Lester and I managed to assist Ranger into the stairwell and drag him up three stairs before we realized what a challenge dragging him up six flights of stairs was going to be. Not that Lester was the weak link in this equation. That honor was bestowed upon me. I was average in height, and I'd like to think I was slightly below average I weight. That said, I wasn't above average when it came to strength, and Ranger was a muscular man of almost six feet.

I felt the sweat breaking aross my forehead and on my upper lip as I tightened my grip under Ranger's armpit, lifting with all my might.

"Up!" I said, and in unison, Lester and I lifted while Ranger hopped up onto the next stair with his good leg.

I stopped for a moment to catch my breath, bending at the waist.

"What's plan B, boss?" Lester asked, recognizing the futility of the situation at hand. "Should I go get someone from the control room?"

Ranger's lips formed a hard line as he contemplated our next move. He lowered himself onto the stairs to a sitting position, stretching his injured leg out before him.

"Go pack a bag, babe," he said. "And grab the keys to the Cayenne."

"We're not staying here?" I asked uncertainly.

Our eyes held before he spoke.

"I can't get upstairs, and there's no telling how long we'll be without power with the damage to the building. We're getting a room for the night," he explained, fumbling in his pocket and tossing me his key fob.

I nodded my understanding and began ascending the stairs. When I got to the top of the first flight, I happened a glance back at Ranger.

"You going to be okay?"

Ranger flashed me his two hundred watt smile, but the lines at the corner of his eyes and dark circles beneath them betrayed him.

I hoofed it up six flights of stairs with only the emergency battery lights to light the stairwell. I could barely catch my breath once I made it to the fourth level, and I was vowing to lay off the doughnuts and take up jogging by the sixth floor. I hunched at the waist and sucked in air before bursting into the small hallway to the three sixth floor apartments.

I fobbed my way into Ranger's apartment and went to the walk-in closet. I took the stone from my pocket and studied it for a moment. It looked pretty ordinary to me, but Ranger had promised Diesel he'd keep it safe, so I hid it in my black CAT boots on the floor in the closet. I stripped out of my Rangeman uniform, instead opting for clean underwear, a grey girly cut t-shirt, jeans, tennis shoes, and one of Ranger's black hoodies.

I grabbed a black Under Armor backpack from the corner and shoved in two pairs of panties, a clean bra, a pair of yoga pants, a tank top, a pair of jeans, a Rangeman t-shirt with long sleeves, and some clean socks. I added sweats, a clean shirt, silk boxers, and socks in the bag for Ranger before grabbing necessities from the bathroom—toothbrushes, toothpaste, razors, shower gel, birth control pills, hair brush, hair products, and hair elastics. I did one last bag check before deciding I was satisfied with what I'd packed.

I carried the backpack to the kitchen where I unplugged Ranger's and my phone chargers an shoved them in the front pocket of the backpack. I set the bag by the apartment door and grabbed my messenger bag from the sideboard. I did a quick assessment of the apartment and realized I hadn't packed any gear for Ranger's medical needs.

"Stupid, stupid," I said aloud, thunking my forehead with the heel of my hand.

I wandered into the living room with my messenger bag slung over my shoulder, and I assessed the pile of gauze packages, medical tape, pills, bandages, creams, ointments, and other equipment I couldn't identify. I considered selecting a few items to take, but knowing I had zero medical knowledge, I opened my messenger bag and scooped the entirety of the small table's contents into the pack. I shook the bag to settle the contents and tugged the closure shut, clicking the clasp into place. I grabbed the cane Ranger had been using for physical therapy the last few days and added it to my collection. I walked to the foyer, pocketed the Cayenne keys, and slung the backpack over my shoulders. I was ready to roll.

Twenty minutes later, I had ambled clumsily down the stairs to the underground garage and loaded Ranger's black Porsche Cayenne Turbo. Lester and I had wrangled Ranger into the passenger seat, and I settled behind the wheel. I started the vehicle, and the high-performance engine purred to life. Classical music played lightly over the car's sound system.

"Where to?" I asked Ranger, glancing his direction.

"Take a left out of the garage. I'll give you directions," he responded, rubbing his eyes and relaxing into his seat.

I wove the Cayenne through the streets of downtown Atlanta. Traffic was door-to-door in evening rush hour, but the drive was surprisingly hypnotic and relaxed. Ranger gave directions, and in fifteen minutes, we were pulling into a busy underground parking garage.

"Where are we?" I asked, parking in a spot near the elevator and unbuckling my seatbelt.

"The Marriott Marquis Hotel," Ranger responded.

I ambled out of the car and assisted Ranger to his feet, handing him the cane I'd brought. He studied it intently, his lips tight.

"What?" I asked.

Ranger sighed uncharacteristically.

"This thing is a real mood kill," he admitted. "It's hard to look suave with a cane."

I laughed out loud, not at his predicament but at his honesty.

"I still think you're hot," I said, wrapping my arm around his waist and stepping close enough that our bodies touched.

I felt electricity shoot from my chest to my toes, and I heard Ranger's breathing change. I planted a soft kiss on Ranger's cheek, then brought my lips to his ear.

"Be patient a little while longer," I whispered. "You'll be good as new soon."

We took the elevator to the lobby level and exited into a massive, open atrium. The floor was marble, and the décor was modern. Glass and gold accents made the hotel look rich and luxurious, and cream leather armchairs lined various waiting areas. A medium tone wooden check-in desk sat at one side of the room. Glass elevators consumed the center of one wall, and a partial mezzanine level restaurant and bar hovered above the lobby. There had to be fifty floors above us. The hallways of the floors were open to the atrium, each level a swirly lit pathway above us. It felt as if we were inside the hotel's giant ribcage.

I studied the room around me, taking in the golden, cream, and taupe tones. The hotel was incredibly familiar, but I knew I had never been here before.

"Babe," Ranger said studying me, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"This place is incredible," I breathed, watching various people walk through the lobby. "Why do I feel like I know this place?"

Ranger's smirk turned into a full grin.

"Part of the Hunger Games movie franchise was filmed here," he explained, moving toward the desk.

As soon as he said it, the pieces clicked into place.

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "That's it!" I paused. "Wait… you've seen the Hunger Games?" I asked incredulously. Ranger didn't seem like a teen dystopian romance type of guy.

"No, Rangeman's Atlanta office provided security for Lionsgate Films when they filmed in Georgia," he explained. "I wrote up the contracts and met with representatives from the company to hammer out details. As you know, the actors in the film were well known, and protecting their bodies and privacy was critical to keeping them happy on set. The movie industry is booming in Georgia right now, and Rangeman is one of the few security firms in the area equipped to handle the complex challenges of set security."

The more you know.

Ranger and I settled in to our Ambassador Parlor Suite on the forty ninth floor and ordered room service for dinner. I was starving, having missed lunch with the Wulf debacle. Ranger was exhausted, and I wasn't sure he was going to be awake long enough to enjoy his chicken de burgo with a side of asparagus. I got him settled at the eight-man, dark wood table with camel leather chairs before I went snooping around the room.

The suite he had secured for us was luxurious but tasteful. Floor to ceiling windows showcased Atlanta's skyline at dusk. Dark wood floors ran throughout the bedroom and common room. The walls were white and chocolate, and a dark wood accent wall was tastefully placed behind the flat screen television. Two camel colored leather sofas covered in throw pillows sat facing one another, and a white overstuffed arm chair completed the seating area. A mini bar consumed one wall of the suite. A powder room and coat sat just inside the door.

The bedroom was through a door off the living room, and its décor matched that in the living room. The room was consumed by king sized bed dressed in crisp white linens with giant pillows. Two large dressers sat opposite the bed, and a flat screen television was mounted between them. The wall behind the bed was another wood accent wall. A bath decorated with warm earth tones adjoined with the bedroom. The floor was slate, and the countertops were caramel colored granite. The bathroom had a jetted tub and a shower with a glass enclosure. His and hers sinks sat on one wall, and a toilet was in an adjoining private room. Two fluffy white robes hung on the wall—his and hers.

I unpacked the bag, placing clothing in drawers and toiletries on the bathroom vanity. I kicked off my tennis shoes in the bedroom and pushed the sleeves of Ranger's sweatshirt I wore up to my elbows. I went into the bathroom and washed my face and hands before heading back out to Ranger, who was checking e-mails on his phone. His mouth had a grim set to it.

"What's new?" I asked, flopping into a chair across the table from him.

"An initial assessment of the damage to the Rangeman building shows it is structurally sound, but significant damage was done to the electrical panel," he explained. "Eric has a guy coming to work on it, but it looks like they'll be without power into tomorrow."

"Any word on Lizzie?" I asked.

Ranger shook his head no, so I pulled my phone out of my jeans and dialed Diesel. He answered on the second ring.

"Hey, Catwoman," he answered, his voice playful.

"Huh?"

"You know, Batman's love interest. Catwoman. The superhero? Saving Gotham City, one villain at a time?"

I had to crack a smile at that.

"Since you're in the mood to joke, I take it Lizzie's going to be okay," I said with a smile, finding his positive mood contagious.

"Yep," he said. "Broken arm, some cracked ribs, a few stitches to her face, and a mild concussion, but nothing that won't heal."

"Thank god," I said. "Are they keeping her tonight? I still need a formal introduction, by the way."

"You can have the formal introduction tomorrow, sweetheart," Diesel said. "She's going to be released tonight. We'll find a place to crash for the night, then we'll meet up with you to collect the stone tomorrow so she can get back to Salem. Lizzie has been gone from work too long already. Her boss Clara is pretty generous with her so called 'save the world' days, but I suspect her patience is running out after a week with no Lizzie."

I heard a voice in the background and assumed it was Lizzie.

"My baking is going to be limited with one good arm," the voice said.

"Your cupcakes will still be magic," Diesel said in response to Lizzie.

I smiled at their exchange. Hard to believe Diesel could be tamed by a cupcake baker. But hey, stranger things have happened, right? I mean, look at Ranger and I. Apparently Lucy Ricardo could tempt Batman too.

I woke up to daylight streaming into our forty ninth floor windows. I was wrapped in Ranger's arms like the little spoon and covered with a soft white bedsheet. Ranger's breathing was slow and even, indicating he was still asleep. It was clear the stress of yesterday took a lot out of him. He had fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow the night before, and we had both managed to keep our clothes on all night. It wasn't often that the day started without Ranger, but today was one of those days. The bedside clock announced it was after eight thirty, and mother nature was calling.

I slipped out of Ranger's arms, being careful not to disturb his slumber. I used the bathroom then ordered room service breakfast. For Ranger, I ordered a two-egg cheese and mushroom omelet with a side of plain yogurt with granola. For me, I ordered pancakes with bacon and completed the order with a carafe of hot coffee. The food arrived before Ranger woke, so I poured two cups of coffee and padded barefoot into the bedroom.

I sat his mug on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed, sipping steaming liquid from my cup.

"Rise and shine, badass," I said softly, rubbing his back with the flat of my hand.

He sucked in a deep breath and his sleepy eyes fluttered open.

"Babe," he exhaled, his voice thick with sleep.

"Have a good sleep?" I asked.

He rolled onto his back and placed his hand on my thigh. He gave an affirmative nod.

"Want some breakfast?" I asked, sipping my coffee. "It's in the other room, but I can bring it to you in bed if you'd like."

"Give me a few minutes, and I'll join you," he said, sitting up slowly in the bed. He grimaced with pain, gripping at his injured leg.

"You okay?"

He nodded, pulling back the sheet to examine his leg.

"I overdid it yesterday," he acknowledged.

I helped him out of the bed and to the bathroom before retrieving my messenger bag and a glass of water. I set the glass on the bedside table and dug through my bag, discarding Ranger's medical flotsam onto the bed. I read the instructions on the two pill bottles, finding one to be an antibiotic and one a pain killer. The antibiotic indicated it was to be taken twice per day, meaning he'd missed his dose last night in our haste to get some rest. He hadn't taken any pain killers either, but I assumed that had been intentional. Ranger wasn't one to be under the influence of anything to slow his mind unless absolutely necessary. None the less, I dumped the prescribed dose of both drugs into my hand and as he exited the bathroom and extended the pills to him.

"Take these."

He stared at the pills in my hand, then turned his attention to the clutter on the bed.

"You packed all that stuff?" he asked, surprised.

"Heck yes. Now take these, or I'll call Ximena."

He gave me a small grin before accepting the pills. I handed him the glass of water, and he washed them down.

"What do we need to do with this stuff?" I asked, pointing to the other items on the bed.

"I'll have to change my dressings after I shower," he said. "Let's eat first while breakfast is hot."

We ate breakfast in companionable silence. I showered first so I'd have time to tame my hair. I opened the door in my towel.

"Do you mind if I dry my hair in here while you shower?" I asked, raking my fingers through my unruly, wet curls.

"No," he said, stripping out of his long sleeved black t-shirt to expose his toned chest and abs. His warm skin was flecked by several small bandages and pink scars that marked healing wounds. "I'll only be a minute."

I put a small amount of product in my hair and combed through the tangles in my hair. I noticed Ranger removing his bandages, and I watched as I began blow drying my hair, running my fingers through to separate my curls.

Ranger stripped out of his black sweats revealing the large gauze dressing on his injured leg. Just below his knee, a clear pouch was taped to his calf with a small tube that snaked out from under the gauze. It contained a small amount of reddish fluid, which I recognized as bloody wound drainage. I swallowed hard, willing myself to look away as he worked. Unfortunately, curiosity got the better of me, and I continued watching.

Ranger seemed unfazed by my gaze, gingerly peeled the tape off from around the gauze and sucking air through his teeth several times when the pull caused pain. He pulled the gauze away, revealing his horrific leg injury. Stitches crisscrossed across his thigh, creating puckered trails over his once perfect skin. The edges around his wounds were pink and irritated, the skin in varying states of healing. The drain tube snaked out through a small opening between stitches, presumably draining fluid from the injured site. My stomach did a hard turn, and I swallowed back bile, sucking in some deep breaths. I looked away from Ranger to try to focus on drying my hair.

Ranger showered quickly and dried with a white, fluffy towel. He wrapped the towel around his waist before brushing his teeth and shaving at the sink. I finished drying my hair and went into the bedroom in search of clothes.

I was dressed in jeans, tennis shoes, and a long sleeved Rangeman t-shirt by the time Ranger limped into the bedroom in his towel.

"Are your pain meds helping?" I asked.

"Some," he said, sitting on the bed and turning so his leg was elevated before him. He pulled the towel away to study his wound more closely.

I swallowed hard as my heart broke for him, then crossed the room to stand by his side.

"How can I help?" I asked, uncertain with the situation. I fidgeted the ends of my hair between my fingers nervously.

Ranger's eyes met mine and held in wordless silence.

I finally broke the silence.

"Can I help somehow?" I tried again.

"You don't have to," he said, studying his leg once more.

"I want to," I said quietly, thinking back to yesterday's conversation. Ranger had done a lot to protect and care for me over the years. Helping with this bandage change seemed like a minor thing, even if it caused me some minor discomfort. No price, right?

"I'd do anything for you," I said even more quietly, my eyes locking with his trying to convey the emotion I felt. His eyes dilated black, and the corner of his mouth turned up into the hint of a smile. I brushed a soft kiss across his lips, and he returned it, placing his palm against my cheek.

I grabbed the box of large gauze pads from the bed and followed Ranger's instructions to cover is wound.

Ranger and I arrived back at Rangeman's Atlanta office shortly before noon. The power had been restored to the building not long before, and Eric had notified Ranger the building was now accessible by elevator. I parked the Cayenne in Ranger's spot by the elevator and angled out of the SUV.

"Call Diesel to arrange the exchange," Ranger said, limping toward the elevator with his cane. His wheelchair had been placed in the garage by the elevator, and he eased himself into it before pushing the up button.

I dialed Diesel, and he said he'd bring Lizzie by within the hour.

We got to Ranger's apartment where we found Ximena waiting.

"Hey!" I greeted her warmly.

"Hey chica," she said, giving me a smile. "Ready to head for home?"

"Home?" I looked to Ranger, and he nodded.

"We have a flight scheduled for 7:15 tonight," he explained. "We're done here. It's time to go back to Trenton and resume our lives."

"Right now, it's time for your physical therapy session," Ximena interjected, extending his cane to him. "We're going to work in the gym today. You ready?"

Ranger pulled himself to his feet and steadied himself with the cane.

"Maria can help you pack if you'd like," Ranger said to me. "Just press three on the phone."

"I've got it under control," I said.

"I'll meet up with you and Diesel later," he said before giving me a light peck on the lips and heading for the door.

Diesel pulled into the underground Rangeman garage with Lizzie in tow thirty minutes later. He was driving a red Jeep Wrangler 4x4. The plastic zip out windows had been removed, and mudding tires with giant tread and a lift kit had been added to the monster machine. He was dressed in motorcycle boots, worn out jeans, and a brown hoodie advertising a surf shop. Lizzie was dressed comfortably, sporting jeans, purple Nike tennis shoes, a pastel pink long sleeved girly cut t-shirt, and a white Columbia vest. The cast on her arm was hot pink, held in a blue sling across her chest. Her blonde hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, and she had several bandages on her face which I presumed covered stitches. She jumped down from the lifted Jeep and gave me a big smile, her brown eyes alight with charm.

"You must be Stephanie. I've heard so much about you," she said, walking toward me.

"The same could be said about you," I said to her, extending my hand to her.

She ignored my hand and pulled me into a big hug.

"It's so good to meet you," she said, holding me in the embrace for longer than I was comfortable. "And thank you for helping Diesel."

I broke from the embrace and gave her a kind smile.

"I didn't do much," I said, "but I'm glad you're safe. Does it hurt?" I asked, gesturing toward her arm.

"Nah," she responded, lifting her casted arm to study it. "They gave me some pretty sweet pain medicine, so I feel great."

She laughed, and it was contagious. Diesel and I laughed too. Diesel slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close, placing a kiss on her temple.

"Where is Carl?" I asked, surprised to find Diesel didn't have the monkey in tow.

"I called in a favor for a babysitter," he said. "Ranger doesn't seem like a monkey guy to me."

"Let's head upstairs," I said, moving toward the elevator. "Maria made lunch if you'd like to join us."

Diesel and Lizzie settled in around the small table in Ranger's Atlanta apartment, and I brought them tall glasses of sweet tea garnished with lemon courtesy of Maria. We carried on light conversation, and I learned about Lizzie Tucker, the pastry chef for Dazzle's bakery who sat before me. She'd grown up in Virginia, only recently moving to Marblehead, Massachusetts after inheriting her great aunt Ophelia's saltbox style home. She told her about her unmentionable skills, which included the ability to identify empowered objects and bake unmentionably good cupcakes. Diesel told her about my love of all baked goods, and Lizzie promised to bring me cupcakes next time she saw me.

As Lizzie spoke, I noticed Diesel studying her, a twinkle in his eye. His touch was affectionate, and his demeanor was tamer and more refined. Diesel, the smart assed, sarcastic, cynic, had fallen in love with a sweet, pretty blonde girl from Massachusetts. What the hell? Maybe there was hope for all of us dysfunctional people after all.

I began plating grilled salmon, vegetables, and rice on places when the apartment door opened, and Ranger entered from his physical therapy session. He was freshly showered and dressed in black fatigues, walking without his cane. If it wasn't for the limp to his gait, you'd never know anything was amiss. Despite the dark circles beneath his eyes that betrayed exhaustion, he looked strong and healthy, not to mention sexy as hell with his still damp hair. His shirt was perfectly tight across his chest, exposing his ripped arms. Seeing him sent a flush into my cheeks and a rush straight to my doodah.

Ranger made eye contact with Diesel and gave him a polite nod. Lizzie took one look at Ranger and choked on her sweet tea. She coughed, struggling to compose herself. She gave me a brief look of panic, and I winked at her.

"He has that effect on most women," I joked, placing plates on the table for Diesel and Lizzie.

An uncomfortable look crossed Diesel's face, and it occurred to me he could be reading Lizzie's mind. Most women undressed Ranger with their eyes, and I suspected Lizzie was no exception. A thrill rushed through me when the thought, "He's mine," crossed my mind. I found myself grinning from ear to ear.

"Ms. Tucker," Ranger greeted, extending his hand politely to her. "I'm Carlos Manoso, but my associates call me Ranger."

"Pleased to meet you," Lizzie said, shaking his hand. "I'm glad to see you're back on your feet. I heard about what happened. I'm so sorry."

Ranger gave a polite nod.

"I'm on the mend, thank you."

He sat at the table, and I set plates for him and me. I set a glass of water for him and a glass of tea for me. We all dug in to our meals engaged in polite conversation.

As we finished up, Ranger slid his chair back from the table and I began taking dishes to the kitchen.

"I'm ready to negotiate an exchange," Ranger said to Diesel, making an open-handed gesture.

"Negotiate?" Diesel asked, clearly confused.

"You don't think I had Wulf hand over the stone for your benefit, do you?" Ranger asked, his face serious.

An intense silence sat between the two. I stood awkwardly at the kitchen sink waiting for one of them to speak.

Lizzie broke the silence between the men.

"Let's hear him out," she said, taking Diesel's hand in hers.

Yeah, I thought. Let's hear him out. Where the hell is this going?

"I am willing to give you the stone in exchange for a favor," he said, steepling his fingers in front of his face.

The favor remained unspoken between them, but the look of horror that crossed Diesel's face gave away his secret—that he'd read Ranger's thoughts and didn't like them.

I, on the other hand, was in the dark. I hated being in the dark. I began rinsing the plates and loading them into the dishwasher as quietly as possible so as to listen to their ongoing exchange.

"You know I can't do that," Diesel said. "I'd lose my job."

"If that's what you call it," Ranger said, making an unnecessary jab at Diesel.

Diesel nervously ran his fingers through his hair, tussling his mangey locks.

"What's the favor?" Lizzie said. "Enlighten me."

I felt my lips curl into a smirk. At least I wasn't the only person who didn't like being left in the dark.

Ranger sat up straighter in his seat, channeling his inner businessman.

"I am willing to relinquish the stone to Diesel if he will pull the plug on my unmentionable abilities."