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

…

FromChapter10:

While I'd been preoccupied with my thoughts, Ranger had gotten close enough to reach out and touch my arm. I reacted instinctively and grabbed his pinky finger, bending it backward toward the wrist. Then I twisted his arm up behind his back, shoving the hand up as high as I could toward his head between the shoulder blades. He gave a satisfying groan of pain and sunk to his knees. I hooked my arm around his neck and tightened my elbow over his Adam's apple, increasing the pressure on his little finger. "Everyone stay back!"

…

Chapter 11

"Shit!" shouted Tank.

"What the fuck, Stephanie?" Tank asked. "Ranger?"

"Stand down," Ranger said in a quiet voice.

"Damn, I taught her that move," the lanky man — he had to be Santos — mumbled. "Damn. I'd have paid money to see this any other day."

He taught me this? I thought back and didn't recall any of Seppe's men teaching me how to defend myself. On top of that, my lessons mainly covered how to hide so I wouldn't have to defend myself.

"Sweetness, let go of Ranger," Tank said in a calm voice. "He won't hurt you."

"He won't?" I asked in confusion. Why was it so hard to think right now? I'd been upset. Was it because of these men or something else? I wanted to put my head in my hands and rub my temples, but I didn't dare release my hold on the man kneeling in front of me.

"No, Blue Eyes. We're all here to help you." This came from Santos. "And damn, but you're hurting him." He sounded almost … amused about it.

"None of us will hurt you, Steph," Tank said. "We're here to help you get home."

Here. Right. Now I remembered. Paris. Still, if I was here and they were here with me, didn't they have something to do with it? Something in the back of my mind was trying to remind me of an important fact, but I couldn't hone in on what it was. The thought was just far enough out of my conscious reach that I was starting to get agitated. Until proven otherwise, the men in the room with me were not trustworthy. "I don't believe you," I growled and gave a hard shove to Ranger's arm.

He spoke up in a strained voice. "Stop pissing her off."

I sneered at the other two men. "I don't trust anyone right now. You're not taking me anywhere. I won't go back." A tear slid out the corner of my eye, but I didn't dare remove a hand to wipe it away. "Never again."

I felt Ranger shift and tightened my hold. "Don't move." I didn't have to raise my voice to let him know I was serious. Truthfully, I didn't really think I could hold him if he chose to fight me, but I also knew I could be scrappy if circumstances required it.

"This is PTSD," Santos said.

"I agree with you, man," Tank said, sounding slightly closer to me this time.

"God, what did they do to you, babe?" asked Ranger. He sounded pained, but controlled.

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here. And why are you calling me 'Babe'? My name is Camila." Claustrophobia set in as the two men took a careful step closer.

"Your name is Stephanie Plum. You're from Trenton, New Jersey. You're a very good friend of ours and I'm asking you to come back to us. Please," Tank said, hands up, voice soft.

I closed my eyes and tried to chase away the pain in my head and slow down my racing heart, focusing on drawing in each breath slowly. After several deep, calming breaths, I opened them and blinked in surprise. Now that I'd taken the edge off my panic, my vision returned to normal and I could now clearly see the two men standing in front of me. Their expressions were cautious and their hands were in positions where I could see that they were empty.

I looked the men over and knew I'd seen them before, that I personally knew them. I glanced down at Ranger and stared at his face. There was a wild sort of fear there, along with anger, and something else I couldn't place. "Don't make me regret this," I warned.

He caught my meaning and nodded. I let go and stepped back to keep them all in view. Just because I thought I knew them didn't make them safe. He rose slowly from the floor and held his arms at his sides, shoulders stiff. Now that all three men were on their feet, I contemplated the serious dilemma I faced being alone with them. They were a lot bigger than me and it would take almost no effort on their part to subdue me. Then the familiarity of this scene struck me and my apprehension abated somewhat. This was good familiar. My eyes flicked from face to face.

I approached the Tank, standing furthest to the right, and made a 'come here' motion with my finger and he leaned down to my eye level. I stared at him as recognition flickered in my mind. Dark chocolate skin, dark eyes, and powerful physique — all buried inside my head as a distant memory. My eyes held his for several seconds, and then I reached up put my hand on his shoulder and comprehension blossomed fully. He didn't move a muscle, not even a twitch, and waited patiently for me to finish my inspection. "Pierre," I whispered.

His eyes closed briefly and then opened. "Yes." Okay, good. But who was he?

I took a deep breath and squeezed his muscled shoulder, then let go and moved to Santos. He was a couple of inches shorter than Tank, trim built, and muscular with a lightly tanned complexion and greenish hazel eyes with rakish good looks and a small scar on the side of his chin. I stared at him for a second and said, "I remember laughter in your eyes."

He broke into a grin and replied, "I never could resist a smile with you around."

I took a step back, shocked. I knew him, trusted him. "We're friends," I told him.

"We did tell you that," he said quietly.

I relaxed further and said, almost out of habit, "Playboy."

He grinned. "You always could see right through me, Blue Eyes." I took another step back. I knew this game, but I couldn't remember the rules because confusion had jumbled all of my thoughts and memories into individual splinters of information that wouldn't connect together.

I turned around to face Ranger. He stood stock still, watching my every move. His was the most handsome face of the three. A strong jaw, muscular facial structure, soft, sensuous lips, and blazing dark eyes so full of intense scrutiny that my pulse quickened. I studied him, unable to tear my eyes from his. They could have been made of stone for all the life they showed. Flat, black, calculating. But something else lingered past the hard façade. Pain. I knew it was because of me.

"No," I slowly shook my head at him.

He blinked and his eyes narrowed slightly.

"This," I wiggled my finger back and forth from one eye to the other, "is not acceptable. You're hiding."

He closed his eyes for a second and then opened them. The pain was so much more than I could have guessed. It blazed from him, coming straight from his soul. It hit me with such force that I gasped and took a small step backward. I wanted to comfort and soothe him — to drive away his pain and see peace return. Return?

And then I knew. He was more than just a good looking man that I knew but didn't remember. That much was clear. I took two steps until I my body nearly touched his. "You're different, special somehow," I whispered to him. "You're mine." I didn't know exactly how I knew, but it was right.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth and tensed. His emotions were uncensored: hurt, then fear, and finally, love — unrestrained and potent. It humbled me that he loved me so much even though I'd hurt him. From a hidden place deep inside, I knew I loved him, too. There was no explanation, but it made all the sense in the world to me.

I swallowed and licked my lips, feeling awkward and not knowing what to do from here. How could I tell a man I'd just attacked that I loved him, especially when I couldn't be sure why or when I fell for him?

He took the decision from my hands and grabbed my upper arms, pulling me to him and claiming my mouth in a passionate kiss. My mind shut down in that second and I tensed, ready to fight him, and then the familiarity broke through my initial response. I sagged into him and gave myself up to the power of the feelings radiating from him. Reaching up, I clutched his sides as he changed the kiss from desperate passion to tender caresses that left no room for doubt. Yes, he was mine, but I was irrevocably his. It struck me at once that there was safety in his arms in a way I'd never experienced with Adriano. Protection, love, devotion. Everything I'd been missing.

It all came flooding back to me in that second. Paris. Ranger. Tank. Lester. My eyes snapped open and I pulled back in horror. "Oh my God."

"Stephanie?"

"Ranger."

"Yes." He looked hopeful, but still a little wary.

I turned around and looked at the guys. "Lester."

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on his heels, pleased, but cautious.

I looked over at Tank and felt a pang of guilt at the way he was eyeing me. "I'm okay now, Tank."

I turned to face Ranger and wished I could avoid the confusion in his eyes. "What happened? Who is Adriano?" he asked in a cracked voice, now the only sign of his inner turmoil.

I took a deep breath. This was going to be weird. Very weird. "I don't exactly know how to explain it, but — in my dream — he was my husband," I said.

Shock was his first reaction, but he schooled it and studied my face carefully. His eyes turned black as those of a shark, hot on the scent of blood. "He hurt you."

"It was a dream."

"He hurt you."

I sighed. "Yes."

Curses burst out from behind me and Ranger pulled me into a fierce hug so quickly I didn't see him move. "He will regret each. and. every. time he touched you." His voice was so low I almost didn't hear him.

"It was just a dream, he wasn't real," I said. I squeezed him tighter and put my head on his shoulder. The events of my own horror film replayed in my head and I couldn't keep the memory of the pain out of my thoughts. Clear as day, I recalled Adriano using her — this Camila person — over and over again. Hitting her … humiliating her. The dream had felt so real that I could almost feel the man's hands on me.

"Stephanie," Ranger said, caressing his hands up and down my back, "your reactions were too strong. You didn't know who you were. Something's going on."

I whispered, "I know." Suddenly, my skin crawled and I wanted, needed, a hot shower. Pulling back, I wiped my hands on my jeans to keep them from trembling. "Anyone have anything for a headache?"

Lester walked over to a black duffel and unzipped a side pocket, pulled out a bottle of Advil, and handed it to me. "Knew there was a reason I bought this."

I gave him a weak smile and turned back to Ranger. "Shower, I need—," I broke off and pointed to the bathroom. He took a step toward it and I shook my head, offering a look of apology. I wanted to do this alone. He nodded his understanding and I crossed to the white door, pushed through, and slammed it shut behind me.

I stripped on my way over to the shower and turned on the water. While I waited for it to warm up, I went to the sink and splashed cold water on my face and then filled a glass. When I tried to pop open the pill bottle, the cap flew off and pinged against the sink. It landed somewhere behind the toilet and I left it there. I'd get it later.

Rolling my eyes, I began to work at the seal over the mouth of the bottle. With a heave and a grunt, my finger finally pressed through the thick plastic. Unfortunately, my wet hands lost their grip on the bottle and it clattered into the sink. The pills spilled out in a rush and I grasped wildly for them as they rolled around the smooth porcelain and then down the open drain. It figured that there was no stopper. Couldn't I just get one break?

A sound of disgust resonated in the small room and I flung the bottle down on the floor in a fit of temper. I went back to the shower and stepped under the hot water, conceding defeat to the pills and my headache. Eyes closed, I greedily allowed the steamy water to wash over me. I tried to focus on Ranger's face and my memories of him.

I opened my eyes to grab the soap and squirted some onto the loofah on a stick. I worked it in a circular motion, spreading suds over my body. Willing myself to forget about the dream and all the missing months, I tried to pretend I was still in Trenton and never left.

It was a no go. My denial was broken and I had to face the truth. With shaking hands, I inspected the skin on my front from shoulders to thighs. I had no scars from the glass, nothing to prove I'd been cut. Yet, I knew deep inside that something wasn't right about the way I'd dreamed. Waking up and thinking I was that woman wasn't normal. Snapping out of it wasn't normal. Forgetting Ranger? I would have said impossible. The weird flashes and sharp jabs of pain in my head were really strange.

Remembering Camila's thoughts, I wondered about the tumor. Had there been a surgery? Cancer? I reached up to feel my hair. Something had happened, that was for sure. But no. There was no way the dreams were real because I never had been, and never would be, the kind of woman who let a man control her life.

Disgusted with my thoughts, I scrubbed harder and harder, over my body and my back, down my legs and arms. Again and again, I worked on my skin until the hot water started to sting. I looked at myself and realized I'd scrubbed my skin completely raw. That was going to hurt when it dried. I groaned at my own stupidity and my head began to pound again. God, I needed something for this damn headache.

Loud, angry voices snagged my attention. Alert for any danger, I leaned out of the shower to listen. I barely made out Ranger saying "It's none of your business" and Lester's reply of "Fuck you" when my feet slipped on the soapy shower floor. I pitched forward, throwing my hands out in front of me to break my fall. My head hit something hard, knocking me loopy. I briefly thought that it must have been the heated towel rack before I lost consciousness.

…

I woke to the sound of two men talking and the conversation sounded personal enough that I wondered if I should let them know I was awake. After a second, I decided not to because I was so comfortable I didn't want to open my eyes just yet.

"You should get some rest."

Oh wow. The deep, masculine voice was sultry and sexy. It reminded me of Johnnie Walker whisky: smooth and potent. If Walker looked half as sexy as he sounded, there wasn't a woman alive who could resist him. I'd bet money on it.

A strong hand gripped mine and gently squeezed. I knew it was Ranger because of the electric heat that radiated off him and seeped into my body. "I can't," he said.

"Can't or won't?"

A sigh. "I can't leave her." He was silent for a bit and Walker didn't speak. His next words confused me, at first. "Can you help her?"

"I think her chances are good." The man clapped a hand onto Ranger's shoulder and I felt the tug of his hand against mine with the motion. "She certainly needs my help, but this isn't going to be a quick fix. You're going to have to trust me to do what's best." I was getting more confused by the minute.

"You didn't see what she was like," Ranger said in a quiet voice. "Will it make her relive everything?"

"Most likely, at first. Don't give me that look, you know how this works." I imagined Ranger had just glared at the man, but instead of intimidating him, he'd gotten a lecture. Interesting. "Decisions about this situation are my call, understood?" Walker was stern and his no nonsense tone only served to make him sound more attractive, if possible.

Ranger sat down in a chair near my bedside and caressed the back of my hand with his thumb. "This mean you're in?"

"I'm in," Walker replied.

"Seeing her like that, wild and trembling with fear—" Ranger broke off for a beat. "Do whatever you can to protect her from that." He sounded deadly and more than just a little wild himself. "I want this bastard. As soon as possible." It became clear to me that Ranger and Walker had taken my dreams literally. It was crazy. I'd always had vivid dreams. These were nothing new — just more violent and specific.

"Clinically, what happened today wasn't a bad thing," Walker said.

"So you say."

"So I'm right." They were both silent for a moment, then Walker said in a quiet voice, "She broke out of it and you have a place to start looking for the answers."

"I'd never willingly put her through that just for answers," Ranger's tone was acidic.

"I didn't say you would. It happened, and it gave us a lot to go on — both with the case and with her."

Ranger said nothing, but that didn't surprise me. The man's eyes could speak a thousand words if you knew how to read them. "There are no last names for Camila or Adriano," he finally said.

"We'll get them. Marotta is a good lead."

"I know."

"How are you holding up with all of this?" Walker paced away from the bed and Ranger continued stroking the back of my hand.

Ranger was silent for so long I thought he wouldn't answer. "Torn. Afraid." Whoa. Who was this guy? Ranger admitting to me he was afraid was monumental. Now he was telling another guy? Unbelievable.

"Both normal."

Ranger didn't respond. I still reeled that he was opening up and talking about his innermost feelings — practically a carnal sin in the book of Ranger religion. My respect for Walker went up several notches. This was someone Ranger trusted beyond the normal scope of friendship. Again, who was this guy?

Walker changed topics again and I guessed that Ranger had given him the 'off limits' look. Because of my curious nature, I'd seen it often enough to know its power. "I was surprised when Hicks told me you that some woman got to you."

"She didn't get to me. She got me, all of me." Ranger sighed. My heart kicked up into a staccato rhythm. Ranger was telling another man that he belonged to me? "I never wanted the complications of having a woman. Never thought I'd consider it until she came along." His voice was dark when he said, "Never would have done it again."

"What are your thoughts about it all?" Walker asked.

'Confused." He was confused about me? "In some ways, it's like the past year never happened," Ranger said after another moment of silence. "She died, but somehow we didn't and I couldn't let go. Her phone call the other day — I didn't want to hope."

"But you took a chance."

Ranger snorted. "I didn't have a choice. Woman like Stephanie Plum comes back from the dead, you take a chance that it's real."

In a soft tone that made me want to curl up and lick my paws like a kitten, Walker murmured, "Yes, you do." Then he firmed up his tone and said, "Since I'm here, I can be available for you, too, if you need me."

"No. She's the focus right now. I need to finish this, give her a life to go back to," Ranger said quietly.

"Regardless, if you need to talk…"

"Someday," Ranger said. Ironic. I now knew that, to Ranger, 'someday' wasn't just a flippant response, but a guarantee for the future. "First, we find the fuckers responsible and eliminate the threat." I was on board with that idea.

Since there was no reason to continue my pretense of sleep, I stretched, started a fake yawn, which turned into a real yawn, and then winced in pain.

Ranger shot up from his chair and leaned over me. He brought his hand up to my cheek cautiously, watching my eyes. I didn't know what he was waiting for, but he must have seen it because he cupped my cheek and stroked his thumb over my skin. "How are you feeling?"

"A little sore. A lot stupid. What happened?" I asked, looking at him. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Walker standing against the wall near the door. I was curious about what he looked like, but didn't want to remove my attention from Ranger just yet.

"What do you remember?"

I thought back to the bathroom scenario. I'd spilled all the pills down the sink, gotten in the shower, and rubbed my skin raw. That explained the stinging sensation. Then what had happened? I furrowed my brow trying to remember and felt his fingertip caress gently down between my brows, relaxing the tension there.

I shook my head. "I remember being in the shower and scrubbing myself. God, I must've looked like a crazy woman when you found me."

"I admit it wasn't my best moment."

I shook my head and raised my hands, sliding my fingers into my matted hair. "Crazy dreams. Not recognizing the guys or you. Today has been unbelievable."

"Yesterday."

"Yesterday?"

"You've been out for almost twenty-two hours, it's after nine now."

I looked to my left and saw that, sure enough, it was morning. I would have expected it to be afternoon or evening after sleeping off a head injury in the hospital. "I hit my head that hard?"

Walker took the opportunity to clear his throat and stepped forward. Holy Adonis, the man looked even better than his voice sounded, if that was at all possible. "They couldn't wake you, but your vital signs were normal. I suspect your sleep had more to do with your mind trying to settle itself than anything medical." At my surprised look, he said, "Ranger filled me in on what happened before the bathroom incident."

I took in his appearance now that I had a perfect excuse to openly study him. He was a few inches taller than Ranger and had jet black hair with some faint traces of silver at the temples. I couldn't pinpoint his age, but guessed that he had to be at least in his forties, though I couldn't see any distinctive lines, even around his eyes. It was possible he was even younger and just prematurely turning grey.

His clear blue eyes were so striking that I felt them pierce clear through me. He had the same kind of incredible good looks Ranger had been blessed with, only different. They obviously weren't related, just in the same league. It wasn't only his face, either. He was an absolutely perfect male specimen. The gray in his hair didn't detract from his appearance, but seemed to enhance it. Where did Ranger find these men? Hire-a-Hunk Catalogue? I was right. That voice mixed with those looks — completely dangerous, and lusciously so.

Ranger noticed my assessment of Walker and said, "Stephanie Plum, Blake Young. Friend of mine."

I thought Walker had an attractive name to complement his chiseled physique and hypnotic blue eyes. "Hi."

"Hello Stephanie. It's good to meet you," he said, extending his hand.

"Thanks." I shook it and looked at Ranger unsure of what to say.

"He's here to help you with the dreams and the recovery process," Ranger said by way of explanation.

And then it all clicked. "Walker's a shrink?" A shrink. I mentally took back my earlier thoughts. Sexy voice and good looks or not, I could resist him just fine now. I barely stopped myself from wrinkling my nose.

Walker looked confused and Ranger's lips twitched. "Walker, babe?"

I felt a blush stain my cheeks, but decided to go with the truth anyway. "Um … I've been calling him Walker in my head." Two pairs of eyes blinked, waiting for further explanation. I told them what happened, essentially admitting I'd been eavesdropping, and said, "It stuck. Though, there's nothing wrong with Blake."

Both men glanced at each other and then Walker looked back to me, his head tilted in consideration. Finally, he said, "Okay. I'm good with Walker. Johnnie Walker Blue is one of my favorites, so I take it as a compliment."

I smiled. "Good. One less thing to remember." Clearing my throat, I asked, "Uh, you think I slept so long because my mind was doing what now?"

"You've been through a lot of trauma, emotionally, physically, and mentally, Stephanie. Sometimes the mind just shuts down, like a reboot."

"So, you're saying I rebooted. Okay." I wasn't sure what to think of this guy or his theories, but if he could help the nasty dreams go away, he was my new best friend.

Ranger sat on the edge of my bed and traced his fingers over my knee. I looked at him, but he was looking at Walker and the two were having a wordless conversation. Which meant only one thing: Ranger wanted to talk. To me.

Walker looked from Ranger to me and then walked toward the door. "I'll get the doctor and let him know you're awake." He left before either of us could respond and I turned back to Ranger. He was staring at me with all expression wiped from his face. Uh oh. Definitely time to talk.