Author's Note: You guys deserve a better author than me. Like dead ass. I've been so absorbed in other fandoms, it's just been…damn. I've been doing some Frank Ocean type shit to you guys. Sorry. Special shoutout to Margaret who has been keeping in contact with me and thank you to all of those who kept reading this and Lock because…yeah. I'll try my best to do better. I still haven't gotten my new laptop but it's only one payment to go and I may not even have to make it. I dunno. What I do know is that you've been waiting so patiently for an update and here it is. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: "Honestly, it's not mine!"

Ranger's POV

I want to find every person who has let the woman sleeping next to me down and slaughter them.

I want to torture them very slowly and then slaughter them.

This woman makes me more homicidal than I already am and I'm still undecided as whether that's a good thing or not. Time will tell, I suppose.

For Stephanie Plum to think so lowly of herself that she would immediately assume that anyone having fond feelings for her is joking or trying to manipulate her is absolutely unacceptable. It is obscenely wrong and only years of people fucking her over, people she trusted constantly fucking her over could implant that idea. How many people have made her feel like shit for being herself? How many people have stomped on her dreams because they weren't 'normal'? How many times has her heart been broken, not just by men but by people who were supposed to be friends and family?

How many tears did she shed before she decided that they didn't matter because no one but her would wipe them away?

She cries in her sleep.

Part of my mind wants to write it off as a side effect to her very strong pain meds but the rest of it, my instincts know that it's a regular occurrence. She's curled up in a loose fetal position, her injured wrist propped up, and I can see the dried tracks on her cheeks. Carefully, I wiped some fresh ones away and resisted the urges to kiss her brow or hold her. She wouldn't like that or she would briefly before wondering what my angle is. Stephanie is guarded around men. She's jaded about men, human nature overall, and skittish about romance.

I can't say that I blame her.

"Good men don't like me.", she said. She said it like she was saying the sky is blue and fire burns. She said it with no hurt and very little anger about it. To her, it's just the way life is.

It only takes one bad experience to fuck someone up and she's had 2 bad experiences in a row.

Not only were they bad experiences, they were publicly humiliating. She tried to do everything "right" in her community's eyes with the sniveling Orr fuckhead after being "ruined" by Morelli's punk ass and after it all fell apart, she had to move almost 3000 miles away to get peace. She had done very well for herself in New Mexico. If I were her, I would've stayed away from Trenton, from Chambersburg forever but she's far a better person than I am.

She's probably expecting me to be Pendejo #3 but that's not how it's going to go down.

/

Steph's POV

So, it wasn't a dream or a trippy hallucination.

He was really here.

Last night had actually happened!

Ranger had stayed with me and told me that he liked me, not just as a colleague but as a woman.

It was against all logic and common sense but it seems that my life's become a maligned Katherine Heigl rom-com, after all. Or maybe a reboot of the Bridget Jones series only without any love triangles (except for in Morelli's tiny little mind…) and Trenton, New Jersey smog instead of London, England fog…plus I've never had any major problems with my weight. Honestly, I should've by now.

The way I ate before I left for New Mexico made a college kid's diet look like one of those Vegan cleanses the internet is always raving about and with all the stress in my life? I guess it's something to be grateful for from the Mazur DNA. The metabolism kept me from Type 2 diabetes. The rest I could take or leave, especially the Hungarian Hormones…Hormones…

Typical.

I get a hot man in my bed and not only was there no sex or even a good kiss, I wake up looking like a train wreck. Of course, he already saw me during my midnight snacking so there's no real reason for me to be sheepish. But, still…there he is, looking like all sorts of delicious and I'm just…me. As usual. Fuck. And I was so happy to see him, too!

What the hell does he want to be with me for, anyway? Did he lose a bet?

"I told you why last night."

"…did I say that out loud?"

"No. You have an expressive face. You were happy to see me until you decided that you looked like shit and then you were wondering why I would want someone like you. Why is that?"

"Why is what?"

"You see yourself as a pain in the ass or a curse. You're not. Did people in your life fuck you up that badly?"

"…yeah. Well, most of them. Not all of them."

Mary Lou never fucked me up. She's a better sister than the one I share blood and parents with. She's always been in my corner. And Gram…I mean, she's had her Moments but overall, I've never doubted for a second that Edna Mazur loves me for me. Grandpa Harry did, too but he's gone, now…

"Got any names and addresses for me?"

"No, I don't because you'll take them all out and you shouldn't have to go to prison because of their shit splattering on me."

"They would need to have the bodies and bullets to convict me, Babe. I don't leave that sort of evidence behind unless I want to and even then, they can't connect it to me enough for charges."

Instead of dignifying those hopefully joking remarks with a response, I got out of bed and headed for the bathroom to answer nature's pressing call. Other than its distance from the Burg and just the charm of it, the master bathroom is what sold me on this place. Ceramic tile on the floor made a lovely seascape design, the claw foot tub was deep enough to hold two giants, and the shower…oh, the shower. There was one showerhead directly overhead, two sprayers mounted on each wall, and a detachable one with 9 settings. All 9 of them have been tested in all ways and they are very much approved of by me.

I'd love to test them out with Ranger, find out his favorite. That could be fun.

Anything involving Ranger and nudity could be very fun.

Coming to the vanity, I washed my hands properly and picked up the spray bottle that contained a blend of dentangler, water, and oil. It took a lot of trial and cringing error but I finally came up with a homemade concoction that can tame my curls enough to be styled properly. Of course, thanks to the M Alliteration Undynamic Duo yesterday, there's a slight hiccup here. My broken, plaster imprisoned wrist. I'm left handed but I use my right hand for lots of things. I'm actually ambidextrous when it comes to handwriting, driving and using utensils but everywhere else? Not so much. I can get by on my own but…well, he just said that I'm not a pain in his ass, didn't he?

"Um…you wouldn't happen to know how to brush hair, would you?"

There was the softest squeak of my mattress as Ranger got up and again, no audible footsteps as he joined me. He was still very shirtless and the button of his cargoes was still undone. He came up behind me and I was struck by how right he looks with me. The Dick and I never looked this comfortable together during our brief marriage and Morelli? Forget it. I know that we'd be just as wrong.

Actually, both "men" wouldn't come near me with a ten foot pole until I was presentable and I'd probably be embroiled in an argument right now about my life's decisions. They would say that they're concerned about me but really, it would be all about them. My job is too dangerous, it makes them worry and it's so embarrassing to have to explain why I'd rather work than trust them to take care of me…yeah, whatever. It's one thing to show concern, it's a whole other animal to be emotionally abusive and manipulative. Helen helped me realize the difference…oh, great. Helen. Yet another problem to deal with eventually. As far as I am from The Burg, its Grapevine is as unstoppable as The Force and I'm one of its favorite subjects.

How much money I'm still wringing out of The Dick, my job, the fact that I killed 2 men, the fact that I turned down a Morelli, the best Morelli son in favor of an Outsider, The Outsider…stupid gossip…stupid gossipers. See, that's yet another reason not to follow in Helen or The Burg's footsteps. They're so trapped and unfulfilled with their "normal" lives, their best entertainment is to pick apart other people's. Everyone's in a glass house, everyone's got an Olympic scorecard ready to reveal, whether it's asked for or not.

Assholes.

Somebody had to hear about my wrist, see my hospital visit, and see Ranger escort me home like a boyfriend. Is he my boyfriend? Is that what we're doing, now? I mean, since he likes me and I certainly like him, shouldn't we be a couple, now? Or friends with benefits? Something?

I'm so confused. Some of it is from the painkillers still in my system but…I don't know what to do here. I don't know what to expect. Thankfully, Ranger isn't behaving like the "men" I've dealt with before but this is uncharted territory. I know how to deal with an asshole.

What the hell am I supposed to do with a good man? Do I walk him? What does he eat?

Does he like belly rubs?

"How did you get so good with a woman's hair?"

My hair had gone from rat's nest to soft mane within 5 minutes and the brush glided through like a hot knife through butter. His fingers were gentle and he knew how to use the comb just right so it didn't even hurt. Usually, detangling my mane of Curls hurts like a bitch for the first 10 minutes.

"I have 4 older sisters, a dozen female cousins, 2 grandmothers, 4 aunts, a mother, and a daughter. I know how to do hair. I didn't have a choice."

"You have a daughter?"

"Her name is Julia Rose Martine. We call her Julie or Jules. She's 14 going on 30 and she lives in Miami with my ex-wife Rachel. We were friends with benefits for years and the condom broke so I did the honorable thing. We still got along well but after I got into the Army and the attached lifestyle, we divorced so Julie could have a chance to have an actual father in her life. I signed over my parental rights after I got into the Rangers. Rachel married a good man, a normal man named Ron and I still see Julie when I go down there for business."

"RangeMan has an office, there. There are offices in Boston and Atlanta, too and you're looking to expand into the Chicagoland Area."

"You did your homework."

"I wanted the best helping me with Morelli's case…um, Ranger?"

"Yeah, Babe?"

"How did I get Morelli's case in the first place? Usually big fish like that go straight to you."

"I turned it down so Vinnie would give it to you so I could meet you."

"Seriously? Why'd you do that? If you wanted to meet me, all you had to do was come into the Bonds Office and say hi. I'm always there."

"I try to stay out of the Office as much as possible. Connie's good people but Vinnie…"

"Yeah, I hear you. Try being related to him and sharing holiday meals with him. Ick. Especially when the little punk bitch decides to bring a skank date along and leave his wife at home."

One of the absolute last straws that had me leaving Trenton was when the little fucker had brought Joyce fucking Barnyard to Christmas Eve dinner. It was shortly after the Divorce went through and she had a huge axe to grind against me. Oozing Dickhead had promised her that he'd be with her no matter how the divorce turned out but my wiping him out so thoroughly, so mercilessly had left him a broken man. His parents and grandparents even put him up in one of those fancy psych wards, the ones that were like a retreat.

He was done with women of all kinds and he wanted to focus on rebuilding his all too precious Career. Not only had the Sex Tape ended our sham of a marriage, all credibility he had as an attorney, all his political capital dried up like the Waters of Babylon. The lion's share of the Blame went to me (as per fucking usual!) but The Dick had put the word out to the region's Rich and Creamy before they shunned him: avoid all things Barnyard. Her sex is good (I guess it is if you're into hardcore kink and fleas…) but not good enough to risk ruination.

Due to that, Joyce's dating pool had dried up to local big fish and Vinnie's one of them. He's also a horny, perverted, easily manipulated pansy boy, Joyce's perfect type. So, she latched onto him and Vinnie had brought her to Christmas Eve dinner. Helen being Helen had of course welcomed her so when I ended up dumping the cheesy garlic mashed potatoes on Joyce's lap before busting a wine glass over her fat head, it was my fault. God, I was such an embarrassment…at least nobody called the cops on me. Everyone knew what depravity Joyce had been a part of and if word had gotten out that Helen broken bread with her on a Holy Day, the tongues would've wagged so fast that they would've flown into the Delaware.

The shame would've been too much to bear. It's all about the Reputation, you see…

Joy to the motherfucking World.

I should've barbequed Barnyard's head like Barney's. Maybe I'd be happier, in prison forever but happier. Maybe. Probably not.

I'd say the same about Helen but like it or not, she's my mother so she can keep living her life far away from me. It's unlikely that her Community standing and malignant ego will allow her to just leave me alone forever but I'll burn that bridge when I get to it.

Back to more pressing matters…

"You gave up 50 grand and a chance to bust a Dirty Cop to meet me? You liked me that much?"

"Yeah. I still do, Stephanie."

"I don't know whether to be flattered or to call you an idiot."

"Go with both."

"Both, it is. I'm hungry. Wanna go get some steak? I'm buying."

"We'll go Dutch."

/

Ranger's POV

"...shit is supposed to come out of your ass, not your mouth. Try again and tell the truth."

I am a sick man.

I should not be turned on at the sight of her glaring at Morelli like he had just took a shit on her fuck me heels. I should not be turned on at the utter frostiness of her tone and I certainly should not be hoping that she takes the steak knife in her hand and jams it through the annoying fuck's eye socket and yet…

I'm a sick, twisted son of a bitch and Stephanie Plum is gonna be the death of me.

I'll die a very happy man.

Of course, Morelli is about why he's standing at our booth. The steakhouse 2 blocks from Babe's place is one of the best in the area and as far off the beaten track for Trenton PD cops as possible. Typically, they stick with Pino's or the Tasty Pastry, Rossini's if they're trying to get laid and Shorty's if they're feeling like a badass. Nathan's Steakhouse is about 15 miles and 40 bucks richer than the norm.

Plus, if Trenton PD really wanted to follow up on the Alpha Case, why the fuck would they send one of the key players involved in it? That leaves the door wide open for the Defense to say that there's a Conspiracy going on, evidence tampering…all of those facts Stephanie calmly pointed out before throwing down the Gauntlet.

Brilliant, badass, beautiful, resourceful, hilarious, sweet as pie, and emotionally damaged…fuck. No wonder Cupid busted a love cap in my ass, as Tank so elegantly put it. Stephanie Plum is fucking irresistible to me on all levels, particularly when she's in lace. She had come downstairs in a stretchy cobalt sleeveless lace and cotton dress to accommodate her cast and her skin fucking glowed. Her hair was up, exposing her elegant neck and shoulders. She had on a different pair of lacy platform boots than our first meeting, dark gray with laces that matched her dress and she was just…I need to pull it together. I need to calm the fuck down before I throw her down on a table and wrap her legs around my hips.

What is it about this woman that makes me want to wax poetic and tie her to my headboard if she'd allow me? Why do I want her to tie me to my headboard? Usually, I don't allow that but Stephanie is proving to be an exception to every rule in my book.

"Cupcake…"

"I am not a goddamned Cupcake."

"Stephanie, I just…can we talk alone?"

"I'm still eating and whatever you've got to say to me, you can say in front of him. I'm gonna tell him anyway. Other than Mary Lou, Ranger's my best friend. He's my work partner and now, he's my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend. Lover. Bae. Significant Other. Inamorato, the Deadshot to my Harley Quinn…take your pick and swallow it whole, Morelli. I told you that I wasn't interested in screwing you again and we're never gonna be friends. Too much shit has happened between us for us to be friends."

She's saying all of this while continuing her steady assault on her well done T-Bone steak, eggs over easy, and home fries. She has already devoured a spinach salad and steamed beets before her entrée. I am impressed. I never thought anyone could out eat Tank, Santos, or Ram until I met my Babe and she is my Babe. As long as she wants to be and wants me around, I'm staying, whether anyone likes it or not.

Joe Morelli does not like it at all.

The purple face, clenching fists, and pulsing temple veins when I rested a hand on her knee proves that.

Fuck him. He had his chance to be with her and pissed it away being an immature pig and rapist.

The stupid motherfucker can choke.

He's lucky that he's still alive. If I were Steph, I would've killed him with that car and just what the hell is wrong with Frank Plum that Morelli lived long enough to be bothering her now? Is he sick or something? Steph mentioned him being a good man but not very useful. Is it a physical malady or a mental one? Looking into her, I saw that her father had served in the military during the Vietnam conflict. I know better than most how combat can change a man for the worst…

"Do you realize…"

"We've already had this discussion, Morelli. Ranger is dangerous but he's never been dangerous to me and I'm just as dangerous. If it comes to it, I can take a man down and make him regret even thinking of hurting me. Jimmy Alpha learned that lesson. So did Benito Ramirez and everyone knows how you learned. You're looking for Round 2? If an old school Buick can put you in traction for 3 months, what do you think a modern SUV can do to you?"

"Are you threatening an officer of the law?"

"I'm not threatening anyone except an idiot who won't take a hint. You're not here as a Cop. You're in cheap civilian clothes and driving your own vehicle. Where's your badge, Detective and where's my thank you for your still being a Detective? After all, if it wasn't for me, you'd be someone's bottom in the pokey or sleeping with the fishes in the Delaware. Typical Morelli man. Ungrateful and stupid to the Core…can you believe that he's the best of the bunch, Ranger?"

"That's sad, Babe."

"It is."

Morelli looked like a trapped rat and a pressure cooker about to blow. He knows that he can't truly make a scene because word would get back to his superiors. He just got out of the Hot Seat, thanks to Steph and I'm sure that he's not looking to return to it. Not to mention the Burg Grapevine that Steph explained to me in Pino's…don't people have better things to do than gossip? Aren't there classes they can take or day jobs around Chambersburg? The Button Factory's always hiring and Trenton has university satellites in it, along with a YMCA. What is the fucking problem?

"Your mother called me last night and…"

"I don't have a mother. I have an Incubator. Excuse me, can I get a box for this?"

"For Christ's sake, Stephanie! Can you just fucking let me talk?! Why are you always such a goddamned cunt to me, like you're so much better than me?! Why don't you take the chip off of your shoulder and get over it?! It was fucking years ago! How long are you gonna keep playing the victim?!"

Enough.

I stood up slowly and got between Morelli and Stephanie, feeling a strong urge to strangle him. The urge was rapidly becoming a need as I saw a flash of fear in his gaze. He's big and bad when it comes to trying to strong arm a woman into his bedroom but he can't stand his ground? He can't face the distinct possibility of an earned beatdown with dignity? I see how it is. Babe's assessment of Joe Morelli being a punk ass bitch is completely accurate.

"You do not talk to her like that. Ever. What is wrong with you? Who raised you to think that talking to a woman like she's a piece of trash is okay? Wolves?"

"Look, Manoso, I don't know what you think you know about her and me but…"

"You do not disrespect or raise your voice at her. Ever. She doesn't want to talk to you. She doesn't want to hear whatever you've got to say. She doesn't want to be friends with you. She doesn't want to warm your bed. Leave her alone or when she's done kicking your ass, you'll deal with me. You do not want to deal with me, Morelli and no, that's not a threat. It's a promise."

The owner came to our table and held up his iPhone, his finger hovering over the button to 911.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave and never return. You're disturbing the other patrons and it's clear that this young woman is right to turn you down. Her companion is right and you are wrong. You have one minute to leave my place or I will call the proper authorities."

Morelli swallowed back whatever else he was going to say and stalked out, the sound of his car peeling out loud in the silent restaurant. There were only a few elderly patrons from a nearby nursing home scattered throughout the room and when I focused on Stephanie, I was struck by how sad she looked. As I said earlier, she has a very expressive face and Morelli's words had gotten her. She wasn't being unreasonable. Morelli had hurt her deeply in the past and although he was better than he was back then, he was still a piece of shit. She had every right not to trust him or want him.

Every woman has the God given Right to say No and to have that No be respected. Having not gotten what he wanted, Morelli did the typical bully thing and went on the offensive, wanting to cut her to the quick before retreating. Estúpido hijo de puta…

"I'm sorry about that."

"Why are you apologizing for him being himself?"

"I'm not apologizing for Joe being an asshole. That would be like apologizing for the sky being blue or water being wet. I'm apologizing because you got caught up in some very public bullshit on my behalf. Thanks for sticking up for me, by the way. Nobody…nobody's done for me in a very long time."

"Get used to it, Stephanie. Nobody fucks with you and gets away with it. Ever."