When I resurfaced, I was still in Morelli's arms. He was fast asleep, his face relaxed and at ease. Somehow, it felt familiar and safe. The lights in the room had been dimmed, and I heard the whirr of the IV dripping into my arm. My head ached, but in spite of it all, my relief was palpable.

"Babe?"

I turned to the voice and found myself face to face with Ranger. His dark eyes were sorrowful, with dark circles and worry lines accentuating them.

"Ranger," I breathed, reaching out to him.

He was seated in a chair at my bedside. He was in black fatigues, his clothing rumpled with wear. He took my hand in his, kissing it.

"I'm glad you're alive," he said, his voice more emotional than I'd ever heard.

"Me too," I admitted.

"We thought we'd caught up to you in Indianapolis, but I thought we were too late," he admitted. "We found your bag at a funeral home. There was a body being cremated. I thought it was you."

I took in the information, swallowing hard.

"Dickie," I breathed.

"You're sure?" he asked, and I nodded in response.

"He was dead in the van when they took me. Fitch told the driver to 'take care of it' in Indianapolis."

Ranger's face grew dark.

"I guess I'm not surprised," he admitted. "I learned that Dickie had been working as a confidential informant. He got involved with Avalos shortly after he switched firms. He got wind that Fitch was running drugs and women all along Interstate 80 from New Jersey to California, and he squealed. Avalos was one of those women. Fitch figured it out, and that's when Dickie fell off the radar."

"So he was the good guy after all?" I murmured, remembering Avalos's words.

Ranger furrowed his brow. "I guess so," he said, unsure how to respond.

Ranger eyed Joe's sleeping form suspiciously.

"Don't look at him like that. He did nothing wrong," I accused. "I asked him to stay. You don't get to be jealous."

The corner of Ranger's mouth tipped up hinting at a smile, and he nodded his understanding.

The door clicked open, and a small woman in light pink scrubs peered in.

"Good, you're awake," she said. She shuffled in and placed a tray on my bedside table. "The cafeteria won't open again until 3 AM, but I wanted to bring you a few items in case you were hungry."

I studied the tray. It contained a plain bagel, cream cheese, a container of grape juice, a container of orange juice, and a container of red gelatin.

"Thank you," I said.

Joe stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He realized Ranger was in the room, and he shot out of the bed. The nurse left, sensing the awkwardness in the room.

"Manoso," he greeted, looking to the floor. "I…"

Ranger cut him off. "You're fine, Morelli."

Joe gave him a skeptical look, raising one eyebrow.

"Thanks for taking care of her," Ranger said softly. "For putting yourself in harm's way to bring her to safety."

Morelli breathed a relieved sigh and nodded, taking a seat in a chair.

Ranger got to his feet and selected the grape juice from the tray, puncturing the foil lid with a straw.

"Drink this," he ordered, holding it in front of me.

"I'm okay," I muttered, refusing the drink and pushing it away.

He raised an eyebrow, and I sighed with resignation. I obediently drank the cold, sweet liquid. I could feel it run down my throat and swirl around in my empty stomach. When I'd finished the grape, he repeated the process with the orange.

As I drank, I studied his face. It was clear he was exhausted, even in the dim room. He had several days beard growth on his face. His eyes were bloodshot and weary. Worry lines surrounded his mouth and eyes.

"You look like hell," I croaked.

"Babe. I spent two days thinking you were dead. Sorry if I don't look like Brad Pitt."

I knew Ranger's love for me ran deep. My heart contracted painfully, knowing the suffering he must have endured.

"Have you slept?" I asked, scooting over to make room for him in the bed. I patted the mattress, and he sat next to me and held me in his arms, pulling me tight to his body. I inhaled his scent as he kissed my face.

"I couldn't," he admitted.

He tipped my head to kiss me, and our lips gently connected. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, and I sniffed, blinking them away.

I could see Morelli shift uncomfortably in his seat with the PDA, but he said nothing.

The door slid open, and Doctor Lehman entered.

"You're awake," she observed.

I nodded. "Barely."

She gave me a small, warm smile.

"Is now a good time?" she asked.

"Sure," I said. "What's up?"

"We found trace amounts of ketamine in your urine, and a substantial amount of heroin in your blood. As your body begins to burn off the drugs, you're going to experience withdrawal symptoms. We have no way of knowing how severe they will be, but we have some options to help make it a smoother process."

I worried my bottom lip below my teeth. Honestly, all I wanted was to go home.

"Can I leave now?" I asked.

"Not yet," the woman advised, "there is much yet to discuss."

"Report," Ranger instructed the doctor, stroking my hair.

"We tested Ms. Plum for sexually transmitted infections, and at this time, she's testing clean. She'll need to schedule follow up testing with her primary care physician to be sure nothing was passed to her when she was raped. HIV can take months to show up, and since we're unsure about her sexual partners or how hygienic the needles were, we need to be cautious."

I closed my eyes and did some deep breathing. No matter how much I wished it, this wasn't simply going to go away.

"There was just the one man," I said.

"You're sure?" the doctor asked, and I nodded in response. I was sure.

"He's in custody," Morelli announced. "When someone takes her statement, they may be able to get a warrant to test him."

Ranger seemed satisfied with that information.

"Is there anything medically you can do?" Ranger asked Lehman, squeezing my hand in his.

"We can discuss post-exposure prophylaxis, but we have other considerations before we begin such a regimen."

"I'll take the drugs," I said. "I just want this nightmare to be over."

Doctor Lehman nodded her understanding. She looked at the chart she held, furrowing her brows.

"Ma'am, did you know you're pregnant?"

"What?" I said, my voice flat and disbelieving.

I looked at Ranger, and his face registered disbelief too.

"So fast? How?" I asked. "It only happened today, I'm sure of it. I should be able to take Plan B. I…"

My voice trailed off, and I stared at my hands. I began to cry.

"I can't tell you much without an ultrasound, but my suspicion is you were pregnant before the abduction," she explained.

"That's not possible," I argued. "I just had my period."

"Bleeding is fairly common early in pregnancy," the doctor explained. "Women often mistake it for a period."

My eyes darted around the room, eventually meeting with Joe's. Shock was painted across his face. I had no idea what was on my face. Between the drugs, this news, and this entire ordeal, my head was swimming.

"I'm going to give you some privacy," Joe said quietly, standing.

"Please don't leave," I croaked, tears rolling down my face.

"I won't," he said. "I'll be right outside. I just need some air."

He left, and I burst into loud sobs. Ranger tried to soothe me as the doctor continued.

"With your consent, I'd like to perform a transvaginal ultrasound to determine the age of the fetus," she explained. "With more information, we can talk more about your options. It very well may be possible to carry the fetus to term, but we would need to begin a medical detox to help it—and you—come off the heroin safely. And the safety of post-exposure prophylaxis is still somewhat unclear with pregnancy. Drug companies are hesitant to research the effects on drugs on pregnancy—too much risk, and too many lawsuits. I think an ultrasound is the next logical step so we can make better-informed decisions."

I nodded my consent. My head swam with the information I'd been given. I buried my face in Ranger's chest to sob.

Ranger held me for a long time, and I cried myself into an exhausted stupor. My head pounded, and my mouth was dry. He whispered his love into my ear, apologizing over and over that this had happened to me.

"You are loved," he said, his voice breaking. "We're going to get through this."

I drifted to sleep, but was soon awakened by a uniformed officer knocking at my hospital room door.

"I'm Detective Sharp. If you're up to it, I'd like to take your statement," he explained.

I told him everything I could remember as Ranger held me close, listening intently to every word. The detective frantically scribbled on his pad of paper, asking follow up questions as necessary. Once I had finished recalling my experience, the detective seemed satisfied with the information he'd been given He handed me his business card.

"If you think of anything else that may be of use or if you have questions, give me a call. I will be in touch."

He left, and a few moments later, an ultrasound tech rolled a cart of equipment into my room. She had short blonde hair and looked half-awake in her navy-blue scrubs and black clogs. I imagined she must have been on call, and she'd been dragged out of bed in the middle of the night to deal with my problems. Honestly, I felt bad for her.

"Hi Stephanie. My name is Macy, and I'll be your ultrasound technician tonight."

She explained what she planned to do, but I struggled to focus on her words. My body was screaming for some type of relief, craving the drugs it had been ravaged by in the days prior. Ranger seemed to notice I was struggling. He listened intently and asked questions, and he rubbed my back. The ultrasound tech set up her equipment, and Ranger helped me adjust positions in the bed, gently placing my feet in the stirrups.

"If you'd like, I can give you some Propofol before the procedure," the tech said. "It will help you relax. Its effects only last around ten minutes."

"No," I said, my hands trembling. "No more drugs. Just get it done."

Ranger held my hand as I stared at the ceiling. The tech inserted the ultrasound wand, and I whimpered in pain, gritting my teeth.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "Are you sure I can't give you something? This has to be traumatic after what you've been through."

I gritted my teeth. "Just get it done," I said, my voice flat.

The woman adjusted the probe, capturing images at different angles. She typed commands into the computer and pressed buttons, her skilled fingers flying across the keys.

"Well, the fetus appears to be around six weeks old," she said, pointing to an image on her screen.

Ranger squeezed my hand and rubbed my arm. I assumed his response was in recognition that the baby was his, but he said nothing.

The woman pressed several buttons and turned a dial. Sound emanated from the machine. It was a steady thrumming.

"Strong heartbeat," she announced. "104 beats per minute."

She captured a few more images then packed up, leaving Ranger and I alone in the room with a black and white printed image of our six-week old fetus. On the upper left hand corner was printed "Baby Manoso."

I adjusted the bed so it was flat and lay on my side curled into a ball. I'd cried so much that I had no tears left to cry. Ranger held my hand in his, studying the black and white image.

"Will you hold me?" I whispered.

Ranger rose and slipped off his tennis shoes. He eased himself on to the bed, and I scooted over to accommodate him in the tiny bed. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled my back to his chest, where I drifted into a dreamless sleep.

I woke when hints of sunlight were peeking in through the small window in my room. I was safe in Ranger's arms, and his breathing was even.

He sleeps, I thought.

I realized Morelli was also sound asleep in a chair next to the bed. I hadn't heard him return to the room, but somehow, I found his presence soothing. He had washed the temporary tattoos off, and he was wearing a ball cap. He was snoring softly, and he had his hand over the top of mine.

I lay awake as they slept, wondering what to do. Do I keep the baby? Should I terminate? What would Ranger want? What did I want? The questions spun around in my head until the door to the room opened, and Dr. Lehman entered.

Joe and Ranger both woke. Joe sat up straight and wiped his eyes, yawning. Ranger sat on the edge of the mattress, giving me some space.

"Good morning," she greeted. "I have to apologize—I don't think anyone ever much gets rest in the hospital, and the emergency room is even worse. Too many people coming and going."

I nodded my understanding, relieved for the light small-talk.

"The baby measures six weeks and is looking fine for now. We're not entirely out of the woods—drugs and pregnancy aren't a safe combination. I take it this pregnancy was unplanned?" she asked, her voice warm.

I nodded, and Ranger shifted uncomfortably on the mattress.

"You have options, Ms. Plum. We can administer a drug to terminate the pregnancy, if you wish. You're not very far along. Honestly, five or six weeks is when most women first realize they're pregnant. If you want to carry the baby or if you want to take more time to discuss your options with the baby's father, that's fine too. Your obstetrician can help monitor you and discuss your options. If you choose to carry this pregnancy, your baby will need to be monitored closely for birth defects and issues related to the drugs."

"Can I go home?" I begged.

"I think we should discuss keeping you another day for observation," Dr. Lehman said, her voice firm.

"I want to go home," I begged. "Please."

"I do not believe that would be in your best interest at this time," she advised.

"I'm leaving," I announced, my anxiety ramping up.

"Babe," Ranger warned, his tone gruff. He wasn't happy.

"Are you taking me home, or am I hitchhiking?" I asked, scowling.

When he didn't respond, I looked to Joe.

"Will you take me home?" I asked.

He cocked an eye at me. "I'm not getting between you and Manoso."

"You'll have to sign out AMA if you go," said the doctor. "But I ask you to please reconsider. Wait another day."

"Get the paperwork," I said, rubbing my pounding temples. "Paperwork and two Tylenol."

The doctor shuffled out, clearly flustered.

"I wish you wouldn't do this," Ranger sighed, taking my hand in his.

"Let's get out of BFE Iowa and get home," I said flatly. "I promise, I'll be a perfect patient when I'm back in Jersey. Just get me out of here."

I knew Ranger and I had a lot to discuss, but I knew I needed time to process the information we'd received. I assumed Ranger did, too. I knew I was in store for a huge emotional breakdown once I processed the events of the last few days, and I felt the need to get somewhere private and safe.

Ranger busied himself making calls to arrange travel plans, and Morelli sat quietly by my side, studying me.

"Are you okay?" Joe asked quietly.

"I need time to think," I admitted begrudgingly.

Morelli looked sad.

"Thank you," I said to him.

He shrugged off my words.

"No, Joe, really. Thank you," I said, my voice breaking.

He stood from his seat, and he wrapped his arms around me.

"Let me know if there is anything I can do," Joe said, his voice sad. "I want—no, I need you to be alright."

A nurse came in with some Tylenol and my paperwork, which I signed gratefully.

"The doctor will be in shortly with written orders and follow-up instructions," the nurse said.

She left me with Ranger at one side of my bed and Joe at the other. Ranger typed something into his phone, and moments later, the door to the hospital room opened.

"Knock knock," said a soft, friendly voice, and Ximena poked her head into the room. "Can I come in?"

"Ximena!" I cried, relieved to see another friendly face. She, too, looked exhausted, but her spirits seemed high.

"Oh chica," she cried, closing the distance between us and throwing her arms around me. "I'm so, so sorry this happened."

We broke from the hug, and the line of Ranger's mouth was tight with anger.

"Are you comfortable if I manage your care?" she asked, placing her hand atop mine. "At least until we get to Trenton?"

I nodded my consent. If she'd take care of me, so much the better.

Ximena dumped a backpack onto the bed.

"These things are yours whenever you want them," she said in explanation.

I unzipped the large compartment of the backpack and found black leggings, black Nike tennis shoes, undergarments, socks, a black long sleeved Rangeman logo shirt, and a white fleece pullover. A smaller pocket contained toiletries, hair elastics, and a hair brush. The smallest front pocket contained an Apple box with a brand-new iPhone and charger.

Dr. Lehman came in with a stack of written instructions and discharge paperwork, and Ximena consulted with her for a long time, asking questions and taking notes on recommended protocols. I used the small on-suite bathroom to freshen up, brush my teeth, and change clothes. Ranger hovered in the doorway to the bathroom, listening to the doctor speak but seeming unwilling to leave my side. It didn't bother me a bit.

I exited the restroom and put the backpack over my shoulders to wait. Dr. Lehman gave me a small smile and extended her hand to me.

"You're in good hands," she said, gesturing at Ximena. "If I can do anything for you, please don't hesitate to call. You've been through quite the ordeal, but I'm happy to see you're surrounded by such a strong support system. You'll get through this, Ms. Plum."

I thanked her, and she left the room.

"You ready?" Ranger asked, placing his hand at the small of my back.

I nodded, and we trooped out of the room and to the hospital parking garage, where a black SUV sat idling. I raised an eyebrow to Ranger in question, and he gave me a small, knowing smirk.

"You thought Lester would stay Trenton?" he asked.

My heart filled, and I smiled through the tears that threatened to fall.

"I threatened to shoot him more than once," Ranger admitted. "He makes me crazy."

"He threatened to disembowel me," admitted Ximena.

I cringed at the thought, and Ranger gave Ximena an angry look.

"I'm not done with you," he threatened Ximena, opening the door to the SUV.

"Lester hit up some seedy hotels near Denver looking for you. If you thought Morelli's getup was entertaining, you should have seen Lester," explained Ximena with a smile, ignoring Ranger's anger.

Ximena climbed into the third row and Morelli rode shotgun. Ranger sat in the second seat, and I lay across it with my head in his lap.

The drive to the airport was brief. When I sat up to gaze out the windows, I realized the SUV was parked on the tarmac of the airport next to a small jet in a hangar.

The sun was shining brightly, and the morning was warm as we stepped out of the vehicle. The light bothered my pounding head and aching eyes, but I forged ahead anyway. We loaded our few belongings onto the plane and prepared for takeoff. Within minutes, we were airborne, and I was asleep before we were out of Iowa.