pain, focus, and sleep-free nights, were worth it when I felt that finish line ribbon smacked me after Ranger broke it apart with his chest. To his credit, he didn't even acknowledge the congrats that hit us for being declared the reigning champions. His eyes and attention were solely focused on spotting and beckoning Stephanie to him.

She was on the same page. She shoved Monroe's leash into Bobby's hands and literally propelled herself like a grenade ready to explode against Ranger. She didn't care how dirty, damp, or sweaty he is … she wanted to show him how proud she is of him and to be his. I pity the idiot who blocked their way to the other.

It was lucky for everyone that no one did. He caught Steph's airborne body with one arm while shaking a Sergeant's hand with the other.

"Proud of you, Batman," I heard her whisper to the Boss right before she planted one helluva kiss on his mouth.

"I'm glad, but Tank and I just did what we're trained to, Babe," he replied, not being modest, just stating the truth as he nodded other congrats away.

Her congratulations, pride, and promise are the only things he cares about.

"I appreciate the credit, but we both know you're the driving force behind what we just accomplished," I told my best friend and idol. "I couldn't do this without you."

"That's what I do," he said back. "I get people to see and embrace their full potential. I couldn't have done this without you, Tank. We've survived this life together."

"You could've done this without me, but I'm honored you chose me to help secure another win."

"You were awesome, Tank!" Steph said, treating me to an excited hug despite Monroe already working himself free of Bobby's grip to get between us.

I don't get the mutt's grudge against me, but he's still hanging onto it no matter how many treats I slip him. Maybe it's all fake just so I continue to suck up to him so he can get more food. I wouldn't put anything past Stephanie's creature.

"I was just trying to keep up," I told Steph, when she drew back to envelop Ranger again.

I noticed her dog didn't try to shove him out of Steph's way or embrace. I helped rescue the beast, you'd think he'd be less of a dick to me.

"Hey, Tank, remember that Ranger is a freakin' superhero. You and I being mere mortals puts us at a disadvantage. But you're not far behind him for not only keeping up, but you've been Ranger's best friend, and go-to guy for everything, for decades … that means you are an incredible person and one hell of a warrior! Ranger is pretty choosy when it comes to people he likes, and you've been there from the beginning ... helping him become the legend he is. Don't downplay your own accomplishments just because you aren't him. You both kicked some serious ass, and I honestly can't be any prouder to have you both in my life than I am right now."

"Stop, Steph," Lester said. "You're gonna make Tank cry if you keep that shit up."

"I've got enough strength left in me to beat the shit out of you, since that doesn't take much effort," I warned him. "So I'd shut the fuck up now."

"Take Tank's advice, Lester. I don't wanna see what Monroe will do if his people start fighting each other," Steph told the idiot.

"The mutt seems to be nursing a beef with Tank," Lester said to her. "I'm confident he'll back me in a fight."

"Hold me back, Tank," Steph teased. "I'm going to take a swing at Lester myself."

"Easy, Babe," Ranger said against her ear. "Santos is just trying to feel like a man again after seeing Tank and I set an unprecedented record."

She cut her eyes to Lester. "Ouch. That one had to have hurt, especially coming from the Boss himself."

"I don't need a title to know how good I am," Santos stated.

I nodded. "Spoken like someone who doesn't have a title beyond 'Control Room Clown'."

"You guys are all impressive. The contest is over, let's not create a new insult version of one," Steph said to us.

"Yes, Mom," Santos told her.

Instead of responding to him, she looked up at Ranger. "When do we get to ditch him?"

"We have an official dinner to get through tomorrow and then we can head back to Jersey."

"Good," Steph said. "I can't wait to get home and claim my prize."