Author's note: I apologize for the long wait for the last chapter. Just after I posted chapter 8, JE's TWELVE SHARP came out, and I bought it and read it. Needless to say, a few eerie similarities pretty much freaked me out! I have racked my brain for an explanation but all I can come up with is just weird coincidence. I finally decided to just go ahead & finish my story (and yes, I have more sequels planned, but they follow my plot line, not TWELVE SHARP's) and not worry too much about it.

Let me know what you think…!

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 9

The ride back to the RangeMan building was quiet. Julia was nearly asleep, and Sasha looked like she could take a nap, too. It was fine with me. I was having second thoughts about my smart-ass comeback to Julia's question. Would she really ask Ranger if I was his girlfriend? Would she say I told her to ask him? Was Ranger going to make me pay for it?

I buzzed the gate open and parked the Cayenne in its regular spot. My Jeep waited in my slot, and I gave it a longing look. For a few minutes I thought about sending the Cayenne key up with them and just taking off, but that wouldn't be very nice. Besides, Ranger knew where I lived and my apartment locks have never kept him out.

We trooped into the elevator but before the door could close Tank appeared. From the faint smell of gunpowder that clung to him, I guessed he'd come from the small firing range off the garage.

"Going up?" I asked, and he stepped in with a faint grin.

"Fifth floor," he said.

"Big guys in bad-ass black," I said as the doors closed, doing my best impression of Mrs. Besler.

Tank got it because he grinned. "Don't start that sh-stuff here. Lester will pick it up and we'll never hear the end of it." Then he nodded to the others. "Hello, Sasha. Julia, I heard you went on a little road trip and met Bombshell. You doin' okay?"

"Yes, sir. Stephanie saved me."

I rolled my eyes a little, careful not to let Sasha or Julia see me. "I just provided the distraction. Sound familiar?"

Tank chuckled, the doors opened onto the fifth floor and he stepped off. "See you later, Steph."

I hit the remote to take us up to the seventh floor apartment.

"Bombshell?" Sasha repeated questioningly.

I sighed. Somehow I knew we couldn't make it up to the apartment without one of them asking, although I'd thought it would be Julia.

"It's kind of a long story, but to put it in a nutshell I have bad luck with cars. Some reporter stuck me with that nickname because of it."

Sasha's eyebrows went up but she didn't ask anything else. Maybe she remembered something, or maybe she remembered Eric had called me that, too, and she'd ask him. Either one was fine with me as long as I didn't have to explain.

I knocked when we reached the apartment door. Julia gave me a curious look but didn't say anything about me having my own key, which I appreciated. Eric opened the door.

"Hello again, Stephanie. I hope you all enjoyed your lunch?"

"Lunch was good, but dessert was the best!" Julia told him with a big smile. "We shared cheesecake and tira-- tira--"

"Tiramisu," I supplied.

"Yeah, Stephanie says that's her favorite right after pineapple upside-down cake. Have you ever had an upside-down cake?"

Eric looked thoughtful. "My mom made it sometimes, but it's been years since I've had it. Was it on the dessert menu?"

"No," Julia said, sounding slightly disappointed.

"My mom makes it," I found myself saying. "She has a special recipe that no one else knows. I'll have to get her to write it down for me someday." I ran out of things to say and stood there feeling slightly awkward. I decided to cut and run. "Thanks for lunch, Sasha, Julia. I enjoyed it, and meeting all of you."

"The pleasure was ours," Eric said. "If you're ever in Miami, please come to visit. You will always be welcome."

What should I say to that? I was saved by the ringing of my cell.

"Hello?"

"Meet me in the garage," Ranger's voice said, and he hung up.

Just this once, I didn't mind the abruptness.

"Sorry, I need to go," I smiled at the three of them. "Take care, and have a safe trip home."

I felt a little guilty for feeling so relieved to be going. Then, about halfway down in the elevator, I wondered what Ranger wanted. Meeting in the garage had several possibilities. One, the gun range and target practice, which he was known to make me do on occasion. Two, he wanted me to go with him somewhere. Or three, that he'd known I'd feel the need for an excuse to leave and was just providing it.

He was leaning against the Porsche, waiting. I guess that meant door number two.

I slid into the seat while he held the door, buckling my seatbelt as he went around and got in. "Where are we going?"

"To have a doctor check out your graze," he answered, having waited until he was pulling into traffic so I wouldn't try to hop out of the car. "Just a precaution, babe."

"I don't want to go to the hospital," I balked.

"No hospital," he agreed. "This is a private practice."

He wasn't kidding about the private part. This doctor's office wasn't like any I'd ever seen before. It was in one of the high-rises downtown and the reception area looked more like a lawyer's office. There were no crying kids, no sniffling adults in the waiting area. There was only one person in it, a man in a dark suit with an air of watchfulness around him that I'd found common among Ranger's men. A bodyguard, or someone ex-special forces of some kind, I guessed.

Ranger spoke briefly to the receptionist and we were ushered into a room that again looked more like a lawyer's office than a doctor's. Then a door opened from the adjoining room and a doctor complete with a white coat and stethoscope stepped in.

Okay, this guy looked like a doctor. In fact, he looked like the pediatrician I'd adored as a child. He was an older man, gray-haired but well-groomed and friendly-looking. His face lit up with a smile as he caught sight of Ranger.

"Ah, Ranger! I was surprised to get your call. I hope it's not you who needs my services today."

"No. I've brought you a new patient. Dr. James, this is Stephanie Plum. She got grazed yesterday and I wanted to bring her in to make sure it's okay."

"Ms. Plum, yes, I've followed your adventures in the newspapers. I'm happy to meet you at last."

"Thank you, Dr. James. But don't believe everything you read in the paper. I almost never blow anything up."

Dr. James chuckled. "I understand completely. Now, where is this wound? Do you need to change so I can look at it?"

Fortunately not. The new jeans were a little lower in the waist than the ones I'd worn yesterday, and the loose top was easy to get out of the way. I followed the doctor into the room he'd arrived from and found a room full of state-of-the-art medical equipment that looked like it could handle anything from minor emergencies to full-scale surgery. At his gesture, I hopped up on the table and raised the hem of my shirt to expose the bandage.

Ranger stepped up behind me and helped get the back of the shirt out of the way while Dr. James rolled over a covered tray and pulled on gloves. I didn't even have time to flinch when the doctor reached over and ripped the bandage off. I gasped, and behind me Ranger chuckled.

Dr. James reached overhead without looking and grabbed a light. It was one of those multi-jointed things that somehow stayed wherever you put them, defying gravity and all forms of Murphy's Law. He got it positioned where he wanted it and turned it on, then made a distracted humming sound.

"Wearing black when it happened?" he asked casually, and I nodded reluctantly. If he knew that it probably meant it wasn't completely clean. Damn.

He had me lay down so he could see better – probably also so I'd be less likely to faint on him – and got down to business. He sprayed the raw scrape with something that stung for a couple of seconds, but when he used tweezer-looking things to pull several bits of black thread out of it I didn't feel anything. The wash he used after that stung some, but it wasn't bad.

The whole thing took very little time, and when I sat back up he gave me a small paper bag containing the antiseptic wash, salve, bandages, and clear bandage protective strips to use for when I showered for a few more days. I thought they looked a lot like giant cellophane tape, only waterproof. After about four days, he told me, it would probably be okay to go uncovered in the shower, and a bandage would only be necessary if something was rubbing the area.

I thanked the doctor, who smiled and shook my hand again, and then he left through another door. Ranger came around the table and took the bag, then offered his hand to steady me as I slid off the table to my feet. I wasn't dizzy, but I took his hand anyway. He got that almost-smile amused look on his face and squeezed my fingers slightly, and we left.

Once we were back in the Turbo I thanked Ranger for bringing me to Dr. James.

"He's good, he's private, and he's discreet. He's also choosy about his patients. If you look, there's probably a card in the bag. He isn't listed anywhere, and if he doesn't like someone he won't give them a way to contact him. He liked you."

I looked, and he was right. The card was plain white with black embossed letters. It read only Arlin James, with a phone number printed beneath. No logos, titles, or address on the card. Very discreet.

"Keep it. If you ever need him again, he'll take good care of you."

"I don't have medical insurance."

"You don't need it."

I gave him a look at his cryptic comment, and he grinned.

"No paperwork, no paper trails. He's not in it for the money, Babe."

Oh, that made it all clear…NOT! What, was Ranger picking up my tab with the doctor? Does the doctor take payment in something other than money? Is he independently wealthy? But I knew from experience that Ranger had said all he was going to say, so I dropped the subject and tucked the card into an inner pocket of my wallet.

For several minutes we rode in silence. Then my conscience started giving me trouble, and after a couple more minutes during which I started squirming in my seat, I caved.

"Um, Ranger? I have a confession to make…"

We were near a shopping center; Ranger turned in and stopped the car, turning toward me expectantly. He had a blank face on, and I wondered what he thought I was going to say.

"You don't like Julia," he said, and his voice sounded hollow. Well, now I know he had some worries about our lunch date, too.

"Julia is wonderful. I even like Sasha and Eric."

His face relaxed, then he frowned slightly. "Then what's bothering you?"

Better to just say it. "Well, right at the end of lunch, Julia asked me if I was your girlfriend. I didn't know how to answer that, so I told her she'd have to ask you."

Ranger did something very uncharacteristic… He opened his mouth, closed it, then looked perplexed and gave a short laugh.

"Okay, I see your point. To me, you're much more than a girlfriend, but with Joe… There's no easy explanation."

"That was my problem," I said, relieved he understood. "I took the easy way out. But I decided I should warn you, in case she actually does ask."

He smiled. "Oh, believe me, Julia will ask."

"What will you tell her?"

He put the car back in gear before he answered, a rueful half-smile on his face. "Truthfully? No idea. But I'll think of something."

Back at the RangeMan building I said goodbye in the garage and hopped in my Jeep, heading for home. Julia's innocent question had brought something to my attention, and I needed some alone-time to figure out how to deal with it. Because it finally occurred to me that although my mother had to know I was dating both Ranger and Morelli - the 'Burg grapevine would have gleefully kept her informed of each time I'd been seen with one of them - she hadn't brought it up. Neither had my grandmother. It was definitely not normal behavior for either one of them, and sooner or later they were going to want answers.

I needed to decide what those answers would be.

Damn, and just when things were going so well…

End of "Lost & Found"