A/N: As always, everything familiar belongs to Janet Evanovich. I'm not making money, just playing around.
"Due?" I choked in open mouthed horror.
"Mamí!" Ranger scolded. "Stephanie is not pregnant."
"Why else would you bring her here?" Mariposa asked, her face showing disapproval. "We never even met your prom dates, Carlito."
Frankly, I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. I definitely wasn't pregnant. In fact, Aunt Flow was in town.
"Ma'am, I'm really not pregnant," I said, extending my hand to her. "Ranger invited me to come meet you. I hope that was okay."
She clasped my hand in her hers. It was cold and clammy, her skin paler than I suspected it should have been. She studied my features for a long moment before she gave me a smirk.
"So you're his… girlfriend?" she asked, her voice hopeful.
"I suppose you could say that," I said, giving her a smile.
"I've known Stephanie a long time, mamí," Ranger explained. "We've worked together. We're friends. We've been seeing one another for some time now. She's very special, so I hope you'll treat her with respect."
With that, Mariposa's face broke into a wide, toothy smile.
I couldn't help it. I smiled in response.
She shoved herself to her feet, dropping her quilt to expose the blue jeans and white sweatshirt that hung from her rail thin body. She was shorter than I was by a few inches. She pulled me to her with a firm tug, wrapping her arms around my body. I put my arms around her, too.
"Gracias a dios que te encontró," she said over and over again in my ear.
After an uncomfortably long moment had passed, Ranger spoke.
"Don't run her off, mom."
A musical laugh escaped from her as she released me, her attention turning to Ranger. "Thank you!" she exclaimed, pulling him into an embrace. He wrapped his arms around her, and she was lost in his embrace.
We headed for the table to eat, Roberto bringing a platter with burgers to the table. We made our plates and settled into easy conversation. Ranger's parents asked about my life, so I told them about my family, growing up in Trenton, and my job. I also told them about my hamster, Rex.
Bob fell in love with Ranger's mom while we ate, keeping his head in her lap while she picked at her dinner. She snuck him pieces of her hamburger, and he was happy to oblige her by eating it.
"Aren't you hungry, mom?" Ranger asked.
"No," she said, shaking her head.
"You have to eat," he admonished. I could tell he was concerned.
She obediently took a bite, then shared another bite with Bob.
"The chemo has really taken it out of her this time," Roberto shared. "They want to take her in for surgery as soon as possible."
"Surgery?" Ranger said, pausing with a bite on his fork halfway to his mouth.
"Colectomy," Roberto said.
Ranger put his fork down on his plate and closed his eyes, his mouth tightening.
"It's our best option at this point," he explained.
"I want to get it scheduled, Carlos," his mother said, feeding Bob a potato chip. "I know it's not what we wanted, but I want to have a fighting chance. I want to be around to watch mís nietos grow up. Maybe to see you and Stephanie have niños."
Ranger sat back in his seat, folding his hands in his lap. A dark look clouded his face, but he gave his consent by nodding.
"Furthermore," said Roberto, "we think the time has come to move. This home is too large to keep up with for only two of us. Celia has home large enough to host the family here in Newark, so we're considering a retirement apartment or a small duplex nearby."
We left Newark with hugs and a promise to return soon as the sun dropped below the horizon. Ranger was quiet in the passenger seat as I drove down the interstate to Trenton. He looked exhausted with dark circles beneath his eyes. Bob slept in the back seat, snoring.
"I can't believe your mother thought I was pregnant," I said, breaking the silence.
"Babe." Ranger gave me a smirk.
"Where do you want me to drop you?"
"You can take me to Haywood, or I'd stay with you," Ranger responded, leaving the choice to me.
I drove to my apartment complex, where we parked and let Bob tinkle in the grass. We took the elevator to the second floor, where Ranger did a quick walk through of my apartment before starting a bedtime routine. While he brushed his teeth, I fed Rex and took a survey of the cupboards. No coffee for morning. Mental head slap. We should have stayed at Ranger's apartment.
I sat down at my table, where my laptop was set up. As I began checking my e-mails, Ranger came out of the bathroom wearing nothing but boxers. I could see his fresh pink scars in stark contrast to his caramel brown skin, their edges puckered.
"Are you planning to stay up?" Ranger asked.
"No, I'm pooped. I've got a few more e-mails, then I'll get ready for bed."
"I'll be waiting," he said with so much innuendo my panties almost burst into flames.
Bob ambled into the bedroom with Ranger, and I quickly busied myself with my bedtime routine. I brushed my teeth, removed my makeup, ran a comb through my hair, and freshened up a bit. I checked the locks on my door and shut off the lights in my kitchen and living room. To my surprise when I walked in the bedroom, Ranger was fast asleep in my bed. I turned off the bedroom light and climbed into bed, half expecting Ranger to wake. He didn't, so I snuggled in to get some sleep. Ranger needed sleep to heal his brain and his body. Plus, with my giant list of FTAs, tomorrow was bound to be a long day even if it was a Sunday.
I woke with a start as my cell phone rang. Early morning sunshine was filtering through my curtains. I ripped the charging cord out of the base and answered with a hushed, "Hello?"
"Stephanie Plum? This is Mrs. Grizzard, Mario's neighbor. I was calling to let you know that his mother just stopped by his house with a coffeecake, and he let her in…"
"I'm on my way," I said, shimmying into dirty jeans. "Thank you!"
I disconnected and shoved my feet unceremoniously into tied sneakers.
"Babe?" Ranger mumble.
"Skip! Gotta go! Be back soon!" I shouted, tearing out my bedroom door.
"Be careful!" Ranger shouted from the bed.
I threw my messenger bag over my shoulder, grabbed my keys, and raced out of my apartment building. I was momentarily disoriented as I looked for my car, expecting to see Big Blue in the lot. I was pleased when I remembered the Camry. I tore out of the lot and pointed my wheels in the direction of Mario Silvas's neighborhood.
I made it to the house in record time, parking at the curb behind a candy apple red Mercury Grand Marquis. A handicapped parking sticker hung from the rear-view mirror, and a bumper sticker proudly announced, "My dachshund is smarter than your honor student." I assumed this had to be Mrs. Silvas's car. I shoved my hand into my bag, pulling out apprehension papers, cuffs, and a tube of pepper spray. I jumped out of the car and raced to the door of the one-story, modest brick ranch-style home. I pounded on the door with my fist.
"Bond enforcement," I announced. "Open up."
Silence.
"Open up, Mario. This has gone on long enough." I pounded on the door some more.
More silence. I began to turn back to my car when I heard the door open.
"Yes?" a small, frail looking woman asked. She appeared to be at least ninety, wearing red, square plastic frame glasses and a red shift dress. Her small feet were shoved into red flats and almost hidden beneath her puffy, old lady ankles.
"Bond enforcement," I said, lifting my apprehension papers to eye-level. "I'm here for Mario."
"I'm sorry dear, but not today," the woman said. "He has breakfast with me every Sunday. He can't go now." She began to push the door closed, but I had my foot in the doorframe.
"You see, I've been trying to talk to Mario for a while now. It's really important I speak with him."
I gave the door a substantial push, and I was in the house. The older woman didn't have the strength to keep me out.
"Mario!" the woman squawked. "Run!"
I made eye contact with Mario, and two seconds later, he was on his feet and running for the back door.
I scrambled through the cluttered house, knocking over kitchen chairs and an end table as I made for the back door.
"I'm going to tell your mother!" Mrs. Silvas shouted behind me, her voice quavering with age.
I was just steps from the back door when I felt something sharp tear through my pants and into my leg, causing me to cry out. I grabbed the door frame to stop my momentum and saw that a small black and tan dachshund had its teeth locked into my leg. It was growling and unrelenting.
I felt the adrenaline rush into my veins and tried to get the dog off by shaking my leg. Then I used my other leg to kick it. It continued biting, and my pain was intensifying.
"That's not nice, Coco," said the old woman, coming closer.
Without thinking, I ripped the pepper spray from my pocket and sprayed the dog. The dog howled, unlatching from my leg. I lurched out the door, slamming it before the dog or the woman could follow.
I saw Mario's retreating form circling the corner of the house. I darted after him, trying to close the gap. I rounded the corner of the house, then into the front yard. He was headed toward the garage in his sock feet, plaid pajama pants, and blue t-shirt. He was fast for a guy in his sixties, but I was gaining ground.
Without warning, a black Range Rover SUV tore into the driveway, blocking the garage. Mario changed course, turning back for the front door—and straight for me. I bent at the waist, putting my shoulder into his gut and knocking him onto his back.
"Bond enforcement!" I announced, trying to catch my breath.
Mario lay on the ground, huffing and moaning. I got to my knees and cuffed his hands in front of him.
"Nice, chica," a voice said from behind me. "I finally got to see the one and only Stephanie Plum in action."
I turned and saw Ximena standing by the black SUV. She was wearing skinny blue jeans, black Nike tennis shoes, and a black Rangeman t-shirt.
Ximena was Ranger's cousin. She was about my size and beautiful, with dark hair and a Latinx complication. I first met her on our job in Atlanta, and we'd become fast friends. She had recently moved to Newark to open a Rangeman branch there, but because there was no established branch office in Newark yet, she frequently commuted back and forth to Trenton for business. Not only was Ximena a well-trained security expert and ex-military woman, she was trained as a nurse practitioner.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, still breathing heavily.
"Carlos put in a call to the control room, and I was in the neighborhood," she explained, crossing to us. She helped me to my feet, then pulled a key for the cuffs out of her pocket. She undid the cuffs, rolled Mario onto his stomach, and cuffed him again behind his back. "You want help loading him into your car, or you want me to help you get him downtown? We can take my car."
I considered my options.
"Let's load him in your car, but can I follow you in my car? I don't need his mom keying my new ride."
"Sure thing," she said, hoisting Mario to his feet. A dark look crossed her face. "Oh my god, chica! You're bleeding."
"What?" I asked, caught off guard. I assessed myself, seeing my leg was bleeding through my jeans. "Oh, the dog bit me. I had to pepper spray him."
"That dog is a mean little bastard," Mario puffed as Ximena shuffled him toward the car. "My mom calls him my 'baby brother.' That's not right."
"I need to take a look at your leg," said Ximena. "Let's get him downtown, then I'll fix you up."
An hour later, we were back at my apartment. I had a body receipt for Silvas, Ximena had her medical kit opened to treat my dog bite, and Ranger had a look on his face that could freeze water. Ximena and I had donuts and fancy Starbucks coffee drinks. Ranger was drinking black coffee.
"You shouldn't have gone in alone," Ranger scolded.
"You sent backup. Everything was fine," I explained, sucking in air as Ximena cleaned my wound. I sat my counter, my pants rolled up above my knee.
"It's not fine!" Ranger boomed, slamming his fists into the countertop, causing Ximena and I to jump. "I should have been there to back you up."
"Settle down, Rambo," Ximena teased. "She's going to be fine. Some ointment and a dressing, and she'll be good as new."
Ranger continued as if Ximena hadn't spoken. "Babe, you need a partner."
"I've got Lula," I explained, crossing my arms. "It was just too early to call her this morning."
"Lula is worse than no partner at all," Ranger seethed, his eyes dark and angry. "Lula is a prostitute-turned-file-clerk. You need a capable, reliable partner. Rangeman can provide a partner for you."
"I'm fine," I said, studying the large dressing on my leg before rolling my torn and bloodied jeans down. "I'll be more careful next time."
"I'd like to hire you on at Rangeman full-time," said Ranger, his face firm with resolve.
I choked on my French vanilla latte, dribbling some out of my mouth onto my shirt. Ximena gave Ranger the side-eye as she packed her bag.
I slid off the counter to my feet. I assumed I'd need to take this conversation standing.
"You'll earn an annual salary with full benefits in addition to financial bonuses when you bring in skips as contract work for Vincent Plum. If your cousin isn't going to do what's necessary to protect you in your job, I will."
"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no," I chided. "We've been down this path before. My working for you never ends well. I'm an incompetent moron, and I cost you a fortune. I don't want to be coddled because I'm sleeping with the boss man."
"La, la, la," Ximena sing-shouted, covering her ears. "I'm not hearing this." She slung her backpack over her shoulder and grabbed her coffee. "I'll catch you later, Steph," she said, flipping Carlos the bird. I knew Ranger would never tolerate that level of disrespect from anyone else, but somehow his female cousin could get by with it. Some things never ceased to amaze me.
"Wait," said Ranger, grabbing the top handle of Ximena's backpack before she could bolt out of the kitchen for the door. "You were very competent in Atlanta as a temporary hire," Ranger explained. "Stephanie, I want you to be Ximena's assistant as she prepares to open the new branch of Rangeman in Newark."
"WHAT?!" we both responded in unison, the shock obvious.
"You've been trained in business," explained Ranger. "You know a good deal about this company. You can help Ximena identify a building for the new office, assist with contracts, and help her here in Trenton when she's working remotely in Newark. Plus, you're a great judge of character. You can help with staffing. When she's back in town, she can help you pick up skips. When she's gone, I'll send you with Lester."
Lester Santos was Ximena's brother and Ranger's first cousin. He was also an employee of Rangeman. His Latino good looks earned him plenty of attention from the ladies, and he was as big of a player as they come at Rangeman. Despite these shortcomings, he was good at his job.
"I'd love to work with you, Steph, but I don't think it's fair for your asshole boyfriend to pressure you in to this," she explained, trying to pull away from Ranger's grip while making rude hand gestures.
Ranger and I had recently come to an understanding about letting him 'help' me… Help being loosely defined. I'd always been resistant to help, especially for fear it came at a sexual price. Now that we were in a monogamous, committed relationship, the price didn't seem nearly as steep. I'd let him pay for dog sitting. I'd let him select a car for me. I'd let him buy my groceries on several occasions. It was new and different, but it wasn't bad. Ranger had made it perfectly clear that he wanted me to remain my independent, scrappy, non-conforming self through all of this. That admission gave me a new lens through which to view his offers of assistance, and it softened the blow significantly.
I let the thought of being a full-time Rangeman employee roll around in my head. Sure, the job had its perks-a regular income, health insurance benefits, and a steady stream of black, shiny cars for starters. But working for Ranger was also dangerous when he had also become a permanent fixture in my bed and in my heart. Mixing business and pleasure was never a good idea.
"I'm not…. Opposed to working for Rangeman," I said, choosing my words carefully. "I'm just… not comfortable… with you being my boss anymore." I let a small sigh escape. "I'm sorry, Ranger."
"No problem," he said, releasing his grip on Ximena and straightening. "Ximena will be your direct supervisor until Newark is up and running. Then we'll find you a permanent partner in Trenton, and we'll figure out a different supervisory structure."
Ximena's face broke into a massive grin, and she extended her hand in my direction for a high-five. I cautiously obliged without much gusto.
"What about Lula?" I asked hesitantly.
"She can ride along on occasion," said Ranger. "But she can't take her gun."
That condition didn't give me pause at all. "Deal."
I found myself in my mother's kitchen later that morning. Ranger had returned to the Rangeman building to review contracts, so I was doing my typical Sunday activities. My mother and grandmother had attended mass, returning home with donuts from Tasty Pastry. My dad, ever predictable, was in his recliner watching the television. His eyes hadn't strayed from the television when I'd walked in the door.
"Hi daddy," I said, kissing him on the temple as I'd walked by.
"Hey," he'd grunted, holding his coffee cup in one hand and the remote control in the other.
My father was an average, blue collar Jersey guy of Italian heritage. He had retired from the postal service, but drove a cab part-time, likely to get away from the women in his life who made him crazy. When he wasn't at home or driving the cab, he was hanging out with his friends at the lodge. He never missed a baseball game on television, and he never missed a meal.
Our father-daughter relationship had taken on a warmer, more trusting quality since he'd stood up to my mother for the way she'd treated me while I was in Atlanta. I was not present for the conversation, but my dad let me know the situation "had been taken care of." Though he was a quiet man, my father could see through Ranger's tough guy exterior. While my mom saw a Latino gangster clad in black, my dad saw a stable man bringing in a steady income who was willing to care for and protect his baby daughter. What more could a Jersey dad ask for?
"How's the hottie?" Grandma Mazur asked, brushing the powdered sugar remnants of her donut off her red sweater.
My mother visibly cringed at Grandma's question.
My Grandma Mazur came to live with my mom and dad when Grandpa Mazur went to the never-ending all-you-can-eat Prime Rib Buffet in heaven. When Grandma moved in, the guns all conveniently disappeared—an act I have to assume was thanks to my mother. Grandma was somewhere around eighty but looked closer to ninety with her boney frame and loose, wrinkly skin. Gravity hadn't been kind to my grandma, leaving her resembling a Sphinx cat… if cats wore glasses and occasionally dyed their curly, old lady wigs purple. My mother and I were cut from the same cloth, having a similar size, frame, and build as Grandma, sans the gravitational effects. While grandma's hair was steely grey, my hair was curly and brown, and my mother's was the same with streaks of grey. My mother provided a sense of stability and respectability in the Plum household. The problem was that for every ounce of respectability my mother contributed, Grandma and I drained two each. We were both free spirits, living by our own set of rules and standards. I knew we often drove my mother to drink.
"He's great," I said, biting into a Boston crème. "He's doing a lot better with time and therapy," I said through my full mouth while sitting at the kitchen table.
My mother's kitchen always smells wonderful. Today was no exception, the smell of lasagna wafting from her oven. My mother's kitchen wasn't fancy, but it was practical, containing every baking dish, soup pot, pie plate, small appliance, and variety of knife a woman would ever need to make dinner for her family. My kitchen, on the other hand, contained one pot, one skillet, a toaster that worked if you held the short in the cord at the right angle, and a slow cooker I won once at bingo. On occasion, my kitchen even contained groceries. I wasn't going to be winning culinary awards anytime soon. Or ever.
"Stephanie, you should invite your boyfriend over for dinner tomorrow night," my mother said hesitantly, busying herself with tidying the kitchen. "I'm making a nice leg of lamb and chocolate cake. If he's going to be part of your life, I suppose we'll have to get to know him."
"Don't sound so excited, Helen," Grandma said, exasperated.
"He's been here for dinner before, mom," I said finishing my donut and eyeballing a second.
"Never as your boyfriend," my mother said. "I mean, what is his name? Surely his parents didn't name him Ranger. What is that supposed to mean?" she scoffed.
"Like an Army Ranger," I explained, biting into a jelly-filled donut. "It's his nickname. His parents named him Ricardo, but he goes by his middle name—Carlos."
"That's a nice name," my mother affirmed without much conviction. "Well, bring Carlos over tomorrow night at the usual time."
"I'll have to check with him first," I said, my chest filled with dread. Ranger had previous run-ins with the Plum women, including one unlucky time when Grandma managed to see him naked. I knew he didn't relish the thought of dinner in the same township as Grandma, lest at the same table. I assumed he would graciously decline. "I'll let you know."
"Have you gone to see Joseph?" my mother asked, wiping her hands on the dish towel.
"No," I said, hoping this could be the end of the conversation.
"He's having a tough time right now and could use a friend," my mom admonished. "I figured since I was making lasagna for lunch, I'd make him one too. Would you be a dear and take it to him in a bit?" my mother asked, her voice syrupy sweet.
My eyes rolled back so far in my head I saw my brain. I knew this was no coincidence. "Mom, I don't want to go over there. It's going to be awkward."
"Stephanie Michelle Plum, you are an adult. Start acting like it," my mother scolded, pulling a large pan of lasagna out of the oven and setting it on a cooling rack. "Imagine if roles were reversed. Joseph would come check on you." My mother pulled a second, smaller lasagna out of the oven and set it aside.
Sure, he'd come check on me, I thought. He'd be looking to get laid. The Italian stallion.
I let out an aggravated sigh of resignation, knowing my mother was going to win. As much as I dreaded going over there, I was anxious to see if Joe had made any progress in his recovery since I'd last seen him. Despite our romantic relationship not working out, I still cared for him as a friend. However, I had no plans to inform him of Ranger's and my relationship status. I also had no desire to tell him about the offer for full time employment I'd received from Rangeman only that day.
"Fine, but you owe me pineapple upside-down cake," I said, placing my palms down on the table and pushing myself into a standing position.
"Good girl," my mom said, covering the small pan of lasagna with foil. She handed me a pair of oven mitts, which I obediently stuffed my hands into before lifting the lasagna from the cooling rack and marching out the front door. "Get it over to Slater Street before it's cold."