Two months later

When I had asked Reddington for a job, I should have added another requirement: no early mornings.

Granted, I only had to do the early mornings one day out of every two weeks, but I still hated that part. My job in recruiting not only required me to scout online job sites and review applications sent in through the company's website to determine if someone would be a good fit for our company, but I was also in charge of getting new employees set up within our system, ensured physicals and background checks were completed, and doing initial corporate orientation.

Reddington had initially sent me to a company called Reynolds Manufacturing, but upon meeting the Vice President of Personnel Management he thought I would be a better fit to do the same job at the parent company, Crimson Services. Crimson owned two other companies besides Reynolds; one that provided private emergency medical services in locations around all 50 states and a travelling nurse company that served hospitals, nursing homes, and home health agencies in states that were part of the Nursing Licensure Compact. The job at Crimson made more money, which sweetened the deal for me.

By the beginning of April, I had gotten into a good routine. I usually worked from home two or three days a week, which was nice because then I could drag myself out of bed at 8:58 and log on to start my day at nine. On the second and fourth Mondays of every month I had to be in the office at 5:30 to get orientation set up for the day. I had to train on corporate policy that first morning of orientation and was usually able to go home by two. The rest of the training week was left to their specific departments. I had a salary position but one that was also eligible for overtime pay. It had taken me a few weeks to get used to a routine, but getting a steady paycheck every two weeks and having health insurance was worth the sacrifice of sleeping in.

I hadn't heard from Reddington since that day he had been in my apartment about the job, but I didn't figure I would. We had completed a transaction, so it was likely our business was over unless I found the Ark of the Covenant in Crimson's basement. No one at Crimson seemed to be aware of who owned the company. There was a board of directors, but the company wasn't traded on the stock market. I figured even Reddington would have a hard time getting past the SEC. My mind wandered over to him on occasion, remembering the way he looked at me and how attractive he was in his own way. But then Ranger's words of how dangerous he was would come in and douse the memories in cold water. What I had done was dangerous and stupid, but it had paid off without anyone getting hurt. I had pressed my luck too many times in the past and intended to stop doing it so much in the future.

My mother had cried when I told her about my new job. She had insisted on everyone going out to dinner at a nice restaurant to celebrate. My father had grumbled about putting on a nice shirt, but quieted down once he got his steak. Grandma Mazur had dressed up in a sequin number that was too fancy for the steakhouse, but everyone there raved about it. Valerie had left the kids with Albert and joined us, though I suspected it was less about celebrating my new job and more about eating a meal in peace.

"How did you find this company?" Grandma Mazur asked as I had explained it to everyone. "I've never heard of it."

I hadn't considered that anyone might want to know how I got the job, but luckily I was quick on my feet. "I had put my resumé on a job search site and they found me," I replied, crossing my fingers under the table.

"I'm glad they found you," my mother replied. "You've been dealing with dangerous criminals for too long. Now you can have a nice normal job, maybe even find someone to—"

I held up a hand. "I'm not looking to get married, Mom. I think that ship sailed for me."

The dinner table went quiet after that while everyone ate their meals and thought about the reason why. It had been fourteen months since Morelli had been killed in the line of duty while trying to bring down a sex trafficking operation on Stark Street. When I had gone to his house the week after his funeral to start helping his family sort his belongings, I had found an engagement ring in his nightstand drawer. His mother told me he had just bought it the week before he died. She had insisted I keep it, as it was something he wanted me to have. I had buried the small black box in the back of my underwear draw and hadn't looked at it since.

I managed to bring up the mood of the dinner again by describing the various perks of my job to the table and everyone moved on from the memory of what could have been.

"Hey, Stephanie. Did you see that email from the background check company that came in about the new nurse hire?"

I turned around at my desk to see my coworker, Jake Carter, pointing to his computer screen. I shook my head. "Which one? Claire?"

"No, Jessica. It says she got arrested for stealing from a patient three years ago when she worked at a nursing home in Georgia, but the charges were dropped because the patient died and they couldn't prove the case without her testimony," Jake read from the screen. "What do you think?"

I looked through the woman's file on my computer. "She didn't mention any legal problems in her interview or on her application. She wasn't convicted so it isn't an automatic disqualifier, but it puts up alarm bells. I'll email Teresa about it and let her handle it. She did the interview."

That was what I loved about not being in charge. Shit like this became someone else's problem.

After lunch I completed a couple of pre-interview screenings and finished preparing the files for two new EMTs, a mechanic, a software engineer, and one nurse. Nurse Jessica had decided not to take the job after Teresa grilled her on why she'd kept the arrest for theft a secret. I was just about to start wrapping up my day when I got a text from Ranger.

Dinner at six?

I smiled and replied that I would be there. Ranger and I usually had dinner together once or twice a month at Rangeman, which meant sex was on the menu for dessert. I hurried home to change clothes before going to Rangeman. I didn't like to wear my work clothes anywhere but work. But I also didn't feel the need to look sexy. I pulled on a pair of dark-wash jeans, a New York Rangers T-shirt, and sneakers before heading out the door.

"My men are bored since you left bond enforcement," Ranger told me as we laid in bed together after a second round of amazing sex. "I offered to let them help Lula at the bonds office, but they all found other things to do."

"She probably gets into even more trouble than I did," I said, sitting up on the edge of the bed. "I kept her from making a lot of terrible decisions."

I picked up my bra and underwear from the floor and started pulling them on. I never spent the night with Ranger. It helped keep the emotional part at bay.

"You don't have to leave," he commented to my back.

"I need to do the dishes before I go to bed."

Ranger sat up in bed, the crisp white sheet falling down his toned abdomen. "You have the choice to stay in bed with me all night or go home to do dishes and you're choosing dishes?"

I zipped up my jeans and reached for my t-shirt. "Yes, because that's what responsible adults do." I found my socks and shoes and sat back down on the bed to put them on.

"When did the roles reverse?"

"What do you mean?" I asked as I tied my shoes.

"When did I become the more emotionally invested person in this relationship?" Ranger asked.

I raised an eyebrow. "You're calling this a relationship?"

"What do you call it?"

"A friendship with sex," I remarked, grabbing my cell phone from the nightstand. "Friends with benefits. Frenefits."

I suspected it took every ounce of resolve he possessed for Ranger not to roll his eyes at the term frenefits.

"Whatever you call it doesn't change the facts. What happened?"

I wasn't interested in having that conversation. It wasn't in keeping with my emotional distance plan. "Gotta go. See you later."

I hurried out of the bedroom, grabbing my purse from the side table by the front door, and got to my car in case Ranger decided he wanted to continue the conversation. I arrived home twenty minutes still thinking about Ranger's comment. When had things changed? I knew when they had changed for me, but what about him? I had figured my new level of emotional involvement was on par with his, but I had been wrong.

I did the dishes and got myself ready for bed while trying to push Ranger out of my mind. I was pulling on my pajamas and trying to decide what show to what on Netflix when I noticed an envelope propped up against the lamp on my nightstand. It had my name written on it in unfamiliar handwriting. I immediately found my gun and searched my apartment to make sure there weren't any lunatics from my bounty hunter days hiding in the closet or under the bed. After ensuring I was alone, I went back to the envelope and opened it. Inside was a plain white note card like my mother would write thank-you notes on. I opened the card and read the writing inside.

I'm eager to hear about your new job. You can tell me about it tomorrow at Martina's in Morrisville. 6pm.

RR

I felt a chill run through me as I read the note. My assumption that my interactions with Reddington were over had been wrong. Why did he want to hear about my job? He owned the company. He surely had ways of finding out. I didn't have any way of contacting him, so I couldn't call him and make up an excuse as to why I couldn't be there. And I didn't want to find out what happened if I stood him up.

I had been worried about not being able to sleep because of Ranger's comment. Reddington's note had pushed those worries far from my mind. I tossed and turned all night worrying about dinner at Martina's. I was so stressed out the next day that I feigned a migraine and told Jake I was working from home. My stomach was in knots as I sat through a virtual meeting and did my normal work. Despite hoping for the apocalypse, the end of the workday arrived quickly, which meant I needed to get ready for my dinner date with the FBI's Most Wanted.

Martina's was a popular pizza restaurant in Morrisville. Even people from Jersey were willing to cross the Delaware for it, though people from the Burg always swore to the owners of Pino's that they would never commit such a betrayal.

I arrived at Martina's at five minutes to six and waited outside to see if Reddington had arrived. The windows to the restaurant allowed for a clear line of sight into the building, but I didn't see Reddington anywhere. The lighting in the restaurant was low and candlelight flickered from each table giving it a romantic ambiance. I was hoping Reddington might have changed his mind when I saw his bodyguard walk out of a door of a side room that was usually reserved for parties. He caught my eye and jerked his head for me to come in. I steeled myself and walked inside, informing the hostess that I was with the bald man by the banquet room door. I walked through the room, not able to pay attention to anyone there.

The bodyguard opened the door for me and followed me inside. It had a similar design aesthetic as the main part of the restaurant, which consisted of black and white wallpaper with abstract floral design. The dark wood tables glistened from ample amounts of polish and the reflected candlelight. Reddington was seated in at a table in the corner of the room. He was dressed in a light gray suit with a dark blue tie and white shirt. He stood up when he saw me and walked around the table to pull out my chair. I sat down and he returned to his seat.

"I'm glad you're here, Stephanie," he said quietly with a kind smile. "I've been thinking about you since we last met."

I watched out of the corner of my eye as the bodyguard took a seat halfway across the room and picked up a book that had been left on the table. He opened it and took no more notice of us.

"I didn't think I would hear from you again," I said, willing my voice not to shake.

"I wanted to give you time to get adjusted to your new job before I visited again," he replied. A server came into the room at that moment and poured us each a glass of white wine. Reddington ordered a starter of bruschetta and waited until the server left to speak again. "Plus I had some business to attend to in Asia that took longer than I would have liked. Have you ever been to Ho Chi Minh City?"

I shook my head and took a healthy sip of wine. "I've never been to Asia. I've only ever been to Mexico, Canada, and Jamaica."

"You must go sometime," he said. "They have this entire street called Nguyen Van Binh Book Street which is filled with all these little bookstores. It's wonderful. Dembe and I both bought so many books we were worried the plane might not be able to carry them all back."

I glanced over at the bodyguard. "Is he Dembe?" I asked in a whisper.

"Yes," Reddington replied in a whisper. "He's a lovely man. He keeps me honest. Well, to the best of his ability anyway."

Reddington told me more about Ho Chi Minh City and Vietnam as we looked through the menu. We placed our orders when the server arrived with the bruschetta. I ordered stuffed peppers and Reddington ordered rotolo.

"So, tell me about your job," Reddington asked once the server had left to take Dembe's order.

I shrugged. "It's great. I enjoy the work and I like the people I work with. It beats the hell out of inconsistent paychecks and rolling around in the mud with Trenton's finest."

"I'm glad to hear that," Reddington replied, taking a bite of bruschetta. "Mmm. This reminds me of the bruschetta at this little Italian restaurant in Tuscany that I just adore. They make their own olive oil from olives they grow at a farm in Palermo. It's exquisite."

I took a bite of the bruschetta and had to agree it was very good. Dembe came over and tried a piece as well at Reddington's insistence.

"I've been told you are a diligent worker and people enjoy having you at the office," Reddington said. "I knew you would be perfect for the job, though I can't believe I didn't think of sending you directly to Crimson."

I made a noncommittal noise and stuffed another piece of antipasto in my mouth. I had no idea what else to say about work. He probably knew even more about my job than I did. I focused on my food and my wine to avoid looking at Reddington. I could feel his stare and it was like being x-rayed at the airport.

"Did Carlos tell you we finalized our deal for his company?" Reddington asked once our entrees had been served and wine glasses refilled.

I shook my head. "No, he hadn't."

Reddington looked surprised. "You're at his place at least twice a month. I'm surprised he hasn't mentioned it, especially since you helped him back in January."

I froze with a bite of pepper halfway to my mouth. Reddington had been keeping tabs on me outside of work. I put the bite of food in my mouth and chewed slowly while considering how to answer.

"Ranger doesn't tell me much about his work. Or life. Or much of anything, really," I replied. "He's pretty private."

"Yet he knows everything about you," Reddington commented.

I nodded. "Unfortunately. I've learned not to ask. It just leads to frustration."

"I would have thought that he might have stepped up more with his competition out of the picture."

I snapped my eyes up from my food and started directly into Reddington's. He hadn't had to say Morelli's name for me know just how deeply he had investigated my life.

"Ranger was never threatened by Morelli because he had no interest in a committed relationship," I replied tersely. "And he still doesn't."

Reddington continued to stare at me as he took a sip of wine. "And what about you? What do you want?"

"I have everything I want."

Reddington gave me a skeptical look, tilting his head slightly to the side. "A beautiful, intelligent woman like yourself needs more to her life than a nice job and a dated apartment in a building full of senior citizens in her hometown."

I didn't respond to that. The truth was that I didn't know what I wanted out of life now that I had a good job. I had been focused on that ever since Morelli's death and hadn't considered what came next. A new apartment with more modern features that wasn't known to every criminal and firefighter in the city would be nice. But then what?

I focused on my meal and did my best to avoid looking at Reddington. We were silent for a few minutes, the only sound in the room being the dull noise of the patrons in the main part of the restaurant. I should have planned to have someone call me with a fake emergency to get out of dinner, but that would have required an explanation that I wasn't ready to give to anyone.

"This was a wonderful dinner," I said as I polished off the last of my stuffed peppers. "Thank you."

Reddington nodded his head cordially. "It's my pleasure," he said. His voice had taken that deeper tone the way it had when he had asked me back in my apartment if I had any unmet needs. It was seductive and dangerous. It felt like driving fast on a narrow, winding road on the side of a mountain. I did my best not to squirm in my seat.

I was about to push away from the table when Reddington spoke again. "I have something I'd like to show you," he said. "You can ride with us. I'll have your car taken back to your apartment."

Oh God. Was he going to kill me? Abduct me and take me to Uzbekistan to keep me hostage? The thought of going somewhere with him scared me, but surprisingly it wasn't the blind terror that I had initially thought it to be. It felt a bit like driving fast along the mountain side, but in a convertible with no seat belts while dodging oncoming traffic.

"I'd rather drive myself," I said. "I can follow you or you can give me the address of where we are going."

I expected Reddington to get angry or insist that I ride with him. Instead, he nodded and stood up. "If you prefer. The address is 113 Jackson Street. I'll meet you there."

I left the room and walked back out to my car. I waited to see if Reddington and Dembe came out the front door, but after a few minutes realized they had likely come in through the back. I headed back across the river and towards Jackson Street. The address was in a historical district called Mill Hill. Houses of various sizes, colors, and designs lined the quiet one-way street. I pulled up in front of 113 behind a black Mercedes that I assumed belonged to Reddington. It was a three-story red brick townhouse that butted up against one house and had a slim driveway on the other side. A man in a black suit and red tie stepped out of a BMW parked in the driveway as Reddington climbed out of the Mercedes and I climbed out of my 2012 Hyundai Elantra.

"Mr. Homan, I presume?" the man in the suit asked Reddington as he stepped forward. Reddington stretched out his hand. "I'm Marc Newsom."

"Hello Marc, but please call me Bill," Reddington insisted as he shook the man's hand. He turned to look at me and extended an arm. "This is a friend of mine, Stephanie. I'm helping her house hunt and thought she might love this place."

I gave a small smile as I shook the realtor's hand. "Hello," I said. Newsom handed me a business card before punching in a code on a security box. I gave Reddington a quizzical look as Newsom turned his back on us and unlocked the front door.

"Just look at it and tell me what you think," he whispered to me.

"The house was built in 1892 and while it maintains much of its Victorian charm it has also been updated for the current century," Newsom said as we walked into the foyer. There was a living room situated on the left through a set of old double doors and a staircase directly ahead.
"Some rooms have been updated more recently than others. I would say the living room on this floor and dining room need some updates."

I followed Reddington and Newsom through the first floor and wondered what the hell Reddington was up to. I was a single woman with no intentions of getting married or having children. What did I need with a 3500 sq ft townhouse?

"The current asking price is $469,000. It has only been on the market for two days, so if you think you want to put in an offer, you should do it quickly. The house has already been shown three times since it went on the market. I imagine it'll ultimately go for more than the asking price."

My jaw dropped, though Newsom didn't notice. I was in a bit of a daze as we toured the basement, the top two floors and the backyard and the private driveway with a plug-in for an electric car. Reddington asked various questions of the realtor as we looked around. I couldn't think of anything to ask the realtor. Once we had toured the house, Reddington asked to speak to me privately and took me outside to the back porch, which overlooked the private, leafy back yard.

"What do you think of the house?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "It's old and big."

"Do you like it?"

I shrugged. "I guess. It's not really my style, but it's not bad."

"Would you like to live here?" Reddington asked.

"Um, no," I said. "It's huge, not to mention I can't afford it. Why are we even here?"

"Because I'd like to buy it for you," Reddington said. The shock of his comment caused me to take a step back.

"What? Why?"

"Because The Three Brothers is worth more than a decent middle-class job," Reddington said quietly, stepping closer to me to avoid being overheard. "You deserve more."

I shook my head. "I appreciate the gesture. Really, I do. But I can't accept this. I don't want a house. I don't want you to give me anything else for the pendant. The job is enough. Besides, this house is too big for one person, and I could never explain to anyone how I could afford it."

Reddington looked disappointed. "I wish you would change your mind about that," he said. "It doesn't have to be this house. I just love old houses and thought it might appeal to you. But if you prefer something smaller or—,"

I held up my hands. "No. I don't want you to buy me anything. Again, I appreciate the gesture, but I can't accept it."

I walked away from Reddington and back into the house. I shook hands with the realtor and told him I didn't think the house was exactly right for me. I thanked him for his time and headed back out the front door. I was almost to my car when Reddington called my name. I turned around to see him walking down the sidewalk towards me.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't," I insisted. "I'm probably going to start looking for a new place anyway. At least now I have the name of a realtor."

Reddington's mouth made an odd movement, as though he might be biting on the inside of his lip. He didn't say anything else but reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. It only had a phone number.

"My number," he said. "I hope you'll call sometime. I enjoy spending time with you."

I felt my throat tighten and my mouth went dry. An image of him at my apartment, taking off his suit jacket and loosening his tie as he walked across my bedroom, his eyes leaving no mystery as to what he wanted to do to me flashed through my mind. I fought the urge to squirm again.

"Thanks," I whispered before climbing into the car. I pulled away from the curb with Reddington watching me.

I felt hot all over and turned on the air conditioning to cool myself down. What was wrong with me? Why was I so flustered over a man old enough to be my father? And why the hell had I gotten myself involved with the most wanted man in America?

I was going to need a shower when I got home. The shower head was going to be seeing a lot of action tonight.