NINE

I woke to knocking. It took a few seconds for me to recall my location and the reason I found myself alone in a king-sized bed. I glanced at the bedside clock just in time to see 8:59 turn to 9. The knocking sounded again. I got out of bed and peeked through the peep hole. Tank stood in the hallway.

I opened the door.

"Sorry, Steph. I didn't mean to wake you, but I wanted to tell you that the guys and I are checking out and heading back to Trenton. I talked to Ranger this morning, on his mother's cell, and he needs me to keep Rangeman running and see to the other clients. Your room is booked for as long as you need it. I'm taking the Porsche back, but leaving one of the SUVs here for you." He handed me a valet ticket. "Just keep me posted on Ranger, okay?"

"Of course," I replied and Tank pulled me into another bear hug.

After Tank left I got dressed and ordered breakfast from room service. As I waited for it to be delivered, I called Connie to let her know I wouldn't be into the office for a few days. I called my mom, so she wouldn't worry. And then I reluctantly called Morelli, because he was the only one with a spare key to my apartment and someone needed to feed Rex.

"Good morning, Cupcake."

"Joe, I need a favor."

"Is it a sexual favor?"

I rolled my eyes. "No. I'll be in New York longer than expected, and I need someone to feed Rex."

After a beat of silence, "You want me to feed your hamster while you're with another man? If you want your hamster fed, you'll just have to choose between Rex and him."

I tried to keep my voice calm, with mixed results. "I'm in New York longer than expected because Ranger got shot."

"What?"

"Ranger got shot. He's in the ICU. And he got shot because he stepped in front of me so I didn't get shot. But if you'll just drop my apartment key off at my parents' house, I'll have my mom feed Rex. Thanks." I hung up before Morelli could reply.

Then I called my mother again to give her a heads up about Rex. While talking to her, Morelli tried to call me back. I sent it directly to voice mail.

My anger had cooled slightly by the time I arrived back at the hospital. I took the elevator back to the eighth floor and signed in at the nurse's station. I walked into Ranger's room and couldn't help but beam as I found him sitting up in his bed. He and his mother spoke quietly in Spanish.

"Good morning, wife," he said with a smile.

"I'm glad one of us finds this situation funny," I replied as I sat down in the chair next to his bed. "You look so much better," I noted. Since I'd seen him the night before, at least half of the tubes and IVs in his arms had been removed and the color had returned to his face.

"The doctor says they might be able to move him out of the ICU tomorrow if he continues to improve," said Ranger's mother.

"And go home within the week," Ranger added.

"Only if you don't overexert yourself," returned his mother pointedly.

"I know, Mama. Now, go get yourself something to eat and some sleep."

"Tank and the others had to go back to Trenton this morning, but I'll drive you back to your hotel," I offered, but Ranger's mother waved me off.

"I'm perfectly capable of taking a taxi." She kissed Ranger tenderly on his forehead and left.

Once she was out of ear shot, Ranger turned to me and said, "I really wish Tank hadn't called her. It's not good for her to worry so much about me."

"He had to call her. You nearly died."

"From what I heard, I would have died, if not for you."

I looked down awkwardly, unsure of what to say. "Bobby gets most of the credit," I finally mumbled.

Ranger lifted my chin so I had to meet his gaze. "You literally poured your life into my body. That is not easily repaid."

"I don't want to be repaid. You've swooped in to rescue me so many times, I've lost count. It's still pretty lopsided in your favor."

"Babe, I don't keep count, and neither should you."

Ranger improved enough to be discharged from the ICU the next morning and moved to a general inpatient floor. Three days later, on Friday morning, they released him to go home, with a strict warning that he couldn't do anything but rest for the next two weeks. According to Ranger, the boredom had the potential to be deadlier than the bullet. His mother insisted on returning to Trenton with us, to make sure Ranger got settled in before her flight back to Florida on Sunday evening. Ranger seemed less than thrilled with this arrangement, but even he couldn't dissuade her.

A crowd of men, along with my black Rangeman Jeep, waited in the parking garage at the Rangeman building when I arrived with Ranger and his mother. It looked like every guy on the day shift came out to greet their boss.

Ranger climbed out of the passenger side of the SUV gingerly, took one look at his men, and shouted, "What, I'm gone for a few days and suddenly there's no work to do?"

His men scattered back into the building.

"They've been worried about you," I scolded.

"I know. Still not a good reason to not be working."

"Vinnie agrees," I replied. "If I don't bring in a few skips today and tomorrow, he's threatening to find someone else."

"Tell him he won't like my reaction if he fires my wife," Ranger joked.

I looked down at my hand. I'd grown so used to the rings I'd almost forgotten I had them on. "I guess I better give these back." I gave them a tug. The rings didn't budge. I tried to wiggle them over my knuckle, but they were well and truly stuck. "Oh no. I can't get them off!"

The biggest smile I'd ever seen graced Ranger's face. "I wish I could be there when Morelli sees you with those."

"Do you want to get shot again?" I asked, adding, "Morelli is never going to know about this. I'll figure out a way to get them off."

"Try olive oil," suggested Ranger's mother.

"Thanks, I'll stop and get some on the way home. Call me if you need anything."

She pulled me into a hug and kissed me on both cheeks. Not to be outdone, Ranger also pulled me close for an intense kiss.

"Thank you, Steph," he whispered as he released me.

I climbed into my borrowed Jeep and headed back toward my apartment. I stopped at Giovichinni's as I passed through the Burg and bought a sub for lunch and a bottle of olive oil.

I set the olive oil on the counter as I entered my apartment and said hello to Rex. Only to realize a second later, Rex wasn't there. The place on the counter where he and his aquarium usually sat stood empty. My mom must have taken him to her house.

I devoured the sub and then cracked open the bottle of olive oil. I put a few drops onto my left-hand ring finger and rubbed them around, then tried to slide the rings off. They moved up to my knuckle, but then stubbornly stopped. I poured a bit more olive oil over them and tried again. Nothing. Either the rings had shrunk or my knuckle had inexplicably grown. Panicking, I poured half the bottle over my hand. The gold rings remained put.

Sighing, I soaped up my hands and washed off all the olive oil. I pulled on the rings hopefully, thinking maybe dish soap would remove the rings. No cigar.

As much as I wanted to just hide in my apartment until I figured out how to get the fake wedding rings off, Vinnie really was irritated by my absence. I grabbed my messenger bag and keys and decided to get half a day of bounty hunting in.

Lula and Connie were sharing an extra-large pizza with the works when I walked in.

"Hey, Steph. Want some?" Lula offered.

"No thanks. Who came in while I was gone?" I asked Connie.

She pushed three files my way. "Small bonds," she said, "but added up, it's nothing to sneeze at."

"Any movement on George Fortecelli?" I asked.

Vinnie's head popped out of his office. "How would there be any movement when the damn bounty hunter I employed to catch him is off playing nurse for a week. Ignore these new skips. Get me George Fortecelli!" His head disappeared and his door slammed.

"What crawled up his butt?" Lula asked, taking another bite of pizza.

As I reached for the files on Connie's desk, my shoulder nearly dislocated from its socket.

"What are those on your hand?" Connie shrieked, yanking my left arm across the desk.

Lula's pizza hit the floor with a splat. "Holy shit! You went and got married without me?"

"Married to Ranger!" Connie shouted.

Vinnie's door suddenly swung open again. "You married Ranger? Don't even think about going away on a honeymoon until you've caught George Fortecelli." The door slammed shut again.

I extracted my arm from Connie's iron grip, rubbing it gingerly. "Calm down, all of you. I'm not married to anyone. I had to pretend to be Ranger's wife so the hospital would let me stay in the ICU with him. The rings are just a prop. Unfortunately, they're stuck and I can't get them off."

"Olive oil," Connie said instantly.

"Tried that. Didn't work. Neither did dish soap."

"Dental floss," Lula suggested.

Connie and I shot her a confused look.

"You wrap your finger with dental floss and the ring just slides right off."

"Really?" I would try anything.

"Yeah. Saw a client do it once back when I was still a 'ho. He couldn't do it with his wedding ring on. But his ring was kind of tight, so he pulled out some floss, wrapped it around his finger and the ring just came right off.

"I have dental floss," said Connie, opening her desk drawer and fishing around inside for a second. She finally pulled out a small square container of dental floss.

I pulled out about a foot of dental floss and started wrapping my ring finger. I tried to slide the rings off over it, but it made my finger all bumpy and the rings even harder to move.

"I don't think I'm doing it right," I said to Lula. "What am I missing?"

Lula shrugged. "It wasn't like I was watching real close when he did it. I was a bit preoccupied further south."

Definitely did not need that mental image. I peeled the dental floss off my finger and threw it away. "I'm going to see if George's cousin Frankie is home. You coming?"

We drove to Chestnut street. I knocked, but again no one answered. I tried the door. Still locked. I walked around to the front window. The curtains were now closed, but through a crack I could see the blank TV screen. If George was hiding out with his cousin, neither seemed to be home. The empty mail box and fresh ice melt on the sidewalk proved the place wasn't abandoned.

"Up for a mini stake out?" I asked Lula.

"That depends. You got any snacks?"

I didn't have snacks. I drove us a few blocks over to Howard Street and stocked up on snacks at the One Stop convenience store. Then I drove back to Chestnut Street and parked a few houses down from Frankie's. Lula reached into the convenience store bag and handed me a Butterscotch Krimpet and we hunkered down to watch for any sign of Frankie or George.

We were down to our last pack of Twinkies when a green Toyota RAV4 pulled into Frankie's driveway and parked. A man in his mid-forties got out and walked toward the front door. Most definitely not George, but there appeared to be a resemblance to the guy in Frankie's Facebook profile picture.

"That must be Frankie. Let's go."

Lula and I hopped out and hurried toward the house. "Frankie! Wait!"

Frankie turned in his open doorway at the sound of my voice. He didn't take off running or slam the door behind him, so I took that as a good sign.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"I'm Stephanie Plum. I left you a note and my card about a week ago. I'm looking for your cousin, George Fortecelli."

Frankie fiddled with his keys. "Oh, that. I got your note, but I don't know where George is."

"By any chance, do you have a phone number for him? Or an old address?"

Frankie shook his head. "My cousin and I fell out not long after my mom died."

"Okay. Well, if he contacts you for some reason, please let me know. You still have my card?"

Frankie nodded.

"Thanks. Have a good night."

Lula and I went back to the Jeep.

"He's lying, at least about falling out with George. They're Facebook friends." The neighbor had lied too, about knowing George. Something felt off.

Now a little after four, I dropped Lula back off at the bond's office and then headed toward the Burg, intent on picking up Rex from my parents' house.

I pulled into the driveway. My mother stood at the door, her hands on her hips, some bizarre sixth sense alerting her to my approach. As I walked up to the door, I could see her lips set in a formidable glower.

"Stephanie, how dare you?"

"Umm, how dare I what?"

"Run off and get married without telling me!"

"Mom, I didn't run off and get married," I insisted with a sigh.

"Oh, then why are you wearing wedding rings? Betty Covaleski called me this afternoon, saying her daughter saw you in Giovichinni's wearing gold wedding bands. I assured her it must be a mistake, but no sooner had I hung up with her, when my cousin Jean calls to say you were at the One Stop today, driving a black Rangeman Jeep and wearing gold wedding bands."

The good old Burg rumor mill had caught me squarely in its clutches.

"Can you imagine what they must be saying about us around their dinner tables tonight? Stephanie Plum, running off to get married and her mother finds out through the grapevine! It's shameful. It's embarrassing."

"It's not true," I replied. "I'm not married, I promise. Can I come in and explain?"

My mother huffed but moved aside.

I stepped through the doorway and got a face full of uncooked white rice.

"Congratulations," Grandma Mazur shouted, tossing another handful of rice my direction.

"Mother," my mom shouted, "I just vacuumed!"

"Calm down, it's not every day that Stephanie gets married."

"True," I replied, shaking rice out of my hair, "except I didn't get married today, or yesterday, or any day this past week."

"But the rings…"

I held up my ringed hand to silence my mother. "I had to pretend to be married to Ranger for a job." No point in giving full details, they would just upset my mother further. "The rings are a prop. Problem is, they are stuck. I can't get them off."

"Olive oil," my mother and grandmother said simultaneously.

"Tried that," I replied. "I also tried dish soap and dental floss. Nothing works."

"What about butter?" my mother asked.

"Worth a try."

My mother led me to the kitchen and pulled the lid off her butter dish. She cut off a chunk and hung my hand over the kitchen sink, smearing the butter all over the rings and my finger. Then she pulled on the offensive pieces of jewelry. They slid forward and hit my knuckle. My mother kept pulling.

"It's no use," I said, "they just won't go over my knuckle."

My mother ignored me, wiggling the rings and tugging harder.

"Ouch! Mom, stop!" I pulled my hand away, knuckle stinging. It took another five minutes to get all the butter off.

"Any other ideas?" I asked.

My mother pursed her lips. "Your father has a bolt cutter in the garage."

"Please tell me you aren't suggesting cutting off my finger?"

"Well, you can't keep going around with those rings on. People are going to think you are married."

"So, you tell them I'm not and explain what happened."

My mother hung her head. "Betty's daughter has a good job at Giovichinni's. Lois' daughter is a secretary at the hospital. My daughter has a job that requires her to pretend to be married."

I figured now was not a good time to mention that I also got shot at, a lot. "So, I'm the black sheep, Mom. What's the big deal? Every family has one. It could be worse. I could be in jail."

"I'd get less calls if you were," she shot back.

I shrugged. She might be right. "Do I smell meatloaf?"

"Yes. You staying for dinner?"

"I just came by to get Rex, but sure."

My mother gave me an odd look. "I don't have Rex."

My stomach flip flopped with worry. "He's not at my place. Who has him?"

"Joseph. I called him when he didn't drop off the key to your apartment and he told me there had been some miscommunication and he would be able to take care of Rex."

I had to give Morelli credit. This ensured I would have to come talk to him now that I was back in Trenton.