Thanks to jago-ji for her sharp beta skills and her honest opinions. I couldn't do it without her.

May The Road Rise Up To Meet You

McNamara's Pub is an anomaly, even for the Burg. No credit cards accepted, and no waitress to bring your drink to the table. You stand at the bar until the bartender can take your order and then you hand cash over that same bar into an outstretched hand. It's the best Irish pub in Trenton and on St. Patrick's Day, it's the place to be. And that was why Lula and I were there early. The parade had just ended and the place was filling rapidly. I had paid for two pints of Guinness, and Lula and I were standing at a high table near the back of the pub. I had a good view of the door, and was trying to block out Lula's complaints about the taste of the Guinness and the fact that she had to stand. I was only moderately successful.

I looked past the merrymakers and spotted the serious young man dressed in black. He was new, I supposed, because I didn't recognize him, but I recognized the uniform. He was good. I could tell he'd spotted us, but he was careful not to let his gaze linger. Not staring at Lula was a "tell," though. You'd have to have had plenty of Intel to pass over her without a double take. She was dressed for the holiday in a bright green spandex mini with a matching tube top. The shamrock earrings dangled nearly to her shoulders and were as big as saucers, and I thought they might glow in the dark. I hoped we weren't going to stay at McNamara's 'til after dark. It wasn't that I wasn't interested in the possibility of glow in the dark earrings. It was that I wanted to conclude our business quickly.

Seeing our RangeMan back-up at the door made me feel somewhat better about the fact I was going to try and pick up Mick Barnes. Mick was muscle for the Ramos family. A hired hand that wasn't big on brainpower, but he was … big. And mean. And FTA.

I hadn't seen or heard from Ranger since the Valentine's Day fiasco. For the first week I was avoiding him, so I didn't realize he was avoiding me. By the end of the third week I broke down and asked Connie what she knew, because she always knew something.

"I heard he's out of town," she'd told me. "Way out."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"I bumped into Cal. He said Ranger was out of the country. In South America."

I immediately jumped to the conclusion that Ranger's trip had something to do the man he'd been trying to identify on Valentine's Day, La Muerte Blanca. Ranger had said his real name was Eduardo Vera, and he'd said it with such quiet intensity I knew the story would remain mostly untold. Connie's news had stunned me into doing something I tried never to do. I'd called Tank.

Tank had confirmed my suspicions. He said Ranger had been in Colombia on personal business, but he had been back in Trenton for a few days. And that opened up a whole new area for consideration.

Ranger always came to see me both before and after he left the country. Well, not always, because this time he hadn't shown up either time. Frequently, it was in the middle of the night and by the morning I had only a shadowy memory of his visit, but at least I'd had the shadow. The possibility of me being linked to Ranger, and Vera finding out seemed to be something Ranger wanted to avoid. He'd said it might be a while before I saw him again and apparently he was holding true to his word.

"How we gonna get this Mick Barnes?" Lula asked, breaking into my Ranger reverie. "He's one big dude, and he's mean. Or so I hear."

"Connie says he's not mean in a social setting, just when he's working," I said. "He'll be here. She said he's here even when it's not St. Patrick's Day, so he'll be here today for sure. We'll let him drink for a while and then we'll get him to come outside with us. And then we'll cuff him and take him in."

"That's your plan?" she asked. I nodded. "Hell, that's no plan at all. First off, what makes you think he'll come outside? An' second, what makes you think we can cuff him. He probably won't want to cooperate."

"First off," I repeated her words back to her, "Connie told me he has a thing for attractive plus-sized women, so we're using you for bait. And second, Connie also told me he doesn't handle his liquor well and the drunker he gets the more laid back he is. He's a happy drunk. This should be a piece of cake."

"I hope you're right, because I know how much you like your cake," Lula said. "Oh boy." She pulled a folded black and white photocopy out of her purse. "I think that's him," she said. She pointed to the guy who'd just entered the pub and was standing next to the unknown RangeMan. We checked the picture.

"Great!" I said. "That is him." I took a drink of my Guinness and watched as Mick made his way to the bar. He was obviously a regular, because he didn't order. Lula and I watched as the bartender poured a beer and then filled a shot glass with whiskey and carefully dropped the shot glass into the beer. My eyes widened as Mick upended the glass and drained it in one smooth motion. He slammed the stein back down on the bar with enough force that the empty shot glass rattled inside.

"Wow."

"Yeah, wow," Lula echoed. "I'm not so sure about that happy drunk report. I ain't never known anyone to drink a boilermaker and turn out a happy drunk. I'm putting my money on mean."

"Connie says not so," I insisted. "This will go fine. You'll see."

Six boilermakers later we implemented our plan. I thought we should wait another couple of boilermakers, but Lula was tired of standing. I was tired of hearing Lula complain that her five-inch Via Spigas were pinching her pinky toes, so I acquiesced.

My plan was to have Lula approach Mick and charm him out of the bar and into a location more favorable for capture. As I watched her wiggle her way through the crowded bar, I began to have second thoughts. Lula was a great friend, but she wasn't always the most dependable assistant. I needed this capture to go well. Rent was paid, but the cupboards were empty.

People parted for Lula as she made her way through the crowd. She led with her undeniably outstanding assets. Mick saw her coming and from the look in his eyes I thought Connie's Intel had been right. He was almost drooling by the time she reached his side, but I wasn't sure if that was from the impact of an approaching Lula or the six boilermakers.

They talked for a minute before Mick turned to the bartender and motioned for drinks. I watched with astonishment as Lula, under Mick's tutelage, downed a boilermaker in almost as smooth a fashion as Mick himself. That put his drink count at seven, or maybe fourteen if you counted the beer and the whiskey separately. I was relieved when I saw him put his arm around Lula and move her toward the door. She turned her head over her shoulder and raised one eyebrow as she caught my eye. That was my cue to make my way to the door as well.

Unfortunately, I didn't have Lula's attributes to help me part the crowd. I started to panic, afraid that I'd lose them. I thought Lula's past experience with men would be enough to keep her safe from Mick, so I wasn't too worried about her, but I didn't want to miss my chance to collect a nice reward.

I was only five feet from the door, but there were two men in kilts playing bagpipes between me and the exit, and I was having trouble breaking through. Lula and Mick had exited the bar a good thirty seconds before and I was getting nervous. I wasn't sure where they'd go. A hand grasped my arm and pulled gently. "This way, ma'am." I looked up to see the young RangeMan. He maneuvered me through gaps in the crowd and suddenly we were on the sidewalk in front of the bar. I took a second to adjust to the glaring light of the afternoon and then turned to look at the unfamiliar operative.

He smiled and said, "Tank said I should offer my services, if necessary. Would you like me to help you with your take-down?" I remembered Mick and Lula, and turned and looked up and down the sidewalk. They were nowhere in sight.

"Crud," I said. "We're too late. We've lost them."

"No, ma'am," he said. "I took the precaution of placing a tracker in your friend's purse as they left the bar. RangeMan will have their twenty, uh location, I mean."

I stared at him for a moment. I hadn't been spending much time around RangeMan lately. That's probably why I didn't know the newbie standing next to me. Even though he was new, he'd been good enough to slip a tracker into Lula's pocketbook and as was typical of all RangeMen, he seemed to have everything under control. "I'm Stephanie Plum," I said.

"Yes, ma'am, I know."

"Then call me Stephanie, or Bomber, or Steph or Beautiful or whatever the other guys call me. But call me ma'am again and I'll shoot you. I am not anyone's ma'am. Got that?"

"Yes, ma'am, I mean…uh, nice to meet you, Steph. I'm Huey." He stuck out his hand and I shook it, and then looked around his massive bulk, down the sidewalk.

"We're not gonna need your tracker, Huey," I said. He turned and saw what had caught my eye. Lula and Mick had just exited a liquor store. Mick had one arm wrapped around a bottle-shaped brown paper bag and the other wrapped around Lula's waist. He was laughing as they made their way down the street, and I could see his gait was unsteady. Connie's Intel had been correct. He looked drunk and happy. Once again Lula looked back and our eyes met. Show time.

I slipped my hand into my shoulder bag and carefully fingered the cuffs. They were perfectly positioned for a one-handed pull from the bag and a slap around an unsuspecting wrist. If that didn't work my small canister of pepper spray was uncapped and ready to go, and if there were two strikes, then my stun gun was charged and at the ready in my outside pocket. That one would undoubtedly be the home run.

Huey and I walked in tandem, at a pace faster and straighter than the meandering stroll of Mick and Lula. As we approached them from behind, Lula reached down and placed her hand on top of Mick's hand at her waist. "Let me help you get a better grip, honey." She moved his hand in what Mick thought was a flirtatious gesture, but instead was an opportunity for me. I reached into my purse, and then lunged forward. I was rewarded by the solid click of the cuff as it tightened around his wrist. I reached for the other arm. I missed.

Mick whirled and turned to look at me. "What the fuck?" he slurred in drunken astonishment. His eyes narrowed, and I realized this was no laid back happy drunk any longer. Lula had been right on the money. Seven boilermakers meant mean. Mick turned to look at Lula and then at me. "You're that damn bounty hunter," he said, and then he lunged at me with surprising speed and coordination. I felt his big meaty hand wrap around my neck.

Huey came out of nowhere with a punch that rocked Mick's head backwards, but Mick didn't let go of me. My vision was tunneling from lack of air when Mick's eyes widened and he finally loosened his grip. Lula had planted one pointy-toed Via Spiga deep in Mick's crotch. Mick doubled forward, his cuffed hand grabbing at his injured scrotum. There was the sound of breaking glass as the paper-covered bottle hit the ground, and Mick's free hand went into his pocket.

Huey rushed in to contain Mick, but Mick hadn't completely given up. As they struggled I heard a pop-pop and saw Huey crumple and fall to the ground. He'd been shot. I was still trying to get my breath back as I saw Lula pull a stun gun from her purse and make a direct hit on Mick.

I put my hand to my neck to assess the damage from Mick's chokehold, and my hand came away bloody. Then I remembered there had been two pops. I'd been shot, too! My field of vision dimmed and narrowed, and I was looking at the world from the far end of a long dark tunnel. I felt a little relieved that there wasn't a bright light at the end of the tunnel, but my relief was short lived because of what I did see—the pavement heading straight for my face as I lost consciousness.

I came to lying on my back with Lula standing over me, her giant shamrock earrings swinging hypnotically in front of my face, and a burning pain on the side of my neck.

"Good, you're alive. I think the bullet just grazed you, but I'm not so sure about the RangeMan dude. I called 911, but I might have to leave before the cops come. I don't like cops," she said.

I heard my phone start to ring, but didn't make an immediate move. I was still trying to process the fact that I'd been shot. I was slightly aware of Lula grabbing my purse and pulling out my phone.

"Uh oh," she said, looking at the caller ID. "It's Ranger." She handed me my cell phone.

I took the phone, pushed the connect button and croaked out, "Hello."

"Huey just sent a 10-78 to RangeMan. Are you all right?"

"I think so," I said. Even in my fuzzy state I had the good sense not to mention I'd been shot. I had no idea what a 10-78 was, but I was glad Huey had been able to summon help. I lifted my head and looked over to see him lying partly under an unmoving Mick. "He's been shot," I told Ranger. "Lula called 911. I don't know if he's badly hurt."

"I'm not badly hurt." The strained voice was an indication that Huey was in pain, but I thought it was a good sign he was talking. "He says he's not badly hurt," I said.

"Babe!" I heard the exasperation in Ranger's voice, and I realized he'd been talking to me as I'd been listening to Huey. "Who shot him? Tank has audio of you threatening to shoot him. Did you shoot him?"

"No!" I exclaimed on a raspy exhale. "Mick Barnes shot him."

There was a moment's silence and then Ranger asked, "Do you mean the Mick Barnes who is on Niko Mattas' payroll?"

I touched my hand tentatively to the burning pain on the side of my neck. It came away covered in fresh blood. "I'm bleeding, and I don't want to talk anymore," I said.

"I'm on my way." He disconnected and that's when the day really started to go downhill.

I was still lying on the sidewalk on my back with my phone in one hand and my bloody hand lying across my shirt. I heard Huey talking to Lula, who was apparently following his directions to finish my aborted cuffing job. I thought I should help so I sat up and waited for the world to quit spinning. I vaguely remembered falling forward onto the sidewalk. I dropped my phone and tentatively probed my face with my clean hand. I could feel a patch of roughened skin on my cheek. Thankfully, I hadn't landed on my nose. I took silent inventory and found the only major problem was the burning on the side of my neck. I touched the area again and there seemed to be less blood, so maybe I hadn't lied to Ranger. Maybe I was okay.

I heard a siren in the distance. If I wanted to avoid an ambulance ride, I needed to be able to convince everyone else I was okay, too, so I stood. My head was spinning but I camouflaged the dizziness by leaning against a lamppost. Finally, when most of the dizziness had subsided, I sat on the curb.

Lula, who looked remarkably unfazed by what had gone on, teetered up to me. "I think it's time for me to go," she said. "I got ole Mick all secured, and Huey here is going to be okay. He's just got a thigh wound. Lucky for him it missed all his junk. I imagine the hospital will get him fixed up in no time. You okay, Stephanie?"

"I don't know," I said. "I think I am. Is my face all scraped up?"

"Not too bad," Lula said. "When you fell you landed part way on Huey. I rolled you off to make sure you was okay. That neck wound don't look too serious." She looked beyond me. "I see flashing lights coming. I need to go. I get the hives from cops."

"Okay," I said. "But if they ask I'll have to tell them you were here."

"Yeah, they'll come find me, but that's okay. I can handle one at a time, it's just when I see a bunch at once I get nervous. Anyways, my feet are hurting. I gotta go home and get these shoes off." And then I was alone with a semi-conscious skip and a wounded RangeMan.

The TPD was first on the scene. Joe and I weren't together and the department knew that, but I still carried some sort of immunity. Most of the cops treated me like a sister and today was no exception. By the time the detective, not Morelli thankfully, arrived on the scene, Mick had been transported. I had a promise that the paperwork would be taken to Connie, so I was going to have my payday without actually going in to the station. Ranger showed up along with Tank. He looked in my direction, but I was busy having the wound on my neck dressed, so he turned his attention to Huey who was on a gurney and being hoisted into an ambulance.

As the ambulance pulled away with sirens blaring and lights flashing, Ranger came to me. He stared but made no comment about the dried blood that had stiffened my curls. The bandage made it uncomfortable to turn my head so I moved my whole body in an attempt to return his gaze.

"It's not as bad as it looks," I said. "They didn't even hassle me about going to the hospital, they just put the bandage on. The bullet only grazed me."

"We'll talk about it later," he said. "I'm going to the hospital. Huey has no family in the area and I need to be there. I'm having Tank take you home."

"That's not necessary," I said. "My car is parked down the block."

"I know where your car is," he replied. "Detective Simon wants to have a word with you, and then Tank will take you home." He turned and walked away and left me staring open-mouthed after him. He was acting almost Morelli-like. I hadn't seen the man in over a month and now he was walking into my take-down and taking over.

Okay, to be fair, his man had been shot trying to help me, so maybe he did have some right to be there. I didn't ask him to send a man to watch over Lula and me, but I also didn't tell the guy to get lost. And what did he mean he had audio of me threatening to shoot Huey? I mean, I guess I did say something like that, but I wasn't serious, and what the hell business did Ranger have listening to anything I said? I was working myself into a fine temper and the madder I got the more my neck throbbed. It was time to do something about that. The hell I was waiting for Tank!

I looked around and realized no one was paying attention to me, including Detective Simon. Brian Simon knew where I lived and if he really needed a statement he could come find me. I turned and walked back toward McNamara's and to where my car was parked. As I rounded the building, I came to a sudden stop. My car was gone. Who would steal that piece of crap?

"No one," Tank said from behind me, which made me realize I'd spoken out loud. I swung around to face him. "Your car is in the lot at your apartment by this time," Tank told me. "Detective Simon was insisting that you be transported to the emergency room, but Ranger promised him he'd make sure you didn't drive home and wouldn't be staying alone. Simon relented and that's why you're not on your way to St. Francis with Huey."

"Oh." It was an inadequate response, but it was all I had. I knew Tank was a good guy, a real company man, but he could push my buttons. He had a way of making me feel silly and superfluous, and I was feeling completely that way at the moment. I shrugged my shoulders and gave in. Tank took my arm and turned me back toward the scene of the crime where I could see a RangeMan SUV. I pulled my arm away. "I can make it on my own," I told him.

He took hold of my arm once again. "I know you can," he said, "but you seem a little unsteady." This time I completely gave up and let him hang on to me for the walk back. To an onlooker he may have looked chivalrous, but he was really making sure I wouldn't bolt. Following Ranger's orders was serious business for Tank.

I hauled myself into the seat of the SUV and buckled in. As we drove off, I turned to Tank. "What's the deal?" I asked. "RangeMan listens in on all my conversations now?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Then how did Ranger know I'd said I'd shoot Huey if he didn't quit calling me ma'am?"

"RangeMan was listening to Huey. He's a new guy and on probation. He's wired."

"You sent a new guy to watch over me?"

"Yeah, and that was my call. I'll pay for that mistake. I had no idea you were going after Mick Barnes. If I had, I would have sent a team."

"Are you implying I wasn't capable of bringing him in?" I asked. Tank answered by taking his eyes off the road for a full five seconds while he gave me a telling stare.

"As I said, I made a mistake sending Huey, and I expect to pay for it."

"I could tell Ranger was angry," I said. "I thought maybe he was mad at me for a minute, but I guess he was upset with you, then."

"Ranger doesn't get mad, Stephanie. You should know that. He gets even. And I imagine he will have something to say to you."

"You think he's going to try and get even with me? What the hell for? He's stayed out of my life ever since Valentine's Day. This was a heck of a day to step back into it."

When we got to my apartment I saw my car parked in the far back corner of the lot. I knew the keys were still in my purse and I wondered for a moment, but then gave it up. All RangeMen have mysterious ways. It must be part of the job requirement.

"Do you need me to come up with you?" Tank asked.

"No." I didn't need it and I didn't want it. I felt very uncomfortable in his presence. He'd done nothing to make me feel that way, but I knew. I knew he thought I was a twit. I knew he disapproved every time Ranger bailed me out, and I knew he'd never verbalize that to Ranger, but I thought he might tell me someday, and I didn't want today to be the day. I left him standing on the sidewalk by the back entrance as I pushed through the door. I didn't look back, and when I got into my apartment I didn't look out. I knew he'd stay until he made sure I was safe. Ranger would want him to.

I went into the bathroom and took a good look at the tub. I'd scrubbed it just two weeks before, so it wasn't too bad. I stuffed a washcloth in the overflow drain, turned the water on full force and dumped a generous amount of my favorite body wash into the hot water. As I peeled off my clothes, I watched the water level rise dangerously high. I stepped in and slowly immersed myself in the tub. I could hear the small trickle of water escaping around the edges of the plugged drain, but my trick had worked and I'd turned my 1970s tub into a deep soaker tub. I closed my eyes and let Bulgari take me away.

I managed to rinse the blood out of my hair without ruining the nice bandage job done by the paramedics, and as I stood and toweled off, I was feeling much better. I wrapped the towel loosely around me and held it in place for warmth as my skin adjusted to the air. I had a very soft, well-worn RangeMan t-shirt that I was going to slip into. I was staying in for the rest of the day. I thought I could dig up something for supper, then I was going to have an early night.

Maybe it was because I was wrapped in a cloud of Bulgari from my bath, or maybe it was because he hadn't been there in so long, but I had no early warning. I was surprised and startled to see Ranger sitting in the corner armchair, his legs stretched out in front of him. I squeaked out an "eek!" but he made no sound. His eyes were on me though, right where I was holding the towel together. His elbows were resting on the arms of the chair, his fingers steepled. Someone who knew him less well might have thought he was at ease. I knew from past experience, the position was one he adopted when he was trying to hold on to his temper.

Ranger, in my apartment after a long absence, holding on to his temper. That was enough to make my temper rise. "You've got some nerve, Ranger. It's been a while since you've been here. For all you know I could have had company."

"Tank was on guard until I got here. I knew you didn't have company." His voice was quiet and well-modulated, another sure sign he was wearing his "Mr. In Control" persona. If I was one of the guys, he'd have taken me to the mats, but he couldn't do that with me. He was going to have to work out his temper another way. I gulped involuntarily when I figured out what way that would be. But wait a minute. What the hell was he upset about? There was no reason for him to be upset.

"What are you doing here, Ranger?" I thought I saw the slight rise of one eyebrow. It might surprise him that I'd asked. We both knew what he was doing or what he thought he was going to do. "And why are you angry? I didn't shoot your employee. Mick Barnes did. It wasn't my fault. Geez, you're starting to act like Morelli, blaming me for things that are really out of my control." I saw the immediate reaction to Morelli's name. Stupid, stupid, stupid, Stephanie, I chided myself.

"Is Morelli part of your life again?" Ranger asked.

"No."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, I'm certain. I don't like your implication. I'm not a liar." I was getting a little testy, myself.

"I didn't say you were a liar," Ranger replied in a voice that may have been just a little less well-modulated than earlier. He stood from the chair, his gaze once again on my hand which was clenched tightly around the towel. "Morelli was at the hospital this afternoon," Ranger said tersely. "He came rushing in because he heard you'd been shot."

"The TPD grapevine," I said.

"He may not be part of your life, but judging from the look on his face, you're still part of his. He was … relieved … to find that you were okay. I thought he might have come by, but Tank assured me he had not."

"It's been a long time since Joe or any man has been in my apartment. You're the only one who comes in without invitation."

"Am I not welcome, Stephanie?"

The question hung in the air. I couldn't answer. No matter what I said it would be part truth, part lie. I wanted him, no doubt, but lately, I'd come to the conclusion I needed more. So part of me did want him gone—the part that was mature, and self-protective. The rest of me wanted him to stay. Without warning his hands pulled the hem of his t-shirt from his cargos. Five seconds later it was carelessly discarded on the floor and that little part of me that wanted him to leave—left.

"Ranger."

"Babe."

I couldn't move as he approached me. His hand rested on top of mine, and my grip on the towel melted. I felt a brief flash of cool air against my skin as the towel fell, and then I felt Ranger's body against mine. I lifted my head to meet his gaze and winced as the bandage on my neck pulled. There was no tenderness in his eyes, only determination. Ranger and I had a history, so I knew exactly what was going to happen next.

We were going to have angry sex. Well, if not angry sex, maybe a little pissed off sex. It was going to be fast, hard and wonderful. He wouldn't disappoint. He would give me such pleasure that when he left, the pain of being alone would be my punishment for whatever wrong I had supposedly done.

There wouldn't be any words of love, or commitment. That was the unsettling pattern we'd fallen into. Secretly, I knew on some level I needed a commitment from him, and knowing it wasn't going to happen I was still powerless to stop him. As his lips touched mine, I was a goner. And when the first cries of completion filled the room they were mine, because Ranger had an agenda. He wouldn't take his pleasure until he'd given me all I could stand. It was a mission for him, and Ranger always completed his missions successfully.

I awoke in the middle of the night and reached a hand out, feeling relieved when I brushed the soft velvety skin of my bedmate. I could see from the moonlight filtering through the mostly closed drapes, he was asleep. I smiled. I couldn't help it. Ranger had taken me to bed in full opportunist mode. That meant we had both been winners, several times over. If it hadn't been tender, it had been satisfying.

I got quietly out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. After I took care of the necessary business, I carefully removed the bandage on my neck. It was pulling the little hairs at my hairline and I wanted to readjust it. I also wanted to get a good look at my wound.

It looked like a big hickey. The bullet had just grazed the skin and the area underneath the bandage was raw and weeping. I thought I might be left with an interesting scar.

I looked closer and saw the beating of my pulse directly underneath the wound. I watched that pulse for a long time and then with shaking hands I turned out the light and made my way back to the bedroom, where I searched in the dark and found my t-shirt. I pulled it on quietly with my still unsteady hands and made my way into the living room. I collapsed on the sofa. Now my entire body was shaking, not just my hands.

While I had been looking in the mirror I became aware of the seriousness of what had happened. If the bullet had gone a quarter inch deeper it would have hit my carotid artery. I probably would have bled to death before help came. The realization of what hadn't happened to me washed over me like cold water down my neck. My body convulsed and I felt sick to my stomach. I needed to get up and move around to dispel the rush of emotion that was causing me to tremble, but I felt as though my legs wouldn't support me.

Ranger's anger and his description of Joe's anxiety made sense now. I almost died. And maybe Tank's curtness was understandable, too. Ranger was important to him, and I was the cause of a lot of angst for Ranger.

I looked up as Ranger, magnificent wearing nothing at all, came into the living room. When our eyes met I burst into tears. He was across the room and crouched in front of me before I knew what was happening.

"Babe?"

"I'm s-s-sorry," I said. "I just realized how close I came to dying today. I don't want to die, Ranger. I mean, my life sucks some days, but it's the only one I've got. And it wasn't my fault. It wasn't. It should have worked perfectly. Connie said he was laid back when he was drinking. I don't know how it went wrong." I started sobbing deeply and Ranger moved to the couch beside me. He pulled me to him and held me tightly. One hand moved up and down my back, stroking gently while the other held me close. He comforted me with words softly spoken in Spanish. I didn't understand, but hearing his voice in my ear helped, and slowly I regained my composure.

"Babe," he said. "It's okay. You're okay." I heard something in his voice. A quaver. I pulled back to look at him and now he was trembling. "I hated seeing Morelli twisted in knots earlier at the hospital," he said. "I kept thinking, poor dumb bastard. Get over her. And all the time I was twisted in the same fucking knots, even though I knew you weren't seriously hurt."

"I was angry when I got here, but it was an anger driven by fear. Stephanie, for the last month I have been setting a plan in motion to rid the world of La Muerte Blanca. Of all the people in my past, he would be the one who would mostly likely try to get at me by harming someone I … someone important to me. I stayed away from you to keep you safe, and then I come back and find out you've almost done to yourself what I was trying to protect you from."

"I was just doing my job," I said.

"I know, Babe. I feel like it's my job to protect you though, and today, I and RangeMan didn't do our job very well. My gut clenched when I saw you sitting on the curb with blood all over your shirt. I came here earlier pissed off and wanting to tear into you, but when I saw you I wanted you so badly, the only thing I could think about was you, naked, under me."

A rush of heat shot through me. "And you naked under me," I said tentatively, "and you naked be…" my words were cut off as his mouth descended on mine. He stood, and I could see proof that he wanted me again as he bent down and lifted me into his arms. It was a slow journey from the couch back to my bed. Ranger can kiss, and that night he elevated his kissing to an art form in itself.

We went back to bed and spent hours making love. Long, languorous movements that brought about a new level of pleasure. I saw Ranger tremble with need but deny himself until he was sure I'd been satisfied, and when we were done, we rested and then began again. He spoke in Spanish, which I didn't understand, but I understood the need, and the intensity in his eyes. I reveled in his cries of release and let them intermingle with mine.

And as I fell asleep, I knew. There was no doubt. He loved me; he needed me. We had entered into a new level of our relationship. Because there was a relationship. He had committed with his body and his words, even if they weren't spoken in a language I understood. The message still came through loud and clear. I fell asleep finally as dawn was breaking.

When I awoke several hours later I was aware of a slight throbbing in my neck. Our lovemaking had exacerbated the wound, but the pain was worth it. I turned to let my eyes linger on my lover, but the bed was empty. A tiny wave of nausea started in my gut, but I tamped it down. I got up and made a quick tour of the apartment. All the locks were locked and the security bolt was in place, but Ranger, my lover, was gone. Did I imagine his need, his desire, his commitment?

There was a knock at the door. I hurried back to the bedroom and pulled on my RangeMan shirt. I didn't look through the peephole. I didn't stop to think that Ranger never knocked. I slid back the bolts, turned the locks and pulled the door open, eager to see where he'd gone, and with a smile, I thought maybe he'd brought back donuts.

Nikomedes Mattas, dressed in an impeccable gray suit leaned casually against my door frame. "Stephanie, agápi mou, I regret the circumstances, but we must talk." Without waiting for further invitation, he walked in. I looked into the hallway. No Ranger. WTF?