I don't own them, make no money, etc. Rating for SMUT and language

For those who have been asking, Joe will be appearing in the next chapter tomorrow, and fairly consistently from there on out, though not every chapter. If you'd like to know each chapter, just PM me.

Fair warning – there will be those of you who do not like Ranger in this chapter. This chapter, and half way through the next are the worst of the angst, I promise.

…

Ranger made several calls on the drive away from the courthouse, all in Spanish. They meandered through the thick Miami traffic, the skyscrapers eventually giving way to small, close houses. The neighborhood they were in had children running everywhere, just out of school and spending their pent up energy.

She let out a slow breath and rubbed a hand over her belly as she stared out the window, trying not to think about what they had just done. She agreed that getting married was the right thing to do for the baby's sake - and hell, she'd get out of it in a few months - but following his orders left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Ranger stopped in front of tidy, Spanish-style house. "I'd rather you didn't mention the baby," he said as he put the car in park.

Steph had only a second to look around and try to decipher his cryptic statement. As he opened his car door, the front door of the house opened and a small tornado flew down the walk toward them, all arms and legs and long dark hair.

Steph climbed out the car as Julie skidded to a halt in front of her. The girl grinned widely. "Hi Steph!"

In spite of her tumultuous emotions, Steph couldn't help the answering smile that spread across her face. "Hey Julie." She studied Julie closer than she had last time, and wondered if her little girl would look just like her. She hoped so.

"Hey Ranger," Julie said to him. "Mom already made dinner and said you guys should stay."

Ranger glanced at her over the top of the car and raised an eyebrow.

"Sure," Steph said.

Julie squealed and grabbed her hand, dragging her toward the house and wholly ignoring Ranger. "Come on, I'll show you my room. I made a scrapbook, and you're in it."

"I am?"

"Yep. There's newspaper articles about you in there. And one picture of you in those terrible leather pants."

She followed Julie into the house, leaving Ranger standing beside the car. "Are you sure you have to keep proof of those pants?"

Julie giggled. She led her into a small, clean kitchen, where a woman was preparing dinner. "Ranger and Stephanie are here, mom."

Turning to Steph, Rachel smiled. She was slim and pretty, with at least some Hispanic heritage, and shoulder length, wavy brown hair. Her smile was warm and friendly. She brushed off her hands on a towel and extended one to Stephanie. "It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you from Julie."

Steph smiled back, instantly put at ease by Rachel's warm demeanor. Something about her smile and her no-nonsense attack of the food reminded her of Mary Lou. "It's nice to meet you too."

"Come on," Julie said, grabbing Steph's hand again. "I want to show you my room and my scrapbook."

Rachel laughed. "We're eating in half an hour, Julie."

Julie yelled okay as she dragged Steph from the room. She barely caught sight of Ranger's dark expression as Julie pulled her past him.

…

"What's this scrapbook?" Ranger said as he entered the kitchen.

Rachel sighed and ran the back of her hand over her forehead. "It's all the newspaper clippings from when she was kidnapped."

Ranger raised an eyebrow. "Should she be dwelling on that?"

"I honestly don't know. I had the same reaction, but the psychologist we've been taking her to assures me that it's perfectly normal, and something she'll let go of when she's ready."

Ranger sat on one of the bar stools, thankful for the chance to focus on anything besides Stephanie. "How's the therapy going? She doesn't say much about it when I ask her."

"Good, I think. We've cut down to twice a month, and the doctor seems to think we can stop entirely in another few months. It's been almost a year now, and for the most part, she seems to have gotten over it."

Ranger nodded. "Where's Ron?"

"He took the two younger kids to his parent's house this afternoon. His mom needed him to do some work and the boys wanted to help. I'm sure it's madhouse there now."

"More than likely," he said. He genuinely liked Rachel and her family, but their younger two boys were hellions. He winked at Rachel. "He's not worried about leaving you here alone with me?"

Rachel rolled her eyes and laughed. "Stephanie may not be immune to your looks and your charm, but you forget that I am."

He ran his hands over his head, his amusement fading at her mention. "I'm pretty sure Steph's immune too."

Over the course of their conversation, Rachel had been chopping vegetables, stirring things, and moving around the kitchen. Now she paused with her knife poised over a bunch of lettuce and stared at him. "I'm going to go out on a limb and say she's not here just to fill in at the office for a day or two."

"She's pregnant."

The knife in her hand clattered onto the cutting board. "Don't tell me you dragged that poor girl down here to your Uncle Jaime's office--"

"It seemed like the best thing to do."

Rachel sighed. "And is the new bride happy to be married to you?"

He didn't think either of them could be described as happy with the arrangement. "You didn't seem to mind," he said.

"Carlos! I was eighteen and terrified. My parents were insisting. Stephanie is a grown woman who is perfectly capable of making her own choices."

He rubbed his hands over his eyes. "It's the right thing to do."

"For you, yes," she said, her voice softening. "Did you stop to think about what the right thing was for her?"

He didn't reply, but from the look on her face, he didn't have to. He took a shallow breath, fighting to retain control over his emotions - to hang on to the objectivity he had managed to find the night before in the gym. All day it had been a struggle: when he woke up and found her huddled away from him, back turned, in bed; when she had fallen asleep on the plane, her cheeks turning pink in her sleep; when she had stared at him, silently begging him not to force her into this marriage.

Her laughter filtered down the stairs from Julie's bedroom and he bit back a groan. He wanted to grab her - to throttle her or fuck her he couldn't say which. Both, probably in that order.

Most of all, he wanted to blame her. But he couldn't do that. It had been his own weakness, his own unquenchable desire for her that had gotten them into this mess. The only thing that could save them now was his iron will, and his ability to hold himself apart from her.

If only he didn't instinctively reach for her every time she was near.

Because if he touched her, he'd give in to the tenderness that hit him every time he looked at her. He wouldn't do that. He couldn't do that. He'd take care of his responsibilities, but this need that he had for her - whatever it was - was something he refused to allow in his life.

Not even for Steph.

"I just hope you know what you've gotten yourself into," Rachel said. She handed him a bowl of salad. "Put this in the table while I get Julie and Stephanie."

…...

Rachel stopped Stephanie with a hand to her arm, as Ranger said good bye to Julie. "How do you feel about Julie knowing about the baby?" she said.

"He told you?" Steph said. She was a little startled by that fact, given his attitude. "I'm not sure he wanted Julie to know, but I'm fine with it."

Rachel winked. "I've gotten good at ignoring what he wants."

Steph couldn't stop the answering grin that spread across her face. "Then yes. I'm fine with Julie knowing. She'll be a big sister, after all."

Ranger walked back toward them, and they quickly moved their conversation to safer topics.

"When are you flying back?" Rachel said to Steph.

"Thursday morning," Ranger answered.

"Oh good," Rachel said. "I'll come grab you from the office tomorrow afternoon. We can go shopping or something."

Ranger glanced back and forth between them. Steph ignored him and smiled at Rachel. "Sounds great. Just come by whenever." She gave Julie a quick hug and said good bye before following Ranger to the car.

They made the drive to the RangeMan building in silence. Steph watched out the window at her first glimpse of lit-up Miami and realized that they were now doing a lot of things in silence. Ranger had never been one for small-talk, but before the silence had always been comfortable - a benign, friendly silence that said they were happy to simply be together.

But before was a tricky word. A lot of things had changed since before 'that night,' before she got pregnant, before they got married.

Ranger took the turn into the parking garage too fast, slammed on the breaks, and jammed the gearshift into park. She flinched when he climbed out and slammed the door behind him. Scrambling, she climbed out and caught up with him at the elevator.

But she immediately wished she hadn't. She kept a careful distance from him. There was nothing overt to alert her to his mood: his posture was calm, his face was blank. But she could almost pretend she could see the tension radiating off of him - a black swirling cloud, vibrating in intensity. She had no desire to be caught up in it. When he turned to her, his eyes were the same shade of black her imagination was conjuring up.

"I don't want you meeting with Rachel tomorrow."

She glared. "Too bad."

His eyes got darker and his jaw clenched. She would have said more but something about the small, confined space they were in made her hesitate. Here, there was no escape. She shut her mouth with a snap and pushed her back into the corner of the elevator.

He didn't miss the defensive gesture. Something flickered across his face, fast enough that she couldn't read it. The elevator stopped on the top floor; the ding as the door opened made her jump. Without glancing at her, Ranger walked to the apartment door and unlocked it.

As she followed him, she took a deep breath, the air lighter now that she was no longer trapped with him. It did nothing, however, to calm her pounding heart or alleviate the dread she felt at following him into the apartment. She pushed it down and marched inside; then had to force herself not to spin around when she heard the resounding click of the door locking behind her.

But she did jump when she heard him speak from directly behind her. "I meant it, Stephanie. I don't want you meeting her."

Something heavy was in her stomach, holding down her words. It was hard to concentrate on pushing words past her throat and keeping a safe distance between them at the same time. "You can't tell me what to do, Ranger."

Somehow he had slipped past her defenses - he was standing directly in front of her, so close that she could feel his breath on her face. It was cool, fresh. Maybe it was the stance he took or the anger dripping off of him, but for some reason, she had expected it to be scalding.

"You're not meeting with her."

Fuck him. She wasn't sticking around for this. She took a step away but his hand shot out to catch her. She glanced down to see his fingers wrapped around her upper arm - his darker skin contrasting against hers. It wasn't a painful grip, but it was one more visible reminder of his control over her. She yanked on her arm. "You don't control me. I'll do whatever I want."

"You're my wife. Or don't you remember."

Something snapped. Maybe it was the edge under his voice when he said 'wife.' Or maybe it was just the fact that she'd had more emotions she could name running through her at lightening speed for two days.

"No," she said, bitterness slipping out in between the words. She pulled her arm away and took a step back. "No, I'm not. I'm just some girl you knocked up and are going to walk away from. Again."

His nostrils flared and his chest heaved. She could see him fighting to restrain himself. It wasn't working. He stalked toward her. Instinctively, she another step backwards, until her back brushed against the wall. He kept coming.

She held her breath as he stopped just inches from her. When he spoke, his words were low and drawn out, as if they were being pulled from the furthest reaches of what was left of his control. "Don't push me, Stephanie."

Some whispering little devil made her say, "Then don't bully me!"

Before she realized what was happening, her arms were pinned behind her and his body was pressing her into the wall. Tension radiated off of him. His voice was colder than she had ever heard it.

"You don't know how badly I wish you were just some girl, Stephanie. If you were just some girl, I would have worn a condom because you wouldn't have felt so fucking good that I couldn't stand having something between us."

His grip on her arms tightened, pulling them back until she winced. His posture was more sexual than violent. She knew he wouldn't actually hurt her, and yet...and yet.

"Some girl doesn't make me lose my mind every time she walks into a room because I can't think about anything else but fucking her."

Had he been whispering, they would have been lover's words. Endearments. The stark anger in his voice made them piercing insults. Tears pricked behind her eyelids His hand tangled in her hair and pulled her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"Some girl doesn't make me wish I was a different man, that I had any other life."

Her eyes widened, but before she could even sort through the meaning his words, his lips crashed down on hers, his teeth scraping over her lip and his tongue plunging into her mouth. She whimpered and tried to lean back, away from the angry assault. But the hard body pressed into hers was almost as unforgiving as the wall at her back. Her arms, head, and torso were all pinned.

She was trapped.

She whimpered again, a louder protest and tried to turn her head. He stopped the kiss and stared at her. The sound of her ragged gasps for air was the only thing that could be heard in the still apartment. Without waiting for her permission, he resumed the brutal kiss. A knee was jammed between her thighs, lifting her off the ground.

She hated herself for the instant curls of desire that sprung from the friction of his thigh against her, for how badly she wanted him.

There would be bruises tomorrow, from the tightness of his hands on her wrist, then on her hips. Her arms free, she shoved at his chest, trying to push him away, but he only used the space to yank off his t-shirt and throw it aside.

His fingers grabbed at her waist band, clumsily trying to unhook the button.

"Don't."

Her ragged, barely audible whisper froze him. With excruciating slowness, his gaze dragged upwards from her jeans to her face. The heat in his eyes, the passion and desire mixed with anger, was palpable.

She made another sound, this one of capitulation rather than protest. She was caving and she knew it. With his eyes steady on hers, his fingers kept working her jeans undone, but slower now. Softer.

Intellectually, she didn't want to do this. She couldn't do this. She felt fragile, so full of cracks that the merest breath would widen them into fissures that she would be powerless to recover from. There would be no recovery from this.

But his touch gentled and his fingers skimmed over her ribs, across her breast. She tried to stop the low sound that escaped her at the heat searing through her, but didn't accomplish it. He pushed her jeans down, over her hips. She tried to shake her head, but his gaze was still holding her, pinning her as surely as his hands had been a second ago. That gaze was mesmerizing, drowning her. The mask that he wore for the world had slipped and she could read his look. A look that said not only how much he wanted her but how much he needed her. He was desperate.

His mouth lowered and she watched, unable to stop him and unwilling now, even if she could have. His lips brushed across hers, healing the pain his earlier kisses had caused. Without meaning to, she grasped at his back, digging her nails into his flesh, pulling him even closer.

She gave in, just like they both knew she would, seduced by the sensations that only he could produce in her.

He lifted her up higher, using one hand to drag her jeans off. The rough fabric scraped against her heated skin. The second they were out of the way, he slammed her back against the wall. She groaned and arched her back, lifting her hips and moving against him, desperately seeking release. He grasped her hips with both hands, holding tight, angling her upward.

The room was spinning, she was so dizzy with need and desire. He tore his mouth from hers, leaving her free to gasp for air. Chest heaving, she tried to restore her equilibrium, but he was sliding his tongue along her neck, dragging it into the hollow between her throat and shoulder. She whimpered and angled her head, giving him more access. Her nails scraped along his back and shoulders as she clawed at him.

Her shirt was ripped off with startling efficiency, leaving her clad in only her panties. His hands snaked around to grab her ass, his fingers sliding under the thin fabric, squeezing and pulling her hips against his. Dipping his head, he caught one nipple between his teeth and bit down. She smothered a scream and angled her body, offering herself up to him. The musky scent of arousal hung heavy in the air, goading her farther, making her rub against the rock-hard erection pushing at her. The sound of ragged gasps of air, quick sighs, and groans of pleasure were all that could be heard in the otherwise silent apartment.

There was no space left between them; still, she managed to get his belt buckle between her fingers and wiggle the clasp undone. His mouth was still on her breast, the texture of the stubble on his chin abrasive against her sensitive skin; his hands were still kneading her ass. The room had deepened into shadows - the silence and darkness lending to the moment the anonymity she needed.

She got his buckle out of the way and his pants unsnapped. With a muffled curse at her slow speed, he ripped her panties off and shoved his pants down far enough to spring free. There was no warning before he was thrusting inside of her, not bothering to pause at the resistance created by months of celibacy.

She tensed, crying out in pain. He held himself still and met her eyes, his midnight black gaze boring into her, silently demanding her permission to continue

"I'm okay," she forced out, past the pain and the emotions and whatever it was that was making her heart hurt so badly. She gasped. "Go. Move"

He complied, pulling out and thrusting so hard her back slammed against the wall and she cried out again. This time he didn't stop - she wouldn't have been able to stand it if he so much as paused. Her gasp now was one of satisfaction as his rhythm sent waves of pleasure radiating through her. Still, it wasn't enough.

She clamped her legs around his waist, trying to angle herself better, increase the friction and the pressure. She met his thrusts, moving against him with a passion that was bordering on destructive.

He slowed, burying himself in her as deep as possible and pausing. His lips were against her neck. "Christ, Steph." His arms tightened around her and he started moving again, gentle movements that sent an entirely different type of pleasure spiking through her.

But she couldn't handle the tenderness - not when she knew that it wasn't real and wouldn't last beyond these moments that he was inside of her. She pushed her hips against him. "Harder."

He looked at for a second before complying, but even in that short glance there were so many emotions chasing across his face that she couldn't identify any of them. He sped up, harder, harsher, making her back slam against the wall.

His mouth dropped back her neck and he bit down, the pain flinging her over the edge. Finally, he came, pushing deep into her and trapping her body between himself and the wall.

A gasping, almost sobbing noise ripped from her as she tried to drag some semblance of air into her lungs. Her legs dangled uselessly as she was still pinned. The tension in his body forced her hands to stay still where they rested against his back as she waited for them both to recover.

The times before with Ranger, few as they had been, she had been left feeling content. She had curled into him, loving the feel of his skin and his heat and his heartbeat under her head.

This time, there was no contentment, no sense of closeness or intimacy. Despite the act, or maybe because of it, the air still crackled with anger. Her pounding heart wouldn't calm, but instead continued to beat erratically, now as much out of fear as passion. Slowly, she raised her eyes to his face, dreading what she was going to see there.

His pupils were dilated but even the irises were black, and all the emotion she had seen was gone. His face was set in hard, angry lines, the skin stretched taut over cheekbones and his piercing gaze focused entirely on her. Her breath caught and her arms dropped to dangle at her sides. Her heart stuttered and then took off again.

He pulled out of her and let go, her feet falling to the ground with a thud. Her knees buckled and only the close press of his body kept her upright. He grabbed her arms and waited until she could stand on her own. Then he took a step back from her, and without breaking eye contact, zipped up in cargo pants.

"That was a bad idea," he said tonelessly, that black, angry stare never wavering.

"Fuck you." She grabbed her clothes and marched past him, slamming the bedroom door shut, then locking herself in the bathroom.

…