Disclaimer: This is a Stephanie Plum FanFiction Story. All recognizable characters belong to the fabulous Janet Evanovich. I am just borrowing her amazing characters for a while.

A/N: A fast-paced short two-chapter story based on an impromptu challenge in the Facebook group Janet Evanovich Fan Fiction.

Challenge: According to new research, having a hamster in your online dating profile pic can increase your chances of getting a reply by 351%.

Warnings: Adult language, adult situations.

Summary: Rex plays an instrumental role in Stephanie's love life. Tart

A/N: Apparently every time I write a story that includes Rex, it ends up a Tart. This is a full-blown tart story, and now I guess I can cross it off my bucket list!

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The Rat Pact

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I stepped out of the bonds office and spied Les Santos across the street, leaning back against his big, black SUV with blacked-out windows, arms crossed, body relaxed. My eyes swept over him, taking in the painted-on RangeMan t-shirt that highlighted his world-class abs, and his black cargo pants that encased his muscular thighs and long legs.

When he spotted me, he pushed off the vehicle and headed across the street, dodging between cars. A pair of aviators covered his eyes, but he had the look of a man on a mission. I surreptitiously glanced around to see if someone else had followed me out. Les was bearing down on me with intense focus, and it made the hair on my neck stand straight up.

After Ranger left, Les checked on me frequently. We grabbed dinner or watched a game, but this didn't seem like a friendly hey how are you visit, and a lump immediately formed in my throat. Did something happen?

Several months ago, Ranger moved to Dallas to open a new office. He'd stopped by, kissed me stupid, and told me if I needed anything to call Tank. We both knew he wasn't coming back. The kiss had been too desperate and laced with regret to be a see-you-soon kiss. No, it had definitely been a goodbye kiss. He left me in the alley, broken-hearted and confused. Ranger had never been mine, and we both understood one day he would drift out of my life the same way he drifted in. I just hadn't expected it to be that day. Blindsided and unprepared, I stared after his retreating back, long after I heard the Porsche growl to life and pull away.

I can't say in the months since I got over him, but I learned to live without him. In the dead of night, sometimes I still hear his voice or the echo of his laughter. That belly-deep purely masculine sound he offered with such rarity, it was more precious than gold. Proud of you babe, still whispers in my ear, every time I make a successful takedown. I've mostly filed Ranger under the heading of things-we-never-get-over and moved on. Or at least I've tried to.

I pulled my thoughts from the past and braced myself for hurricane Les as he closed the distance with alarming speed and the grace of an apex predator, confident in his place in the food chain.

"I need to talk to you." He said by way of explanation as he snagged my arm and herded me into the alley between the bonds office and the dry cleaner.

"I never would have guessed," I replied drily.

Les didn't seem to notice my irritation as we stopped by the dumpsters. The pulse in my throat throbbed in double time as I forced deep breaths, ignoring the stale smell of garbage. Whatever it was, it seemed important.

"I need to borrow the rat."

I blinked a few times in slow motion, like maybe I could communicate better in Morse code, wondering if I'd heard him right. Les was looking at me expectantly, and irritation tempered with relief washed over me.

"He's not a rat," I said, incensed on Rex's behalf at such an insult.

"OK, the hamster."

I crossed my arms and my eyebrow hitched up. Les rolled his eyes and heaved out an exasperated breath.

"Rex. I need to borrow Rex." His gaze fluttered heavenward like he was looking for patience. I had bad news for him, in my experience that never worked.

My nose wrinkled, and I waited for the punchline, but Les offered nothing more.

"Why?"

He stroked his chin and shifted from foot to foot, hemming and hawing.

"Well," I prompted.

"OK, so Hector read somewhere that having a hamster in your online dating profile pic can increase your chances of getting a reply by three hundred and fifty-one percent."

"Dating profile? Since when did you start online dating?"

"There was this incident at Gunny's." Les stopped mid-sentence and winced. "You know what, never mind."

I narrowed my eyes and waited, making sure he understood he wasn't getting off that easily.

He made a dismissive gesture with his hands. "The whole don't foul the nest thing. The guys thought I should branch out."

"So basically, you've slept with or hit on all the women at Gunny's."

Les scrunched up his nose and had the forethought to appear a little sheepish as he shrugged. "Pretty much." He did a palms-up gesture.

"What sites are you using?"

"Tinder."

My eyebrows skirted dangerously close to my hairline. "I thought you said you were online dating. That's a hook-up site."

Les' forehead creased and his brows knitted together, oblivious to the distinction. I shook my head at a loss for what to say.

"Speaking of dating, what's up with you and the cop?"

My shoulder tilted up, thrown by the unexpected change in topic. "Nothing. Just friends. I think anyway. The friends part, not the dating part," I clarified.

"Ranger believed." My eyes widened, and I eyed Les with skepticism and his voice trailed off.

"OK, scratch that. I thought if Ranger wasn't around, you and the cop would finally do the whole commitment thing, and stop the make-up, break-up cycle."

"Ranger had nothing to do with it. The make-up, break-up cycle was all me and Morelli."

"It's over between you?" Les asked as he studied me, his face serious.

He did that thing where he could measure your heart rate and peek inside at your innermost private thoughts. Heat flushed up my neck and colored my cheeks at the way Les studied me. I felt like I was under a microscope, with all my warty, crusty flaws on display. You might assume he was goofy, but Les was wicked smart and didn't miss much. All that charm could lull you into a false sense of security, but I'd been around him long enough to know better. He could be focused, cunning, and lethal. The nice part, he tempered it with an easy-going demeanor, laughter, and a verve for fun. In other words, he was Ranger without the stick up his ass.

"Yeah, it's been over for months," I confirmed.

My voice was light, and it surprised me when my gut didn't twist. No stabbing pain behind my eyeball accompanied the confession, just peace. Once Ranger rolled out of town, Morelli no longer had the urge to compete, and we drifted our separate ways. It was the most civil break-up we ever had. No tears, no fight, no waving of arms. Just a kiss on the cheek and the clink of beer bottles wishing each other the best.

Les nodded. "Hmm."

I wanted to ask him what that meant, but decided it was better not to know.

"About the rat?"

"Sure, come over tonight and you can borrow Rex."

Les smiled that killer smile and gave me a quick hug. "You're the best."

At six o'clock, Les rolled in, freshly showered with a bag from Pinos. We had a quick dinner, and then Les asked me to snap a few photos of him and Rex. Les was a natural and Rex wasn't too bad himself. I had to admit, Hector might have been onto something. I certainly would have taken a second gander.

"Should I do one with my shirt off?" Les asked as he browsed the dozen photos I'd already taken.

I threw a dishtowel at him. "Ew, no."

"Why not? Show off the goods."

He flexed his biceps like the incredible hulk, and I snickered. With a flash of his perfect white teeth, he grinned at me and I rolled my eyes in return, trying not to grin back, and failing.

"OK, be a spoilsport. I'm going to upload these."

A few taps on his phone and the pictures were uploaded. Two minutes later, his phone started blowing up like the bell on the Price is Right.

"Wow, that shit really works," Les exclaimed.

A weird feeling drifted over me, creating an uncomfortable pressure in my chest. I pushed it away and pretended like it was Pinos making a reappearance. If that's what he wanted, I was happy for him. That's what friends did. They supported each other.

"We have a winner for tonight's date." Les showed me his phone. "How about her?"

Bleached blonde hair, big tits, and blinding white teeth that seemed a little too big for her mouth. My shoulder tilted up in a shrug.

"I guess she's all right."

I immediately felt inadequate and plain. Clearly not Les' type. I gave a negative shake of my head. Where had that come from? His type or not wasn't really a factor. I wondered if that had been the problem with Ranger. Not hot enough to keep his attention. A wave of longing swept over me, so strong I was afraid my knees might buckle, and I grabbed the counter for support.

"All right?" Les' voice yanked me back to the present. "She's perfect. Her name is Candy, and she works in exotic entertainment."

He said the last part conspiratorially, and I figured that must mean something, but I didn't bother to ask. I was feeling lonely and dejected already. The last thing I needed was Les' enthusiastic explanation about Candy's obvious perfection. When Les said he was coming over tonight, I figured we would hang out. I didn't expect him to get a date within ten minutes of posting a picture with Rex.

"Have fun on your date," I said and pasted a smile on my face.

Les' gaze cut to mine. "I could stay. We could watch a movie or something."

"No, don't be silly. I've got plans." I replied with a breezy wave of my hand.

Les didn't need to know those plans involved Ben and Jerry and the TV remote.

"Are you sure? I mean…"

I cut him off. "Of course, go. Have fun." I pushed him towards the door.

He leaned down and kissed my cheek, and something dormant stirred as the air around us shifted, and my heart skipped a beat. Les cleared his throat and stepped back, an odd expression on his face.

"OK, I'll see you in the morning. You and I are riding together for patrol." His voice was rougher than usual.

"Sure thing." I had a suspicion I resembled a bobblehead doll as I nodded with fake enthusiasm.

Les opened the door and turned back, and his mouth opened to say something.

"Remember, no glove, no love." I smiled brightly, like a crazed hyena.

"Yeah, OK," Les mumbled and headed down the hall.

I closed the door after him and leaned up against it and let out a frustrated breath. What had just happened? When did Les Santos decide I was a charity case? Probably about the time he realized I'm pathetic with zero social life. I shook my head and headed for the fridge to dig my date out of the freezer.

The next morning, I rolled into RangeMan bleary eyed sucking down my jumbo-sized to-go mug of coffee like it was life support. Les was at his desk, feet propped up, head lolled back, and his eyes were closed. He looked like shit. Pale with dark circles under his eyes, snoring gently, and by gently, I mean like a chainsaw. His hair looked like he styled it with a blender. Spikey tips going in odd directions or pointing straight up and out. My lip curled back, and I moved closer. It was entirely possible it might also house a nest of rodents. It must have been one hell of a night with Candy, and a twinge of something fluttered in my chest. I chalked it up to indigestion and kicked his feet off the desk.

"What the hell," Les mumbled and popped one eye open and then the other.

"Oh hey, Steph."

For a guy that probably had hot, swing-from-the-rafters, marathon sex last night, he seemed a little glum.

"How was your date?" I tried to sound cheerful and failed.

I wasn't a morning person, which I hope explained my lack of interest and enthusiasm.

Les rubbed his forehead. "Horrible."

A smile twinged at the corners of my mouth, and I did my best to suppress it. It was wrong to be pleased that Les' date with the Candy the stripper had gone sideways.

"What happened?"

I pretended I was just making conversation and not riveted to every word, about to bust out of my skin, waiting on the answer.

Les groaned and pinched his nose, a grimace twisting his features. "It was over before it started. I had a, um."

Les poked his head up like a meerkat from its burrow and looked around. "A malfunction." He whispered.

My brows drew together. "Malfunction?"

Les frantically motioned with his hands. "Keep your voice down." He hissed, as his head swept from side to side, ensuring no one was within earshot.

"Yeah, you know." He made a vague gesture up and down his body. "Couldn't get it to work."

"It?" I needed to have more caffeine for this conversation and downed another slug of coffee as I evaluated Les over the rim to see if he was hungover or just babbling.

Les' eyes widened, and he gave me a look that said stop being daft. My brain chugged along, and then I put two and two together. A little late to the party, but at least the pieces had snapped into place.

My mouth formed an O and hung there for a full minute, while my brain did all sorts of mental gymnastics in an effort not to form an image of Les and Candy that would force me to stab out my mind's eye.

"Oooh, does that happen? You know a lot?"

I tried for sympathetic, but it mostly came out as mocking.

A horrified expression crossed his face. "No!" He barked and then lowered his voice and scanned the bullpen again. "It's never happened to me. Ever."

"Well, don't worry, I'm sure it's nothing. Probably common."

I did a better job of sounding supportive this time, but shot him a dubious glance. In my experience, it never happened. Then again, my experience with men was limited. Morelli wasn't nicknamed the Italian Stallion for nothing. Perhaps Candy wasn't ringing Les' bell, so to speak. I took a moment's satisfaction from that possibility and hid my smirk with another drink of coffee.

"Candy wasn't quite so perfect after all," I offered.

Les scrubbed his hand down his face. "No, it's… I kept thinking about." Les stopped mid-sentence like he realized he was talking out loud, and snapped his mouth shut with a clack of his teeth.

"About what?"

He motioned towards the elevators. "You know what? It's not important."

Les jumped up, knocking his pen holder over, scattering the contents across his desk, and hightailed it towards the elevator, as I trailed in his wake, confused by the sudden turn of events. The elevator doors opened and Les stepped in and moved to the far corner, giving me a wide berth like I might be rabid. I stealthily sniffed my pits to make sure I didn't stink. I eased out a relieved breath when all I smelled was the flowery scent of deodorant.

"What's wrong with you this morning? You're acting weird."

"Weird," Les squeaked like he had just hit puberty.

I gave him a questioning glance.

He cleared his throat. "Weird how?"

"You're all jumpy and sweaty? Are you sick?"

"Sick, no," Les confirmed. The "unless you mean in the head" part of that phrase hung like a silent bubble over his head.

I rolled my eyes and took another swig of my coffee. I didn't have the patience for Les' antics this morning, but I decided to take pity on him.

"Look, the whole equipment malfunction thing, it happens." I threw him a reassuring smile.

Les looked like he wanted to slink under a rock, embarrassed by his little problem. Well, his problem, I doubted there was anything little about him. I ignored the twinge that accompanied that thought.

"Can we agree to never mention this again?" Les gritted out between his clenched teeth.

My shoulders tilted up in an insolent shrug. "Sure, whatever you say, Rico Suave."

Les groaned and thunked his head back on the elevator wall. "I'm never living this down, am I?"

"Nope." I let the p make a little popping sound.

"You're an evil woman," Les said and tried not to smile, failing miserably.

"And that's what you love about me," I teased.

"Yeah, I think it is." His eyes locked with mine in the mirrored reflection of the doors.

Playful Les was gone, and bad boy Les was doing the talking. His eyes had gone dark, and tracked my every movement like a predator stalking prey. Sweat popped out on my upper lip, and the twinge tipped over into an ache at his low tone that promised wicked, sinful things. The air shifted and swirled as it took on a life of its own, kicking up latent thoughts and scary possibilities. The elevator seemed too small and confined for safety, and the sound of my swallowing bounced off the walls. When the doors popped open, I bolted out like I'd been scalded.

The rest of our shift was uneventful, and neither of us mentioned his problem or the elevator. Whatever that had been left me edgy for a lot of reasons. A little after five, we rolled into the RangeMan garage.

"Who's on deck tonight? Let me guess, Cherry, or is it her twin whipped cream?" A half-snort, half-laugh erupted, and Les threw me some serious side-eye. I was the only one that thought it was funny.

"No date tonight."

The matter-of-fact tone didn't invite questions, but that didn't deter me.

"What the offers dried up that fast? We should do that shirtless photoshoot."

"Why? You want to get me naked?" Les waggled his eyebrows, but the hum just below the surface hinted it was as much an invitation as a joke.

My mouth went dry, and I tried to laugh it off, but it sounded more like sputtering and choking.

"Are you worried you'll have a repeat performance?" I batted my lashes and gave him my best innocent, doe-eyed expression.

Les rolled his eyes and answered my question with a classic Italian hand salute.

"So, spill. No options for hot blondes?"

"Lots of matches. I just swiped left, or is it right?" Les ran a hair through his hair, causing it to spike in disarray. "Shit, I don't know. I'm not interested."

"See, this is why I'm not on a dating site. Too much pressure."

Les made a derisive sound. "Right, because your mother setting you up with Bernie is better."

"Hey now, I'll have you know he can get me a good deal on a washer and dryer combo. You know if my apartment had hook-ups."

"Or the guy who puts his hands up a chicken's ass."

The look Les threw me verged somewhere between pity and that old saying that people that lived in glass houses shouldn't throw rocks.

I groaned, a low and pitiful sound. "Ronald."

An involuntary shudder rippled through my body at the mental image of Ronald touching me with the same hands he used to touch the insides of a dead chicken.

Les looked over, his gaze hooded. "How about dinner?"

I squinted over at him and then down at my clothes, which consisted of a pair of well-worn jeans, a plain t-shirt, and a ratty hoodie. "Take out is probably the better option."

Les sighed.

"OK," I relented. "We can eat in if that's what you want."

Unsure what had gotten into him today, I figured if he wanted to eat in, it wouldn't kill me.

"Shorty's?" I offered.

"Nah, that's OK. I'll see you tomorrow."

With that, he climbed out of the SUV and headed for the stairs. I stared after him until he disappeared into the stairwell as an uneasy feeling crept over me. It seemed like I missed something important.

About halfway down Haywood in my current POS, I hooked an illegal U-turn in the middle of the street and headed back to RangeMan. I took the stairs to the fourth floor and banged on Les' door. A moment of shuffling, then silence. I banged again, this time harder.

"I'm coming. Just hold your damn horses." Les yelled through the door.

A second later, the door swung open along with my mouth. Les' broad form filled the doorway. When his gaze landed on mine, his irritation transformed into interest. Water glistened on his bare chest like the sparkle of diamonds, drawing my gaze as I stood transfixed. A girl could get lost in the canyon between his abs. Holy crap, he was ripped. His wet hair was mussed, and my deviant mind wondered if that's what it looked like just after sex. With effort, I yanked my thoughts back into friend territory and away from careening off the cliff. It probably wasn't polite to be looking at him like a butterscotch Tastykake.

With casual ease, he ran his hand through his wet hair, making all the muscles in his arm bulge, and a whimper bubbled low in my throat. I wanted to pretend that was a practiced move, but it was so natural it was innate. He oozed sex and testosterone, and the surrounding air was saturated, making me lightheaded and damp. Everywhere.

His arm rested on the doorjamb and my eyes slid south, following the trail of dark hair. He clutched an itty-bitty towel at his waist, and I momentarily hoped he took a tighter grip as the sides split, giving me an up close and personal view of his bare muscular thigh. A view so erotic it was possible I might faint. Sex personified. That's the only thing that came to mind as I stared dumbstruck and mute. The thinness of the towel hid absolutely nothing and saliva pooled in my mouth as my hungry eyes refused to look away. Heat flushed up my neck and across my face, which seemed odd since all the blood in my body had rushed south.

Les stared at me like he knew all my secrets, including the color of my panties. I was afraid if he kept staring at me like that, he might legit find out. With substantial effort, I pulled my eyes away and blinked a few times, desperately searching for my sanity. It remained as elusive as bigfoot.

"Steph?" His voice was soft and silky, ripe with an invitation.

My brain and tongue refused to cooperate, and the noise escaping my mouth resembled a trumpeting elephant. The heat in my face turned scorching. Why can't I be a normal person? My eyes flickered heavenward as I pled with the universe to keep me from doing something stupid.

The way my ovaries were jumping up and down and doing the Macarena, I was pretty sure that prayer was going unanswered. My dry spell had been going on so long it had surpassed drought and barreled right through to epic disaster territory that robbed me of common sense and good judgment. Not that I'd exactly been flush with those to start, so any little dent could cause a catastrophe at any moment. Especially if that towel slipped any lower.

I cleared my throat with a sound that mimicked a cat hacking up a hairball. I silently begged, please don't let me sound like a strangled animal.

"Is your invitation still open?" I sounded like a sultry phone sex operator, and I resisted the urge to whack my head on the wall.

Les' eyebrow cocked up, and his arm dropped from the doorjamb and I watched the ripple of his muscles and licked my lips.

"For dinner," I clarified.

My eyes dipped back to the wee towel that had started to tent away from his body. His lips twitched as he read the thoughts scrolling across my forehead in big block letters.

"At Shorty's." I squeaked.

The smirk turned into a slow smile that spread across his face, softening his features, and my belly fluttered. I did my level best not to let my eyes slip below his neck because everything south was a danger zone.

"Sure, want a beer while I change."

He may as well have offered me hot, sweaty, rough sex pinned against the door, the way everything in my body pulled tight like an overstretched bow at the sound of his voice. I nodded, afraid to speak. God had granted me one full sentence. I didn't dare hope for a second.

Les waved towards the kitchen and stalked off into his bedroom while I watched his very fine ass retreat out of view. I opened his refrigerator and shoved my head inside, letting the cool air wash over my overheated skin. I was too young for menopause, but that hot flash had been a doozy.

I grabbed a beer and popped the top, momentarily debating if I should just douse it over my head to put out the crazy flames that licked through my body with alarming speed. I mean, Les was hot, but it was still Les. Mister one and done and off to the next piece of candy in the box. I snorted at my own cleverness. Candy. Yeah, that hadn't worked out so well. I ignored the smug satisfaction that Les' one-night stand had been a dud.

"You're insane," I muttered to myself and shoved my head back in the refrigerator, hoping the frigid air would cool my libido that had hopped a one-way train to nowhere good.

So desperate for an orgasm with someone other than myself; I wasn't even sure I cared if it was one night. I navigated the friends with benefits thing with Ranger. Why not with Les? Not that the Ranger dalliance had gone all that well, but practice makes perfect and all.

"What's that?"

Les' voice sounded behind me and I whacked the top of my head on the refrigerator when I jumped like someone had electrocuted me.

"Shit," I mumbled and rubbed my head, hoping that had knocked some sense into me.

"Nothing," I chirped and guzzled half the bottle of beer to drown the butterflies having a party in my stomach.

Les had changed into a pair of jeans and a white button-down shirt. He looked relaxed and totally fuckable. I squeezed my eyes tight. Where had that come from?

"You, OK?" He asked as he gave me the same consideration one might give a kid that had just exited the tilt-a-whirl clutching his stomach. Optimistic but wary.

"Mmm hmm." I smiled, even though my face felt like glass.

Les grabbed his keys off the bar, and I tried to ignore the tingle that danced up my spine when he put his hand on my low back and guided me out to the elevator.