Recap: Stephanie tells Lula and Connie about what happened with Joe and Ranger after Connie refuses to pay her for her skips until she spills the beans.

Ranger's POV

I was ass deep in paperwork when I got the text from Cal in the control room that Stephanie was back in the building. I couldn't help myself, I pulled up the feed from the shooting range and watched her for a few minutes. She was so fucking hot, standing there with her arms stretched out and wrapped around a gun. I tried to keep my mind on what I was doing, and not the last time her hands were wrapped around me.

It was hard to believe it had been less than two days since she had come into the building, trying to hold back tears over what that bastardo Morelli had said to her. Always been saying to her. How had I not seen it before? And how was that idiot so blind to the treasure he had? One thing was for sure, I was sure as hell not going to make the same mistake.

I turned back to planning my weekend with Stephanie. I'd already rejected a few ideas for things to do. The Eastern State Penitentiary was the first modern prison, and while it might be interesting, she had far too much compassion for people for it to put her in a good mood. I'd considered a canoeing trip and picnic along boathouse row, but it was just too cold. Even on a warm day the water would be fridged this time of year. I still had a few good ideas, the trick would be keeping myself feeling secure when out in the open. I liked my back to the wall, that was hard to pull off when we were moving around a busy street filled with pedestrians.

OK, focus Manoso. Get this schedule done, write up the contract, and then you can look up more romantic date ideas. Until then, you still have a company to run.

A few hours later I had finished up the dreaded paperwork, and come up with a perfect plan for Friday. I was feeling pretty satisfied when my phone rang. It was Santos.

"Talk"

"Hey Boss, we're both fine, but Bomber got very slightly hurt when we were taking down a skip."

Cold dread filled my stomach. I was always terrified of what might happen to her when she went out after anyone more dangerous than a shoplifter. I was just a lot smarter than the cop about how to deal with that fear. He yelled at her and told her to quit. I made sure she had the skills and backup to help make her safer.

"What happened? You were supposed to keep her safe."

"You would have been proud of her boss, the guy pulled a knife and came after me, and she took him down with a flying tackle. May well have saved me a stab wound, but her left arm is bruised up. She landed with him on top of it. She's fine, said she was going to head home to pack while I drop him off at the police station."

"Do you still have the skip in your car?"

"Affirmative, boss."

"Make sure he knows exactly how upset I am that Babe got hurt."

"Already taken care of from my end, but I'll give him your regards as well."

I hung up, which I know would drive Steph crazy if I was on the call with her, she's always complaining about my phone manners. The knot in my stomach loosened somewhat, knowing it was something as simple as a banged-up arm. Still, I would feel better once she was back here. When she was in the building I could relax about her safety. Until then, I took comfort knowing that she was feeling more comfortable with her gun, her naturally good aim was improving, and that Lester had been teaching her self-defense moves.

Stephanie's POV

I walked into my apartment for the first time in two days. Rex was running on his wheel, but stopped to look at me. I pulled a grape out of the fridge and dropped it into his cage. He ran over to it and stuffed the grape into his cheek pouch, whiskers quivering. He ran to his soup can and hid, his little butt wiggling. It was good to be welcomed home.

I went into the bathroom and threw my shirt in the laundry, wincing at the bruise forming on my left arm. I had seen Doug Browning pull out the knife and swing for Lester, and I tackled him. I'd wrapped my arms around Browning and gotten him to the ground. Unfortunately, when we fell we landed on a metal trash can, and my upper arm took the weight of both of us. His struggling banged it against the can a few more times. When I'd checked it an hour ago it hadn't seemed that bad, but now I had about 8 inches of skin that was red and swollen. I knew from experience that tomorrow I'd have a nasty bruise that would take weeks to fade. At least it was getting cold enough outside that I didn't want to wear tank tops or t-shirts without a sweater anymore.

Lester hadn't taken my getting hurt very well. I'd always joked that Ranger's men were so protective of me because they would rather take a bullet than have to answer to him if I got hurt, but that's what it had been, a joke. Lester had been so rough with Browning I'd actually had to stop him from banging the guy into every hard surface from his living room to the door. He would have far more bruises than me tomorrow. I wasn't sure how all the Merry Men felt about me, but Lester and I had a real friendship, some flirtation, and he definitely felt protective of me. I hope Ranger didn't give him too much grief about me being banged up.

I was still looking in the mirror when I heard a key in the lock at the door, then rattling and cursing when it didn't turn. I threw on the bathrobe hanging by the shower and went to the door. "Go away Joe, I don't want you here. I thought I made that clear."

"Dammit, Stephanie. Let me in, I need to talk to you."

"What part of 'Go Away' was unclear?"

"Cupcake, I'm going to stand here yelling in Italian until you let me in. I'll wake the neighbors and one of them will call your mother."

Shit. He was right. I opened the door a crack and he pushed it open, barging in. "Where the hell have you been? You haven't been here in two days."

"How do you know if I've been here or not? And how did you get here three minutes after I did?" He didn't answer me, which gave me the answer I needed. He'd been watching the apartment, or having his cop friends do it, or bugged the apartment before I'd changed the locks. I wasn't sure of the method, but he'd been spying on me.

"Joe, I've asked you twice to go away. I've told you it's over."

"You break up with me all the time. It never lasts. Common, Cupcake. You know we'll get back together eventually, might as well be sooner rather than later." He put his hands on my shoulders and kissed me, hard. His tongue tried to enter my mouth, and all of the sudden I was back at Tasty Pastry 20 years ago, with him pushing himself on me, never giving me a chance to make a choice about what I wanted to do.

But I wasn't a naive 16-year-old anymore. I was a grown woman who knew what I wanted, and I didn't want this. I stepped back, trying to get away from him. He tightened his hold on my shoulders, then moved his hands to my upper arms to get a better grip.

I felt a wave of pain as he gripped my sore arm. I sucked in air and curled my body around protectively, which just pulled against his grip more. It hurt enough that I saw spots in my vision and felt slightly dizzy.

"Cupcake? Are you OK?" I was in too much pain to answer, and then I felt his hands pull open the robe and push the terrycloth off me. He stared in horror at the puffy skin and red marks along my arm. "Oh, Stephanie, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you, I didn't know you were injured!"

"That's the problem, Joe," I whispered. "You never mean to hurt me. But that doesn't mean you don't. And I'm done with it. I want you to go, and don't come back unless I invite you. Please don't call, don't text, don't stop by my work, my place, or my parent's. If I want to have a friendship with you, I will let you know. In the meantime, all I want from you is space."

He lowered his head and stepped back, turning to the door. He was almost out the door when he turned and looked at me. "Just one thing, Cupcake. Manoso didn't do that to you, did he?"

I shook my head and sighed sadly. "No, Joe. Ranger didn't hurt me. And I imagine the guy who did this had far more bruises than me by now."

Morelli nodded. "He'll have a few more by morning, assuming he's even made it to the station."

And he was gone.

I spent a few minutes putting some clothes, toiletries, and hamster necessities in my laundry basket. I went slowly, so that if Joe needed some time to pull himself together before leaving the parking lot he wouldn't see me obviously moving things to Ranger's. There was no need to rub salt on the wound. After it had been 10 minutes I put Rex on top of the pile of clothes, closed up the apartment, and left.