Thank you, as always to everyone who writes thoughtful and constructive reviews. And thanks for reading.

Any actual ideas for me to improve my writing or story are welcome. Anonymous abuse is always deleted. If you don't like the story, stop reading it. That simple. You haven't paid for it, so you can just click that little cross at the top. And if it has taken you 18 chapters to figure out you don't like it, well... I think you have bigger problems than I can solve.


Buck Up

Days passed, slowly blending into one week, then two. I still had not heard anything from Carlos, and my strength and resilience felt like it was being tested sorely. I kept telling myself that Carlos was the one at fault, that he was being cowardly and cruel to not come to see me and talk to me. But I still could not deny the ache in my heart when I thought about him, or the sense of despair when I walked into the office every day.

Lester and I had managed to track down his skip within three days, and he had returned to Miami. He had been a great friend to me for those three days, and he'd kept up his support, phoning me every couple of days and sending me flowers 'just because'. It helped. A little. Tank also called me several times; ostensibly talking about Rangeman business. Marco had called twice to talk about the training program; he was still determined to go ahead with it.

Their support was amazing. But it couldn't wholly make up for the silence from Carlos. A week after Lester had returned to Miami, Connie called with another skip. I had spent three days tracing the woman who was accused of being a link to drug trafficking and distribution. I had finally tracked her down to Philadelphia and spent another two days observing and tailing her to get her routine. I was getting better at the tailing and skip tracing. I had started to think that, if Carlos really decided not to open his Trenton office, I just might be able to make a living with the skip tracing. I still was very unsure about the takedown, something I had never done, but perhaps I could get some training for that. I could look into it.

Lester was due back tomorrow to pick up the woman in Philadelphia. Pennsylvania did not allow Lester to capture a fugitive if Rangeman did not have an office in the county, so we had contracted with a Philadelphia bond agency for the official pickup; Lester and Hector would then escort the woman back to Trenton. I was accompanying them, so that there could be no accusations of sexual misconduct. It decreased the payout for Rangeman but was the only legal way to proceed. The bond was $300,000 so the payout would still be sizable.


Lester had flown into Newark and picked up a hire car at the airport to take to Trenton. I was waiting on him at the office, and a tiny corner of my heart was hoping, wishing, that Carlos would walk through the door with Lester. I knew it wasn't likely, but my traitorous heart still hoped. When Lester walked in alone, I gave him my brightest smile I could muster and stood up to hug him, hoping he would not see the disappointment I could not deny. His sympathetic smile and extra-long hug told me I had not concealed it completely.

We got down to business, reviewing plans for that evening. Hector arrived about an hour later, and we teleconferenced with Mike O'Sullivan, the bond agent in Philadelphia, to make final plans. Lester, Hector, and I were heading to Philadelphia in the hire car and Hector's car to meet Mike at 3pm. We would then scope out the pickup address. We had scheduled the pickup for seven-thirty, as she regularly arrived home between seven and seven-fifteen. Mike, Les, and Hector would do the apprehension, with Mike taking the lead. I would wait in Hector's car and follow them back to Mike's bond agency to finalise the paperwork for the handover. I would then switch to ride in the hire car as the female presence with Lester, as we rode back to Trenton.

Everything seemed to go relatively smoothly. Mike was professional and competent, and worked well with Lester and Hector. When confronted with the three men, Alison Morgan did not resist arrest, but seemed resigned to her fate. I thought I saw disappointment cross her face when I climbed into the car beside Lester; whether because she was planning to flirt with the men, or because she was planning to accuse them of something, I did not know. Either way, I was glad to be able to help protect my guys. The drive back to Newark was nearly in silence, and I followed Lester and Hector into the TPD for the drop-off. Everything went smoothly again, and fortunately, Joe Morelli was nowhere around, so overall the pickup could not really have gone any better. I just wished I could feel as happy and excited about it as I had in the past. But there was still a heavy, leaden feeling in my chest.

After Hector had headed home, Les took my hand and led me to his hire car. I sensed he wanted to say something, but he just said, "Wanna go and get a late snack and drink, Beautiful?"

"You're not heading up to Newark?" I queried.

"Nah, booked a hotel room," he answered. "C'mon Steph, let's go get a drink."

"Ok," I sighed in agreement. I wasn't really feeling the celebratory mood, but there was no reason to be grumpy with Les. He drove to the Hilton Garden Inn at Hamilton, explaining it was where he was staying, and led me into the small lounge bar. He ordered us both a glass of red wine and ordered some French fries to share. As he sat, he seemed almost nervous, even restless, and I wondered what was happening. Was he about to tell me something? Something really awful? I felt my own tension rising, and I started to feel almost breathless with fear. When our server came with our wine and fries, I gulped down several swallows of wine.

Les must have seen I was getting really anxious, as he leaned forward and placed a reassuring hand on my arm. "It's ok, Steph," he said soothingly, "I just wanted to ask you something, and I don't know how you'll feel about it. Don't be worried."

Despite his reassuring tone, his words did little to soothe my nerves. I looked at him expectantly, and he continued, "We, I mean Marco and I, want you to come to Miami next week."

I was dumbfounded. It was like he'd dropped a bomb on me. "Why?" I blurted confusedly. "What for?"

Les shifted nervously. He hesitated, before going on, "Two reasons, I guess. Firstly, and really importantly, we want you to start the training program you've developed. We want you to set up a time to meet with Silvio to discuss his own computer training and how he will work with you on the programs, and then finalise your training plans. You can also start training the high-priority staff we've identified. Test your training programs and get set up to do the bigger program for all staff."

I was really quite taken aback. While we had developed these plans and I had spoken extensively with Marco about them, I had more or less stopped thinking about travelling to Miami when the issue blew up with Carlos. Evidently, Marco and Lester had not stopped planning though. I felt almost panicked at the thought of travelling to Miami. What would Carlos think? What would he say?

I must have said it out loud, since Lester spoke again, "Well… that's kinda the other reason we want you to come." His voice trailed off and his face hardened. "It's time for my cousin to face up to what he's doing and his responsibilities. He can't keep ignoring the entire state of New Jersey. He needs to make some decisions and…" at this, Lester looked at me significantly, "he needs to man-up and talk to you." He reached forward to squeeze my hand briefly. It gave me a little courage.

Lester sat back and took a sip of his wine. I took another gulp of my own wine as I thought about what he had said. As much as I knew Marco and Lester were right that Carlos needs to face up to everything, I was really afraid of what might happen. What if this just pushed him to end it with me? To end everything about Rangeman Trenton? As I thought about that, I felt a sense of resignation. I realised finally that, if Carlos was going to end everything with me and Trenton, then it was going to happen anyway. All we were really doing was pushing the timing; forcing the issue to come to a boil. I sighed as I thought, "Que, sera, sera. What will be, will be."

"Exactly," Les added with a slight smirk, and I realised I had spoken out loud again. I took a deep breath and looked up at Lester.

"Okay," I said, my voice barely more than a whisper, "I guess I need to face it too. I'll come."

"Good," Lester agreed. "Marco will organise everything with you since he's the co-owner. He'll be in contact and will let you know all the arrangements. You should expect to be there for at least a week to get the training program bedded down, so plan on that. You'll need to let Connie know and forward the phones to Miami. Marco will give you more detailed instructions." He hesitated again, before continuing quietly, "Just so we're clear, Steph. When you're in Miami, no matter what happens, I'm on your side, and I'll do what I have to, to look after you. So will Marco. So will Tank. If Carlos is going to throw his life away, so be it. But we'll all be there for you. You need to believe that."

I felt my eyes fill with tears at his sincerity. "Thanks," I whispered in reply. Come what may, it looked like I was about to face my fate. I was going to Miami.


I stepped off the plane in a blast of mid-afternoon Miami humidity. I had never been to Florida before. My sister and I had begged for a trip to Disneyworld as kids, but my parents never agreed. The farthest south I had been, was on a weekend trip to Cape May with Mary Lou and her family at fourteen. I looked around in the bright, glaring light, trying to cover my frank terror with curiosity, and walked toward the baggage claim to get my suitcase. Despite the busy crowd, it would have been hard to miss the giant man standing near the baggage claim, and as I approached, his white teeth flashed in a gorgeous smile against his night-dark skin. I returned the smile with as much enthusiasm as I could muster and stepped forward to hug him gently.

He gestured to the baggage carousel which was just starting to rumble and grind into motion. I waited, not really knowing how to chat with him, since Tank is not the chattiest person anyway, and watched the bags slowly emerge from the plastic strips. Eventually my small case emerged from the strips, and I gestured toward it, knowing that Tank wouldn't let me pick it up myself. He picked it up like it weighed nothing – to Tank it probably did – and led me out of the terminal to a waiting black SUV.

I was surprised how the Miami International Airport appeared to be almost in the middle of the city. Most airports were on the outskirts of the city. It seemed like a very short drive to Rangeman Miami, despite heavy traffic, and in fact Tank explained it was only a short distance to the Downtown Miami district, where Rangeman was on the outskirts. Marco and Ranger had purchased a mixed-use building from the 1960s and converted it several years ago. It was six stories, with a paved plot beside it for additional parking. They had purchased the land beside the original building about a year after they opened. There were employee apartments on the fifth floor, and Ranger and Marco had penthouse apartments on the sixth floor.

The building, when it came into view, was pleasant with white concrete siding and lots of long windows, but ultimately fairly bland and unobtrusive. I guessed that was by choice; they would not want to stand out too much or be too obvious. It was located on a triangular block intersecting three busy streets, and I could see it would have a view of the river from most of the offices. It actually looked pretty nice, and was a good location, apparently central to Miami business and commercial districts. This would seem to be a good thing for a commercial security business.

Tank parked in the main building itself; there were about ten parks under one side of the building, and I could see a couple of other black SUVs, two black Ford trucks, and a black Porsche 911 Carrera. I guess I didn't need to ask who owned the Porsche. My heart was almost beating out of my chest as Tank opened my door and ushered me towards the elevator, carrying my suitcase again. I could feel my hands start to tremble and a cold sweat on my neck. I almost started to hyperventilate as the elevator started to rise.

Tank used his free arm to put around my shoulders and said, "Relax Steph. You're going to have a heart attack at this rate. You need to calm down." I nodded but was not sure how I could do what he said. The elevator stopped on the fifth floor, and Tank led me out and down a corridor of similar-looking doors with letters on them. "These are the employee apartments," he explained. "Apartment H is not occupied, and we've set it up for you to stay in. It's one-bedroom but it's a nice apartment."

My heart lurched even further at that. I had thought, only a few weeks ago, if I came here to this building, I would be staying with Carlos. I took a deep, steadying breath and allowed Tank to lead me into Apartment H. It was compact and simple, with white walls and neutral colours in the furniture. I could see a queen-size bed with a pale blue quilt through the open door. There were windows on two walls, one looking out toward the river, and one looking toward the street. The living area had a small kitchenette off to the side, with a microwave, refrigerator, and cooktop. It was neatly furnished, but not lavishly, and it looked pretty much like a hotel suite. Tank told me to get settled in; he would be back in half an hour to escort me up to Marco's office.

I carried my suitcase into the bedroom and placed it onto the bed beside a stack of white towels and washcloths. There was a two-door closet beside the bed, and I could see a closed door at the foot of the bed that I assumed would lead to the bathroom. I checked the door and it led to a small, white-tiled bathroom with a toilet, a basin, and a stand-up shower. Again, basic but clean and simple. I unpacked my suitcase with the items I wanted to hang in the closet or stow in the drawers. I took my bathroom bag into the bathroom and unpacked my supplies and hung up the towels. I stowed my empty suitcase in the bottom of the closet and wandered back out to the living room area. I looked in the fridge and saw that someone had thoughtfully stocked some bottles of water and there was a bowl of oranges and bananas on the kitchen counter. I got myself a bottle of water and a banana and stood, eating my snack, looking out of the window to the river, trying not to think about the upcoming confrontation with Carlos.

I was almost startled by the soft knock on the apartment door, but immediately I went to open it and let Tank in. I paused to throw away the banana peel and wash my hands, before heading off to face what may come.


A special thank you from this chapter to Melody/Harmne, who has generously agreed to share her time and thoughts to help me past a bit of a road block and back on track with my story. Thank you so much Melody, you're a gem! Robyn