AN mea culpa! Thanks to my patient, kind and wise beta jago-ji.

A holiday story so big, it had to be told in two parts

Co-Independence Day, Part 2

Sleeping Together

The rain was wind-driven and slammed into the side of the building. I could see flashes of lightening around the edges of the closed curtains. Good thing the storm had held off long enough that the skies had been clear for the after-wedding fireworks. I stood and looked at Ranger's bed for a long moment, but couldn't bring myself to pull back the covers and climb in. Tank had instructed me to get some sleep, and for once, I wanted to follow his orders, but I didn't think it was going to happen.

I shuddered as a particularly loud clap of thunder made me remember the sound of gunshots. My thoughts turned to Cathy and Tim. Months ago, their engagement had been ruined by the bride's untimely poisoning, and now their wedding reception had come to an abrupt end with the shooting of Joe. I hoped for their sake they would end their association with Niko Mattas. He seemed to be their unlucky charm.

It seemed like days since Joe had been shot, but it had only been hours. I'd been an automaton, allowing Tank to take me from the house at Deal straight to RangeMan. I knew Tank was busy fending off the Deal police. I hadn't talked to anyone, and bringing me to RangeMan was a good indication he was going to keep me from that. Were there other witnesses? I wondered. How could there not be? Joe was shot at a wedding reception!

Being in Ranger's apartment in his absence was usually comforting to me, but not tonight. Tonight I was traumatized at the memory of Joe collapsing at my feet. I was wrought with fear over Ranger's missed check-in, and I was frightened for my own safety. Niko had been planning to kidnap me. I did a whole body shiver at the thought of what might have happened, and then a massive wave of nausea overwhelmed me as I remembered what had happened.

I knew Tank was working behind the scenes getting ready for us to leave Trenton, but I was feeling very alone. And very imprisoned. I considered leaving to go check on Joe. RangeMan was secure, but I was betting I could get out. If I did that though, Tank would be furious. I didn't want that to happen. I needed to be in the loop and it looked as though I was going to be completely on the inside. Tank said we were going to Colombia. We were going to find Ranger. With that thought I turned back to the bed.

Before I could once again face the demon of crawling into the bed, I heard the apartment door open. There were subsequent footsteps crossing the foyer. I turned and left the bedroom wondering what news Tank had for me. But it wasn't Tank ... "Lula!"

"Trouble finds you, Stephanie Plum. That's one thing I know for sure."

"What are you doing here?" I asked. She was wearing a pink sweatsuit with the word "Foxy" written in sequins across her chest. Her hair was pink (a wig I suspected) and so were her sneakers. She looked like a slightly bedazzled bottle of Pepto Bismol, but she looked great to me. Without moving farther into the apartment, she held out her arms to me and I crossed the room and let myself be wrapped in her warm and comforting hug.

"Tank sent me," she said. "He said he was busy doing important stuff, and he didn't want to leave you alone. He's pretty shook up about Morelli getting shot. He said you were, too."

"I am."

"Sit down," she instructed me. "I need to hear the whole story. I knew there was something fishy about you and Officer Hottie. Tell me what's really going on."

I sat down and did as she said. It was cathartic to spill the story, because Lula would understand how torn up I was about Ranger not checking in. And she would understand how devastated I was when Joe got shot. And of course she would understand my less than noble feeling of fright for my own safety. Lula knew me well, and she had been with me from the beginning. She'd been in the bonds office the morning I'd come in after sleeping with Joe—way before Ranger had been on my radar. But she'd been there for that, too. It was a relief to tell her that Ranger had confessed his feelings for me.

When I finally stopped to catch my breath she settled herself on the sofa next to me and gave me another all-encompassing hug. "You need to take care of yourself, Stephanie. I talked to Tank before I came up here, and I didn't understand what was going on then, but he gave me some tasks to do, and I'm gonna do them. You have to do your part, too. First things first. You need a shower, girl."

I looked at her in surprise. It seemed such an out of place suggestion, until I let my eyes follow hers. I was still wearing the dress I'd worn to the wedding, and it was smeared with Joe's blood. The tears came at once. I tried to duck my head and cover my face with my hands, but Lula's hands came up and held mine.

"Go on," she said. "There's blood spots on your face and arms, too. You get stripped down and get in that shower. A shower is a nice private place to get yourself back in order. Hard to separate tears from shower spray."

I understood her meaning and with a sigh, I gave into what I'd been trying to avoid. I went into the bathroom, stripped, stepped under a hot stream and covered myself from head to toe with a thick lather of Bulgari. I was wrapping myself in Ranger as the traces of Joe's blood trickled down the drain. The symbolism was not lost on me, and I found Lula was right. It was hard to tell the difference between tears and the shower spray.

Later, wrapped in the terry robe I found on the back of the bathroom door, I rejoined Lula in the living room. I was sure Ranger had never worn the robe, even though, presumably, it was his. I thought maybe it was one of those "Ella" touches so prevalent in his apartment. It served my purposes well tonight. There was no way I could bring myself to put one of Ranger's t-shirts on. I didn't want to assume he was okay while I was hanging out in his place, because I didn't want to do anything that might jinx his safety. It was illogical, but it made sense to me. If it happened that I was able to find the courage to sleep single in Ranger's more than double bed, then I'd be sleeping in the robe.

"You look better," Lula said as I reclaimed my place on the sofa.

"I can't say I feel better," I told her.

"You need to calm down, Stephanie. Tank has everything under control. He said you're leaving tomorrow, and I am going to talk to your family and make sure they understand everything is okay."

"My family!" I'd been in such a state of shock I hadn't even stopped to consider the Burg grapevine. I'd unintentionally left my purse in the SUV when Tank had brought me to RangeMan earlier. That was a blessing, because I was sure there were at least a dozen messages waiting for me.

"I'm gonna visit them first thing in the morning, which ain't all that long from now, and explain that someone tried to kill Joe, and that you are going to a safe house until the situation clears up."

"No, I'm not." I said forcefully, wondering what Tank was up to. He'd said we were going to find Ranger.

"Of course you're not," Lula agreed. "Tank just said to give them that story. I'm the only one he told the truth to. He said you're leaving tomorrow and that no one should know. He only told me to gain my cooperation."

"I know we need to get away as soon as possible," I told her. "but it seems wrong to walk away from Joe. It was my fault that he got shot."

"I don't know about that," Lula said. "It seems to me that Morelli usually knows what he's doing, so if he got shot he must have known he was taking some kind of risk. It's not important now anyway. He's been in surgery and they got the bullet out. Tank told me right before I came up here that his family is all there at the hospital. I think that's a good reason for you to stay away. An' Tank said they have him under police protection. Those guys that shot him aren't going to get another chance at him. They done everything they can and Morelli is strong. He'll make it through. They got him in the gut, but at least his equipment is still all intact. That would have been a real shame."

I sat and listened to Lula's ramble and felt comforted by it. It had been thoughtful of Tank to call her, and thoughtful wasn't something I associated with Tank. At least not where I was concerned. I wondered if Lula knew about Jeanne Ellen and Tank. I shivered at the thought of Jeanne Ellen babysitting me, and I knew I'd remember to thank Tank for sending Lula.

"You go on to bed, Stephanie. I'll just stay out here. Then in a few hours, when Tasty Pastry opens, I'll get donuts and take them to your momma and your granny."

We both stood at the same time and I hugged her tightly before I turned to go in the bedroom.

"Thanks, Lula … for coming over here. I'm glad Tank thought to call you."

"Of course he called me. Who'd you think he'd call? That old snaggle-tooth, Jeanne Ellen?"

"I … uh, you know about Jeanne Ellen … and Tank?"

"Hmmph! Not much about Tank I don't know," Lula said. "What I know is, he is smart. Smart enough to know only Lula could handle this job. Can you see Jeanne Ellen sitting in your momma's kitchen eating Boston Crèmes with her and your granny? She'd probably be wearing her catwoman outfit. That's not Burg dressing."

I looked again at Lula's pink ensemble and, in spite of my anxiety and fatigue, I smiled. Lula grinned back. "I see you understand what I'm sayin'. Now go on ... get in that bed. You need your beauty sleep coz you don't wanna look like something Tank's cat dragged in when you see Ranger." I went to bed and I slept.

After thinking I wouldn't sleep at all, it came as a shock to wake up, shut off my phone alarm and realize someone had been in the room where I was sleeping without my awareness. My phone was sitting on top of my pocketbook, which was sitting on top of a stack of neatly folded clothes on the bedside table. I felt uneasy with the idea of Tank being in the room while I was sleeping, but after I took a longer look at the table, I came to the conclusion Ella had been my visitor.

The message was clear. I should get up, get dressed and prepare to face whatever the day had in store for me. I looked at the display on my phone and saw fourteen missed calls, most from my mother, but a couple from my sister, one from Connie, and an unknown number which I suspected might have come from the Deal police. Suddenly the thought of leaving the country, even with Tank, wasn't so scary.

It took me twenty minutes to get myself ready and head down to five. I walked into the control room and immediately the conversation stopped. "Nice, guys," I said. "Way to keep me from guessing you were talking about me."

"We weren't," Lester said matter-of-factly. "We were talking about Morelli. We shut up because we didn't think you needed to hear what we were saying."

My stomach dropped to my toes. "What about Joe? Is he … did he ...?"

"He's alive and he made it through the operation fine," Lester said. "He's not talking yet, cause he's all drugged up. We were speculating on if he would be able to ID the shooter."

"Maybe he can," I said, considering. I tried to remember the sequence of events. I thought possibly Joe had gotten a good look at the man who'd pulled the trigger.

"Can you identify the shooter?" Lester asked.

"I can identify one of the guys with him," I said. "It was that asshole Mick Barnes."

"It doesn't matter whether you can identify the shooter," Tank said from behind me. "They can identify you and that's why you're coming to Colombia with me."

"We could put her in a safe house," Lester said. Tank frowned at him, but Lester continued. "We can keep her from harm, boss man. You don't have to haul her with you."

I don't know what upset me more. The idea that Tank was dragging me with him because he'd been given the task of babysitting me, or the way Lester casually referred to Tank as boss man. It was true that when Ranger was away, Tank was in charge, but Ranger was the boss. Did they all know something I didn't? I willed my knees not to buckle.

"You ready to go?" Tank asked.

"I think so. I found the suitcase Ella packed, and Lula said she'd tell my family. I need to get my passport if we're leaving the country." Tank handed me a small clutch. I opened it and then looked up in surprise at Tank.

"That's the only ID you can take," he said. "The phone is mostly for show. You can use it for navigation or to check the weather. No social media, no emails and no calls. That means you cannot call your family or call to check on Morelli. Is that clear?"

I was being reprimanded, and I hadn't done anything wrong. The group that had been talking when I came into the room had started to disperse at Tank's arrival, but they were all within earshot. I knew my response to Tank's command had to be controlled, but my heart was shouting, "You can't talk to me that way, you arrogant dickhead!"

I nodded and said in a smooth voice, "Of course I understand. Any inappropriate action on my part could potentially put either Joe or Ranger in more danger, and I would never do that."

I pulled the passport out of the clutch and immediately frowned. My passport was pristine, as it had never been used. I had obtained it optimistically a year earlier when Connie, Lula and I had planned to spend a long weekend in Bermuda. It had never happened. The passport I was now holding had signs of wear. I flipped it open to see my picture but the name was wrong. Stacy Plumeri. And Stacy had been places, lots of them.

"I can't use a fake passport," I said.

"It's not fake," he replied.

"But…"

"It will hold up to any amount of scrutiny." He pulled a similar passport from his pocket and flipped it open. Apparently I was traveling with Frank Black, and Frank had been even more places than Stacy. Tank sighed, probably at the look of disbelief on my face. "I'll explain everything on the way to the airport. We need to get going, so go get your suitcase from Ranger's apartment.

I was settled into the passenger seat of a RangeMan pickup and we were on the road to the airport when I turned toward Tank and said, "Talk." He rolled his eyes and although there wasn't much funny in my life, I smiled a little. He hated talking. I didn't know if he hated talking in general or just to me. I suspected the latter.

"Ranger is missing." His bald statement of the fact had my stomach churning.

"That doesn't mean he is in danger. It just means he missed a previously arranged check in with me. The fact that Mattas tried to kidnap you is actually a good sign, because that means he doesn't know where Ranger is."

"I don't understand," I said.

"You don't have to. You just have to know that the possibility, hell, the probability is that Mattas and La Muerte Blanca are in business together. And it will be real bad business."

"Ranger told me that."

"They've probably both tried to double cross one another—you know that whole honor among thieves thing. If Mattas can't find Ranger and now he can't find you, he will start to wonder if you're working with Ranger. If anyone looks for you they won't find you. Stacy Plumeri is close enough that if you get tripped up with your name, you can recover, convincingly … but don't get tripped up."

"What exactly is Ranger doing down there? How are we going to find him? Colombia is a big place."

"I thought Ranger told you what he was doing," Tank said.

"I know what his objective is," I told him. "I don't know exactly how he plans to achieve it."

Tank was silent for a moment as he concentrated on his driving. He was pulling onto the freeway and as we left Trenton behind for Newark, the enormity of what was happening hit me with a force like a physical blow. His next words didn't calm me any.

"If I knew all the details, I wouldn't tell you. I'm Ranger's safety net, because the people he's in bed with on this op won't help him if he gets in trouble. We're going to the area in Colombia where I know him to be. We will make ourselves available to him, and if he's there and needs help he'll find a way to come to us. If he can't come to us, then there is nothing we can do, but we'll know we tried. He was aware of the considerable risk before he went."

"Why would he do something so dangerous?" My question was rhetorical. I didn't expect an answer and certainly not the one I got.

Tank looked over at me with what could only be described as a scowl. "That's what I asked him. When we left Colombia after our last skirmish with La Muerte Blanca we both swore we'd never go back. And now he's back. And he knows how bad it will be if his involvement is discovered. So that's a good question. Why would he do it?"

He was clearly expecting an answer from me. I remembered the night before Ranger left. "I can't ignore my past any longer if I'm to have a future. And I want a future with you," he'd said. Everything became clear.

"You blame me!" I said, astonishment causing my voice to shrill. "You think Ranger is doing this for me!"

"I don't know why Ranger is doing it," he said bluntly. "He has a good business and a number of men depend on him for their livelihood. I've asked myself why he would put all that at risk. I don't know why."

But he did know why. At least he thought he did. I could hear it in his voice. "I never asked Ranger to do this," I said. I was trying hard to maintain control. I didn't think crying would help the situation. "When he told me he was going after Vera I asked him not to. He said he was the only man who could do the job, and he was going to get it done. You can't blame me for this. This is not my fault!"

"I've heard that before."

I doubled up my left fist and punched out sideways. I caught him unaware and hit him in the ribs. It hurt my hand but it was worth it. I heard the air whoosh out and he hit the brakes instinctively.

"What the…"

"Keep driving and listen to me, Buster! I've always wondered why you don't like me, and now I know. You're jealous of the influence I have over Ranger. I'm coming between you and him and your little bromance."

"Bromance!" He was yelling. "What Ranger and I have is not a fucking bromance. We've been through more shit than you could imagine. I'd give my life for him … and he for me. Several times it looked like it would come to that, but we made it through. We were on the safe side, and now he's gone back into a hell hole. And yes, I think he did it for you!"

Well, there is was. It was all out. It should be a great trip to Colombia. We were both silent. I was always uncomfortable around Tank, and I didn't see that changing anytime soon, but I had to try. As the airport exit sign came into view I turned in my seat.

"Tank, I'm sorry," I told him. "I don't want you to hate me. I don't have near the influence over Ranger that you think I have. I never asked him to do this. He's doing it because he feels he needs to. He said he had to do it if we were to have a future, but I'd walk away before I'd see him hurt."

"I don't hate you," he said wearily, "but I'd be lying if I said I didn't resent you at times. Ranger is the rule maker, but often I'm the enforcer. Everyone tows the line and follows orders. I have control over my men. Every time you enter the picture, the control goes out the window. I'll give you that it's, maybe, unintentional, but you make Ranger bend rules for you."

"That's unfair," I said. Later, maybe I would realize there was some truth in what Tank was saying, but at that moment I was stunned and hurt by what I was hearing. "Ranger has asked a lot from me. He asked me to reestablish a relationship, of sorts, with Joe. And I did it. I've done everything he asked regarding Niko. I've followed the rules completely … and things still went to hell."

Silence fell over the truck cab again. I couldn't hold back the tears any longer, but I tried to be discreet. I didn't want Tank throwing my emotionalism back in my face. What happened next changed everything for me.

Tank held out a fist toward me, without taking his eyes off the road. "You're right. You have done everything he asked, this time. The past is the past. Truce?" He waggled his fist and I found my hand, fisted, reaching across the cab to bump his.

"Truce," I said.

…..

It was our fourth day in Colombia. The first night had been spent in Cali, a large metropolitan area, the second night in Popayán, and the third night in La Plata. Each town was smaller than the last. The town we were in now was only a village with the inevitable church gracing one side of the town square. There was a hotel, a café and a tavern, and according to Tank we were at our destination.

It was amazing to me the ease with which Tank navigated in this very foreign country. We'd had no contact with Ranger, but Tank wasn't especially worried. Mostly we had been together, but twice he'd left me in the hotel room alone with strict instructions not to stray. I'd obeyed. The first time, in Cali, he'd come back with a weapon. A scary looking gun and lots of bullets. The second time he'd come back with a smile, and a set of car keys.

"What are you so happy about?" I asked him.

"I made contact with someone who's been a reliable informer for us in the past. I think I know where to find Ranger, and we have transportation. We won't have to depend on bus travel, and that's good because I don't fucking fit in the seats!" He was still smiling, and that was rare, so I smiled back. The truce thing seemed to be working, which was a relief, because I was trying hard to make it work.

Transportation turned out to be a rusted jeep, with one door—on the passenger's side, thankfully. We had made our way and now were deep into the countryside, far away from the coastal area where we'd landed.

The hotel accommodations had become less and less desirable in proportion to the size of the town. At first, I had balked at the idea of sharing a room with Tank, but as we traveled farther from the urban areas, I felt much safer with him close by. The hotel in Cali had been very modern and we'd shared a suite, with each of us having our own private space. Today we were waiting for our room at the Hotel Gran to be readied. Tank sat in the one of the two chairs in the lobby and I was in the other. There was a fan lazily turning which stirred only a slight breeze.

"This hotel doesn't look so grand to me," I said.

"It's the only place to stay in town," Tank told me. "I paid 32,000 pesos for the room, and I imagine we'll get what we paid for."

"32,000!" I exclaimed. "That's highway robbery!"

"That's about eleven dollars."

I considered that and began to dread what we might find when we were escorted upstairs. "How much longer?" I asked. "I'm hungry. Can we get some food before we go up? It's getting late."

"Not late by local standards," Tank said. "But we can eat. The clerk said there's a café that's decent." We walked the short distance to the café. It wasn't crowded but there were a couple of other tables of diners. They stared. I figured it was because we were American. This was far off the beaten tourist path. Once again I depended entirely on Tank to order. The server seemed friendly and the food was palatable, but far from what I was craving. I wanted to find Ranger and I wanted to end this. I was homesick, not only for Trenton, but for the life I knew and the life I hoped for.

When we left the café to make our way back to the hotel, the little hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Kind of like they did right before a FTA capture turned really bad. I had such a strong feeling of unease that I halted my step in the middle of the road.

"What?" Tank asked.

I looked both ways up and down the mostly deserted street. There was no one close to us or no one even approaching us. "I don't know," I said. Others said I had spidey sense, but I mostly discounted it. Now though… "Something seems off," I told Tank.

He grabbed hold of my hand and began to walk. Pulling me with him. I sometimes had a second sense when Ranger was near. I'd admit to that, but that wasn't what I was feeling. I didn't know if I was sensing danger or just having a moment. What was almost as unsettling as my feeling was how seriously Tank was taking it.

We entered the hotel and after a few terse words with the clerk, Tank was handed a key. He nodded at the man and turned to me.

"We're on the second floor. I think it's a good time for an early night." An early night by local standards wasn't really so early for a girl from Trenton. I agreed with him. Tomorrow, when we were fresh, maybe we'd find Ranger. If not … that feeling of unease made me completely close my mind to the possibility that we wouldn't find him.

We climbed the stairs and found our room. Tank unlocked the door and pushed it open and we stood and stared for a moment. The Hotel Gran was not living up to its name.

I made immediate use of the restroom. I washed my face and brushed my teeth. I probably could have stood a shower, but the rusty pipe extending from the wall, and the handles underneath had me thinking I could just wash up at the sink. Tank was right. He got what he paid for. When I came back into the room I saw Tank using his big booted foot to push the armchair away from the bed. I realized at once what he was doing.

"Tank, you can't sleep on this floor."

He ignored me and grabbed a pillow off the bed.

"Tank!" I shuddered at the thought of what might venture out of the cracks in the plaster to scuttle across the floor after the light was out. What I'd seen when the light was on was enough to give me a major case of the heebie jeebies.

I pulled back the thin coverlet to inspect the dingy sheets. "It's a big bed. There's no reason we can't share." I wasn't just being magnanimous. I'd feel more comfortable with another body in the bed next to me. If creepy crawlies invaded, it would be nice for them to have an option of two bodies to snack on. Tank's shoulders moved slightly. It wasn't exactly a shrug, but more of a grudging acquiescence.

When he nodded his head toward the bed I needed no second urging. I kicked off my shoes, but left my socks on. My jeans were next and I quickly folded them and draped them over the back of the wooden desk chair. I slid between the covers and pulled them up under my chin. I would sleep in my t-shirt, panties and bra, and I would have the security of Tank beside me.

"See," I said as I extended my arm to the other side of the bed. "There will be at least twelve inches between us."

"There's more than inches between us," Tank replied. "Ranger's between us."

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

He snorted. It wasn't quite a grunt, and it wasn't a laugh. It was a sound that was uniquely Tank.

"What I mean is that you carry Ranger with you. I don't mind having Ranger in the bed with us, but I bet the cop didn't like it."

"You're wrong about Ranger. He sent me back to Joe," I said. "And when that happened I didn't carry him with me. There is a potential, a promise of sorts, but for right now, there is no 'me and Ranger'."

He snorted again.

"Could you be a little more explicit?" I asked, sarcastically.

"You and Ranger are the only two who don't know what's between you."

"So far, there is nothing defined between us," I said. "That will change if things go well here."

"So far," he said, repeating my words. "There's been plenty between you. Your head's pretty deep in the sand if you don't realize that. And so far, things aren't going particularly well down here." He walked slowly across the room and flipped the wall switch. The darkness was instantaneous and complete, and I was reminded we were not in a metropolitan area.

I heard the soft sounds of his approach to the bed. There was a weariness to his step, and I wondered what this trip had taken out of him. Both he and Ranger had implied that Colombia was a place they'd be happy never to visit again, and yet here he was. He was doing a good job of keeping me safe, and I was filled with a surge of appreciation. I'd tell him, when we got back how much I appreciated what he was doing for me.

I heard the brush of fabric on fabric as he removed enough clothing to sleep comfortably. I didn't wonder too long about what exactly he'd taken off. Better not to know. The bedsprings creaked ominously as the mattress absorbed the bulk of him.

Several minutes passed with no sound from either of us. In the dark room the enormity of what was happening struck me with renewed anxiety, and I faced what I had been trying to avoid thinking about. Ranger was missing. Tank said that it wasn't unknown for Ranger to miss a communication deadline and it didn't necessarily mean he was in trouble, but I thought Tank said that for my benefit. I could tell he was worried. I was glad for the darkness, because although I'd tried to be brave, the travel and my fatigue were wearing me down, and the tears began to run down my cheeks. I would be brave in the morning, I promised myself, but tonight in the darkness of this one-star hotel room, I was silently giving into my despair that something horrible had happened to Ranger.

I hadn't made a sound, I was sure of it, but I felt the velvety and surprisingly soft touch of Tank's hand. His fingers searched for and found mine and he interlaced our fingers as he drew my hand to the middle of the space between us. Neither one of us spoke. There was really nothing to say. We were mostly strangers with only one thing in common. We both loved Ranger. Tank loved him like a brother, and I loved him like a…I loved him. And we both thought something bad had happened. Even if we couldn't verbalize it.

The comfort of Tank's touch eased my anxiety and I fell asleep. I came awake with a start and saw there was light in the room. Low level light, but still enough that I could see a man at the foot of the bed. I heard a metallic click and looked sideways to see Tank, his left hand still entwined with my right. He was sitting and in his right hand was a gun. I wasn't sure if the click was the safety being set or released, but it didn't matter because I heard his softly uttered, "Fuck," and saw his body relax.

And then the tingling at the back of my neck alerted me, and I took a good long look at the man at the foot of our bed. It was Ranger. He was dressed in an ill-fitting chambray shirt and dark trousers, and both he and his clothes were filthy. His hair was dull and hung around his face in greasy strands, and his scent filled the room. It was the scent of unwashed male, without a hint of Bulgari. His eyes were flat with no light in them at all and they were focused on Tank.

"What happened?" Tank asked him.

"It's going slower than I anticipated, but it's going well. I'm on the inside. I'll be done with Phase One in a few days and then I'll be able to come home. And when I get home I'm going to kill you."

"It's a big bed," I told Ranger. "We were just sleeping together, that's all."

He ignored me completely.

"You told me to keep her safe," Tank said.

"And you think the base camp of La Muerta Blanca is safe?"

"I think she's safe with me. Morelli's critically wounded, but still hanging on. Mattas tried for Stephanie and the cop got in the way. And Mattas is still on the hunt for her since he can't locate you. I didn't think you'd want her alone in Trenton with him."

"I'm being watched closely," Ranger said, "but everyone is watched closely down here. They're on board with me. I took a risk to get here, because I couldn't believe what I'd heard. That you brought her here."

"You put me in charge, man," Tank said. "I'm handling it. She's safe."

"No one is safe here," Ranger said. "You've created interest in this town. That's how I found you. You need to leave soon, tomorrow if possible."

"Will do," Tank said. "You coming with us?"

"I can't leave yet. I told you. Soon though. I couldn't get away to check in, but that situation has been … eliminated. I'm tying up loose ends. I'll be home soon."

"She can go back to a safe house," Tank said. "I can get her out, and then I can stay."

Ranger shook his head. "Not necessary. The locals are talking about the gran hombre negro con una mujer blanca. They think that you're lovers on the run. You should act like it."

"That won't be hard. We're already sleeping together."

"You're a dead man."

Tank's low rumbling laugh caused me to turn from Ranger and look at him, and when I did the room went dark. I heard one small creak which I realized was the door closing. Ranger was gone.

I was stunned. "He didn't look at me," I said.

"He couldn't," Tank replied. "He couldn't look at you and maintain the role he's playing. He'd lose his focus and losing his focus could cost him his life. Don't worry, little girl. I imagine he'll do plenty of looking when he gets home to Trenton."

Tank went back to sleep. I could tell from his slow deep breathing. It seemed as though the visit from Ranger had calmed him. It had done the opposite for me. I was in turmoil. Seeing Ranger in that state was upsetting to say the least. He'd completely ignored me. He'd acknowledged me only in conversation. And he'd looked scary. Not that I was afraid of him. It was more that I was afraid of what or who had changed Ranger's appearance so drastically. Tank said they'd been through more than I could imagine. Seeing Ranger brought that fact solidly home. I could never have imagined Ranger looking like he had tonight.

It seemed like hours, but eventually I fell asleep, only to come awake with a start. I could feel him. Ranger was back. I looked and saw the hazy outline of someone sitting in the armchair. It was a scenario I was familiar with, in a different setting.

He stood and walked to the edge of the bed. He reached out his hand to me and I sat up to take it. I knew, on some level, Tank was probably aware of what was going on, but it made no difference. Ranger was looking at me now. He was pulling me with him toward the door of the room.

The hallway was lit with a dim bulb hanging on a braided fabric cord from the ceiling. It gave me a clear look at Ranger. His beard was full and his hair was long. It hung in dirty hanks around his shoulders. His body was impossibly thin, and the needle tracks were still on his arms. Were they real, or was this still just a sham? I didn't know and hoped I never would. New lines were carved in his face. And he hadn't had a bath in quite a while. It made no difference to me. His stare wasn't blank. What I saw in his eyes was stark need, and it aroused in me a need to comfort, to heal.

He opened a door at the end of the hallway and pulled me through. The door closed behind us and we were in darkness.

"Babe."

One word softly uttered, reassured me this was the man I knew, despite his changed appearance. And then his lips were on mine and I quit thinking. This time Ranger wasn't a considerate lover. Ranger was a man assuaging a need that I knew went beyond physical. I had something I could give him. Tank said he couldn't lose his focus. I hoped that I was giving what he'd need to maintain his focus.

Later, when I thought back on it, it seemed almost like a dream. We didn't talk as we made love, or afterward when I lay in his arms. I fell asleep on a bed in a dark room with Ranger's arms around me.

I awoke in the bed I'd shared with Tank. He was standing at the bedside staring down at me. From the fierce look on his face, I wondered if the truce was over. At just the point where the silence was getting awkward, he spoke. "It's time for us to start the trip back home. Get up and get dressed."

…..

It felt good to be back in Trenton, if not in my apartment. I hadn't had to go to a safe house. Joe was recovering and he had been able to ID the shooter. Mick Barnes had been picked up and had, upon interrogation, sang like a church choir. His story confirmed Joe's ID, but the other men were still MIA. As was Niko. Although, remarkably, Niko wasn't wanted for anything other than questioning. His organization protected him well.

I was ensconced at RangeMan. Waiting. Every day seemed like an eternity. I wasn't exactly under house arrest, but it sometimes seemed like it. I had a RangeMan escort everywhere I went. It had been almost two weeks, and although Tank seemed unconcerned at Ranger's continued absence, I was starting to get worried again.

Cal, my escort of the day, had taken me to see Joe and then brought me back. I should have been forewarned by the funny little smile on Cal's face as he left me at the door to Ranger's apartment. I opened the door and the faintest whiff of Bulgari greeted me. I dropped my purse in the foyer and ran full tilt into the bedroom. Ranger, dressed in RangeMan black, freshly shaved and showered smiled at me and held open his arms. I launched myself into them.

And then to my complete surprise, and horror, I began to cry. Not sweet little tears. But horrible big hiccupping sobs. He held me while the storm passed and whispered comforting words in my ear.

"It's okay, Babe." "I told you I'd be back." "I'm home, just like I promised."

At the last words of comfort, I pulled away from him and looked up through swollen eyelids. "You're not!" I accused, half wailing, half whining. "You said you'd be back on Independence Day."

"I am," he said. "It's July 20th. Colombian Independence Day. Fitting, don't you think?" I didn't answer. His arms tightened around me and he spoke softly into my ear.

"My past is now behind us. It's over, Babe. It's completely over."

But, of course, it wasn't.