Joe was standing alone in the range. His entire appearance seemed to have changed. His hair had been cut shorter than it had been in some time, though still patchy on the side he'd been shot, and he was clean shaven. He was wearing black cargo pants, black tennis shoes, and a black t-shirt that looked as if it had been painted onto his body. His Glock was strapped to his leg in an open-carry holster. I was shocked to see how strong he looked in spite of everything he had been through. His presence took my breath away, and I was momentarily struck speechless. My heart raced.

We stood chest to chest, staring at one another for what seemed like forever until Lester broke the silence.

"Well this is awkward," he said, shuffling past us to turn on the lights in the shooting lanes

I looked at my feet, trying to get my scrambled neurons to think straight.

"Hi, Steph," said Morelli, backing away to give me some space. "I didn't know I'd see you here today."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Me either. Sorry you're stuck with me as your partner."

Morelli nodded acknowledgment, not seeming particularly pleased or upset. "I guess your job change worked out in my favor so I can be gainfully employed again."

I nodded, trying to make the fluttery feelings in my chest go away. I wasn't supposed to feel this way. I was in a committed relationship with Ranger. My inner voice chastised me for being stupid.

"Let's get to the line," Lester said, sensing the tension in the room. "Time is wasting."

He handed Joe and I noise-reduction ear protection and goggles, and he set extra ammo on the small countertop.

The range was not very wide, but it was long. The walls appeared to be concrete with some type of noise-cancelling insulation installed at random intervals, and the lighting was high-powered LED. The range had two lanes with a hanging figure in each that could be adjusted for closer or further shots. I took the right lane, and Morelli took left.

We both aimed and emptied our clips. I was pleased that all of my shots had traveled through the paper and hadn't gone totally wide, although only half had actually hit the humanoid figure. I glanced over at Morelli's paper. All of his shots had gone straight through the head and chest.

I swallowed hard. He may have issues, but Joe could still shoot.

Morelli and I loaded our clips at the center countertop facing one another while Lester replaced our targets.

"So how've you b… b…. been?" Morelli asked, his eyes soft.

I sighed. "It's been a rough week."

"It's only Tuesday," Joe responded matter-of-factly.

I told him about my apartment, about Mabel Markowitz, and about Ranger buying the bail bonds business.

"Wow," he said, sounding a bit shell-shocked. Worry lines I hadn't seen before creased the corners of his eyes. "Where are you g… g…. going to live?"

I shrugged. "I thought about moving in with my parents, but I don't think I can handle it. Here, probably. Or find another place."

Joe looked a bit disgusted at the thought of me moving into the Rangeman building, but he said nothing.

We repeated the process of firing a clip and reloading six more times, each time making small talk as we reloaded. Lester gave me a good deal of instruction, and my shots improved a little with each round. He reassured me that regular practice would help my accuracy. With each clip, Lester gave Morelli a confident, "Good."

When we finished, Morelli and I sat at the counter. Morelli dutifully cleaned his gun, and Lester helped me, teaching me how to properly clean and maintain the firearm.

Morelli strapped the gun to his leg and headed for the door. He turned, deep in thought.

"Hey Steph?"

"Yeah?"

"You know if you… you ever n…. need a place to stay, I have space."

I froze, my eyes locked with Joe's. My brain told me this was the danger zone, but the old Steph that liked familiar situations was intrigued by this proposal. I really was struggling with all this change.

"Thanks, Joe. That's sweet.."

He turned and left, the door clicking closed behind him.

"Well that was fucking weird," said Lester, giving me a goofy smile.

I laughed out loud and playfully punched him in the shoulder. He grabbed his shoulder, pretending it had hurt.

"Shut up, Les."

I may have laughed, but Lester was right. That had been awkward. There was entirely too much sexual tension in the room, and it became clear that despite my commitment to Ranger, I still had a lot of feelings and emotions I needed to work through.

Lester and I pulled up in front of the bonds office in my black Jeep. I was surprised to see that the front signage had been changed to a sleek new sign that read "Plum Bail Bonds."

"Nice," I breathed.

"Ranger didn't screw around," Lester replied.

We ambled out of the jeep and into the office. To my surprise, the interior had been transformed and smelled of fresh paint. The walls had been painted a light grey, and the front window had a newly installed white shade. The cheap, ugly furniture had been replaced with new, clean, high quality pieces—a new black leather couch, a cherry wood table set, two white wingback chairs, and a cherry executive desk with a black leather chair for Connie. The door to Vinnie's old office was closed.

"Mornin'," said Connie, typing into her sleek new desktop computer.

"Hi," I said. "Wow, this place looks great."

"Yeah," said Connie. "It's amazing what happens when you're not working for a scumbag."

Connie's hair was piled on the top of her head, and her makeup was flawless. Her black sweater was tight across her massive chest, and her grey pencil skirt was tight in all the right places. I noticed Lester was appreciating the view and elbowed him in the kidney. He let out a woosh of air that announced I'd hit my mark.

"Anything new come in today?"

"No. It's quiet," she said, sipping her coffee. "I haven't written any bonds yesterday or today either. I imagine Vinnie's regulars are calling his personal phone. I have no idea if he's going to be writing bond again or not. I think he was burned out, so I wouldn't be surprised if he joins the family business instead."

"Family business?" I questioned.

"Harry's business," Connie clarified.

Vinnie's father in law, Harry the Hammer, was mob. He had underwritten the office for years.

"Ah."

"Who knows what he'll do," said Connie. "He probably doesn't have the balls. Plus, he's too busy getting whippings from Madam Zoretsky and scheduling nooners with his happy endings masseuse to focus on wet work."

That wasn't a pretty mental image.

"If business doesn't pick up, Ranger might have to think about advertising."

I had a mental flashback to the horrible ads Vinnie had run of Lula and I last time business was slow.

"No thanks. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt."

Connie laughed. "I don't think Ranger would put you on a bus or billboard."

"Have you heard anything from Lula?" I asked.

"Nope," said Connie. "Not a word. So what's the plan for today?" she asked, glancing over at Lester.

"Lester is riding with me today. We're going to work on Fran Gilmer, Leo Zacharias, and Dickie."

"Good luck with Dickie," Connie laughed. "He's been kidnapped, he's underground, or he's dead. I've been calling around. Nobody's heard a thing from him, and he's not answering his phone. The other two should be easy enough. They're not career criminals, just old."

"That's not good about Dickie," I acknowledged. "We'll work on the other two first. Keep your ear to the ground."

"Maybe he heard his ex-wife is hunting him like a dog," joked Lester. "I'd skip town too if I knew you were coming after me."

Connie laughed, and I rolled my eyes so far back in my head I think saw my brain.

"Watch it, Santos," I warned Lester.

"If you stop back by this way, bring me lunch," said Connie. "I'm not going to be able to get away today, and I'm starving."

"Will do," I said. "Hopefully we'll have a body receipt when we see you."

Lester and I hit the road for north Trenton to check on Fran Gilmer. He lived relatively close to my apartment building, so I was familiar with the neighborhood.

"What's this guy's charge?" Lester asked me, checking e-mails on his phone.

"Driving without a license. This one should be easy."

"Sure," Lester said, sounding unconvinced. "How old is he?"

"Seventies."

"Old guys can be wily," said Lester.

"I've got this," I said confidently. "I've dealt with my fair share of old folks before. I can still outrun the ones on Geritol."

We drove into the parking lot of a two-story brick apartment building. The sign read "Happy Acres Retirement Living." I know from Gilmer's file that he drove an older model Mercury Grand Marquis. I scanned the lot, finding the red behemoth toward the back of the lot parked into a retaining wall. Perfect. I parked my Jeep behind it, hoping to head off any attempt to flee. I knew the car being here didn't mean Fran was home, but I took it as a positive sign. He didn't seem to care he wasn't supposed to be driving, and I didn't suspect a night in jail had done much to change that perspective.

"How do you want to do this?" Lester asked, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Let's go knock and see if he's home. If he's here, we'll ask him to go to the courthouse and reschedule."

"Do you think that's going to work?"

"No," I admitted. "Do you have any better ideas?"

"Not really. You're the bounty hunter."

"Exactly. Let's go."

We trudged through the lot, into the building, and up the stairs to apartment 2C. The building was dated with teal carpet and pink patterned wallpaper on the walls. It smelled like a combination of pea soup, body odor, and Lysol-that is to say, it didn't smell great. I rapped on the door and waited.

Nothing.

I knocked again, louder.

"Mr. Gilmer? Are you home?" I said loudly into the door.

I heard a door behind me, and I turned to find an older woman peering out her door at Lester and me.

"I don't think he's home," the woman said cheerfully. "It's been quiet for a while."

"When was the last time you saw him?" I curiously asked. "I really need to speak with him."

She shrugged. "Three or four days. I usually see him at the congregate meal site on days he doesn't work, but I haven't seen him. I haven't seen him at the library either."

That wasn't promising. I thanked the woman, and she shrank back into her apartment, closing the door. I knocked again. When there was no response, I tried the handle. Locked.

"Damn," I huffed under my breath.

Lester winked at me, reached into his cargo pants, and pulled a slim tool. In a matter of seconds, he had the door unlocked. We pushed the door open, and we were immediately hit by a horrifying odor. I'd seen enough dead people to know the smell, and I immediately pulled the door closed again.

"Shit," I sighed, rubbing my hands over my face.

"I didn't see that coming," said Lester.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and made a call. We went to the lot to wait, and ten minutes later, a cop car and EMT pulled in.

I greeted them at the door and introduced myself.

"Yeah, we know who you are," said a paramedic. "We've been to your place before. How ya doin'?"

"I've been better," I admitted. I showed them my capture papers for Gilmer and explained the situation.

"You didn't kill him, did ya?" joked the paramedic.

"No way. Based on the smell, he's been dead a while," I said grimly.

We all went up to the apartment, and the EMTs went in. I did some mouth breathing and foot shuffling, and I looked anywhere but into the apartment. I really didn't enjoy looking at dead guys.

"You're right. He's been dead a while," said the paramedic.

I gritted my teeth. Dead meant a lot of paperwork.

"Does it look like a homicide?" I asked cautiously.

"No, it looks like he settled in to eat dinner while watching Wheel of Fortune and kicked the bucket," said the paramedic.

"I need to call Connie," I told Lester. "Do me a favor. Go take a picture of the dead guy."

"You have got to be kidding me," said Lester, looking pissed.

"Just do it, please," I instructed, punching a button on my phone and holding it to my ear.

"Only because you asked so nice," Lester said, grumbling as he entered the apartment.

"We found Fran Gilmer," I grimly told Connie when she answered.

"You're on a roll!" said Connie. "Don't sound so pleased."

"He's dead," I replied.

"Did you kill him?" Connie asked.

"No, we found him this way. Can you work on getting the paperwork from the coroner?"

"Sure," Connie said. "Find out where they're taking him, and I'll work on it."

I disconnected and got the info Connie needed from the paramedics. Then Lester and I headed back to the Jeep.

"Well, that was fun," Lester said sarcastically. "What's next?"

"Let's swing by my apartment and take a load back to Rangeman while we're in the neighborhood."

We drove the half mile to my apartment building and parked in the lot. There was ample parking up front, with most of the parking lot empty. It was eerie seeing it so quiet.

"I know it's none of my business, but are you moving in with Ranger?" Lester asked.

"Yeah, I think so," I said. I worried my bottom lip between my teeth.

"I see you're really excited," joked Lester. "Carlos must really like you to want to live with you."

I unbuckled my seat belt and jumped out of the Jeep.

"He'll like me until he has to live with me," I admitted.

"Oh, don't sell yourself short, beautiful," Lester said, jumping out of the Jeep. "I think Ranger's been lonely living by himself all these years. It'll be a nice change of pace for him. Plus, you two are a great pair."

Lester's confidence in Ranger's and my relationship was reassuring, but it didn't ease my worries.

It took us twenty minutes to load up the Jeep, packing in boxes, bags, and whatnot. Once the back was loaded full, we pointed ourselves in the direction of Rangeman. We parked the Jeep in the garage and unloaded my belongings into the room in the basement Ranger had allocated for my storage.

I heard my cell phone chirp and checked the readout. It was Ranger.

"Hello?"

"Babe."

"Hey, I was just getting ready to head back to the bonds office."

"Do you have lunch plans?"

"I thought I'd mooch lunch at my mom's. Then I was going to take Connie lunch before working on Leo Zacharias."

"Rain check lunch with your family. I'll have lunch delivered for Connie. I need to talk to you. We can do it over lunch. Tell Lester to go to lunch, and meet me in my office."

He disconnected before I could argue.

"Go to lunch," I told Lester. "I need to see Ranger."

"What time should I be back here?" he asked.

"No clue," I responded earnestly. "I don't know what he wants. I'll text you."

"Have a good lunch," said Lester, winking at me as he unlocked his car.

I blew out a sigh and trudged to the elevator. I pushed the "up" button and climbed in when the door slid open.

The elevator stopped at the second floor, and the door slid open. Morelli stood at the door, waiting. He was freshly showered, water droplets clinging to the tips of his hair. He smelled heavenly. He was out of his Rangeman uniform, instead wearing blue jeans, tennis shoes, a navy-blue t-shirt, and a plaid button-down shirt open in front.

I slid over, making room in the middle of the elevator and leaning my back to the wall.

"Hey," I said softly.

He nodded, pressing the button to the fourth floor.

The awkwardness between us lay thick in the small elevator.

"You here all day?" I inquired.

He nodded again. "All day, every day. That b…. b…. boyfriend of yours insists on having me in t…. t…. top form when we start working together."

The elevator door opened to the fourth floor, and Morelli walked out. He turned back to me, holding the door, his eyes questioning.

"Do you mind?"

"Mind?" I asked, not sure what he was asking.

"Mind that I work here now," he asked. "M… mind that you're stuck with me."

I considered the question. Having Morelli as a partner would have its advantages. We were old friends, and I enjoyed being around him. I trusted he'd protect me, and I assume he knew I'd do the same for him—at least to the best of my ability. Historically, we'd worked together a little bit, and it didn't always go great. My biggest fears were setting boundaries and protecting my emotions. My brain knew I was in a committed relationship with Ranger, but my body and libido seemed to betray me occasionally. I hoped it would get better with more time.

"No," I said, "I don't mind."

Morelli nodded. "It's good to have you b… back in my life, even if it's only like this," he admitted. "Off to speech therapy."

With that, he left and the elevator doors slid closed.

When I entered Ranger's office, he was on the phone. He motioned for me to sit, so I did.

When his call was finished, he turned to me and studied my face. Tension lingered in his face, creasing the corners of his eyes and the skin between his brows.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I need to go out of town for a couple of days," he said, leaning back in his chair. "My mom scheduled surgery for tomorrow in Newark. I want to be with her and my dad."

"Oh gosh, Ranger. Is there anything I can do?"

Ranger shook his head, sadness lingering in his eyes.

I knew Ranger's father had said she was considering surgery, but this seemed like a fast turnaround. I worried for his mother, and for Ranger too.

"Ready?" he asked, and I nodded in response. "Would you like to go out or stay in?"

"Let's stay in," I suggested, guessing Ranger wasn't in the mood to venture out. I wasn't really feeling the dine-out experience myself today.

He ushered me out of the office, locking up behind us. He placed his hand in the small of my back and led me to the elevator, where we rode to the top floor. He let me in to his apartment, leaving his keys and phone on the table by the door.

We headed into the kitchen, where Ranger began fishing around in the refrigerator. He came out with two bottles of water and some covered plates, which he set on the bar.

"I love your magic refrigerator. My refrigerator never magically sprouted food," I joked.

"It's your refrigerator now, too. That is, if you want it to be."

I nodded, doing my best to quell the panic in my chest. This was going to be fine. Why was I such a commitment-phob? Get it together Stephanie, I told myself.

He uncovered a plate and set it in front of me. It had broccoli salad, a turkey sandwich on multi-grain, and fruit salad. He uncovered his plate and sat next to me, so closely that I could feel his body heat radiate into my skin.

"Did you have a good morning?" he asked, taking my hand and lacing his fingers in mine. My heart rate kicked up a notch, his physical presence intoxicating my senses.

"Good? No. But I got shit done," I said confidently, forking into my broccoli salad.

He raised an eyebrow at me, so I told him about Fran Gilmer and hauling a load of stuff out of my apartment. He chewed his lunch thoughtfully as I talked, listening intently.

"How was the range?" asked Ranger.

I wasn't sure if this was meant to be a loaded question, so I responded with a simple, "Fine."

He looked pleased. "You aren't broken out in hives. I'm relieved to know you're not allergic to your gun."

"I guess it wasn't awful," I admitted, popping a bite of fruit into my mouth. "Lester gave me some pretty good tips. Morelli is still a hell of a shot, though," I admitted. "I guess you were right."

Ranger looked thoughtful for a moment before responding. "Babe, if he makes you uncomfortable, we can find you a different partner. He's of benefit on my payroll either way."

I turned my body slightly so my knee was touching Ranger's, our hands still clasped together.

"I trust you," I said, echoing his words from yesterday. "I just don't trust myself," I admitted sadly.

I placed my head on his shoulder and breathed in his intoxicating scent. Somehow, Ranger grounded me. His presence, his unwavering belief in me, and his air of self-confidence could always calm me.

"I know. Let's take it one day at a time," Ranger said, standing. He placed his hands on both sides of my face, his lips crashing down onto mine. His kiss was like fire, burning up any thoughts I'd had of Morelli and leaving only thoughts of Ranger.

He pressed himself between my legs, and I wrapped them around his waist. He lifted me, carrying me to the couch, where he laid me on my back. He settled between my legs, holding most of his weight off my body on his elbows. He kissed me with a lot of tongue, his hands everywhere. Every touch seared like fire, and I found myself whimpering into his kiss. I ran my fingertips down his back with one hand in his hair. I was out of breath and my heartrate was around stroke level.

He broke the kiss, placing his hands on each side of my face and staring intently into my eyes.

"What?" he asked, seeing something in my face.

"Nothing," I breathed. "Don't stop."

Worry lines creased his forehead.

"Don't do that," he said, frustration apparent in his tone. "What is it?"

I thought about lying or continuing to insist nothing was going on, but Ranger knew me too well for that. Instead, I opted to put the truth on the table.

"I'm scared," I whispered.

Ranger's brow furrowed.

"Not of me, I hope."

"No, no," I insisted, my voice wavering "Of screwing this up."

With that, a single tear slid down my cheek and I closed my eyes to do some deep breathing.

"Stephanie Michelle Plum, I love you more than I've ever loved anyone or anything on this planet," Ranger said gently. "I hope you know you're everything to me."

I opened my eyes and saw Ranger's loving gaze staring down at me. He brushed away the tear that had fallen, then kissed the same place.

"Oh crap," I sighed, more tears welling up in my eyes. "This is embarrassing. I'm a blubbering idiot."

Ranger let a light laugh escape before his face became serious once more.

"You're cute, Babe. We're in this together, and I'm not going anywhere until you tell me to go away. Up until that point, I'm yours through all of it. The toasted cars, your crazy family, your asbestos-filled apartment… All of it. I'm yours as long as you want me."

With that, his lips crashed down onto mine again as I promised myself I was going to do everything I could to fight my fear of commitment.