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

A/N: Thank you again to my readers. The last chapter felt like a huge risk and I appreciate the responses I got from some of you. This chapter will explain some things and start the ball rolling toward the end. Thanks so much for your continued support.

Also thanks to M for sticking with me through major edits and changes I made to this chapter and to Alf for the unique way you make me think about what my characters are saying, and also for taking the time to go through this chapter despite your full schedule. I greatly appreciate it, ladies.

Tank sat in the guest chair at Ranger's desk. Ranger had Stephanie's file in front of him on the desktop as he poured through the contents. Tank knew the perusal wasn't an act of mistrust as much as a means to feed his troubled mind. "Granger had a good lead here," Ranger murmured while reading the page Tank could almost recite by heart.

"Sure he did, until the woman turned out not to be Stephanie." Tank rubbed his eyes. It was four in the morning and he wasn't in the mood to humor Ranger's anal retentive personality. "We have been through every lead. They're all dead ends; none of them play out."

Ranger looked up at him briefly and Tank could see the fatigue and sadness in his friend's eyes. "I have to find her."

"Yeah? Do you have a plan for what you'll do if you find her?"

Ranger stared at him for a full thirty seconds. It was apparent he hadn't considered the 'after' part one bit. He pursed his lips forward a fraction of a second before he said, "Beg."

Tank shook his head. "Great plan, but you've been home almost two months and haven't stopped since you got back. You won't find her going about it this way." He stood and loomed over the hardened soldier who had been reduced to a sulking, pathetic shell of his former self. "If I have to get Brown up here to sedate you, I will. No," he said, changing his mind, "I'll just knock out your sorry ass myself." Ranger's expression darkened and he looked back down at the file, his version of a dismissal. Tank, out of sheer frustration, grabbed the file from his hands and flung it across the room. Papers shot into the air and then floated down, weaving back and forth, on their way to blanket the floor. "Go to bed, Ricardo. You're no good to her or anyone else like this. Rest. Start again tomorrow. That's an order!"

"You. Don't. Order. Me. Around." Ranger stood as he spit out the angry words. "Get out of my office and go to bed yourself if you're tired. Pick up the file before you leave."

Tank glared at his friend for a second, then left the office. He'd catch hell from Ranger for the file, but he had more important issues on his mind. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Brown, who was on duty in the monitor room. "Yo. Meet me in my office." He snapped his phone closed and tromped into his office.

Bobby joined him minutes later and closed the door behind him. "What's up?"

"I need you to sedate Ranger."

"No fucking way. Come up with a different plan." Bobby crossed his arms and stared Tank down. "I like my fingers and toes unbroken. What's the matter with you? Give him time; he'll learn to deal with it. We did."

Tank glared at Bobby. "He needs to sleep, he won't do it."

"Find another way, Tank. I'm not doing it. Not only could it shorten my lifespan, but an attempt to stick a struggling man can cause the needle to break off and I don't want that responsibility on my head, either."

"We can hold him down–"

Bobby held up a hand and cut off Tank's statement. "I said find another way. Get creative. There has to be someone he doesn't argue with, someone who has enough power to make him listen."

The larger man sighed and suddenly felt like breaking fingers and toes himself. "Stephanie was the only one with that kind of power."

Bobby reached up a hand to stroke his chin thoughtfully. "I don't buy it. She can't be the only one. There has to be at least one other person he doesn't want to piss off, a person he can't tell no."

At that, Tank's eyes brightened. "Right." He picked up the handset to the phone on his desk and dialed nine for an outside line, then dialed a number he knew by heart. "Yo." There was silence as he listened to the other party. "Yeah. Hey, I called because Ric is out of control and I need reinforcements." His comment was followed by another brief interlude. "That's why I called." A short pause. "Thanks, I owe you."

Bobby watched Tank rest the handset back in its cradle. "What was that all about?"

"I did what you said, called in some muscle."

"I'm not injecting him." Bobby's voice betrayed his annoyance.

"Not needed."

*\/*\/*\/*\/*

Stephanie practically inhaled her meal. If she hurried, she'd be done before Merc finished his shower. Then she could run to her room, lock the door, jump into bed, and spend the rest of the night denying the wild, crazy, sexy, wonderful make out session with Merc hadn't taken place. Nope, never happened, and no one would make her admit it. It had been a normal night. They played their two sets, had the meeting, went out for dinner, came home, and went to their rooms. End of story.

She tipped the French fry carton into her mouth and crunched the last little bits from the bottom. As she stood and made her way to the trash can, she slurped the remainder of her Coke, and tossed her trash into the bin. Three steps from her door, she heard Merc's sultry voice ask, "Belle?" She stopped cold, closed her eyes, and counted to five.

When she turned around, she found Merc leaning against the door frame to his room with an amused expression on his face. "Running away?"

"Me?" She stretched and feigned a huge yawn. "No way. Just tired. Need some sleep. See you in the morning."

"Stop."

She froze mid-step and eased her body back around to face him. "Yes?"

He walked over to her and she forced herself not to look at his bare chest. It was just a chest. She'd seen it many times. Nothing had changed; it was still the same chest – with pebbled nipples and the memory of hers pressed against it. Mental head slap. Why, why, why did she do these things to herself?

She forced her eyes up from where they'd settled at the waistband of his athletic pants and met the coppery depths of his eyes. Unable to tear her gaze away, she felt drawn to him by an invisible cord. They stood in front of each other with no physical contact, but their bodies felt connected regardless.

When they got home from McDonald's, she'd removed her contacts and washed her face before she ate. Now she regretted her hasty decision. As the seconds ticked by, his eyes grew warmer, hotter, more intense. If she didn't step back–

Too late, she saw his hands come up to frame her face. "Stephanie," he whispered, "what am I going to do about you?" His fingers slipped back into her hair to cup her head and his thumbs stroked along either side of her jaw. "I can't kiss you anymore."

"No," she whispered to him. Neither was sure if her no meant 'don't stop' or 'you're right'. It no longer mattered. He held her head steady while his mouth descended onto hers. Suddenly, Stephanie was at the same place she'd been back in the bar with him: hot and needy.

Without the barrier of her jacket, his hands felt like hot irons when they lowered to roam up and down her back. His fingers trailed over the waistband of her skirt and all cognitive thought ceased; from that point, she could only feel. With a moan, she molded her hands to his sculpted chest and fanned her fingers out over his hard pecs. Her thumbs flicked over his firm nipples and he gave a low growl, then lowered his hands to splay over the upper curve of her firm buttocks.

She gasped into his mouth and he groaned. He dragged his teeth lightly over her bottom lip and sucked it into his mouth to nibble and taste her fullness. Their tongues met, teeth scraped, and lips brushed. She raked her nails down his chest and his hands squeezed her flesh to pull her body tight against his.

Stephanie dropped her head back on a low moan and he gently bit his way down her neck, then stroked his tongue against her pulse point. She slid her hands up his chest and neck to grab his hair roughly and arched her neck back further.

He murmured, "Belle" against her hammering pulse and pressed her back to the wall. She cried out and arched her back when his teeth closed over her pulse point. His arm slipped around her waist to hold her steady while he traced his fingertips over the spaghetti strap of her camisole.

"Perfect," he rasped and lifted his head to kiss her deeply. His hands molded to her waist and he firmly massaged his way to the sides of her breasts. Once there, his thumbs lightly stroked up and down the soft flesh peeking out the side of her camisole, not quite touching her breast and not quite not touching it, either.

The feel of his rough pads against her sensitive skin nearly sent her through the ceiling. Stephanie's response began as a frozen breath, and then she gasped in a barely audible sound, but it broke the spell. He released her and snapped his head up, ripping his hair from her hands with the motion. His eyes pierced into hers as he caught his breath. "No," she groaned softly. "No."

"Belle, shhh." He rested his forehead against hers and released a sigh. "We have to stop. I meant what I said earlier. We have to talk about this." He kissed her forehead. Stephanie crossed her arms over her breasts to hide her protruding nipples. "I meant to just talk, I didn't mean to–"

"Would you stop apologizing?" she groaned in frustration. "Please, Merc. If you want to talk, talk." She tilted her head back and stared at the ceiling while trying to catch her breath.

"Hey, this is me. Don't be upset, I'm not rejecting you, just the opposite. I know if we continue, I won't be able to give you up and I don't think that would be wise without you settling your heart." He compressed his lips at her refusal to look at him and released a sigh when she stomped toward the couch. He said softly, "Belle."

Stephanie slowed her steps and stopped to turn around. With regret in her eyes she met his. "I know. I'm not angry with you, I'm – angry with myself. Ugh!" she growled. "I want it, Merc. Sex. With you. So bad I was ready to disregard the consequences." She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. "But at the same time, I can't be that person."

He walked across the room to her. "I know." He held out his arms and she stepped into them to accept his hug. "This is why we need to talk."

She nodded against his chest. "Okay." She pulled back and sat on the couch. He followed her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Her arms went around his waist and she cuddled into his chest. This was familiar territory.

"You know I love you; and because I love you, I want to give you a chance to be who you need to be." She raised her head to look at him in confusion. "Belle, I don't want to put limits on you. We're in a band together now, but you could take over the world tomorrow. Devin wasn't kidding when he said you're impressive."

"Are you implying I'll be kicked out or leave the band? That someone will stroke my ego and I'll think I'm too good for you?"

He smiled. "I'm saying that, in this business, nothing lasts forever. You have potential to do anything, be anything – go anywhere. Beyond that, you have such a capacity for love, Stephanie. You open up your heart so readily to those around you." He gave her a squeeze. "You think we opened up to you, but it was you who accepted us as we were."

"I think we give each other what we need," she said quietly.

"I agree." He nodded his head for a few seconds and remained silent for a couple of minutes. "I don't want us to mistake deep affection and mutual attraction for something less than what I think we're both looking for in our lives. I could feel that for you easily, but I think you have to deal with your past."

Her breath hitched in her throat and she felt her eyes grow moist. "I do."

"Yes. This is about you, all of this: your music, your love, your hurt. You've avoided your feelings and the problems that made you run away for the past year. You barely talk about what happened. As much as I don't want to think about it, much less point it out, you still love Ranger."

"What?"

"It seems like you live in the shadow of what he said to you. Of how much you think that statement makes you worth. It's not fair to you or those who love you. You're stuck in that spot; you've not moved forward." He hugged her tighter. "I want one-hundred percent; you want to give one-hundred percent, but ask yourself: who do you want to give it to? We make the wrong choice, we both pay later."

Stephanie closed her eyes and tightened her arms around his waist. She knew he was right, he often saw through her evasive measures. She didn't want to face her past, think about Ranger, or make any decisions; she wanted her life to simply move on and hopefully end up in a place where she was happy.

"I sense a little frustration."

"I don't want to do it, Merc. He tossed me away. Why should I think about him?" She blew out a breath and squeezed her eyes shut tight.

"Stephanie, tell me you're not still in love with him." His voice was quiet, so quiet she wouldn't have heard him if his mouth wasn't against her ear.

"I don't love–" She couldn't say it. "I'm trying not to love him." She felt him nod against her head and the dam broke. Tears, hot and heavy, fell down her cheeks. "I loved him – love him. Forever, it feels. I always knew he could be c-cold, even mean, but he was never that way to me, except that once – and I can't seem to let it go." Her heart broke all over again, or maybe it finally bled the way she hadn't allowed, the way she needed.

He held her while she cried and spoke fractured words of loss and pain. Little by little, she allowed the tears to rid her heart of the bitterness and anger she'd stored. "I wanted to dull my pain," she moaned, "but you would have suffered for it in the long run."

"Shh," he kissed the top of her head, "I know, sweetie. I know, and I'm just as guilty. The truth is, if you ever decided you could give yourself to me, I'm yours." He kissed her forehead and brushed the hair from her eyes. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep away tonight, though; I should have."

"Sorry? You've been nothing but wonderful to me." She cupped his cheek with her hand. "You deserve so much more than I've given you."

He set her away from him a little. "Hey, you've given me as much as you can give, maybe more than you should have." He tapped her nose with his index finger. "And I'm still thankful for your friendship; no worries, Belle. You're still my best girl." They smiled at each other.

"You call me a girl; I'm five years older than you, kid," she said.

He gave her a quick kiss and stood. "I think I need a shower."

"You just took a shower."

"I know," he said and winked. She watched as he walked back to his room. He stopped and turned back. "Want to go out for brunch in the morning?"

"Yeah, where?"

"New place I want to show you. Fatty, cholesterol-packed food. Promise." He grinned.

"It's a date," she said as she stood to go to her room for a shower and sleep. The cry had been good for her. Somehow her long-buried Ranger feelings had been unearthed and, even though she still loved him, she felt the path open up for her to disentangle herself from him so she could move forward. One step at a time.

*\/*\/*\/*\/*

Loud banging on her door woke her. She cracked open an eye and looked at the alarm clock. Eleven. Ugh. She'd gone to bed after five. Six hours was not enough sleep. "What?" she croaked.

"Brunch!" Merc yelled from the other side. "Get up or I'll come in and torture you awake."

"It's too early!"

"It's brunch. Come on, Belle. We'll take my new car; I haven't had a chance to show it to you." From the mumbled sound of his voice, she could tell he pressed his mouth into the crack of her door. She smiled. She did love his antics. "Five minutes. Put your hair up, throw on sweats, and get your ass out here or I will spank it."

"Slave driver!" she yelled, but she was smiling. Things were normal and she was thrilled. She rolled out of her bed and went over to her dresser to pull on a bra, underwear, t-shirt, running pants, and matching jacket. On her way out, she stopped in the bathroom to pull her hair into a ponytail and swiped on a coat of mascara. She realized she forgot socks and ran over to grab them from her sock drawer.

When she opened the door, Merc stood there with a raised fist ready to pound on the door again. "Cutting it close, Plum."

She flipped him off and ran away with a shriek when he bent to smack her ass. He grabbed her and tossed her over his shoulder, then strode to the door. "Stop! I don't have my shoes or my wig!"

"No more hiding, Stephanie," he said. He stopped by the door and waited.

She thought about it with her head hanging down against his back. No more hiding? No more hiding. "Shit. I hate you right now."

He chuckled. "No you don't. No more hiding, Belle."

"Fine. Can I at least have shoes and my sunglasses??"

Two minutes later, with shoes and sunglasses added to her outfit, she walked down the hallway to the elevator, hand in hand, with Merc. "Good job, Belle." His eyes roamed over her wig-free head.

She shook her head. "Okay, I am not hiding, but I'm not announcing my presence, either."

"It's all I ask. Just let things happen. If he's meant to find you, he will."

She nudged his side with her elbow. The elevator arrived on the ground floor and they held hands through the lobby and out the front doors. "You know, Merc. When we move to a condo, you're going to miss all this star treatment you boys get here at the hotel."

"Nah, I think I'd like to see how the other half lives." He winked.

She snorted. "Come to Trenton and stay three months with me trying to make ends meet as a bond enforcement agent."

"I think that would be fun. Can you promise I wouldn't get shot?"

"No."

"Hmm, I'll think it over."

"Shut up."

"Here's my car," he said.

Stephanie groaned as the silver Porsche Cayenne pulled up. She had never mentioned what cars Ranger drove and knew he hadn't bought it to make a point, but it still had her mind reeling.

"Is something wrong?" He put a hand on her shoulder, his face full of concern. "Belle?"

She shook her head, removing her eyes from the car and forcing down her pain. "Sorry, it just reminded me of something."

"The Cayenne?"

"Yeah," she said as she allowed him to help her in and buckled the seatbelt for herself, "the Cayenne." When Merc pulled out onto the road, Stephanie watched the scenery flash by and remained silent, brooding.

Something inside her felt a huge amount of anticipation as they neared the restaurant. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it was as if she'd been waiting to go to the place all her life. Stephanie shook her head to rid her mind of the crazy thoughts, but the feeling didn't go away.

She didn't notice when the car stopped and Merc sat studying her for a minute before he gently reached over to touch her arm. She turned her head to look at him and he saw the raw pain in her eyes and it drove the breath from his lungs as if she'd sucker punched him. "What happened? What's wrong?"

She cleared her head by giving it a small shake and smiled up at him, her eyes still a little sad, "Nothing we have time to go over right now. Besides, I'm really starving." She grinned at his expression when her stomach seconded her statement.

"Food it is, then. But Belle?" She stopped in the midst of opening her door and looked at him. "We'll talk about this later, right?"

Unable to speak, she nodded and pushed herself out of the car, collecting herself as she waited for him to round the back of the car. "What kind of place is this?"

"Ah, it's a little of everything. Lucio loves it. He and Geo come here all the time, and also his cousin when he's in town. I've joined them a few times. I thought you might like it." He took her hand and led her to the front door.

Stephanie grinned at him. "Sounds good." The twinge inside her chest grew stronger when the door opened and she began to have trouble breathing. Merc stopped short of walking through the door, looked at her, and rested a concerned hand on her upper arm.

"Belle! What's wrong?" She looked up at him and pressed a hand to her sternum. "Do you need a hospital? Are you sick?"

Stephanie shook her head. "Chest is tight. Hard to breathe."

"Maybe I should take you home so you can lie down." Stephanie shook her head adamantly. "Do you get anxiety attacks?" Merc hands rested lightly on her shoulders and he peered into her eyes, studying her.

She tugged in a slow breath and held it for a second. After drawing in a second slow breath, she looked up at him. "No, at least, none that weren't induced by a dead body." He quirked a brow at the statement, but didn't question her on it. "I'll be fine. Maybe I'm just hungrier than I thought?"

"Maybe." He looked uncertain.

"Come on, feed me and everything will be fine." She tried to give him a reassuring smile.

"Yes, ma'am." Merc held out his arm to escort her inside the restaurant. "But I'm taking you home for a nice long nap afterwards."

The hostess approached with a bright smile that faded slightly when she saw Stephanie hanging on Merc's arm. "Hi Merc! Awesome set last night," she gushed. Her eyes took in Stephanie for a split second before recognition hit them. "You were great last night, too!"

Stephanie was glad for the sunglasses that hid her shocked look. She hadn't thought she looked anything like Michelle Belle out of costume. Guess she'd been wrong.

The hostess turned back to Merc, "Lucio and mystery man are in the back. You joining them today?"

Merc looked at Stephanie and she nodded. "Sure. Thanks, Mandy." He flashed a bright smile and led Stephanie past the hostess podium toward the back of the restaurant. "She has a little crush on me, but she's too young."

Stephanie tilted her head down and slid her sunglasses down her nose to fix her gaze on him. "Too young for whom?"

He grinned and shook his head. "Trying to fix me up now?"

"She's cute," Stephanie said and slid her glasses up to rest on top of her head. She considered Mandy's adoring, light hazel eyes and her slim, curvy figure. "And she has red hair, your favorite."

"You're something else, Belle." He squeezed her hand with an easy smile on his face and Stephanie matched it.

"Thought you already figured that out." They rounded the corner and saw Lucio, who had just caught a glimpse of them and had a wide smile on his face.

"Belle! Merc!" Lucio called out and rose from his seat. He rushed over to them and did his kiss, kiss, hug thing. Stephanie's nostrils tingled with a familiar scent and wondered when Luc had started to use Bvlgari. "Perfect timing. My cousin met me for breakfast this morning. Come, come. Meet."

He turned around and sashayed back to the booth where the other occupant, dressed in head to toe black, sat with his back against the wall. A split second later, Lucio's 'cousin' turned his head and fixed Stephanie and Merc with a shocked stare.

Stephanie stopped abruptly and her jaw dropped nearly to the floor. Ranger rose from his seat and whispered, "Stephanie."

The air around her seemed to turn to water and none would enter her lungs. Stephanie felt herself sinking toward the floor. Merc slipped an arm around her waist and shook her gently. She saw his mouth move, but didn't hear his words. Suddenly, he shoved her toward the booth and forced her to sit at the edge of the bench seat. Her head was thrust between her knees and she felt Merc's nimble fingers kneading their way down her back and up again.

Soon, she heard Merc's soothing voice and she drug in a huge gulp of air. Denial, always her best friend in turmoil, told her she'd imagined the man; she really didn't know the person who stood behind Merc with his fists clenched. Unfortunately for denial, her conscious mind caught another whiff of Bvlgari and her body thrummed with energy directed toward the powerful presence too close to her. Shit! When she'd agreed with Merc that if Ranger was meant to find her he would find her, she hadn't meant today.

Merc continued to stroke Stephanie's back and then looked up at Luc. "She had a really long night. We didn't get to sleep until after five; she needs to eat fast."

"Sure thing, honey. Belle, sweetie, sit up in the booth and I'll get some coffee for you. Oh, there's our waitress. Christie! Could you bring two more cuppas, honey? You're a gem. Thank you." Stephanie would have smiled if she hadn't been in full panic mode.

Just to make sure she hadn't seen a ghost, Stephanie slowly raised her head, her eyes tracking up the full length of Ranger's body. When she reached his face, her breath hitched again. He was staring at her with a look of disbelief.

No, no, no!