A/N: Thank you so much to Whitmom for her help in this chapter by asking the questions she wanted answered.

J. Evanovich's new Plum book is called "Tricky Twenty-Two". I think Tragic Twenty-Two would've been better, but we'll see in November…

"They told me you were dead," I said in a quiet voice.

"I almost was," he replied.

"I went to your funeral."

"I know."

"I cried for days," I continued. "And I punched Morelli in the face when he said you deserved to die."

"Babe."

"But you're alive."

"Yes."

Chapter 7

I pondered this new knowledge and the fact that we were still on the floor, chest to chest and groin to groin. Ranger let go of my wrists and put his hands on each side of my waist, sliding them under my shirt.

"Do you have any more questions?" He asked.

Right now, I had so many questions and was feeling so many emotions, I couldn't figure them out. Neither Ranger nor I were good at acknowledging emotions; our actions had always spoke louder than words. So I kissed him deep and hard.

"Not now," I said.

He flipped us over and pulled off my shirt, followed by his. I frantically unbuttoned his pants as he undid mine. And suddenly he was inside me on the floor of my living room.

Sex with Ranger was like riding in a high performance car: fast, exhilarating, and a little rough. I came within a few minutes.

He picked me up by my thighs and carried me into my bedroom. He dropped me on my bed and looked at me for a second.

"I thought I wouldn't ever touch you again," he spoke quietly.

"Shh," I said. "Talk later."

I pulled him down onto the bed and he kissed his way down my torso to the promised land.

"Oh God," I moaned.

It was early morning. Ranger and I had showered and were standing in my kitchen waiting for the coffee maker to finish doing its thing. We didn't get a lot of sleep the night before, but I felt relieved and refreshed. There was just one thing that was bothering me.

"I just need to get something out of my system," I told Ranger.

"Sure," he said.

I slapped him hard across the face. "Don't you EVER pretend to be dead again," I warned.

Ranger rubbed his cheek. "I deserved that."

I got some bread out and put a few slices into the toaster. "What happened?" I asked.

Ranger sighed. Ranger never sighed, so that probably wasn't a good thing.

Suddenly, a knock sounded on the door. I looked at Ranger.

"Who knows you're alive?" I whispered to him.

"Just you," he whispered back.

I slowly headed towards the door as Ranger headed into my bedroom to hide.

"Steph," Tank's voice carried from behind the door. "If you don't open this door in five seconds, I'm breaking it down."

I had three locks on my door and a floor bolt, but if anyone could force their way inside, it would be Tank. I undid the locks and opened the door to Tank.

"Good morning," I said.

He came in with his gun drawn, scanning the room for threats. Once he was satisfied I was safe, he spoke to me.

"You didn't show up for training this morning," he said. "And your tracker wasn't at Morelli's. I thought something happened to you."

"Well, I, uh…" I totally forgot about self-defense lessons with Tank. Probably because Ranger and I were screwing our brains out for most of the night.

Just then, Ranger appeared in my bedroom doorway. Tank heard the sound and swung around and pointed his gun at Ranger. His jaw dropped.

"Ranger?" Tank said, astonished.

"Tank," Ranger replied.

The two men stood staring at each other for a few beats. I think they might have been communicating telepathically. Finally, Tank holstered his weapon and walked quickly over to Ranger. I thought they were going to hug until Tank punched Ranger in the gut.

"Ugh," said Ranger, bending over at the waist, clutching his stomach.

Without another word, Tank left. I turned to Ranger.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," Ranger managed. "He'll keep it a secret, but it'll be a while until he forgives me."

"I don't even know if I forgive you," I said.

Ranger straightened and smiled at me. "It sounded like you forgave me lots of times last night."

I rolled my eyes and we headed back into the kitchen. I popped down the toast for us to eat and grabbed the jar of peanut butter out of the cupboard. Ranger poured us each a cup of coffee.

"What happened to you?" I asked.

"I was contacted by someone that I can't name who was high up in the FBI," Ranger said. "He was worried that there was a mole in the agency, leaking information related to a large drug trafficking ring."

"Cocaine?" I guessed.

"Yes," Ranger continued. "I was secretly put undercover, and only a few key FBI personnel knew. I had an advantage with my Newark roots and Cuban ancestry and quickly infiltrated the operation. It was a dangerous mission; a lot of people were dying."

"Were they shot with armor-piercing bullets?"

"Yes," Ranger answered with a smile. "I see you've heard this story before. I tracked the cocaine to a warehouse in Newark. It was the central drop point before being redistributed to mid-level dealers. Before I knew it, the whole warehouse exploded." He paused. "It was a set up and I barely got out of there alive."

"Tank said you died in the explosion," I said. "Why would you fake your own death?"

"Someone in the FBI declared me dead," Ranger explained. "It was convenient. There are advantages to being dead; it allows me certain freedoms."

"Such as?" I asked.

"I don't have to worry about my enemies trying to kill me," Ranger said. "The national news coverage of the polonium incident at Rangeman put me in the spotlight and exposed my location. One of my men almost died of radiation poisoning by just doing his job. By faking my death, I could put my men out of harm's way."

"And me," I said.

"Especially you," Ranger said softly.

"Where have you been this whole time?" I asked.

"I spent a bit of time in the hospital under an alias," he explained. "And I was debating whether to come back or not."

"So why did you come back?" I asked.

Ranger considered me for a moment. "Revenge." He paused and tucked a curl of my hair behind my ear. "And I can't seem to stay away from you. I never have."

"So what now?" I asked Ranger.

"I need to find out who the mole is in the FBI and who is in charge of the cocaine drug ring," Ranger explained. "My contact in Newark died in the warehouse explosion. His name was José and he was one of my best friends in college. I'm used to people trying to kill me, but when they mess with my friends, it becomes personal."

He stood and put his empty plate and mug in the sink. "I need someone in the FBI that I can trust."

"Someone like me," I said.

"Yes."

"I'm in." I closed the gap between us and put my hands on his chest. "Ranger. I thought you were dead." I paused and looked him in the eyes. "I am completely in."

"I have a couple questions for you," Ranger said.

I waited to let him continue.

"Since when did you sleep with your gun on your nightstand?" Ranger asked.

I sighed and sat down on the couch. "When you died, I changed. When one of my skips tried to rape me, I got smart and started taking self-defense lessons and carrying my gun."

"How are you involved in the cocaine drug ring?" He asked, sitting next to me.

I explained about finding the bag of cocaine in the church, the four dead skips, and Karen O'Reilly hiring me. I told him about Mooner and Dougie's cupcakes, the cell phone, the cocaine boss' voice encryption, the phone list, and how I thought I might have a hit out on me. After I was done, he sat back in his chair and pondered the information.

"How can I help you?" I asked.

"I need you to pretend that I'm still dead," Ranger said. "Go about your daily business as normal."

He was asking me to go back to that dark place of grieving and I didn't know if I could do it. "You do realize that means sleeping with Morelli," I said.

Ranger looked pained. "Maybe don't try too hard."

"I'll relay you any information I get," I said. "How do I get in touch with you?"

"You don't," Ranger said. "I'll contact you."

It figures. Ranger was a man of mystery, which was part of his allure and a source of frustration for me.

The morning was getting late and I had another joint task force meeting at the FBI building. I put on my shoes and tucked my gun into the waistband of my jeans. I looked up to see Ranger staring at me with smoldering eyes.

"What?" I asked him.

"Do you have any idea how sexy you look, carrying your gun?"

I walked over to him and put my hand down to feel the front of his pants. "I have a good idea."

"You're killing me here," he said.

"Good thing you're already dead."

A/N: Just a short chapter, but I wanted to get it posted sooner than later.