Disclaimer: The characters and settings we all know and love belong to Janet Evanovich. The plot, such as it is, and anyone you don't recognize belongs to me. Written strictly for enjoyment – so enjoy!

Chapter 5

I felt him tense slightly and straightened away from him, catching movement from the bedroom doorway out of the corner of my eye. Ranger got back to his feet. I followed suit and felt his hand settle against the small of my back.

Julia's mother came out of the bedroom, eyes over-bright with unshed tears. "She is fine. I can't believe it—there's not a scratch on her." She walked up to us and reached both hands out to Ranger. He held one hand out to her, keeping the other around me. She took his hand in both of hers and kissed it in what seemed to be an old and familiar gesture of affection, and then turned toward me.

It was hard to keep my eyebrows from climbing up my forehead. Julia's mother – Ranger's ex-wife -- was nothing like I'd imagined. She was small, I'd been right about that, but there it ended. She wasn't Hispanic; her hair was so light a brown it was almost blonde. Her eyes were a tawny golden brown. She was mixed race, most certainly, but more like Hawaiian or Native American than Hispanic. She was pretty but not remarkable. Only her smile stood out.

"This is Stephanie? The one who saved Julia?" She turned her smile on me.

I jumped in before Ranger could speak. "I didn't really save her. She pretty much saved herself. I just brought her here."

She gripped my arm then let go with a cry when she realized it was all scratched up. "You are injured?"

"It's nothing. I fell into a rosebush this morning." I felt Ranger's silent chuckle.

"Steph, this is Sasha Martin, Julia's mother. Sasha, meet Stephanie Plum."

Sasha frowned slightly. "Stephanie Plum. I know that name."

Crap. Please tell me that the papers in Miami have never picked up the stupid newspaper articles from Trenton. I held my breath, hoping.

"The Bombshell Bounty Hunter of Trenton, New Jersey," the second man quoted softly as he came up behind Sasha and slipped his arm around her. She let go of Ranger's hand and leaned back into her husband's arms.

"Steph, this is Eric Martin, Sasha's husband." Ranger finished the introductions and Eric smiled and offered his hand.

I shook politely. "The newspaper article was greatly exaggerated. The funeral home burned down, but it wasn't me." It was Grandma Mazur, actually. She'd fired a shot into a crate of stolen ammo and it had all gone downhill from there. Ranger was grinning and I shot him a glare. He responded with a one-armed hug.

"These things just seem to happen whenever Stephanie's around. She's actually very good at what she does."

Sasha was giving me a measuring look, and it made me nervous. I shifted slightly, hoping Ranger would get us out of here soon. Sasha was very wound up right now, but her eyes looked tired and I suspected she'd start crashing soon. Eric looked a little wilted, too.

Ranger's ESP was working fine. "You can stay in this apartment. We'll be downstairs. Press Intercom-5 on the phone if you need anything; it will connect you to the control room. They can get you anything you want. You can call me if you need me." There was a soft knock on the door and Ranger went to open it. Tank came in carrying luggage. He sat three pieces down and raised an eyebrow slightly at Ranger about a fourth. "Leave it. I'll get it. Thanks, Tank." Tank nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

Eric moved toward what was obviously their luggage, and Ranger looked at me, then down at my feet.

"Where are your shoes, Babe?"

I had to think. I'd taken off my shoes and socks before I'd climbed on the bed to dry Julia's hair. "Bedroom. I'll just be a second." I made a quick dash to the bedroom for my shoes, dodging into the dressing room first to grab a pair of socks and another set of underwear and stuffed them into my shoes.

Ranger gave me a questioning look when I came back carrying my shoes hugged against my chest, but he didn't say anything. I grabbed the shirts and my purse from under the kitchen bar and met him at the door.

He picked up his duffel in one hand and opened the door with the other, inclining his head for me to go through first. I did. The tile on the floor was cold against my feet, and I was pretty sure the floor of the elevator was metal. It wasn't that far, I could surely be tough long enough to make it to the fourth floor barefooted.

Ranger pressed the elevator button and looked at me, shaking his head slightly and giving me that half-smile.

"Here," he said, handing me his duffle. It wasn't heavy, and I took it automatically, without thinking. I should have known – would have known if I'd thought. As it was, I gave a squeak of surprise when he scooped me up.

"What are you doing? You don't need to carry me, I'm not that big of a baby."

"I know you aren't. But your feet are going to be like ice by the time we get to the apartment."

"So? I'll live." The elevator door opened and he stepped in.

"Maybe I don't want you freezing me with them."

I blushed and he laughed, and his eyes warmed in a way that was quickly becoming familiar. I tried to head him off. "You know there's a camera in here, and someone is watching," I warned. "Hell, they're probably all watching. You can wait just five minutes…"

"No, I can't," he whispered, and his mouth took mine.

Okay, so once he's got his mouth on me I sort of forget the cameras. Sue me.