Disclaimer: The characters belonging to Janet Evanovich are used strictly for entertainment purposes.
A/N: Thanks for the support from all of my readers and those who left reviews. Again, thanks to M for helping to chase away my posting nightmares by taking second, third, fourth, and sometimes fifth, looks at my chapters! Thanks to Alf for tweaking my brain and thanks to May for her much needed edits. :)
Joe stumbled up the steps to his porch and cursed when he failed to get his key into the lock of the front door. He gave his head a shake and stared at the keyhole. When he finally got the front door open, he moved on feet unsteady from the beer and wild gorilla sex with not one, not two, but three women. He hadn't thought he would make it out intact last night, or rather this morning, when he told them he had to leave.
Joe rubbed his aching temples and looked at the clock. It was four AM. With his luck, the two all-seeing biddies on his street observed his stellar arrival and, by now, everyone in the Burg knew what time he'd crawled home and in exactly what condition. Not only did the Ducati's engine whir like a sonic hummingbird, but also his thumb had slipped and hit the horn when he braked in the driveway. The grand finale had come when the bike fell over after he dismounted. In no condition to hoist it back up, he had kicked the tire and injured his foot. The nosy women had most likely reported Stephanie's departure last night to the top echelon of the Burg; in this case, his mother and Ellen Plum. Now, the best he could hope for was that last night's romp stayed under wraps until he could run damage control with Stephanie's parents.
He figured Stephanie had moved her stuff out posthaste; she never hesitated to leave after they'd had a fight. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed hard to dislodge it. The memory of the look on her face when he'd made his final statement caused an ache deep in his chest. He didn't want her to leave, hadn't meant to push her, but he couldn't live with the doubt anymore.
He should be grateful for this fight. They needed a good test, something to prove they stood a chance and could survive a relationship crisis. Maybe she could compromise and try to accept some of the Burg lifestyle and he could even try to accept her job.
Who was he kidding? He'd told her they were done if she didn't marry him. He might be able to convince her to take him back, but she would never trust him again. He could forget marriage to her anytime soon and, to be quite frank, she could forget his trust when she had to work with Ranger.
Joe weaved his way across the foyer to the kitchen. He grabbed a couple of ice cubes from the half-full tray in the freezer and held them to his temples. There was no way she would ever speak to him again. Especially when she found out about last night's little indiscretion. He knew she would. He had seen that prick Lester Santos walk into Pino's, had even flipped him off. Joe knew that he was Stephanie's occasional partner at Rangeman and had disregarded that the man witnessed his brazen pursuits. Much easier to be brave like that when you've got a buzz to give you courage, Morelli.
He leaned over the sink to catch the drops of water that fell from the cubes as they melted. As he stared at the drain, he conceded that he couldn't ever accept her life as a bounty hunter. He had constant heartburn stemming from his worry over her safety. Every time she went out to catch a skip, every time she picked up a new stalker … every time she was with Ranger.
Joe dropped the small slivers of ice into the sink and dried his hands. Manoso. In truth, the man was the biggest threat to Joe's sanity. He saw how the bounty hunter looked at her, how he touched her. He'd even seen them kiss outside her apartment building once, and that had happened during one of their 'on' phases. Joe was no fool. He knew women drooled over Manoso's body; he'd heard enough comments about it from some women at work. Even the guys made comments about how Stephanie found Manoso irresistible. He should have confronted her about it at the time, but he had faithfully believed it was he, Joseph Anthony Morelli, who held her heart no matter how attracted she was to the other man. It hadn't occurred to him that he might be wrong until he'd forced her hand. He'd known she wouldn't marry him and now he'd pushed her over to the competition.
Joe stumbled up the stairs to the bathroom and turned on the shower. He had to wash the stench of those women off his body. He wanted to get into bed and savor the smell of Stephanie's scent on his sheets; to remember her when he finally managed to fall asleep. His final words to her haunted him when he stepped under the hot pellets of water. Sleep would be problematic; what sleep he might get would be restless and interrupted by dreams of her.
Later today he'd have to go face Stephanie's parents. Joe didn't know why it mattered, but he wanted to assure them he hadn't cheated on her. He knew his outward reason for turning to them was a slight fib, but it was the best shot he had at getting Ellen Plum on his side. When it came to Stephanie, her mother knew exactly which buttons to push and when, a fact that made her an invaluable ally. If he was careful how he worded his case, Ellen would be on the phone to Stephanie relaying all the reasons she should take him back. A dirty trick, he knew, but it was necessary to have someone help break through the wall she would no doubt build between them since their conversation last night.
Joe wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out of the shower. He felt washed, but not cleansed. In his bedroom, the sight of the rumpled bed changed his mind about sleep. His dirty clothes basket caught his eye and he walked over to pick out, and put on, the clothes he'd worn the previous afternoon. He and Stephanie had watched a movie together wrapped up in each others' arms several hours before the fight, before the beer … before the women. The clothes were now neither clean nor dirty, but they still carried her scent and he wanted to feel close to her. She wouldn't be at her parents' house and he wanted to start chipping away at her emotional wall before it became too thick. He needed to apologize, even grovel, but he wouldn't sit by and watch her run to Manoso.
Bob whined when Joe's feet hit the bottom landing of the stairs. He winced in pain when he turned toward the back door, and then sighed. Kicking the bike hadn't helped his morning. Joe opened the back door and Bob bounded outside to do his business. He looked at the clock and saw that it was quarter to five. The shower had eaten up some of his time, but he wanted to wait a little longer to leave or tongues would wag faster at his hasty departure from his house. Breakfast sounded good, he had used his energy reserves last night.
He pulled the makings of an omelet from the fridge and turned on the stove to heat up while he started the coffee maker. When Bob whined at the back door, he opened it and said, "Good boy." Bob settled on the rug at the foot of the stairs to watch and drool. Joe shook his head as he buttered the toast that popped out of the toaster. With a steady hand, he slid the omelet onto a slice of toast and covered it with the other.
An omelet sandwich and two cups of coffee later, it was five thirty-six. Bob's food dish was full and he had fresh water; Joe was fed and full of caffeine, coffee cup in the sink. "Protect and serve, big guy," he said after he locked the back door and pulled on his jacket. He tripped down the front porch steps and crossed the front lawn to his driveway. With a grunt, he heaved the heavy bike upright and climbed on, speeding off into the early spring morning.
The lot of her building was quiet and the air crisp and cold. Frost had crept up the windows of the cars, slow and steady throughout the night, and glowed with a mystic bluish white light reflected from the street lamps above. Joe parked his bike near the lobby door in a half spot open between a large van and a little Sentra parked too far apart in their spaces.
He went in the back door and took the stairs. The elevator was a joke. If it wasn't breaking down, it still moved slower than Joe could take the stairs four times over. The antiquated and unpredictable apparatus groaned and whined with every movement. Joe always felt nervous on it because a sudden drop didn't seem too far-fetched. When he reached Stephanie's door, he jimmied it open the way he had done a thousand times. If he knocked, she could turn him away. If he went inside, he could convince her to hear him out. Disappointment flooded through his mind when he walked into the apartment. He could tell by the emptiness that she hadn't returned. He saw a Pino's box on the coffee table and walked over to examine it. A cold pepperoni, green peppers, and extra cheese pizza sat inside, untouched. Stephanie's favorite. She hadn't come home, but she'd had a visitor who knew her well.
He gave the apartment a quick search and noted that none of her possessions from his house were there. So, she'd never come home. The pizza wasn't a mystery when he remembered Santos' presence in Pino's earlier. Easy to see that he'd brought a pizza to console her and hadn't found her at home, either. Santos wasn't a bad guy; still, Joe couldn't help but feel satisfaction that he had failed to find Stephanie, as well. The principle that Santos was Manoso's man warranted Joe's contempt. If Joe had to fail, at least Manoso did, too. Unless … unless Manoso had intercepted her trip home and took her back to the little love nest he kept in his security building.
Joe scrubbed his face with both hands. Manoso taking his place was an unacceptable possibility. He'd gone more than a little crazy, and perhaps a touch suicidal, because his irrational mind concluded the best way to handle the snafu was to go interrupt them. He didn't want 'I'm just a convenience to you' to be the last comment in her memory when she thought of him, but wanted her to know that he loved her, genuinely loved her. If she'd already heard about the women, he'd explain his anger and depression over their split. He wasn't ready to lose her. He wanted to fight to keep her, keep them, at least the best part of who they'd been.
Shit! She's not going to listen to me. Joe stood in the hallway outside her door and waited a beat, lost in thought. It was probably best to go home and sleep so he could act like a rational person, but his Italian temper couldn't quite grasp the concept of 'reasonable' behavior. He trotted down the stairs and climbed onto the Duc. Why did I go and open my big mouth?
*\/*\/*\/*\/*
Tank paced over the stripes of early morning sunlight that leaked through the blinds onto the carpet in his office, his mind full of his conversation with Lula and worry over Stephanie. Those two women would be the death of him, or at the minimum, the death of his sanity. Lula had gone postal over the phone when he told her about Stephanie and Ranger's conversation; well, that, and the news that they couldn't find Stephanie. She demanded that he go and find 'White Girl' and bring her to Lula's where she could ply her friend with alcohol and greasy food until they came up with a plan to castrate 'Batman' in his sleep.
He winced and hoped that Lula's statement had been a joke, but suspected that she was dead serious. Lester's report that Stephanie hadn't gone back to her apartment had raised his unease to unsurpassed levels. He'd felt his anger rear its head when Lester relayed the story about Morelli in Pino's. What a prick! Tank had said to leave Stephanie alone, but he wondered if he was wrong. He'd wanted to give Stephanie space and respect her privacy for once, especially after Ranger's stupidity. Now he was glad Santos hadn't listened to him.
Morelli was no idiot, nor was he overtly cruel where Stephanie was concerned. Morelli out in public, especially in the Burg, flaunting his behavior with three women meant something monumental had happened between the two of them. Even when he and Stephanie were 'off', Morelli hadn't openly chased after any woman, let alone three at once. Tank had been wrong last night, it was more important to find Stephanie then he'd first considered, if for no other reason than to determine her well-being.
Tank added a conversation with Stephanie on his mental list as item number two. First was to find Morelli and shake him down. He had some explaining to do and Tank intended to solve last night's puzzles. Better to know what state of mind to expect from Stephanie when they caught up to her. Ben & Jerry's got tacked onto his list as item number three.
He withdrew his cell from its holster on his hip with the intent to call Lester, but the phone on his desk buzzed. He punched the intercom button and Hal's voice sounded from the speaker. "Morelli's here and he's demanding to see the Boss … and Miss Plum."
"Ranger is off-line," Tank said and punched the button once again to shut down the call. He left his office and ignored the second buzz he had expected. Morelli wouldn't back down, not if his visit concerned the Bombshell. When he reached the control room, he saw Hal press speed dial two on his keypad. "No need, I'm here. Where's Morelli?"
"The lobby. I sent Binkie down to try to calm him. Morelli is so pissed he wants to shove his size twelves up someone's ass. He already made dents in the front door with them. We've never seen him so far out of control. Binkie said he can't understand a word out of Morelli's mouth." Hal gestured to the monitor centered on the lobby and sent Tank a quizzical look, but Tank ignored it.
Tank said, "Keep an eye on him," and turned around to leave. He took the stairs to give himself time to cool off before he reached Morelli. Tank had no clue how he would answer Morelli's questions, but he knew what answers he would demand. "Morelli," he greeted the other man with stiff lips when he pushed through the stairwell door into the lobby.
"You tell Manoso I want Stephanie down here. Now!" Morelli shouted and shoved his finger in Tank's face.
Tank noticed Morelli's bloodshot eyes and the suppressed rage that trembled in his voice. Interesting that Morelli was so livid he would forget his training. Clearly, the crisis had reached FUBAR level in no time. "Ranger isn't here and neither is Stephanie."
"He took her somewhere?" Morelli's eyes almost bugged out of his head.
"Sounds like you don't need to worry about where Stephanie is or who took her. Word is you have plenty of company now … or at least had it." Tank crossed his arms and leveled Morelli with a glare. "What's going on between you two, anyway?"
The cop had the decency to look away. "None of your damn business! I need to talk to her. She's not at her apartment and she won't answer her phone."
Tank narrowed his eyes at Morelli and stared him down. "I think if you want any answers from me, you'd better answer my question."
"I want to see her, first."
The large man shook his head and blew his breath out through his nose. "Ranger is out of town, Stephanie's not with him, and she's not here. Try somewhere else." Tank turned around to leave and Morelli called out his name. Tank stopped and cocked his head at a slight angle to suggest he would listen, but refused to turn around. He wanted Morelli to understand that he didn't take orders from him and he still wanted the answer to his question.
"Will you call me if she contacts you?"
"No. Go home, Morelli." Tank left the room on that word and stepped into elevator, his hand automatically reached for the number five button.
Morelli's enraged voice shouted from behind, "Hey!"
The doors closed and shut Morelli out. Tank pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. He sensed a massive migraine forming and didn't think he'd find relief anytime soon. Damn Ranger.
*\/*\/*\/*\/*
Stephanie bit into the succulent piece of lobster tail drenched in butter and released a sigh of appreciation. "Wow! This is so great! I love how you can get great-tasting seafood like this so cheap at these roadside diners on the coast. I can't thank you both enough for taking me out to dinner. You didn't have to do this." She raised her iridescent gaze to her two heroes of the evening.
"Sweetcakes, with eyes like yours, I would have taken you out to a nicer place than this, but we just couldn't wait any longer to eat. From the way you tore into that lobster, neither could you," Merc said with a wide grin which faded when he noticed Stephanie's scrunched up nose and curled lip. Merc blinked his eyes at her, his brow creased in question. "What did I say to upset you?"
She bit her bottom lip and deliberated for a moment. "Tell you what, we'll be fine if you don't call me any names with the word 'cake' in it. All right?"
"Cake?" His expression displayed his confusion. "What's wrong with cake?"
She released the breath that had caught in her throat. "Trust me, it's a long story about someone I used to date; someone who is a great person, just not the right one for me."
Geo and Merc nodded at her. The unison movements of two honey blonde, spiky-haired men with full, dark brown facial beards and two sets of light brown eyes almost made Stephanie dizzy, as if she had double vision. Yikes. "All right. No using nicknames with the word 'cake' in them. Any others?"Geo asked.
Stephanie looked uncomfortable for a moment before she spoke. "Babe. Do not call me any version of babe."
"Duly noted." Merc looked at Geo, who nodded his agreement.
She sent them a serious look and said, "Before you ask, I don't want to talk about it." When her eyes changed from the navy blue they had become from enjoying her food to the hard blue-gray of determination, both sensed that further discussion on this subject was prohibited.
"No problem. Hey, I have it! How about if we just call you Michelle Belle and Belle for short?" Merc looked pleased with his own ingenuity.
Stephanie beamed. A whole new identity and a new nickname, this she could live with. "Perfect!"
Geo grinned at her while she put her fingers into her mouth to suck off the butter. "You're not afraid to love food, are you? Most women want to act like they never eat."
Stephanie finished off the butter on her thumb, pulled the digit out with a pop, and then cleaned the greasy liquid from her lips with a swipe of her tongue. "Well, not me. I love food and no one had better get in my way when I'm hungry." A slight color blossomed on her cheeks, "I have a somewhat, uh, vocal stomach."
"This I have to hear," Merc said. Both men grinned in amusement and, for a brief moment, Stephanie wondered if everyone she met would think she was a joke. It was like she was… Oh shit! I'm a young version of Grandma Mazur. No one takes me seriously and everyone thinks I'm crazy!
Merc's hand covered hers the moment the thought left her mind. "Don't look so worried. We think you're cool, refreshing."
"Very cool," Geo agreed, "very refreshing."
"I am?" They nodded in unison again and Stephanie sent them a shy smile. "Thanks."
Their server came with the check and Geo handed her a small stack of bills. "Look, I don't know what Mr. Cake did to you … or the 'one who must remain nameless', but don't worry about what we think. If there's something we don't like or understand, we'll ask. We're all adults here, right?"
Merc nodded and Stephanie followed suit in mild shock. Adults, grown-ups. Well, why not? They were two distinctions she had avoided because both meant responsibility, but she realized she was ready to grow up. "Sure, great."
"So, where do we drop you off?" Geo asked.
"Well…" Frustration set in. She had left the decision-making part of her flight to freedom for when she actually got to Atlantic City. The diner sat just outside the city limits and she had no clue what she wanted to do or where she wanted to go. The small flutter of panic she had first sensed in her chest when she left Trenton had now grown to full-fledged worry. She had her credit card, but Ranger could easily trace it. She would get a hotel tonight with the cash she carried and worry about the rest tomorrow.
"You don't have a place to stay, do you? What did you plan to do, just drive into town and play it by ear?" Merc's face was serious while he questioned her.
If the deep red color of her cheeks hadn't given her away, the guilty look in her eyes would have. "I just needed to get out of town. I knew I'd get here late, so a hotel room was my first," and only, "step. I figured that plans could wait until breakfast or lunch, at the latest." She felt defensive and set her jaw in defiance against Merc's inquiry.
The two brothers' eyes met in silent communication. Great! Just what I need, more people around who converse without speaking. They looked back at her and then Geo said, "I know you just met us, but we can't let you loose in this town on your own. We'll worry."
"You guys don't have to do that, I've survived on my own up till now." Sure you have, Steph. With trackers and panic buttons attached to your person twenty-four, seven.
"Come with us. We know a ton of people. Hey, we might even be about to help you find a job," Merc mused while he stood and pulled on his jacket. "At least give us a chance to help you."
"Fine, but I buy breakfast in the morning." Stephanie stood and grabbed her coat, then stuck out her hand to Merc, the obvious ringleader of the duo.
"Deal!" Merc shook her hand first, and then Geo. Life promised to be more interesting with these two around!