Disclaimer: Janet Evanovich owns all rights to the following characters. This story is intended only as artistic exercise and I am in no way profiting financially from it.

Warning: This story contains adult themes and language. Babe story.

Intentions of the Heart

Chapter 7: The Good Samaritan

Previously:

Stephanie…

"Ranger," I breathed both shocked and overwhelmed with relief.

He ignored me, his murderous gaze resting on Chase. I pictured the scene from Ranger's perspective and immediately realized what it must have looked like. It was 1:30 in the morning and I was with a strange man dressed only in a pair of skimpy pajamas … shit!

"Ranger its not-"

He held up a hand, effectively cutting off my explanation as he took a deliberate step towards Chase and the rage in his eyes told me exactly how bad it looked.

I had a feeling it was going to be a really, really long night.

Ranger's POV …

My stomach had been in knots since I left the hotel in Washington. On the flight home it was all I could do to stay in my seat, and not rush the cockpit and take over. Could the pilot fly that thing any slower if he tried? I doubted it.Itfelt like we were hovering above D.C. for hours, and I was fairly certain that at one point my watch stopped ticking all together. I would have known too. I checked the damn thing every twenty seconds.

I'd been gone for months and yet suddenly I felt like I was racing against some invisible clock. I almost lost my mind waiting for my luggage (how hard is it to throw suitcases on a conveyor belt?) and found myself fidgeting the entire cab ride to her apartment. Fidgeting? Fuck, I felt like such a girl. I'd faced enemy rebels with more composure than I was displaying at that moment.

But, I was a long, long way out of my comfort zone, and I expected I wouldn't be visiting familiar territory anytime soon. I didn't know how to do this. I had so much to tell her… so much to apologize for, and yet, I was terrified that I was going to fuck the whole thing up by saying the wrong thing… or not saying enough at all. It's not like I'd ever been complimented on my communication skills before. Dios, this was going to be a disaster.

The lights were out when I finally reached her apartment. I gave the cab driver his fare and tried to calm myself on the elevator ride upstairs. I could do this. I still didn't have the slightest idea what I was going to say, but, "I'm sorry, I was a jackass, let's get naked and married and make lots of curly haired babies," sounded like a good opener to me.

Dios, it was hot in that elevator. Or maybe it was just me? Either way I could feel the sweat beading on my brow and my clothes suddenly felt two sizes too small. What a fucking mess. I'd never been nervous around a woman before. I'd never had to be. But, then again, I'd never wanted anything more than a physical relationship and attracting a woman had never been an issue for me. This was different. I wanted to be with her for the rest of my life, to share our "someday" together, and yet I had no experience with that sort of thing. I'd never been in love. I didn't have any past experiences to call upon, and the thought of not being "enough" for her was the worst thing imaginable. I didn't realize how nerve-raking it would be to put myself out there emotionally, to expose myself to rejection and the possibility that things might not work out in the end…

I was never going to make fun of a guy in love again. That shit's brutal.

I let myself into her apartment and instantly knew that she wasn't there. Where the hell was she? I checked my watch again for the millionth time that night. It was too late for her to be working with the guys, and it wasn't a weekend night, so she wouldn't be out with her friends...

I stiffened and I swear to God, if I had clenched my teeth any tighter they would have shattered.

The Cop.

She could be at his house… in his bed…

I sat down on her couch heavily and put my head in my hands. What the fuck was I doing? I was so tightly wound that I was making assumptions and losing the ability to think rationally. And, I needed to think, to put things into perspective and get some God damned sleep before I did anything stupid. I was fucking exhausted. Mentally, physically, emotionally, I was completely drained and the last thing that I needed was any more stress.

Just then I heard footsteps approaching her apartment, two sets, and I couldn't do anything but stare at the front door. Who was she with? What would she say when she saw me? How much had changed since I'd been gone? And, most importantly… Who the fuck was she with!

The door swung open and the first thing I saw was a pair of long legs… Stephanie's legs… and a lot of them. She was wearing a tiny little tank top and a pair of slippers, her hair mussed and sexy from sleep.

She left her apartment like that? Why?

I didn't have to wait for my answer long, because he followed her through the door. Fuck!

She flipped on the lights and pointed towards the counter, "You can just set those-"

She stiffened and swallowed her words, her eyes almost instantly meeting mine. In that moment she looked so relieved… so completely happy. Like she actually cared that I was home… that I was alive.

Bullshit.

Clearly she'd been occupied and hadn't suffered the way that I had. Her eyes misted over like she might cry and it only made me angry. I didn't need her fucking pity.

"Ranger," she sighed and the word nearly split me in two. I didn't want to hear her say my name like that, with so much love and tenderness. Not now…

For a split second she looked like she would fall into my arms before she saw the look on my face and froze where she stood.

"Ranger, it's not-"

I silenced her with the raise of my hand, unable to concentrate on her words through the blood pounding in my ears, though, I preferred it that way. I didn't need to be told that my worst fear had become a reality, because the proof was standing right in front of me … fucking bastard.

Who the hell was this guy anyways? He looked like something that just crawled off of a spray-tan commercial for God's sake.

Fucking pretty boy.

The shock of seeing my woman with another man was maddening, rational thought and raw, animal-instinct warring for control of my shaken psyche. It wasn't supposed to end like this …

For years our lives have been entwined, every touch, every kiss, every moment, leading to … this? I never imagined that life could be so cruel. Was this God's grand scheme? To humble me enough to see the error of my ways, to grant me a moment of hope and clarity and then rip the ground out from under me, bringing me to my knees with a devastating reminder of why I could never be worthy of such a life? Well, if this was God's will, then I was truly humbled … and begging for mercy.

I couldn't even bring myself to look at her, to even acknowledge her presence. The only woman that I had ever loved, the only person that I had ever trusted implicitly… had given up on me … on us.

"What the fuck did you expect to happen, Manoso?" I scolded myself internally. "You promised her nothing and offered her even less. Was she just supposed to sit around and wait for the day that you promised would never come? NO relationship, NO ring, NO commitment; those are the promises that you made to her and yet you have the audacity to be shocked when she finally moves on?"

I repressed the logical part of my brain in favor of more sympathetic ramblings. Even if I never gave her a verbal commitment or expressed my feelings towards her, my actions spoke loud and clear. I'd bled for this woman, physically, financially, emotionally … I'd give my life for her, Christ, I almost did and I never thought twice about it. She had to know that I loved her, that I had loved her since the moment I met her … she HAD to know … right?

The sight of the man before me told me that I had never been more wrong. I'd lost her … and I never even put up a fight. Hell, I pushed her away. I'd been pushing her away for years.

Well, Congratulations you stupid fucker, you got exactly what you asked for.

My head spun sickeningly as the realization set in … I was too late. The image of Sergeant Cooper, desperate and alone filled my mind, the echo of his words piercing through my heart. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat as his words seemed to implement themselves into my own life.

I was too late…

In combat I had been captured and tortured mercilessly, my captors searching in vain for the slightest crack in my defenses, a weakness to break my spirit and my silence … but the loss of that woman, of her love, had succeeded in the task that many others had failed to achieve.

Without her … I was broken and I only had myself to blame.

Though, I couldn't shake the savage desire to hurt the man who was benefiting from my idiocy, to make him pay for every pleasure he had been gifted with because of my sins.

I wouldn't let her go. I couldn't… not without a fight.

And I would fight for her. Gladly. He would know that she was MINE, and he would stand as a testament to anyone who ever challenged my claim to her again.

I couldn't think, I couldn't focus, the intensity of the hurt and rage that I felt at that moment was all consuming.

As a soldier I had been warned to avoid confrontation in the immediate time frame following a mission. Extreme fatigue and mental exhaustion can impair judgment, reasoning and coping skills. Though I held this knowledge it did little to ease my anger or ebb my murderous, primal thoughts. It was too much to bear and I was blinded with emotion.

Every beat of my heart sent a wave of fury coursing through my veins, flooding my vision with a pulsating sea of red. I fisted my trembling hands at my sides, struggling to resist the urge to strangle the life from the unknown man before me. I couldn't do that to her. No matter how much I wanted to.

The beast raged within me, thrashing wildly against the moral fibers that bound him. Howling in fury he begged for release, for vengeance, to somehow relieve my emotional turmoil through the physical pain of my rival.

I could feel my tenuous hold on self-restraint slipping, like the unraveling of heavy chains and I prayed, for his sake, that I was strong enough to contain the fury within.

Though the thought of him writhing in pain was growing more appealing with each passing second …

No. I couldn't do that to her. She didn't deserve it… but HE…

"He… WHAT, Manoso?" My rational brain tried to break through the haze. "You can't hold it against him that HE was smart enough to make a move while you cowered away like a fucking pansy."

I didn't care. I knew I was being irrational, but I didn't fucking care. I was hurting too much. My resolve began to crumble and I took an involuntary step forward, my body tensing for battle. I didn't know who the fuck this guy was, but if he wanted to live to see the sunrise our association would be brief. I just hoped that in the time it took him to leave that I didn't cave and give in to my carnal instincts.

As if sensing the impending attack the man dropped the grocery bag in his hands, (ice cream?) pulling Stephanie behind him by her wrist. He stood in front of her protectively … as if I could ever hurt her. His actions were unnecessary, deeply insulting and the final straw. A tremor of white-hot rage rocketed down my spine and I took a step forward, closing the distance between us. He was standing between me and everything that I loved. Not a safe place to be.

"Stop! Ranger, please … Chase, it's okay, he won't hurt me, but you … you need to leave … Now!"

Chase …

Hearing that worthless bastard's name on her lips was like a hot iron searing into my flesh, branding me as the scorned lover that I was.

I looked at the man who had taken everything from me, my life, my love, my future … and the hatred that I felt towards him boiled over in my aching heart, leaching poisonously into my veins, infecting every inch of my being with pure, toxic loathing.

I could see the confidence… the challenge in his eyes, his defensive stance showcasing his extensive training as a skilled fighter … Good. At least she didn't leave me for a fucking pussy. Besides, a worthy opponent is much more satisfying to beat into submission … or a coma. Either way.

"No worries, honey. I'm not leaving until Rambo here settles his ass down." Rambo? You have no idea, bitch. He was enjoying this, baiting me for a reaction. Keep it up asshole, and this isn't gonna be pretty.

"And trust me … I can take care of myself," he assured her while taunting me, his mouth curling into a goading smile.

Perhaps a broken jaw would wipe that smug look off of his face …

Stephanie scrambled around her unnecessary protector and positioned herself between us. She placed her flat palm on my chest, peering up into my eyes. I met her gaze and immediately regretted the decision. The pain of loss and want that lanced through my chest was crushing, causing every muscle in my body to shiver in agony.

Christ, I loved her. She was meant to be with ME and I had lost her to a guy in a fucking wife-beater.

"Ranger, nothing happened," she whispered quietly, her voice gentle but adamant. "I know this looks bad, but it's not what you think."

I couldn't contain the ruthless laugh that escaped me. I mean, I loved her … so much, but I wasn't a fool and I refused to be lied to. "Isn't that what you told Morelli about me, Babe?"

Did she honestly think I'd fall for that, for the same white lies that she fed to that naive cop for years? Sure, she always stopped me before she thought things went too far (personally, if we were together and another man had his hands all over her ass, I'd break that shit off… his hands AND our relationship) but our relationship was anything but platonic … and Morelli knew it. Fuck, everybody knew it.

But this was where he and I differed. While he was content to believe the lie and live in denial, I was a realist and I knew that any man in the presence of a beautiful woman became an opportunist… and Stephanie was definitely an opportunity.

She flinched away from me, her breath hitching as if the air had been physically forced from her lungs. What? It was true, and she knew it. Her jaw dropped open in shock and her eyes filled with tears, but the look of guilt that I expected to see never came. The lack of that one emotion was unsettling to say the least. Surely she should have felt some sort of remorse, some small sense of guilt for breaking my heart …

"What the hell are you implying, Carlos?"

I cringed at my given name. I'd wanted to hear her say it so badly, but never had I imagined it spit at me like an obscenity. "I'm not implying anything, Stephanie," I hissed. "I've seen enough to know exactly what's going on here." I felt like an intruder. Here they were in their pajamas, probably refueling from their nighttime "activities" and I was interrupting them. Fuck!

97 days … She couldn't wait 97 fucking days for me… and yet, I would feel her loss every day for the rest of my life.

Her azure eyes chilled like frost on a window pane and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Is that right? Well, since you clearly have it all figured out, there's nothing I can say."

I watched the emotions flicker across her face… shock, offense, hurt…

Why the hell was she looking at me like that? Like I was the bad guy here? How would she have reacted if the roles had been reversed? If she had walked into my apartment and found me with another woman? At least I would have had the decency to be ashamed about it. And, it's not like she'd never lied about another man before. Jesus, I'd been the "other man"!

"I think you've insulted the lady enough for one evening." As if he words weren't bad enough, the fucker actually had the balls to open the front door for me.

Bold … but extremely stupid, and he had just given me the excuse I needed to kick his ass.

I stalked towards him, snarling in his face, "You got a fucking death wish, pretty boy?" In that case I would have gladly made that wish come true …

He smiled that same antagonizing smile, "Not tonight." He leaned towards me, as if whispering a dirty joke to one of his old drinking buddies. "I have a feeling that the next few hours will be very … very much worth living." He looked beyond me towards Stephanie and scanned her body appreciatively. "Thanks to you, anyways."

Fucking opportunist.

Before I could even register my own actions, I threw him into the wall, slamming his head into the sheetrock with enough force to rattle his teeth. God help me I was gonna kill the bastard. I was gonna kill him… and then I was gonna spit on his ashes.

A large figure filled the doorway and I instinctively prepared myself for multiple attackers.

"Hey, Bomber, I was just … what the hell?" Tank mumbled with confused, wide eyes as he took in the scene before him. "We got a situation here, Rangeman?" he asked, his hand immediately moving to the weapon concealed at the small of his back.

"Not for long," I growled, meaning every word in the most vital of contexts. "You need something, Tank?" I didn't need any more witnesses and I certainly didn't want any help. I wasn't going to actually kill him…I loved her too much to do that. But, I'd make him wish he was dead... See, I could be rational.

"No, man… I just wanted to make sure Bomber made it home okay."

What the fuck is he talking about? I kept hold of the bastard's neck but turned to look at Tank with a raised brow, silently waiting for him to continue.

"I didn't know you were back, or I would've just called you. The trackers on Bomber's car stayed idol at the grocery store for over an hour. I went to check on her… and found her car broken down in the lot.

When I questioned the checker he said that a woman matching her description came in alone and purchased a shit load of ice cream. He also said that she seemed a little … off. I came to make sure she was okay..."

What? She was alone? None of this was making any sense…

"Thank you, Tank. Chase, here, offered to give me a ride home." Stephanie turned to look at me through narrowed, scathing eyes. "Such a nice gesture from a complete stranger … don't you think, Ranger?"

Stunned I released my hold on the "Good Samaritan." What the fuck had I done?

"Babe, wait! I'm-" My words were cut off by a crushing blow to my jaw, sending me staggering backwards and blurring my vision. I didn't even spare a glance at my attacker, my eyes glued to Stephanie's retreating form. She marched into her room and violently slammed the door shut behind her. Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!

Chase shook his head, clenching and unclenching his, soon to be, bruised knuckles as he walked through the door. "That was for her, asshole."

Good, because I had never deserved anything more.

****I know that most people don't often leave a review (less than 10 percent of readers actually) but I'd really like to hear your thoughts on this…

How do you feel about Ranger's perspective on Stephanie and Morelli's relationship, and the boundary crossing she often did with Ranger while they were together? Granted, he was often the pursuer, but now that Ranger and Steph have a chance to be together, do you think he has reason to doubt her and her idea of boundaries and commitment? He definitely jumped the gun in this chapter, and has no claim on her, but remember all of the stolen kisses, touches, ect. from the books? At one point Joe walked into her apartment when she and Ranger were in bed together! Yikes! Sooo…do you think (if you were him) he should be worried that she would do the same thing to him? Do you think he would have doubts about trusting her and her word? Is it justified for him to feel that way, and though wrong, does it explain (not excuse) his reaction above and maybe his hesitancy towards a relationship with her? Let me know your thoughts : ) They'll each get their say in the next chapter, but this is something I've always wondered about while reading the books and I'd really appreciate it if you took a minute to let me know your opinion. Thanks!

Jen