A/N: Standard disclaimer applies to this story.

Highlands Girl, you are an amazing beta and I can't thank you enough for the work you've done on this chapter.

I'm really touched by all your reviews and alerts. And even though I was only planning to update this story on Thursdays, your feedback convinced me to upload a bonus chapter this week. You guys are amazing.

Chapter 2. I close my eyes only for a moment and the moment's gone

Ranger pushed his office chair back from his large mahogany desk and stalked over to the window. Steel and glass of the downtown skyline looked grim against the faded blue of the late summer sky. Heavy clouds were gathering at the horizon and then drifting toward Trenton, likely to unleash a vicious thunderstorm before nightfall.

A nasty sense of foreboding had settled in his gut, which he was able to ignore at first, focused on planning a takedown scheduled for later that night. Earlier, he had closed the door to block out the noise from the control room floor and concentrate on his work, but as the hour of the op neared, the unease grew. And a suspicion that it had nothing to do with the takedown and everything with the curly haired brunette, who had run out on him that morning, wouldn't leave him alone.

Standing at the floor to ceiling window, Ranger ran his right hand over his face to get a grip. He had no reason to doubt that he had made the right decision about his involvement with Stephanie, even if she didn't see it the same way. Had she known… he stopped the thought in its tracks, as it served no purpose. Even if he risked coming clean and she didn't cut him out of her life, thinking that he'd finally gone insane, he wouldn't be fair in asking her to keep his secret without offering anything in return. That was a cross he had to bear on his own, which meant he had to put distance between them. He wanted to see her happy, but couldn't give her the life she deserved. So he had to let her go, no matter how much pain he would endure by settling for being no more than her friend. And now that his misguided attempt to explain once again that he was only able to offer her friendship had backfired, he needed to find a way to repair the damage he had done to their relationship without giving her the wrong impression.

Brushing his dark thoughts aside, he stretched to ease the tension from his spine and returned to his desk, where a picture of a gray-haired man stared at him from the computer monitor. Wanted by the feds for fraud, money laundering, and several counts of murder, R.J. Decker could lay claim to scamming millions of dollars from elderly investors all over the country. Despite his distinguished looks, this skip was a nasty piece of work, worth half a million upon delivery. He was a man with the morals of a maggot, known for handpicking talent for each job. He never worked with anyone twice, either paying for services rendered or ruthlessly tying up loose ends. Time and time again, his methods served him well, as he had evaded capture for over thirteen years.

But the sizable reward money wasn't the only reason Ranger was intent on apprehending Decker himself. The last time their paths had crossed, the scumbag vanished like smoke after putting a bullet into Lorenzo 'Loz' Reyes, then second in command of the Miami office. And for three years all the leads turned up empty, until two days ago when Lester got a tip that Decker had been spotted at a diner on route one in Lawrenceville. After some of the superior investigative work that RangeMan was known for, they tracked the skip to the industrial district on the south side of Trenton.

Scanning the file he could quote verbatim, Ranger felt a familiar energy shift and tore his eyes away from the screen, only to find his second in command seated in one of the leather club chairs, waiting for the boss to acknowledge his presence. For as long as he'd known Tank, the man had always been able to move with astounding stealth if it suited him, despite his formidable size.

"Update," Ranger said without inflection to mask the unease he'd been brooding over since morning.

Tank laced his fingers together over a thick manila folder he'd put on the edge of the desk. "Intel confirmed. Decker is holed up in an abandoned warehouse by the river."

"What about his men?"

"Five thugs. Not his usual M.O. One's a local weasel Vinnie bonded out, who's now FTA. Others are a mixed bag." Tank pushed the folder across the desktop. "There. See for yourself."

Thumbing through the contents, Ranger nodded and said, "Assign Santos, Brown, Vince, and Zero to teams two and three, put Cal and Junior on standby. Hal's in charge of the control room. All hands on deck." He paused, looking up and leveling a dark look at his oldest friend, his eyes anything but dispassionate. "We're taking this asshole in." The implication 'dead or alive' hung heavy in thebrief silence that followed. "Tonight."

"Affirmative," Tank said, studying Ranger's face. When he had walked into Ranger's office, he picked up a vibe that the boss was off-kilter, but chose not to comment and discuss more pressing matters first. Now that the details of the op were settled, he had to know for sure what was going on with his friend. Leaning forward in his chair, he splayed his large palms on top of the desk. "You sure you're up for this, man?"

"Briefing at nineteen hundred hours." Ranger ignored the obvious concern in Tank's voice and turned his eyes back to the computer. "Dismissed."

Over the years, Tank had learned to spot signs when Ranger thought his control over a situation was slipping. Ranger's aloof demeanor and clipped phrases reaffirmed his hunch. But given the circumstances, the timing for the boss to battle his inner demons couldn't have been worse.

Tank rose from the chair and headed for the door, debating whether to call Ranger out on his mood. Deciding that if his silence cost a life, he would never forgive himself, he turned around and waited for Ranger to give him his full attention. When he looked up, Tank spoke, conviction forefront in his tone.

"Best be sure about this, Ranger. Can't afford to lose focus. Loz did. You know what that got him."

Not expecting an answer, Tank left the office and closed the door behind him. He hated bringing up Lorenzo's injury, knowing that Ranger took all mistakes made during that takedown personally, but he didn't see any other way to get his friend to snap out of his funk.

Ranger's jaw tightened. As much as he didn't want to accept the harsh words, Tank was right. When the leader went into the takedown half-cocked, his men got injured or killed. And the last thing he needed was another casualty on his conscience. Even though it was hardly a secret that the danger associated with working for a paramilitary security firm carried a certain appeal for most RangeMen, as their commanding officer, Ranger had always considered it his responsibility to do everything in his power so they returned from their assignments unharmed.

During the debriefing after the botched takedown, it became obvious that Decker didn't have to shoot Lorenzo for a clean getaway. He did it to send a message to the rest of the team, warning them off standing in his way. And while it would have worked on run of the mill bounty hunters, it had the opposite effect on RangeMen. While they thrived on the adrenalin rush of the job, accepting the risk of death, they often consciously ignored the possibility of suffering a disabling injury. Lorenzo had been one of those men until the armor piercing round from Decker's gun entered his back, turning his life into every RangeMan's worst nightmare. Extensive damage to his spinal column caused complete paralysis below the waist, condemning him to a wheelchair for the rest of his life, without any hope for recovery. There was nothing they could do to help Lorenzo, other than continue hunting the scumbag. And now, three years later, their efforts were about to pay off, as they would settle the score, while serving justice. It was high time Decker learned that payback was a bitch.

Hal walked into the conference room at RangeMan as the teams were gearing up for the takedown. Six sets of eyes followed his path across the floor in silent inquiry. He stopped in front of Ranger, shoving his hands into his pockets, and then rethought the action, dropping them to his sides under the intense gaze of the boss.

"Got a bead on Bomber." He hesitated for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other before continuing, "SOP*, Hector was checking employee trackers transmitting from the field. The tracker in Steph's shoes puts her at the warehouse with Decker and his men."

Muffled curses filled already tense air in the room, and it was as if the temperature dropped at least ten degrees. Given Stephanie's history, it didn't come as a big surprise to anyone that she managed to get in the middle of an op they had been working toward the past three years.

Hal cleared his throat, indicating that he wasn't done. "We pulled the records for that tracker from the last six hours. It's been in the same position for the last four."

"Transfer the signal to my truck," Ranger ordered, before addressing the rest of the group. "Move out!"

Once in the garage, he tossed the keys to Tank, climbing into the passenger seat and barking orders over the earpiece to Cal and Junior.

"Team four in position." Cal's voice cut through the tense silence of the airwaves ten minutes later. "What's your ETA?"

"Team one, two minutes out," Ranger said, as they sped by the Marine Terminal and took the exit off the highway. The remaining two teams echoed Ranger's response.

Three trucks reached the industrial park and split up, killing the headlights and slowing down. Rolling into the dark and empty lot, Tank parked at the corner of the building directly across from the target warehouse.

Ranger spotted Stephanie's dark figure, limping across the lot only seconds before he saw an open window on the second floor. The pride he felt at witnessing her escape froze in his chest, when he heard the sound of a single gunshot. Time stopped, as she stumbled before crumpling to the hard asphalt.

"Secure the perimeter," he shouted into the headset, bolting from the truck.

Sprinting to her side, he collapsed to his knees next to her prone form. He ripped off his shirt and pressed it to the wound in her back, attempting to stop the blood flow, but realized the futility of his actions when he saw a puddle of blood spreading from underneath her body. Gently turning her over, he sucked in a breath, seeing the exit wound in her chest. He pulled her limp body to his chest, feeling her blood seep through the fabric of her clothing and onto his bare arms.

The rapid staccato of gunfire and the rumble of truck engines, turning over, hardly reached his mind. Then, he absently registered Bobby's voice over the airwaves, reporting that the perimeter was clear, and updates from Cal and Vince that their teams were in pursuit of vehicles with Decker and his men. At the moment, none of it mattered to him.

In the years that he had gotten to know the force of nature that was Stephanie Plum, he often marveled at how lucky she was, beating impossible odds without proper training and walking away from near death situations more or less unscathed, over and over again. And yet, he should have realized that even her incredible luck had its limits.

He felt Bobby and Lester join Tank in covering his back and nodded, granting the medic permission to check Stephanie's pulse. The hitch in Lester's breath, as Bobby shook his head, not attempting resuscitation, confirmed what he already knew. By allowing his emotions to get in the way of his judgment, he had put her in danger. Otherwise, he would have never given in to her demand for space or let her leave her trackers in his apartment. But he did, and Stephanie paid the price. They'd arrived too late. She was gone, and there was no one left to blame but himself.

Three men hung their heads, standing in a semicircle around their friend and boss, waiting for his orders. When none came, Tank took a step forward, putting his large hand on Ranger's Kevlar covered shoulder. Ever since he had realized the depth of Ranger's feelings for Stephanie Plum, he often wondered if a time would come when his silent support would be the only thing he'd have to offer.

"Don't." Ranger's voice was rough. "Leave."

Lester tried to reason with him. "We have to call it in…" Before he could finish, a loud crack of thunder drowned out the words Ranger didn't want to hear.

"No. Now leave."

A flash of lighting discharged over the parking lot, followed by another crack of thunder. The energy of his friends' presence faded as they walked away, abiding by his request for a final goodbye.

Running his hand over Stephanie's face to close her eyes, Ranger placed a soft kiss on her forehead, just like he had countless times in the last few months, tonight, for once, not taking it for granted. He cradled her in his arms, his eyes searching the pale mask of her once beautifully expressive face, now completely still and lifeless. Reaching out to wipe a streak of blood from the corner of her mouth with his thumb, he felt a tremor in his shoulders.

"I failed you, Babe," he whispered, swallowing harshly. "Dios, I never thought it would come to this. I thought… I hoped that I would protect you better if I kept my distance."

A large drop of water hit his neck, followed by another on his arm, and then another, the rain building until it turned into a violent downpour. It drenched them both in a matter of seconds, washing Stephanie's blood from skin and clothes, running in rivulets across the asphalt.

Ranger looked up at the sky, letting the water run down his face to cool the burn of his silent tears. He couldn't remember the last time he'd shed them for anyone. He didn't think he still had it in him, but even in death, Stephanie proved him wrong: the very thing he desperately tried to avoid by not letting her into his life became his reality decades before he had expected. She was taken from him much too soon, and he was left to mourn her for eternity.

*SOP – Standard Operating Procedure