I sat cross-legged on the bed, pulling on my clothes while Ranger rummaged around in his walk-in closet. I was feeling happy after a couple rounds with Ranger, and I'd almost forgotten I was hungry. Almost.

"Do you need help in there?" I asked.

"No," he said, coming out holding a black polo shirt in his hands. He was barefoot in black cargo shorts. He was freshly showered and preparing to head out of town.

"I'm going to miss you," I said sadly. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" I asked.

"No, it will only be a few days," Ranger said, pulling his shirt on over his head. "I'll let you know how things are going. If she's up to visitors, you can come up for a few hours."

I shimmied into my cargo pants and buttoned them on before climbing out of bed. I crossed to Ranger and wrapped my arms around his waist, breathing him in.

"Are you going to be okay?" I asked in a serious tone.

Ranger nodded yes, but his face gave away his sadness.

"I'm really sorry," I said, rubbing his back. "If you need anything, please let me know. I'm only a phone call away, or an hour by car."

"Thanks, Babe," he said, giving me a peck on the lips. He went in the closet and began setting items into an overnight bag. I went to the bedside and unplugged his chargers for his smartwatch and phone, then went into the bathroom to grab his travel accessories that Ella kept tidy in a black zippered bag—toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, deodorant, travel size shower gel and shampoo, small shaving cream, razor, and a small first aid kit. I took the items to Ranger, and he placed them in his bag. Once packed, he put on socks and tennis shoes, then headed out of the bedroom.

We quickly finished what remained of our partly-eaten lunch while Ranger checked e-mails on his phone.

"Tank is in charge while I'm gone. All anyone here knows is that I'll be in the wind, but you know how to reach me if you need me," he said between bites. "Ximena should be back in Trenton tonight, so between her and Lester, you'll be covered. In a pinch, take Morelli with you."

I thought about questioning him, but decided against it. I had to admit Joe could shoot, and since Lester and Ximena were family, I wasn't sure if they'd be needed in Newark at some point to support their aunt.

Ranger and I lingered in the foyer, our bodies pressed tightly together. I knew he needed to go, but I couldn't help feeling a sense of loss over his sudden departure. He didn't seem too eager to leave, so we simply held one another for a long time before sharing a passionate goodbye kiss.

"Make yourself at home while I'm gone," Ranger whispered into my ear. "This is your home. I want to make you happy."

Then he left, taking his phone, his bag, and the keys to his Porsche Cayenne.

I texted Lester from my office around 2 PM letting him know I was ready to roll. He arrived in my office minutes later.

"How was lunch?" I asked him.

"Probably not as good as yours," he said, winking at me.

I felt a scarlet scald rise in my cheeks, but I tried to ignore his implication. "Turkey on multi-grain was healthy, but not particularly satisfying."

"Sure," he scoffed. "Where are we off to now, Beautiful?"

"The Burg. We need to find Leo Zacharias, and I can ask around about Dickie while we're there."

We drove my Jeep into the Burg. Leo and Garnetta Zacharias lived on a quiet street in a two-story bungalow that was painted light green with yellow trim. I circled the block several times, creeping by to orient myself to the neighborhood. There was a gravel alley and a detached garage with the door closed behind the house. The front of the house seemed quiet, with no visible lights inside and no cars parked on the street. The house had a well-maintained postage-stamp front yard with bird bath, bird feeders, and a ceramic statue of the virgin Mary.

"I'm going to knock on the front door. You cover the back to make sure he doesn't run," I told Lester.

"Isn't this guy about a hundred and ten years old?" Lester asked. "I don't see him running."

I pulled Leo's file out of my bag and began reading to Lester.

"Leo Zacharias, age eighty-three. Arrested for assault after brutalizing a waitress with his HurryCane…."

"Oh shit!" Lester laughed. "Better watch out for this one. Alright, I've got the back."

We climbed out of the Jeep, and Lester circled around the house through the small yard. I gave him a few seconds to get in place before I rang the doorbell.

An older woman opened the door. She was wearing a light blue house dress with matching slippers, and her hair was neatly rolled into tight curlers. She wore thick glasses, and her lips were lined with bright pink lipstick.

"May I help you?" she asked in her wavering old lady voice.

"Hi, are you Garnetta Zacharias?" I asked politely.

"Why yes, dear! That's me. How can I help you?"

"My name is Stephanie Plum. I came by looking for Leo."

"Oh my, I'm sorry dear. He's not home right now. He went on one of those seniors' bus trips to Atlantic City. He left early this morning. He should be back in time for dinner tonight."

"Okay, thanks. I'll check back tonight."

"Should I tell him you stopped by?" she asked.

"No," I said, worried he might get spooked. "I'll check back later. Thank you!"

I headed back to the car and texted Lester.

"Not home?" Lester asked as he climbed into the car.

"Nope. Seniors trip to Atlantic City. We can come back tonight."

"Damn," he grumbled.

"What?"

"I have a date."

"Seriously?" I said, disbelieving. "I thought you were mine all day."

"What can I say? I don't let the grass grow under my feet."

"No kidding," I said. "I guess I'll have to wait until Ximena is back in town tonight to check up on Leo. Does this poor unsuspecting woman know you're a player?"

"She ought to," Lester said, winking. "It's Connie."

"You're kidding," I scoffed.

Lester looked pleased with himself. "I took her lunch and invited her to dinner. She said yes."

I was dumbfounded. Connie must be feeling either adventuresome or desperate. Either way, I knew she'd be getting laid tonight.

"Call Carl and Manuel," I instructed Lester. "It's time to empty out my apartment."

Sadness ate at me as I drove across town. I think Lester could sense I was having a hard time, because he was quiet too. I parked in my lot, and Lester and I trudged up to my apartment, my shoes feeling like they had lead inserts. Lester carried my luggage and necessary personal items to the Jeep while I quickly packed up my bathroom, shoving everything into two boxes—one for storage and one of items I'd need. I debated on cleaning the bathroom before I left, feeling slightly embarrassed about the soap scum in the shower and toothpaste marks in the sink but decided against it. I needed to get packed up and get out.

Carl and Manuel arrived as Lester and I carried the boxes from the bathroom down the stairs. They held the outside door for us, and I loaded the box with necessities into my Jeep as Lester loaded the other box into a black Suburban.

"We'll load anything Steph needs into her Jeep," Lester told the men. "The rest will go into storage."

"The couch and chair can go in the dumpster," I told Carl and Manuel as we ascended the stairs.

The two men began hauling out my furniture as I packed my office items, with Lester taping boxes together for my use.

"I'm sorry you've got to move, Steph," Lester said quietly. "I know how much you like living here."

"Eh, it's not even that," I said, setting a cup of writing instruments into a box. "This is a crummy apartment. I just like the independence it represented."

"What do you mean?"

I sighed audibly. "I moved in here after my divorce. It was a clean break—a fresh start. It was all I could afford, but it was mine. I was determined to come out better on the other side of the marriage, and instead of trying to conform as I always had, I adopted fierce independence."

"That you are," Lester smiled. "You're hella independent."

"It doesn't feel that way anymore," I grumbled, wrapping the cord around a power strip. "Moving in with Ranger feels weak. It feels like I'm giving up my independence, like I'm trying to play housewife or something."

"Well that's dumb," Lester scoffed matter-of-factly.

"What?" I said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"You're not a housewife, Steph," Lester explained. "You're anything but. Can't you see that? You've got a career, and a man who supports you in that career. He pays someone to do his laundry, prepare meals, and vacuum the floors—he doesn't expect you to do that. Hell, he doesn't want you to do that. If he wanted a woman like that, he wouldn't be with you. You and I both know he could have any woman he wanted, but he wants you. Besides, he's seen your apartment, and he knows you can't cook."

I threw a small pad of sticky notes at Lester, hitting him square in the chest. We both laughed out loud, knowing Lester spoke the truth about my cooking. It wasn't pretty.

"Thank god for Ella," I laughed.

"Seriously, Steph," said Lester, his tone serious. "We both know I'm not usually one to pretend I know much about committed relationships, but what you've got with Ranger is what I hope to have someday. You two belong together. It's like gravity—there is some unseen force that pulls you two together no matter how hard you guys fight it. I've seen it for years. I'm glad he finally quit fighting it. Now it's time for you to do the same."

After an hour, my meager belongings and Rex were loaded in the SUVs. I gave Dillon the cold six-pack that I'd had in my fridge and gave him a hug goodbye, thanking him for everything. I told my empty apartment a tearful goodbye and left. Carl and Manuel followed Lester and I back to Rangeman, and we unloaded items into storage under the building.

"Do you need help getting the rest to the apartment?" Lester asked, gesturing at my Jeep.

"No. It's only a few loads. You better go get ready for your date, but thanks."

"No problem. Good luck catching your skip tonight."

Lester took the elevator into the building, and I began loading items out of the Jeep. After four loads, my vehicle was empty and a sizable pile of items had accumulated in Ranger's foyer. I settled Rex into his new home on the kitchen counter, then I did some mental knuckle-cracking, trying to figure out what to do with my stuff.

First, I took the box of items from my refrigerator and pantry to the kitchen. I put away the refrigerated items, popping a few olives in my mouth as I worked. Then I put the dry goods in the pantry, noticing my sugar-and-preservative-laden choices looked nothing like Ranger's whole-grain, fat-free, and no-sugar-added foods.

I wandered into the bedroom closet to survey the situation, and I was surprised to find that Ranger's clothing had been condensed, opening nearly half of the closet for my items. I opened drawers near the empty shelves and found them to be empty, too.

A large envelope caught my attention. It was sitting on an empty shelf, and my name was scrawled across the front in Ranger's handwriting. I picked it up and sat cross-legged on the floor to open it.

I slid the items out of the envelope. On top was a note.

Stephanie,

Take all the space you need in the closet. If you need more room, ask Ella. She can help. There are two empty drawers in the bathroom for you.

If there is anything you'd like replaced or changed in the apartment, do it. I'm not attached to any of the furniture. You might also like to select a desk or workspace. This is our home, and I want you to be comfortable in it. Use the enclosed card.

Call me if you need anything. I love you.

Carlos

I couldn't help it—the warm, fluttery feelings were back in my stomach. This was unexpected.

I slid the note aside and found a blue VISA issued to Ricardo C. Manoso taped to a sheet of paper. I hadn't seen this card before. A pin was scrawled in Ranger's handwriting as well as the billing address. I slid that piece of paper aside and found a Pottery Barn catalog. I flipped through it, admiring the perfectly coordinated, expertly designed rooms.

Ranger's apartment could have been featured in this catalog, but I knew Ella was responsible for the décor—not Ranger. Ranger had more important things to do than select linens or match throw pillows. Though I was no Suzy Homemaker, the thought of picking out new furniture was tempting. Ranger's furniture was great, but I'd never actually bought new furniture. Everything I'd ever had was hand-me-down, including the furniture Dickie and I shared for the week we'd been married. I slid the contents back into the envelope, setting it aside for another time.

I put my clothes in the closet and personal care items away in the bathroom. I placed some items in and on the emptied bedside table, and I was officially settled in. I'd anticipated some anxiety to follow, but it never came. Somehow, it was almost comfortable. How weird is what?

I checked the time. It was after four, so I changed out of my Rangeman uniform, opting instead for blue jeans, a girly cut white t-shirt, and grey running shoes. It felt good to be back in my usual Stephanie attire. I went into Ranger's immaculate kitchen, poured myself a bowl of Lucky Charms with milk, gave Rex a few pieces of cereal, and ate sitting next to Rex's cage.

"What do you think of our new digs?" I asked Rex, who was running on his wheel.

He didn't hesitate, so I took that as a good sign. All was right in Rex-world.

I dialed Ximena. She answered on the second ring.

"Chica, how's it going?"

"Good. When will you be back in town?"

"Not 'til late," she responded. "I'd hoped to be back sooner, but I got tied up here. Do you need something?"

"I'm going to attempt a takedown this evening and was hoping you'd tag along."

"Oh chica, I'd love to if I could! I'm sorry. Can it wait until tomorrow?"

"Maybe," I responded, disappointed. "Drive safe, and I'll see you soon."

I disconnected and considered my options. I could go alone, but I figured Ranger would be pissed if he found out. I could call Lula, but that might be worse than going alone. I could go to the control room and ask for volunteers. I could ask Tank for help. Or I could call Joe.

None of these options were appealing. I considered waiting until tomorrow to go back to Leo's, but I knew I had a pile of other skips that needed pursued. I let out a frustrated sigh of defeat and called Morelli.

"Hi," he answered.

"Hi yourself," I said. "What are you doing?"

"Getting ready to hea…. Head home. What's up?"

"I need a favor."

Twenty minutes later, Morelli and I sat in silence in my Jeep headed for the Burg.

I parked in front of Gioviccini's Deli and Meat Market.

"Hungry?" Morelli questioned.

"Maybe a little," I admitted, "but I'm here for the gossip."

Morelli's serious cop face was in place, showing no emotion. I filled him in about Dickie.

"I thought I'd stop in to see if anybody's heard anything that might be of use since Leo won't be home yet. You can stay here, or you can come in. It will just take a minute."

I hopped out of the Jeep and headed for the door. To my surprise, Joe followed.

I got in line behind Mrs. Gonzales, who was ordering a variety of deli meats and prepared salads from the counter. Joe stood close, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot while we waited.

"Next," Gina Giovaccini lamented form behind the counter as Mrs. Gonzales shuffled away.

"Hey Gina," I greeted pleasantly.

"Hey Stephanie. How's it…. Oh my god, hey Joe. How ya doin'?" Gina said, turning her attention to Morelli.

Morelli gave Gina a polite nod, but he didn't speak.

"I was wondering when we'd be seeing you. It's been a long time. Can I get you anything?" Gina asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

Joe shook his head no and gestured to me.

"Can I get half a pound of deli smoked ham and a half a pound of swiss cheese, please?" I asked politely.

"Sure thing," she said, slipping into food service gloves.

"Have you heard anything about Dickie?" I inquired as she poked around in the deli case.

"I guess you must be trying to find him, huh? Not much," Gina admitted. "Lots of speculation, but nothing worth repeating. Sounds like he may be in real trouble this time."

"What kind of trouble?" I asked.

"Rumor has it he's in over his head with some bad clients at his new firm," said Gina. "Human trafficking or something. He knew too much, so now he's either hiding or at the bottom of the Delaware."

"Yikes," I said. "Sounds serious."

She set two white paper packages on top of the deli case. "No kidding. Can I get you anything else?"

"No, thanks for your help."

"Good to see you, Joe," said Gina. "Don't be a stranger."

I grabbed a package of sandwich rolls off the bakery shelf and checked out, then Joe and I went back to the Jeep.

"What do you make of that?" I asked him, buckling in.

Joe shrugged. "Hard to tell. T… trafficking is a real problem here. Might wa…" He paused and collected himself, focusing on his words. "You might want to check a list of Dickie's clients."

"Smart," I said, turning over the engine. "Let's go to his firm. You doing okay?" I asked, noticing for the first time that Joe looked exhausted. Dark circles were embedded under his eyes, and his eyelids appeared heavy.

"I'm fine," he said, wiping his palms on his thighs.

We drove to Dickie's firm on State Street. It was a massive, two story colonial that had been updated and modified into an office building. A sign reading "Fitch, Rhoads, and Orr" was prominently displayed, and a concrete parking lot filled the space next to the building.

I parked in the lot, and we went in the front door.

"May I help you?" the woman at the front desk asked, clearly surprised to have walk-in traffic this late in the day. She was a small woman with dark hair wearing a pale green blouse neatly tailored grey pantsuit.

"Is Dickie here?" I asked her, placing my forearms on the countertop of her tall desk.

"No, I'm sorry, he's not available right now," she responded.

"When would it be possible to see him? It's urgent."

"I'm sorry, I wish I knew," she said. "Can I help you with something? Or maybe another of our attorneys?"

"Stephanie Plum," I said as introduction. "I represent Dickie's bail bondsman. He failed to appear for his court date, and I need him to reschedule."

The woman's face became very serious and she leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper.

"Mr. Orr seems to be missing,"

"Define missing."

"He hasn't been to work since last Monday. No one has been able to reach him," she said, looking worried.

I glanced at Morelli, who had his cop face firmly in place. He was processing what he was hearing, but he seemed content to let me take the lead.

"Do you think it's possible he left town?" I asked her.

"I suppose anything is possible, but it seems unlikely. He has been devoted to this firm since buying in as partner. He has several big cases coming to trial this month, and I can't imagine he'd miss them. He's spent long hours preparing."

"Would it be possible to take a look in his office? Or get a list of his clients?"

"Why, no, dear. I'm sorry. Attorney-client privilege and whatnot. I can let him know you called on him if I hear from him," she said hopefully.

"No, that's alright," I said. I didn't think she'd be hearing from Dickie anytime soon. He was a creep, but he was a decent lawyer. Something was definitely going on for him to go M.I.A. with cases on the schedule.

We thanked the woman and went back out to the Jeep.

"He's dead," Joe said once we were settled in the Jeep. "You need to w…. walk away from this."

"I think he's dead too, but I can't walk away," I admitted. "This is my job."

"Cupcake, I…." he stopped himself.

Our eyes held, and something unspoken passed between us.

"I'm not your Cupcake anymore, Joe."

He blew out a sigh and rubbed his hands over his face.

"Sorry. Can we run by my hou…. House?" Joe asked. "I thought I'd be home by now. Ne… need to take meds."

"Sure," I said, shifting the car into gear and pulling out of the lot.

We drove in silence to Slater Street. I waited in the car while Joe went into the house.

While I waited, I called Connie.

"Hey," I said, "have you heard any more on Dickie?"

"No, why?" she asked.

"We ran by his firm just now, and if the lady at the desk is being honest, he's off the radar."

"Told ya," said Connie.

"Do you think you could get ahold of his client list?"

"I can try," Connie said. "I'll work on it."

"Thanks. I appreciate it. Have a good date tonight, by the way."

"You know it. What are you doing tonight?"

"Trying to bring in Leo Zacharias with Joe Morelli."

"Oh my god. You've got to be kidding me," Connie said. "How did that happen?"

"You didn't hear?" I asked.

"Hear what? Are you two back together?" Connie asked, sounding scandalized.

"Ranger hired him to be my partner," I told her.

"Oh shit," Connie replied. "You'd better get yourself a chastity belt."

Joe and I had time to kill before Leo would be back from his bus trip to Atlantic City, so I decided to risk mooching dinner at my parents' house.

As usual, Grandma Mazur was the first to the door.

"Well I'll be," she announced, scoping out Joe. "I didn't think we'd be seeing you. How're you?"

"Good, thanks," Joe replied, ascending the stairs to the front door.

"Helen was just setting out dinner. I'll put out two mores plates," she said, scrambling for the kitchen.

"Hi dad," I said to my father, who was sitting in his recliner in front of the television. I gave him a peck on the cheek, and he grunted in response.

"Hi, Frank," said Joe.

My father whipped around in surprise.

"Hey, Joe. I didn't know you'd be here."

"Me either," Joe said. "I was wor…. Working with Steph today."

"Working, huh?" my dad asked curiously.

"I got hired at Rangeman."

My dad's eyes shifted to me in question, but he said nothing.

"Ranger hired Joe as my partner," I said in explanation.

My dad rose to his feet and patted Joe on the shoulder. "Glad to hear it. I sure was disappointed when I heard you were off the force."

Joe's face showed a trace of sadness before he was able to mask it.

"Change can be good," he said.

Joe and my dad settled into the small dining room, where grandma had set two additional plates. I went into the kitchen, where my mother and grandmother were filling serving bowls and platters with dinner food.

"Hi mom," I greeted, giving her a kiss on the cheek. I handed over the purchases I'd made at Gioviccini's, knowing my mother would put them to good use. I had little use for groceries now since I had Ella.

"Good to see you, Stephanie. I wish I'd known you were coming tonight. I would have made something nicer for dinner."

"No worries, mom. If it's a problem, we can leave."

"I wouldn't hear of it," my mother said, spooning green beans into a bowl.

"Yeah, don't be silly. Your mother is just being modest," said Grandma. "She can put out a mean spread without even breaking a sweat."

My mother handed me a basket of rolls and a bowl of gravy.

"Help me set the table. What can I get you to drink? Wine? Beer?"

"Just water," I responded, pushing the door open with my back. "I have to work tonight. Morelli, too."

We settled into a comfortable dinner, with my mother and grandmother asking Joe lots of questions. He seemed to be holding up pretty well, but his stuttering seemed to get worse the longer dinner went on.

"Is that permanent?" Grandma asked after Joe fought his way through a sentence.

"Grandma!" I scolded. "Jesus, he got shot. That's rude. Give him a break."

"Sorry," Grandma apologized. "I was just addressing the unicorn in the room."

I rolled my eyes. "I think you mean elephant."

"No, I mean unicorn," said Grandma defiantly. "Elephants are gray, fat, and ugly. Unicorns are magical. I want to talk about unicorns, not ugly old elephants."

"It's fine," Joe responded, seemingly unaffected. "I don't know if its puh…. Permanent. I hope not. I'm working on it."

"Well, you're still a handsome devil," Grandma said, pouring more wine into her glass. "I'm glad you joined us tonight. You're welcome any time."

The phrase 'damaged goods' ran through my head, and I couldn't help but cringe.

"Where is Carlos tonight?" my mother asked, sipping what appeared to be iced tea.

Joe gave me the side eye. He was curious too.

"He's in Newark with his parents," I explained, forking into my meatloaf. "His mom is sick."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," said my mother. "I didn't realize he had family nearby."

"He has a big family," I explained. "Lots of siblings with nieces and nephews. A few of his cousins work with me. And he's got a daughter in Florida."

This caught my mother's attention.

"Carlos has a child?" she asked hopefully.

"Julie. She lives with his ex-wife."

My mother looked borderline joyful. She was having visions of step-grandchildren. Two points for Ranger.

"Cool your jets, mom. Julie doesn't come up this way much. I haven't seen her in years."

My mother looked disappointed. Scratch Ranger's points.

We had brownie sundaes for dessert, then Morelli and I left with a bag of leftovers.

"You want to take this home with you?" I asked him, gesturing to the bag.

"Sure, thanks," said Joe. "So you've met Ranger's parents?" he asked curiously.

"Yeah. I wasn't sure what to expect, but they're great. He looks like a younger version of his dad," I said, "but he is skeptical and questioning like his mom."

Joe took a minute to process that information. I stopped at a light on Hamilton Avenue.

"You know if he ever hurts you, I'll br… br…. I'll break his face, right?" asked Joe, his face betraying no emotion.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "I know."

He nodded acknowledgment as I stepped on the accelerator, pointing the Jeep in the direction of Leo Zacharias's house.

Morelli and I sat in silence at the curb in front of Leo's house. The curtains were drawn and the lights were off. We had knocked on the door, but no one answered. I'd called the home number, but I got the machine. I decided to wait, hoping my visit earlier hadn't spooked Leo to go out of town.

Despite Morelli's claim he was 'fine,' I could tell the long day had taken a toll on him. He was barely keeping his eyes open in the passenger seat, his large frame leaning against the door.

"How about I take you home?" I suggested.

"I'm fine," said Morelli, yawning.

"Will you at least lean your seat back and close your eyes then? There is nothing to see here. We just need to wait. I'm perfectly capable of doing that while you rest your eyes."

He complied, leaning his seat back and closing his eyes. In a matter of minutes, he was sound asleep, his breathing even.

I studied Joe's face. Though he still looked exhausted, his face looked younger when he slept. I'd studied this face hundreds of times before. It was familiar, comforting somehow. Sure, my relationship with Joe was done, but he was still one of my best friends. I couldn't not care about him.

At 8:37 PM, a white Lincoln Town Car pulled up in front of the house, and Leo and Garnetta climbed out of the back seat. They exchanged some pleasantries with the couple in the front seat, then began hobbling up the sidewalk to the front door, side by side, wielding canes and carrying Styrofoam carryout food boxes.

I slid my pepper spray in my jeans pocket and cuffs in my waistband, then slid quietly out of the car, careful not to wake Morelli.

"Leo?" I asked, walking up the sidewalk behind him.

He turned, surprised. He was wearing khaki chinos, brown leather loafers, a blue sweater, and wire framed glasses.

"Who are you?" he asked brusquely.

"I'm Stephanie," I said, walking closer to him. "You missed your court date, and I wanted to help you reschedule."

His face turned a shade of purple.

"That bullshit?" he fumed. "No way. I didn't do anything wrong. I ain't goin' to court."

"I don't care if you go to court," I said, inching my way closer to him. And that was the truth. I didn't care if he showed up for court. I just needed him to get re-bonded so he wasn't my problem anymore. "We just need to schedule another date."

"Ain't gonna happen," he said, walking away toward the front door.

In a split second, I closed the gap between us, slipping a cuff onto his left wrist.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed, trying to pull away from me. He dropped his box of food, and it spilled onto the sidewalk.

"Hey! Stop that!" Garnetta shouted, waving her cane at me. "He said no!"

"Sir, I represent your bail bondsman. I need to return you to the court," I said, trying to wrestle his right hand into the cuffs.

"No!" he shouted. He raised his cane, and before I could respond, he smacked me across the face with it.

I was momentarily stunned, and I released his arm. I collapsed to my knees, trying to steady myself. He raised the cane again, this time striking me across the cheek with the end. I cried out in pain and touched my cheek. I drew my hand back and saw blood through the tears welling up in my eyes.

"Get away from her!" I heard Morelli shout at Zacharias.

I stumbled to my feet and wiped the tears from my eyes. I saw Leo raise his cane again. Instinctively, I tore the pepper spray out of my pocket and sprayed him as the cane cracked me on the side of my head. For an old man, he had one hell of an arm. I fell to my knees again, hearing him roar like an angry bull. Before I realized what was happening, Morelli had Leo on the ground with both hands cuffed behind his back.

"My eyes! They're on fire!" Leo roared.

"You asked for it," Morelli said. "Don't you know you never hit a lady?"

"Stop!" shouted Garnetta, racing to Morelli. She opened the Styrofoam container she carried and threw a handful of its contents at Morelli. She repeated this three times, until all the food was gone and Morelli was head-to-toe mashed potatoes and gravy.

A cop car pulled to the curb, and Eddie Gazarra raced out. Eddie and I had grown up together, gone to school together, and he was married to my cousin, Shirley-the-Whiner.

"I got a call from the neighbors about a disturbance. What is going on…" he asked in his cop-voice, stopping mid-thought as recognition dawned on him. "Holy shit. Joe?"

"Assault! Arrest these people!" Garnetta shouted.

"Yeah," Joe croaked, wiping potatoes off his face. "It's me."

"What the hell?" said Eddie in disbelief.

"New job," said Joe as explanation. "Rangeman."

"Damn," said Eddie. "Didn't see that coming."

"I'm here too," I said, dragging myself to my feet. "Mr. Zacharias is my FTA."

"Oh shit, Steph. What happened?" Eddie said, closing the distance between us to examine my face.

"Cane to the face," I said, wiping the blood off my cheek onto my shirt.

"You need to get that looked at," Eddie said, gesturing at my face. "You've got an ugly gash."

"Get the hell off'a me!" Zacharias shouted at Morelli, who still had him on the ground.

In response, Morelli pulled him to his feet.

"Eddie, w… would you mind hauling this guy in as a favor?" asked Morelli. "I need to get Steph checked out. W… w…. we can stop by to get the paperwork tomorrow."

"Sure," said Gazarra. "We've got some catching up to do, Morelli. Let's get lunch sometime."

"Deal," said Morelli, handing over custody of Zacharias. "Thanks."

Eddie got Leo secured in the back of his cop car, and I handed over the paperwork giving me authority to capture. We thanked Eddie, and he climbed in his car and drove away.

Morelli studied my cheek and let out a low whistle. "He did a number on you."

"I'm fine," I said, rubbing the side of my head. "The cheek actually doesn't hurt that much, but I have a pounding headache."

"Let's get you checked out," said Morelli, taking off his mashed potato-covered plaid shirt and t-shirt.

"Sorry. Do you mind?" he asked, an air of awkwardness between us.

I swallowed and shook my head no. Why should I care? I'd seen him shirtless hundreds of times before. Plus, I didn't really want Garnetta's leftovers in my Jeep.

Joe used his shirt to wipe the remaining gravy out of his hair and off his pants before climbing into the Jeep.

I climbed into the driver's seat and buckled myself in. Joe's chest caught my eye, and I caught myself staring at his puckered pink skin where two bullets had penetrated his chest. I swallowed hard, looking away quickly, but Joe had caught me staring.

"It's ugly, huh?" he asked, touching the puckered flesh. "The one I t… took to the thigh hurt, but it healed up alright. These two have b…. been a real son-of-a-bitch."

"I'm sorry," I said softly.

"Not your fault," he said, buckling himself in. "I shouldn't have gone. Saint Francis?" he asked, changing the subject.

I shook my head. "I'll be fine. I just want to get home and to go sleep."

"My place then. I have steri-strips."

We drove the short distance to Joe's house and went inside.

"Can I get you a beer?" he asked politely, shucking his shoes at the door.

"Sure, thanks. I'll be in the bathroom," I responded, climbing the stairs to the upstairs bath.

I stared in the mirror and gaped in open-mouthed horror at my reflection. I was a disaster. A purple bruise was blooming across my left eye onto the side of my face. Black mascara was smudged around my eyes from my tears. A ragged gash ran from the side of my mouth to my jawline. At first glance, it didn't appear to be too deep, but it had bled a lot, trashing my white t-shirt. Worst of all, my hair needed an exorcist, consisting of nothing but frizz. Yikes.

I heard footsteps behind me and saw Morelli appear in the mirror.

"I'm a disaster," I lamented.

"If its any consolation, I've seen you look worse," he admitted, handing me a beer and setting his on the bathroom vanity.

"Thanks, I think. Got any Tylenol?" I asked, taking a pull on my beer.

He rummaged around in the cabinet and came up with a bottle. He handed it to me, and I fished two out, washing them down with my beer.

"Sit," he said, gesturing to the vanity. I slid onto the counter, and he rummaged around in a drawer, coming up with a variety of supplies.

He wet a dark colored cloth and added soap. "This may hurt," he warned.

"I'm fine," I responded.

He gently washed my cheek, and I gritted my teeth.

"Sorry," he said, studying the affected area. "You need stitches."

"No," I reassured him. "It's fine. Really."

He looked unconvinced, but took a bottle of antiseptic spray out of the drawer anyway. "Close your eyes," he said.

I did as I was told, and he sprayed my cheek. The sting took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes. I blinked back the tears as Morelli dried the area with a clean paper towel.

"Can you close it with the steri-strips?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Great."

He opened the box and removed several strips, laying them on the sink. As he took one in his fingers, I noticed his hands were trembling.

"Joe, are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, why?" he asked, seemingly unconcerned.

"You're shaking," I said, gesturing at his hands.

"Yeah," he said, unworried. "It happens sometimes, especially at t… the end of the day. I'm used to it."

I longed to ask questions, but my head was pounding and I was experiencing an adrenaline crash. I drained my beer instead.

Joe held my wound closed and applied a steri-strip with trembling hands. He studied his handiwork, then repeated the process three more times before declaring I'd live.

Joe was standing between my knees, and his face was close to mine. He brushed my hair away from my face, leaving his palm on my uninjured cheek. My heart was pounding in my chest, panic rising over the situation I'd naively put myself in.

I started to speak, but before I could get a word out, Joe's lips met with mine. His kiss was soft and filled with longing. My brain was screaming for my body to stop, but my body failed to respond, returning the kiss as Joe wrapped his arms around me and pressed his body into me.

Joe broke to take a breath, and I tried to speak.

"Joe, I can't…"

His lips connected with mine again, cutting off my feeble attempt to stop what was happening between us. I turned my face away, and his lips found my neck. I closed my eyes, sighing with pleasure at the familiarity between us.

Joe tugged my ruined shirt over my head and tossed it aside, his lips connecting with mine again. He ran his hands over my back and onto my breasts, and I moaned into his mouth, my entire body shaking with anticipation.

He placed his hands under my thighs and lifted me, carrying me to the bed. He laid me down gently, my feet dangling off the bed. His hands were at the zipper of my jeans when an image of Ranger, having done the same thing to me earlier in the day, came to mind. My brain suddenly engaged and full-throttle panic ensued.

"Oh my god, Joe. I can't do this," I cried, pulling away from him. I shimmied off the bed and raced down the stairs.

"Steph, wait!" he shouted after me. "Please!"

I grabbed my messenger bag and car keys off the kitchen table and raced out the front door. It wasn't until I was driving down Slater Street in my Jeep that I realized I was only wearing a bra, my shirt having been abandoned at Morelli's. I turned onto Hamilton before bursting into tears of self-loathing.