This is only the first half of this chapter - the second half still needs some serious editing but I wanted to get you something for being so patient with me. Thanks for following along and leaving awesome comments.

All recognizable characters belong to JE - mistakes are all on me.

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I took a quick shower and inspected my cheek in the mirror over the sink. The swelling was minimal and Tank's small, neat row of stitches almost blended into my dark skin - if you didn't look directly at my face. Stephanie would certainly notice, but hopefully her parents wouldn't look too closely.

I figured showing up in my swat gear wouldn't be the best option for not drawing attention so I poked around in my closet looking for a less intimidating outfit. I found a pair of worn blue jeans and slipped my arms into a light brown button down dress shirt. I finished the look with a pair of mahogany work boots and tied my hair back with a leather strap.

I had forty minutes until I was supposed to meet her so I tucked my gun in the small of my back and headed down to the fifth floor for a quick check in with the control room.

Hal and Bones were on the monitors and Hal swiveled in his chair when I came through the door.

"I was just going to call you…the cop has been parked at Steph's parents' house for the past ten minutes."

A bolt of anger and what might have been jealously zipped down my spine but I only raised a single eyebrow and addressed Hal. "I thought I made it clear that all tracking devices were to be removed from detective Morelli's vehicles."

He had the grace to look sheepish and I saw Bones stiffen in his chair. "Yeah, you did."

"Make sure it gets done this time," I said and then left without another word. No need to let them know I was actually grateful they defied a direct order. I knew they all cared about Stephanie and were just looking out for her so I couldn't really be mad. However, if Morelli discovered he was being monitored it would cause more trouble than it was worth to keep an eye on him.

But at this moment I took advantage of the knowledge and headed down to the garage.

Happy was pulling into a parking space when I opened the door from the stairs and I watched him unfold his large frame from the cab of his truck as I made my way to the Cayenne. He gave me a head nod of acknowledgement and I approached him when I saw the singed arm of his Rangeman jacket.

He was half of Tank's width but they were the same height so I had to tilt my head up to look into his eyes. "Little too close for comfort?" I gestured to his sleeve and he responded by peeling off the coat and rolling it up into a ball.

"She's okay," he said, meeting my gaze. If I didn't know him so well the flaring glow of his dark emerald eyes might have given me pause. He worked the muscle in his jaw and the black spider tattooed on his cheek moved as if it was alive and about to crawl across his face. Yeah, Happy could project an imposing presence, to say the least.

"I know," I told him. "I worry less when you're with her. Is the car being towed?"

He nodded. "I'll take care of it. Can we spar later?"

Happy and I spent a lot of time in the boxing ring. It was an outlet for me to expel pent up energy, or in many cases, anger or outright rage. That was especially true for me when Steph got hurt, or like today, came close to getting hurt. Happy's motivation wasn't always clear but he was the only man on my staff that could hold his own in the ring with me so I didn't worry too much about it. I suspected we had similar reasons for needing to beat the shit out of something - or someone. Everyone agreed it was better than most alternatives - and safer. If we were pummeling each other, then neither of us was out in the world doing damage that couldn't be undone.

"I have a dinner tonight but I'll see if you're around when I get back."

His green eyes flashed with something unidentifiable before he said quietly, "She loves you."

I didn't know if that was a question or if he thought I needed reassurance so I just nodded as I extracted my keys from my pocket.

"Morelli is a prick," he tacked on and I couldn't disagree. "I passed him heading into the burg after I dropped her off. I wanted to shoot out his tires."

That made me smile. "I've had similar thoughts myself." I thought I saw Happy's lips twitch, but I couldn't be sure.

"Later," he said and headed to the stairwell.

And Stephanie thought I was a man a few words. I slid behind the wheel of my car and broke several speed limits on my way to what would probably end up being the dinner from hell.

When I turned on to the Plums' street I saw Morelli's SUV first and then spotted the man himself. He and Stephanie were on the front lawn. She was holding a cardboard box and Morelli was, in my opinion, standing too close to her with his hands at his sides and curled into tight fists. I hoped one of them held the engagement ring she insisted upon returning so there would never be a reason for them to see each other again.

Joe was talking but despite popular belief, I don't have vampire hearing so I tried to read his lips as I pulled up behind his truck and cut the engine. It took most of my self-control not to get out of the car and threaten him bodily harm. I knew Steph wanted to do this and she wanted to do it on her own so I stayed put and did my jaw thing while I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. It was probably best, she wouldn't be happy if we came to blows and that was always a distinct possibility when Morelli and I shared the same air space.

After what seemed like an eternity he said one more thing that made Stephanie wince and then turned to leave. He faltered for a second when he saw me sitting in my car but recovered quickly and flipped me the bird before he got into his truck and drove away - I hoped for the last time.

I secured my vehicle and quickly made my way to her side. "You okay?" I asked automatically even though I knew she wasn't. There were unshed tears in her eyes and she was hugging the box tightly to her chest. Fucking Morelli. I hated that he still held a big enough piece of her heart to make her cry. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and she leaned into me, but didn't answer. We stood that way for a few minutes until her Grandmother appeared at the screen door and peered out at us.

"You two coming in, or what? I wanna show you my new gun!"

Steph and I shared a look that was equally horrified and intrigued. "We'll be there in a minute," Steph called. Her voice was thick with emotion and it made my heart lurch in my chest. Fucking Morelli.

"Don't tell anyone, but sometimes I think your Grandma is a little scary," I said in an attempt to lighten her mood. I tapped the box she was holding with my forefinger. "What's in here?"

She blew out a breath and shifted the box to one arm, balancing it on her hip so she could smooth her messy brown curls back from her face. "I guess some stuff I left at Joe's house."

"Ah. I see. Want me to light it on fire?"

She gave me a small smile and shook her head. "No. I'll go through it later."

"Where's your car?" I asked even though I knew the burned out shell was somewhere on Stark street.

She lifted her eyebrows. "Why are you pretending you don't know exactly what happened today? I know Happy called you the second it exploded."

I grinned at her and leaned in to peck her on the cheek. "Completely destroyed?"

"Yes," she breathed in mild frustration. "Another one bites the dust."

"You do have frighteningly bad car karma, Babe. I'll put this in the Porsche and then we'll go have a lovely dinner with your family."

I took the box from her and headed to my car. I laughed when she called to my retreating back, "I can't believe you said that with a straight face."

I dropped the box on the front seat and was tempted to see exactly what was in it. I wouldn't put it past Morelli to have filled it with things he knew would upset her, but I left it alone. I closed the door and once again joined her on the lawn. "Are we going to talk about Joe later?" I asked and laced my fingers through hers.

"That depends on if you want to talk about what happened to your face." She extended her other hand and lightly ran her thumb over the stitches.

"Quid pro quo, huh? We'll have to negotiate the terms after dinner." I wrapped my other arm around her and pulled her in for a kiss. It was just on the verge of sliding from PG rated to a good strong R when Edna appeared at the door again.

"Hot damn! That's some good kissin'. I bet the neighbors are glued to the windows."

Stephanie groaned into my mouth and I backed away, the intimate moment deflated by an eighty year old with what looked like blue hair, ogling us from the front porch.

"Ready to face the music," she asked and I nodded somberly.

"If you are, but just so you know, I am armed and prepared to shoot anyone who gets out of line."

She smiled and extracted her hand from mine to pull me back for a quick hug. "Thank you for being here," she said and then released me. "You look pretty hot in this outfit, by the way." She ran her hand down the front of my shirt, smoothing it out against my chest and then her eyes dropped to my pants. "Really hot. I don't remember the last time I saw you in jeans. I like it." Her gaze traveled back up my body in a slow scan. "Maybe too much."

I was really tempted to throw her over my shoulder and load her into the Cayenne. It was only a five minute ride to her apartment. "If you keep looking at me that way, we're not going to make it inside the house."

She sighed and turned to peer at the dwelling in question. "The sooner we go in the sooner I can get you out of those jeans, right?"

"I like the way you think," I said and took her hand once again. We headed up the walkway and Edna held the screen door open for us.

"Looking good, Grandma," Steph said casually when we stepped into the house. I wasn't sure good was the right choice of words. Not only was her hair an alarming shade of blue but she was wearing a white leather skirt that stopped way too short of her knees and a small pink tank top that looked like it might have come right from Lula's closet. The word 'Sexy' was printed across the chest in silver sparkling sequins.

"Trying out a new hair color?" Steph glanced at me with an expression that clearly said, Yikes! And I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing out loud.

"Do you like it?" Edna asked and patted the tightly rolled curls with a wrinkled, veiny hand. "It's called 'Indigo Dream'. I thought your Mother was going to have a stroke when I got home from the beauty parlor."

The smile on her face told me that she'd done it with the sole intent of screwing with her daughter and I could respect that. Helen Plum wasn't on my list of favorite people.

"I bet," Stephanie muttered. "How many hours did she spend ironing?"

"Four. She even ironed Frank's drawers but I think she over did it with the starch because he's walking around like he's got a stick stuck up his patoot."

We were following her down the hallway that leads to the dining room and I couldn't hold in the laugh on that one. She twisted around and grinned at me. "I'm glad you're here," she said. It's been too long since a sexy man has come to dinner."

"Grandma!" Steph admonished.

"What? It's not like you don't know he's hot as the sun. I saw you squeezing his butt outside during that scorcher of a kiss. I wouldn't mind grabbing a handful myself."

"You need to keep your hands to yourself," Steph said and I couldn't agree more. I tried to subtly position her body between mine and Edna's but Steph was too quick for me and darted off to the left, leaving me exposed to potentially groping hands. Edna winked at me and I had to smile. This was going to be an interesting evening.

"Don't go nowhere," she said, pointing at me. "I'm gonna get my gun."

She darted out of the dining room leaving us alone. "She's nuts," I told Steph. "Now I know where you get it."

"Funny. I was going to kiss you again but since you have to be a smart-ass, I've changed my mind."

I reached out and grabbed her arm before she could get away and yanked her up against my body. I slid my arm around her waist and dipped my hand down into the waistband of her jeans, giving her own luscious ass a squeeze before I covered her mouth with mine and kissed her until her knees started to buckle. I drew back when I heard Edna returning and left Steph standing there with a slightly glazed look in her eye and puffy, thoroughly ravished lips.

"Check this baby out," her Grandma said and clomped into the room on four inch chunky white heels that also screamed Lula. She was wielding a fifty caliber, ten inch, gold Desert Eagle and I had to fight the instinct to duck. The Desert Eagle is a substantial gun and not surprisingly, she was having a hard time holding it up with one hand.

"Shit, Grandma. Where did you get that?" I'd like to know that too. No respectable gun store owner would sell a gun like that to an eighty year old woman who weighed less than some breeds of dog.

"I bought it from the dealer. Isn't it a pip? You could blow the head clean off a chicken with this thing. I haven't tried that out yet though." You could blow the head clean off of a lot of things with that gun and I sincerely hoped she would never test it out.

"Dougie sold that to you?" Steph was a tad incredulous and shot me a look that made me think she would happily kill Dougie at the first available opportunity.

"Sure," she replied. "And that's not all." She set the gun on the dining room table right next to the butter dish and then proceeded to hike up her skirt.

There is not enough bleach in the world to wash that image from my brain. She was showing us the thigh holster fastened around her leg that was cradling a baby Glock 26, but all I could see was the neon green thong. I guess I should be grateful she wasn't going commando.

Unfortunately, Stephanie's parents chose that moment to enter the dining room.

"Holy Christ," her Father muttered. "Mother!" Helen screeched and then fell backwards in a dead faint.

For a second everyone froze and then Steph and Edna raced to Helen's side. While they were busy trying to rouse her, I used the distraction to remove the magazine from the Desert Eagle after making sure she hadn't chambered a round. I slid the clip into my pocket, satisfied none of us would accidentally end up getting shot.

I looked up and Frank Plum was giving me a nod of approval. He stuck out his hand and I shook it. "Welcome to the nut house," he said. "I'm gonna get a scotch." His eyes flickered to his wife laid out on the floor. "Maybe a double. You want one?" It was tempting, but I declined his offer and he disappeared.

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AN: Got some help from my gun enthusiast boyfriend for this - He owns both of the guns mentioned here and gave me a brief lesson - The thigh holster was his idea. :)