This has developed a life of its own. If you're reading this, you must have at least been curious enough to read on, and I'm already grateful. Thank you for your feedback so far, you guys are the best!

Spoilers: If you hadn't read the books, you wouldn't be here, but you won't be spoiled either way, I blame it all on the gin

Rating: PG13 for language, it's adult language

Disclaimer: I made the whole thing up, I own none of JE's characters.

Out Of my Mind

Chapter 4

A part of me wanted to know why I was panicking, since I had long since decided I was in a dream or hallucination or some such. Another, unfortunately bigger, part of me didn't like the reality of it all and wanted to get out, no matter how.

I was Sandra Cline, systems administrator and all-around geek and fangirl, not Lindsay Taylor, wannabe bounty hunter from Boston.

This game was no longer entertaining, it was frightening.

And I was going to check myself straight into McLean hospital when I woke up and got home.

A knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts.

I swiveled my head to the form emerging in the door frame: A tall, casually dressed, drool-inducing man stood in the door, gun in hand, frowned look on his face.

His dark hair looked like it needed a cut, his body didn't look like he had an ounce of fat on him, and had I walked into him in any other situation I might have fainted and forgotten my name. Or the other way around.

If this wasn't Joe Morelli, I didn't care, because whoever he was, I was going to declare me his.

"You Lindsay Taylor?" He asked in this sexy voice of his, and he lowered his gun when I nodded.

I didn't quite trust my voice to speak yet.

"I'm Joe Morelli." Again, a nod from me.

And then I saw a finger pointing towards the bathroom, it took me a moment to realize it was mine.

Joe pushed the bathroom door open a bit with the barrel of his gun.

"Shit!"

He exclaimed. Thrice, I think.

He must have thought I was a prankster until then.

I saw him make a phone call on his cell phone and then he turned towards me.

Clearly, he wasn't impressed by my badass outfit, because he holstered his gun and squatted down in front to me to be to be at eye level.

His brown eyes bored into mine and I saw his lips move, but I didn't hear anything.

"Lindsay!" he exclaimed, and that got my attention.

Right, I was Lindsay. I had the authorization to capture in my pocket and had every right to be here, more or less.

"I'm Lindsay Taylor, bond enforcement agent for Vincent Plum's Bail Bonding agency." It occurred to me that I sounded like a captured soldier, reciting rank and number, but it was all I could manage. I still didn't meet Joe's stare when I continued.

"The door was open when I got here and I found the body as is, I didn't go near him." Good going, Sandra, defend yourself before being accused. Not suspicious at all.

Joe nodded and let out an exasperated sigh.

"And do you have any idea who he is?" He moved his head slightly in the direction of the bathroom, lest I forget where the dead guy was.

"St..Steve…" I almost hiccupped, but Morelli cut me off.

"Yeah, Steve Morino. I mean, do you know who he is?"

This question didn't compute. What else was there to answer but a name?

Granted, I hadn't gotten all of my brain back into functioning order yet, but I wasn't about to admit that.

I just shook my head.

Another sigh from Joe, but at least he appeared temporarily satisfied, because he got up and looked around.

"Jeeeez…did you do this?" it sounded more like a rhetorical question, I decided, so I didn't answer. Without looking up, I knew he was referring to the mess around us.

Now I could hear sirens in the distance.

"I called the team. It looks like the crime scene is pretty much intact."

The tone of his voice had changed and I looked up to find he had put on an unreadable face. The cop face I had been reading about.

He must have misunderstood my sudden reaction because he felt the need to add "You didn't touch anything, did you?"

I thought he looked a tad relieved when I answered no, but that could have been me.

Joe stepped out as the sirens grew close, and for a moment, I contemplated flight. I could just march myself out of here and walk away.

I liked that thought, but unfortunately, my body refused to cooperate.

Instead, my mind kept bringing up the picture of the dead guy in the bathtub.

Then it occurred to me that Vinnie would still get his money back even though Steve was dead, and then I was disgusted with myself for thinking along those lines.

But at least I had another emotion to focus on.

The next hour or so was more of a blur. It was growing dark outside and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was watching a TV show. CSI maybe. There were people around me hustling about, taking pictures, dusting surfaces, murmuring to each other.

Maybe they weren't murmuring, but I didn't understand what they were saying.

Nobody paid much attention to me one way or the other, and when I realized I could feel my legs again, I got up.

"Stay!"

Joe's voice carried to me, and at first I wasn't sure whether he was talking to a dog, or me, but then he touched my arm and shook me slightly.

I think "Whaa?" describes the sound that came out of my mouth best, real sophisticated.

"I still need your statement. If you have plans for the evening, you may want to cancel them, because we'll be a while."

Joe Morelli was talking to me, holding my arm.

What he said even made some sort of sense, in a 'seen this in countless cop shows' sort of way.

I must not have looked like it made sense though, because Joe turned halfway around, addressed one of the uniforms close by, and then nudged me towards the exit.

I followed his lead on jelly legs, still not quite with the program.

We stepped out of the apartment building and I took a deep breath of fresh air to clear my head.

I wasn't sure where we were going until Joe opened a passenger door of a car and gently pushed me inside.

"Let's get some coffee." He said as if it was the most natural thing to do and started the car.

"Coffee is good." I replied, still in my genius conversation mode.

I tried real hard to realize that I was in a car with one of the two men in my threesome fantasy, and that I should picture him naked while I had the chance, but the image wouldn't fine-tune.

For lack of a better word, I was numb.

After a few turns, he parked in front of a dinner and cut the engine.

Up until then, I didn't know if he had meant coffee at the station, so I was relieved to discover I wasn't going to have to face the Spanish inquisition surrounded by cops a sterile investigation room that would probably make me confess to anything I could come up with.

I think Joe looked alarmed when I opened the door and got out on my own, but he relaxed when I just closed the door and stood still.

"Just a friendly conversation over coffee. Come on." He coaxed as he approached the diner, no longer leading me, but not letting me out of his sight.

I didn't think he had made up his mind what to think of me yet. He was in good company, I didn't know either.

The diner was one of those 24-hour places, with red formica-and-chrome tabletops and matching red pleather benches in booths.

We took our seats and ordered coffee, since it didn't look like a place that could serve cappuccino, I ordered plenty of milk with mine.

Joe produced a small steno pad and pen and began scribbling.

Huh, I thought, this was new. I didn't remember ever reading about Joe writing anything down at a crime scene, but then I realized I had never read about him talking to anyone but Stephanie, so I was willing to let it pass.

"Where're you from, Lindsay Taylor?" He began.

I was really proud of myself that I only hesitated a moment before I realized he was addressing me, and I told him I was from Boston.

That didn't seem to be important information, because he didn't write it down.

He may have been contemplating his next question as his eyes looked up from the notepad into mine, and I all but melted.

So far, everything I had read about my two alpha-males was accurate. Even better, I decided.

I conjured up the image of Ranger leaning against his car and imagined him next to Joe across from me.

No wonder Stephanie was torn, who could decide between hotness and sex in blue jeans?

Sipping my coffee relaxed me enough to answer Joe's questions. The environment was harmless enough, and I really didn't have anything to hide.

And I really didn't know anything.

I had to ask Joe to wait to see my authorization to capture, since it was in my purse on my back seat, but that didn't seem to concern him.

Finally, I brought up the courage to ask him a question of my own, one that had been nagging me.

"So who was he? I can't imagine all the hubbub over an unemployed shoplifter."

Joe's eyes narrowed slightly, probably trying to decide if I was trustworthy, really as naïve as I was displaying, or merely prodding for information.

He took a sip of his coffee without taking his eyes off me.

"An informant, my informant." He said without emotion, still studying me.

"On a case you're working on?" I asked, more to have something to say than out of need to know. Did I mention my mouth sometimes operates independently from my brain?

My question brought back the unreadable face as he nodded.

"My only one." He added on a sigh.

Then the moment was gone, he dropped money on the table and motioned for me to stand.

"I'm going to drop you off at your house, you can pick up your car tomorrow. For tonight, I'd prefer you unable to leave the area."

For a moment, I wondered if I could pull off a really helpless look and persuade him to stay and protect me, but then I realized he had made the statement not out of concern for me, but because he didn't trust me.

Good going.

I wasn't looking forward to hearing the Miranda speech for the first time in real life, so I decided to nod and keep my mouth shut.