Disclaimer: The characters belonging to Janet Evanovich are used strictly for entertainment purposes.

A/N: I know for some of you it isn't Wednesday, yet, but it is for me. Since I will have a somewhat hectic day tomorrow, here is chapter 2.

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Chapter 2

I woke up slowly the next morning, drifting out of an unsettling hospital dream, which sadly was more like a recurring nightmare. Then I remembered that, at some point in the night, I'd also dreamed Rex had turned into a pro football player, but they'd had to fire him because he kept gnawing on the ball. Weird dreams were a way of life for me.

I'd half expected Ranger to tease me awake like normal, but he was sound asleep behind me. I smiled, thinking maybe he was so tired from working late that he'd let me sleep in today. He could have told Tank not to expect him at the office until mid-morning. There was a chance I'd walk out into my living room and find a money tree growing in the center of the floor.

Through the sleepy haze in my groggy mind, I remembered our conversation on the way to Shorty's. Moving day! My stomach flip-flopped and I squeezed my eyes shut tighter. Breathe. This was what I wanted and it was the right thing to do. I was growing up and in an actual adult relationship. But wow, he wanted it permanent. This was serious. Very serious. And I was actually happy about it.

With a big smile on my face, I cuddled into the mattress and stopped short, wrinkling my nose. It didn't smell or feel right. I'd purposely spent money on a good mattress. After all, good mattresses equal good sleep and I enjoyed my slumber. Instead of the thick, firm mattress I expected, I found one that was thin and insubstantial, with a strange 'old cheese' odor. What the hell?

I opened my eyes and a splitting headache fritzed out my vision, so I quickly shut them again. Concussion, maybe? I thought about the brick and wondered if now, after two weeks, I was finally having complications from the injury. Cripes, I hated concussions, especially when I wasn't sure of their source. I listened for the telltale sound of beeping monitors and the squeaking shoes of nurses hard at work, but all I heard was breathing and a light snore here and there. Great, not only was I in a strange place, but I wasn't alone. Wide awake, now, with alarm bells clanging in my head, I mentally retraced my night, but it was no use. The last conscious memory I had was the image of Ranger staring at me with that slight smile on his face, then walking out the door.

When my head settled again, I chanced a peek through one eyelid to view my surroundings. I knew immediately I wasn't in a hospital. The room was large with two, no three if I counted mine, identical wooden bunk beds, six single beds in total. I saw lumps under the covers in each. An upward flick of my eyes revealed depressed springs in the bed overhead, proving it was also occupied. Slowly, I lifted my head and noticed I was the only one awake. The room was dim. There was one small window covered by a dark blue curtain. The light at the edges, however, appeared to be bright so I had no idea of the time. Still, with everyone in the room asleep, I couldn't believe it'd be very late in the morning.

My greatest worry right now, aside from waking in this strange place, was that the warm body beside me wasn't Ranger — because it didn't feel like Ranger. I closed my eyes and forced in my next breath, blew it out, then took another. I turned my head slowly, chanting over and over, 'Please be Ranger, please be Ranger.'

I opened my eyes and two truths jumped out at me, neither making me feel very secure. One, it wasn't Ranger. Two, I didn't know this guy. I clamped down on my very strong desire to jump out of the bed and forced myself to think fast. Waking him up might be bad. I didn't know where I was, didn't know why I was with him, but I wanted to get away without trouble.

Panic flitted down my spine and my heart lodged in my throat as I began to edge away from him. Slowly, I lifted his arm from around my waist and slid forward until I was balanced on the very edge of the bed. I stuck my foot out in front of me and braced it against the floor, leaning forward so I fell onto all fours on the thin, industrial carpet with a soft thud. I panted as quietly as I could against a surge of adrenaline when I was finally out of the bed and away from him. Then I sat up, forcing myself to ignore my quaking nerves and focus on the situation.

I was fully clothed, thank God, but not in the same outfit from last night. Instead of my jeans, cami, and sweater, I wore jean capris and a pale blue t-shirt. My skin crawled. It was creepy to think of someone, especially this strange man, undressing and redressing me while I was unconscious. My feet were bare, but there was a pair of beige sandals with a slight wedge heel on the floor that looked my size. I slipped them on and looked at my bedmate.

He was young, possibly early 20s, dressed in a neon tie-dyed t-shirt, which was all I could see of his clothing. He had dark blonde hair done in dreadlocks all tied back at the nape of his neck and a very thin goatee. It showed his face was still changing from boy to man. His lips were full and a natural, healthy red. He slept with his mouth slightly open, but was a quiet breather. His thin arms were long and gangly. He was probably a vegetarian, maybe even a vegan. I wrinkled my nose. At least he looked like a normal, average young hippie-type.

My intuition told me there was no way he'd brought me to this place. The room was like a dorm room at summer camp. Well, a summer camp for adults. These people were here to sleep, some with knapsacks wrapped tight in their arms most likely to protect them from theft. Given my past, waking up in a place like this seemed very 'Stephanie Plum', but why were they here? Had we all been kidnapped? Were we being held here for some crazy purpose? My mind reeled with wild scenarios, all bad. Human slave trade was at the top of the list.

I wanted to look out the window, but it was in the center of one of the bunk beds and I wouldn't be able to do so without waking the occupants. I didn't think my neighbors posed a threat, but I decided going out to explore was the better option. A quick lurch of anxiety hit my gut at the decision, trying to make a bid for control of my emotions, but I tamped it down and rose to my feet soundlessly. There were no visible chains or handcuffs, though the one door leading out certainly could be locked. I hoped not.

Why was I here? A prank? I wouldn't put something like this past Lester. He'd threatened that one day I might find a surprise in my training. The 'always be aware of your surroundings' speech was ever present on his tongue. So, prank or not, I could do this. I looked at the door and swallowed a few times. I told myself to just go through the door and pay attention to everything.

Running a hand over my wild bed head hair, I resisted a shudder as my fingers caught in what felt like a rat's nest. It wasn't until I moved my hand to tuck the fuzzy mass behind my ears that I noticed the shorter length. I gasped and ran my fingers frantically over my head, using my fingers to judge the length. My hair ended just at the base of my neck and seemed to be evenly shaped all over in a wild mass of curls. I closed my eyes and counted to three. Someone. had. cut. my. hair! I would not scream. I would not scream.

My hands lowered from my head on their own, as if they didn't want to bear witness to the crime. I opened my eyes, setting my jaw. It was hair, it would grow back. Right now, I had bigger problems to tackle. First, I needed money, and a cell phone would be good, too.

I bent low and looked under the bed and then stood up and scanned beneath each of the other beds for anything I could use. There was no purse under my bed, confirming my suspicions that I was left here with nothing. I hated the idea of stealing, but I could only assume I was here with just the clothes on my back and the sandals. Unfortunately, everyone seemed to be sleeping with their stuff. There was no way I was going there. Grabbing an unattended bag under a bed I could probably fudge. Wrestling someone's belongings from their arms, not so much.

Ignoring the questions buzzing through my brain, I tiptoed to the door. It was wooden and painted white. The handle was a thick, silver metal lever. I gripped it and quietly turned it, hearing the catch release, and swung the door open. It squeaked and I froze, breathing in and out twice, then glanced back at the beds. No one stirred. I blew out my breath and gave myself a mental pep talk: I am confident. I can do this. I'd gotten myself out of tougher scrapes. This is no big deal. Right.

I stepped through the door, pulling it shut quickly with the handle still turned, only releasing the latch once it was fully closed. The squeak was quieter that time. There were no noises or sounds of life from the room on the other side of the door, so I decided I'd pulled off my escape. At least that part of it. I turned and looked around. A long hallway stretched down and turned off to the right.

There were two other doors in the hall, one a little ways down on the opposite wall, and another further down on the same side as this door. I went to the nearest door and quietly squeaked it open and saw a mirror image to what I'd begun to think of as 'my' room. The beds were all empty. I wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

Quickly closing the door, I went to the next door down the hall and swung it open as quietly as possible. A bathroom. Not only that, but it looked like a communal bathroom with three toilet stalls, two shower stalls, three sinks, and a long mirror with a white wooden shelf beneath. I half expected a bugle to wake up the building at any minute. Very campy.

I left the bathroom and snuck down the hall and around the bend. At the end of that short corridor was another white wooden door with the same type of lever. I held my breath and turned it, praying it wasn't locked. My breath whooshed out in relief when the handle turned and I was able to pull the door open.

On the other side was a large common area. To the right, situated back in a cubby, was a small seating area with two frayed armchairs and a coffee table laden with magazines. Across the room were four round tables with four chairs at each. The wall opened to another room. By the industrial tile on the floor, I guessed it to be a kitchen. A TV was mounted up near the ceiling in the corner by the kitchen doorway. No sign of bad guys, but no great clues either.

My eyes landed on the front door. Almost free. I looked around and walked toward the front door, half expecting someone, possibly armed, to jump out and yell 'Stop!' But the closer I got, none of that happened. The place was deserted aside from the people sleeping in my room. I was curious as to why there wasn't anyone around, but not complaining.

I studied the door when I reached it. It was a standard glass door with a bar across the middle indicating that it pushed outward. There were bells attached to the top that would jingle as soon as I moved it and I bit my lip, thinking. What would Ranger do?

Oh God. I hadn't allowed myself to focus on him up to this point. Getting out had been my biggest problem, but now my thoughts turned to him. What if he thought I'd run away, not wanting to move in with him? I'd have to do a lot of begging when I made it out of this mess. The memory of the stiffness in his neck and shoulders when he'd suggested the move made me cringe. He'd taken a big risk putting himself out there and I'd hesitated, too. It wasn't the kind of thing he did and clearly meant a lot to him. If he thought I'd flaked out…

I shook my head. Didn't do any good to worry about it right now. I had to figure out where I was and get home. Then I could beg and explain. I hoped. One thing at a time. First, focus on the goal.

Gently, I pushed the door open after reaching up to tuck the bells above the door frame to keep them silent. I looked back into the room and still saw no one. I breathed in and out, relieved, and pushed it open far enough so I could slip out, all the while hoping it wasn't too cold since I had no jacket.

The sun blinded me as I stepped out and a sticky city heat blasted me. Definitely not cold, ugh. I turned around to look at the stone building I'd exited and saw a white sign that read 'Hostel de la Cité' on the front in red scroll lettering. Hostel?

My eye caught the sign on the building next door. My mouth went slack when I saw 'Bonjour Café', not because the name was particularly weird, but because I knew 'bonjour' was French. If the café sign was French and the hostel's sign was French, then I definitely wasn't in Jersey anymore. Damn, was I in a French-speaking province in Canada? Whatever city this was, it was big and it was hot, and it had much more character than Trenton.

If I had to cross the border, better Canada than Mexico. For one thing, Canada really wasn't that far from home. Talking to people would be a problem if it was a French-speaking area, which meant getting home would be more of a challenge. I could do it, though.

I shifted uncomfortably under the sweltering sun and scowled up at it. The weather seemed hot enough for Mexico, though. Just my luck to get a heat spell in September, and here I was without a beach or a bathing suit. I put my free hand on my hip and looked left and right, trying to pick a direction, but stopped in awe when I caught sight of the traffic. A dense population of vehicles and motorbikes drove by at speeds insane for such a busy little street. Not to mention the pedestrians on the designated crosswalks who clearly expected the traffic to stop for them.

In horror, I watched while the cars and small bikes wove in and out between each other as if in a race, slamming on breaks when the traffic slowed. I saw so many near misses in that minute or so I thought for sure there'd be an accident. Further down the street, the scariest traffic merging fiasco I had ever witnessed buzzed like an angry hive of hornets and I hoped my little adventure here didn't include an attempt to drive any type of motorized vehicle.

I turned right because it was a slight downhill slope and looked easier. After a few steps, my stomach started to grumble and I sighed, checking my pockets for cash, just in case, but finding only lint. My teeth caught my lower lip as I gazed around, scoping out the lay of the land. Food smells taunted me and my stomach ached with each new, yummy scent.

I desperately wished for a handbook entitled 'Abandoned Person's Guide to Avoiding Starvation'. Only one word came to mind: beg. I bit back a groan of frustration and continued down the sidewalk, beginning to sweat in the heat, keeping my eyes peeled for a phone booth — if any still existed in this day and age. I had to call Ranger, and fast. Not because I needed rescuing, but I needed food. Okay, rescuing didn't sound bad and calling him wouldn't mean I was incapable of surviving on my own, right?

The shops around were all open, so I knew it couldn't be too early in the morning. That thought made me wonder why all those people in the room were still sleeping. Were they together? Had they been out late sampling the local night life? I set the questions aside for now because they weren't important to my predicament and tried to determine what shop looked tourist friendly. Then, stopping short, I saw something that both amazed and terrified me. The scene between the buildings had opened up and there, rising up in all its glory, was the Eiffel Tower.

My brain froze, disbelief shutting down all of my thoughts for several long seconds. When the shock passed, I thought, 'Paris. How could I be in Paris?' Worse, how messed up was it that I was here and not happy about it? Not. at. all. Paris should be exciting and romantic, magical even, but given the circumstance, it felt sinister and scary. I had to find a phone, and fast.

My wild imagination filled my head with crazy thoughts. The panic from earlier returned and my chest tightened in response. Suddenly, my mind screeched to a halt again. What if it was a surprise disguised as a prank? Ranger had asked me to move in with him. He could have arranged for a romantic getaway to Paris. Maybe one of the guys was supposed to meet me outside the room to take me to him, but I'd woken too early. Now I'd left and they'd never find me and … and…

My shoulders slumped. I knew there was no way Ranger would do that to me. If he wanted to surprise me, I'd wake in some luxurious Parisian hotel and find him waiting with a lavish breakfast, or even better, naked. Damn, now I was lost, alone, and missing naked Ranger. Focus, Stephanie.

I started walking again, keeping an eye out for a shop with few customers, and thought about all the implications of my presence in Paris. I went back to my original thought of being kidnapped. I hadn't had any psycho FTA's lately, and all the creeps from my past were either dead or locked up. Or at least I thought so. But why kidnap me just to dump me off? Maybe something had gone wrong. And how had someone flown me across the Atlantic without my knowledge? I considered the possibility of powerful knockout drugs, which was an unpleasant alternative.

Without any clues, I was getting nowhere fast with my thoughts, except more worried. Instead, I replayed images from last night in my head. Ranger's happiness when I agreed to move in with him. The ease with which he talked to the guys made him seem almost lighthearted somehow. Though it was a subtle change, I'd felt it. The 'Me, too' he'd said when I'd been thinking how much I loved him had warmed my heart, and still did even now. The regret in his eyes when Tank called had been genuine, and the smile he'd given me before he left? Full of promise.

I shuddered when I thought of Ranger finding me missing from my apartment. He'd know I hadn't left him willingly and have all of Trenton in an uproar. I remembered the poor woman he'd yanked out of bed to get Stiva's address when the crazy man had kidnapped me. Or worse, what if he'd already come back to my apartment before I was kidnapped? Which meant he'd have to be hurt, or… No. That wasn't an option I'd even consider.

Damn, I needed more than a phone. I had to get to the American Embassy. With no purse, I knew there was no passport. No passport, no return. And I wanted to return, needed to return, so Trenton could be safe from his wrath. The Embassy would help me. First, get directions. Second, go there. Third, ask to call home and stop the insane search. Easy. Straightforward. How could I possibly mess that up?

I looked around for a cop, but as usual, they're never around when you need them. I raised my hands to my hair, but lowered them quickly. One more thing I didn't want to deal with. As I lowered my hands, I noticed the door to the shop in front of me was slightly ajar. I went inside and hoped I didn't have to stumble through miming what I needed. Not wanting to seem rude, I looked at the merchandise on a few shelves and then moved toward the counter. On every shelf was a small figurine or sculpture. Parisian landmarks, French flags, mini Eiffel Towers, and water globes were lined up neatly in rows behind posted price markers. A tourist shop. I hoped that was a lucky sign.

When I reached the counter, a slim man came into the store from the back. He was middle-aged and nearly my height with a friendly smile and a pleasant manner of speaking. His words were lost in translation for obvious reasons, but his kindness couldn't be mistaken. When he noticed my look of confusion, he stopped and waited for me to speak.

I gave him an apologetic smile and asked, "Do you speak English?"

A wide smile nearly filled his face. "Oui." I understood that word. He came around the counter to stand in front of me, studying me.

Despite myself, I felt my eyes water and had to bite the inside of my cheeks to keep my lips from trembling. Stupid dust. "Could," my voice cracked and I cleared my throat. "Could you tell me how to get to the American Embassy?"

He slid his hands into his pockets and rocked up onto his toes, then back down. "Ah, you are from America." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"I have always wanted to see New York City." He smiled. "Maybe someday, yes?"

I smiled, feeling encouraged, and said, "It'll be a worthwhile trip." I looked around the store feeling awkward and, in an attempt at small talk, said, "I've always wanted to see Paris."

His sharp eyes narrowed slightly. "But not today."

I blew out a breath and gave a short laugh while I slid my hands into the back pockets of my jeans, lowering my head for a second and looking back up to meet his eyes. "That obvious, huh?"

He crossed his arms and regarded me for a moment before answering. "I do not want to upset you, but you look lost. In here." He gestured around the shop. Then he smiled a little. "And up here." He raised his hand to tap his temple with an index finger.

"You have no idea." I immediately liked him and put out my hand. "My name is Stephanie. Stephanie Plum."

He took my hand in his and raised it, saying, "I am Jean Philippe Beaumont and I am pleased to meet you." He pressed his warm, gentle lips to the back of my hand and then released it. "Of course, I will escort you to the Embassy."

"Thank you for offering, but I can't ask you to—"

"I will be just one moment, wait here." He left me with my mouth hanging open and went through a small door at the back of the shop. It seemed I was getting an escort whether I wanted one or not. Well, I did want one, but I didn't want him to have to abandon his shop to do it.

He returned a minute later and went behind the counter to lock the cash register with a key he produced from his pocket. When he was done, he looked up at me with a wide smile. "I have not been out for a walk today. Excellent timing."

This he said for my benefit and I appreciated it. I was also thankful to have a guide. Knowing my track record, I'd have been lost within minutes. "I appreciate the offer. Thank you."

"Come, Stephanie," he said, tucking my hand into the crook of his elbow. "I will show you some of Paris on the way to the Embassy. Perhaps your visit will be a happy memory, yet."

While we walked, he talked. I listened and tried not to think about the why's and how's of my predicament. I wanted to pretend that I was just a tourist getting a personal tour from a good friend. He pointed out several places along the way. That was a good café, wonderful soups. This bakery had the best breads. We don't shop here, the owner overcharges his customers. He used 'we' a lot, so I assumed there was a Mrs. Beaumont.

He stopped talking for a minute, sliding a glance at me from the corner of his eyes. Then he said, "Your mind is busy. Have you lost your travel group, then?"

I hesitated for a second before deciding it couldn't hurt to tell him the truth. "This will sound crazy, but I have no idea how I got here. Last night I went to bed at home, in Trenton, New Jersey — which is not far from New York City — and this morning I woke here and … I have no idea how it's even possible."

I don't know what I expected, but the absolute shock on his face was a surprise. A pained look fixed itself on his fine features and he patted my hand, looking away for a few minutes, still leading me along down the sidewalk.

I continued my story. "My, uh, boyfriend was supposed to come help me move into his place this morning." I knew there were bigger issues to focus on, but the affront to my happiness with Ranger seemed the easiest target. My mouth having a mind of its own, I rambled on, "Instead, I woke up across the ocean with no recollection of ever leaving my apartment, let alone my country. And I just know he's putting the whole city through hell trying to find me, so I've got to get back."

He swiveled his head around to look at me, a little skeptical. "He will terrorize your city, you say?"

"Well," I laughed nervously. "Just about. I know because he's sort of done it before."

"He must care for you very much."

"Yes," I said unable to keep from smiling at the memories from last night. Then I remembered where I was. "He hates when I go missing."

He stopped walking and stared at me. "You disappear often?"

I thought about it and realized the answer was a bit pathetic. I felt better that most of my kidnapping mishaps happened before I'd begun training with Lester, but this trip to Paris practically topped the 'Stephanie's Top Ten Disasters' chart. "Actually … yes. I have a dangerous job and people don't like it when I'm successful."

"I do not understand."

"I'm a bounty hunter. I look for people who run away from the courts and take them back to jail." I spread my hands out in a 'that's it' gesture and he nodded.

His expression was unreadable while he thought. "You do not know when someone wants to harm you?"

"I usually do know beforehand, actually. There's usually an attempt to scare me, maybe a few, before they finally get to the kidnapping part."

He shook his head in disbelief, but said, "So, this was different."

"Yes, and very effective," I murmured and looked at him, "I really have to get home."

A determined look entered his eyes. "We will see what can be done."

...

A/N: I know ... Stephanie and Ranger, what happened? Stick with me for a couple of chapters and I promise things will become clearer!