Disclaimer: All familiar characters belong to Janet Evonovich.

I promise all will be explained soon - how Steph ended up where she is, where Ranger is, etc. Hope you are all staying home and that you and your loved ones are all safe. So glad we have this to keep us company in these difficult times - a happier place to run off to. Stay Safe!

Stephanie's Point of View:

I started stirring awake as the plane began its slow descend into Honolulu International Airport. I don't remember much of the flight - all of the exhaustion from the past few months took over and I lost consciousness.

I haven't been able to get over 4 hours of sleep on any given night, never mind a full night's sleep or sleeping beyond sunrise. But I couldn't complain – as Joe explained so patiently, so often to me. He had a reputable job in which people looked up to him and respected him, so he needed to look and feel his best every day; and that responsibility fell squarely upon my shoulders. Servicing his 'boys' first thing every morning and last thing every night; making him a full, healthy breakfast every morning; doing laundry and ironing every day; cleaning the house; doing the grocery shopping and errands; walking Bob; and the list goes on.

Slipping up on one of these tasks, and not completing them to the highest standards meant quite a few more bruises, broken or swollen bones and muscles before going to bed that night. Besides with all the broken bones, swollen muscles and bruising it was uncomfortable to sleep; and the less time I had to spend in bed next to that monster, the better it was for all involved.

My body was stiff and sore from sitting still for 11 plus hours. Standing up from my seat took every inch of self-control not to crawl into the foetal position and scream. I placed my hands on the seat in front of me and squeezed as my body felt like an igniting fire in a war zone, hand grenades going off in each section as I moved limb by limb trying to get into a standing position. I squeezed my eyes closed as my face contorted. Never had I ever experienced such pain in my life as I have in the past few weeks. Leaning up into the overhead hold, I saw light black stars appear and a low growl slipped from my lips. The young gentleman in the next row put his hand on my shoulder and assured me that he would take it down for me.

Walking through the terminal to meet Danny, I start worrying about what he will think, and how he's going to feel. Danny always takes everything upon his shoulders. He believes that he is responsible for taking care of his friends too. And if something goes wrong, he starts blaming himself for not being there to stop it or prevent it. Even as kids. I can think of numerous stories of Danny stepping in on the playground, in the cafeteria, and on the streets of the Burg. I'm sure being friends with the infamous Stephanie Plum at school was not an easy walk in the park for him. When Danny found out that Joe had written all those horrible messages about me around town (not that he knows the truth about what led to those messages being written), he bought a bucket of paint from the pocket money that he had been saving, and spent a few days of his summer holidays going around town painting over them. I don't like to dwell on what Danny would have done to Joe had he found out about the bakery incident; especially if he gave little Tommy a black eye and a bloody nose for stealing my lunch money in kindergarten.

If Danny finds out what Joe has been doing to you for the past 5 months, there will be no more Joe, and Danny will be serving a life sentence in prison, I think to myself. The thought makes my blood run cold, my legs go shaky and the bile rises further up my throat. I can't lose Danny because of my stupidity.

I dip into the public washrooms to splash some water on my face trying to hide the small tear tracks that have reappeared on my face and regain some self-control and dignity. Rummaging through my bag, I find my small tube of foundation and reapply a little foundation to the bruises that are visible on the areas that my hoddie doesn't cover.

On the outside I appear as cool as a cucumber walking through the exit doors to start a small vacation on this beautiful, tropical island. On the inside, my lungs are contracting and I am battling to get air; my heart is pounding faster and faster; my stomach is holding a sword fight tournament between the butterflies and the birds; and my sweat glands are secreting enough sweat to fill a lake. My eyes scan the crowd in front of me and as they land on Danny only a few feet away, an unexplainable calming sensation comes over me. I immediately feel safe and protected.

I drop my bag and run as fast as my legs will carry me, ignoring my protesting muscles and ribs, into the arms of one of my best friends and confidant. Danny immediately wraps his arms around me. The warmth and familiar smell comforts and relaxes me; but they too allow the dam of tears and snot to come pouring out.

Danny's Point of View:

I feel the warmth of her tears on my shirt, before I even realise that she is crying. It's not an I-missed-you kind of crying, nor an I've-had-a-long-flight-and-am-tired kind of crying neither – it's the kind of crying when you have truly lost someone or something that is imperial to your life and being. It's the kind of crying that will haunt your dreams as a friend and as a parent - a soul wrenching, soul crushing sob.

Not knowing what else to do, I squeeze her a little tighter to me, trying to share my love and strength through the hug. A groan of pain escapes from her throat, but I can't let her go. Something deep down, tells me to not let her go. To just hold her tight in my arms. An unexplained feeling of relief washes over me, as if I am truly relieved that she is safely here in Hawaii and more importantly in my arms.

After a good few moments, I slowly release Steph. As I pull away, I notice her flinching as she moves her body back into a standing position. I immediately offer to collect and carry her bags and as I do so, I wonder to myself whether she was hurt in the car explosion last week, or maybe pulled a muscle when doing the garbage tackle earlier this week. What could have happened to rattle my amazing, fearless, Stephanie Plum so much that she would free willingly get on a flight and come to Hawaii?

I place my arm around Stephanie's shoulder and start walking to the car, but as she takes that first step, I can feel the shudders of pain shooting through her body, and the effort that each miniscule movement is taking on her right now. I immediately turn and look Steph straight in the eye. I place my hands on either side of her face, holding her firmly in place so that she can't use her common avoidance tricks on me.

"Stephanie, what …" As the first words come out my mouth and my brain registers what it's seeing in front of me right now, the tears start to form in my eyes as well as hers.

I see the bruises that surround her nose; the hallowing dark blue, yellow and green rings that shadow her eyes; the speckles of red, broken skin and scabs that have formed along her neck and hairline. These are marks that I expect to see on a mugged or rape victim, not on my best friend – one of the strongest women I know.

Without thinking, my hands move on their own accord, towards the neckline of her hoodie. I want to see the rest of the marks. I need to know how bad this is. But Stephanie quickly and calmingly grabs my hands, holding them securely in hers, she says:

"Dannie, look at me…" and with that she paused, waiting for me to raise my eyes from the marks around her neck until I was looking directly into her tear stained eyes again.

"Dannie, I am safe right now. I am safe here with you. I will explain everything but can we please go home first. I am in so much pain. I just want to climb into bed and sleep. Please, Dannie. Please can we go home first."

Steph didn't need to ask me twice. I placed my arm under Steph's arms and asked her to lean on me. Together, we walked out to the car. I placed her in the passenger seat and put her bags in the trunk. By the time I climbed back into the car, Steph was fast asleep and snoring.

My mind races as we drove home in silence. So many questions. A deep desire. No. A deep need to understand what is going on, what has happened. Contrary to the norm, Steph's light snoring was calming and reassuring – she was with me, she was safe, and she was breathing. But all the unanswered questions sat uneasily in the pit of my stomach. My phone started vibrating slightly in the console between our seats. Steph sighed and shifted in her seat – letting little moans and groans escape as she shifted her weight from one sore muscle to another. Her face pulling and contorting as flashes and pulses of pain shoot through her.

In a low whisper, I answer my phone: "Yeah?"

"How is she?"

"You know those endless bottles of pain pills in your medicine cabinet that you refuse to take any time you hurt yourself doing something stupid?" I hear an exacerbated sigh escape and I know Steve is about to become defensive, so I cut him off … "Take out a few bottles of those and have your first aid kit ready. We will be there in 15."

"Ok. See you in 15. Oh, and Danny … She's going to be ok."