I'm sitting with my boyfriend of two years, watching a hockey game on the television. It's the New York Rangers against the Toronto Maple Leafs. I know the Rangers will win because the Leafs have a horrible team and lineup. They need a better team manager.
"Are you comfortable?" Joe asks. He drapes an arm across my shoulder, giving me a gentle squeeze.
Joseph Morelli and I have known each other for all our lives. He was the neighbourhood bad boy, and I was the tomboy. We started dating a few months after I left Dickie standing at the altar. Mom was furious. Dad was happy. He didn't want me to marry Dickie. I wished Dad said something before Dickie and I got engaged.
"Yes, thank you," I reply, cuddling into his side. I wonder why Joe is entertaining me with small talk. It isn't his typical MO, especially during a hockey game. I turn my attention back to the game. The score is 3-0 for the Rangers. The Rangers' defence intercepts another shot at goal by the Leafs. Pathetic.
We're inside Joe's apartment at 617 Bergen Court, which is off Route 1. It's comfortable. However, I don't see myself living here. I have a second-floor apartment in the building on the corner of St James and Dunworth. My unit overlooks the parking lot and has a fire escape. It isn't the safest apartment, but it's affordable. Most of my neighbours are senior citizens. I'm more comfortable in my own space, surrounded by my belongings.
Joe's apartment is slightly larger than mine. We spend most weekends at Joe's place. "Steph?" he asks.
"Joe?" I timidly reply as my spidey sense indicates trouble is brewing. I should have stayed home.
"You're getting older," he starts, which irritates me. Way to point out the obvious. My birthday is tomorrow. "I want us to get married and start on our family."
I slump my shoulders and remove Joe's arm from my shoulder. He's taken aback but relaxes after entwining our fingers. I shift to face him. "Joe, there's something you need to know. I think it's why Dickie cheated on me with Joyce," I sadly say. It's unfair to Joe that I let us date for two years without telling him my deepest and darkest secret. He's going to be mad that I didn't tell him sooner. I deserve his anger and punishment that I knew would follow the disappointing news.
"Stephanie, you're scaring me," Joe replies.
Grimacing, I tell him about the scars on my abdomen. "Do you remember when I visited my grandparents in Georgia when I was sixteen?" I ask. My mind wanders as I wait for Joe's nod. He should remember because I didn't return to work my shift at the Tasty Pastry after my vacation. I heard a rumour that Joe had sex with the girl who worked behind the counter that night. It should have been me, but I was thankful it wasn't. That's not how I wanted to lose my virginity. I lost it to a boy I met during my first year in college. It was clumsy and awkward. The boy didn't know how to pleasure anyone because it was his first time as well. We broke up after that night. Dickie Orr was the first man I dated after the incident.
Joe nods, "I remember."
"I got rushed to the hospital in excruciating pain. The doctor ran tests and scans. He found an adnexal tumour in my right fallopian tube and another on my left ovary. The surgeon removed the left ovary and both fallopian tubes. I can't have children, which is why I don't use oral contraceptives," I explain. My grandma got permission from my dad for the surgery. As far as I know, Mom doesn't know.
The vein in Joe's forehead pulsates. I see the anger building in his eyes. He's furious. Maybe I should have told him sooner. It's a mistake I will never repeat with another man.
I attempted to release his hand, knowing our relationship was over. He jerks me off the couch. A brief sigh of relief escapes before Joe starts punching and kicking me. "You wasted two years of my life, you fucking bitch!" Joe screams. I block his punches to my face with my arms. Pain radiates through my arm as it snaps. I pray for someone to save me or for death to take me away.
"Stop," I cry. Joe isn't listening, having let his inner beast consume him. I always knew he had the Morelli temper brewing below the surface. Every place Joe hits aches. I'm in pain, worse than the one leading to surgery.
Joe stops hitting me. I feel a sense of relief before he tosses me out outside and locks the door. I'm lying on the cold concrete sidewalk in the breezeway. My purse, phone and jacket are in the living room. Joe tosses those from the front door, but I can't reach them from my position. Everything hurts. I take shallow breaths and swallow my moans as I attempt to crawl toward the door to collect my belongings.
Footfalls across the asphalt get closer. I raise my head to see who's there, praying it isn't Joe coming after me again. My rescuer halts and drops to his knees. His mocha latte face is perfect. He's gorgeous. I sense tingles in my neck and panic. Do I have a brain injury?
"I've got you, Babe," the man patiently says. "Bobby, grab her purse and jacket," he orders his friend. I can't stop staring at his face. His eyes are the colour of milk chocolate. They give away his fear as he quickly assesses my injuries.
"Where are we going?" I gasped as he quickly lifted me from the ground.
"Hospital," the man replies.
"No," I practically shout—my head pounds from the increase in volume.
"How about a clinic?" the man asks. He carries me to his vehicle and climbs into the backseat with me in his arms.
"Okay. I'm Stephanie Plum," I say, hoping he says his name.
"Ricardo Carlos Manoso. My street name is Ranger," he reciprocates. Bobby removes the keys from my jacket pocket and tosses them to a man with blond spiky hair. He catches them and presses the fob—the lights of my red Miata flash.
"Where to, boss?" a huge black man asks.
"Ewing Clinic," Ranger replies. "Call Celia."
The man driving presses a button on the dash. A phone rings over the speakers. "Hi, Tank. How can I help you?" a pleasant woman asks.
"Celia, are you still at the clinic?" Tank wonders.
"Yes. I was closing up for the night," Celia replies.
"Can you remain open for us? We have a woman needing your assistance," Tank says, getting to business.
"Why can't you take her to the hospital?"
"Boyfriend is a cop," I answer.
"Oh. I'll stay open. When should you be here?" Celia asks.
"Ten minutes," Ranger says. "Her name is Stephanie Plum."
"I'll see you soon, hermano." Celia ends the call.
"Who's your boyfriend?" Ranger asks me.
"Joe Morelli," I groan. The pain in my abdomen increases as Tank hits one of the many potholes on the streets of Trenton.
Ranger is holding me, attempting to absorb the shock from the tires. "I'm sorry, Babe," he whispers.
"Not your fault," I reply.
Tank and Ranger speak in Spanish. I don't understand the language and can't determine what they say. When they say "Morelli," I know they're discussing my situation.
"Babe, does Morelli have a key to your apartment?" Ranger asks.
"Yes," I whisper. He curses under his breath. I could tell the men wanted to know why Morelli hit me. They need to know to protect me.
"Should I call your family?" Tank offers.
"Dad. Frank Plum. Number in my phone," I gasp. It's getting increasingly harder to breathe. My ribs ache. I know some are cracked or broken.
Bobby opens my purse to grab the device. "Unlock code?" Bobby asks.
"Eight, four, zero, eight, one, two," I reply. Ranger sucks in a breath. I wonder about the significance of the numbers.
"I don't see any listing for Frank Plum on your phone," Bobby says after checking the contacts.
"General," I whisper.
Bobby raises a brow as he selects the name "General." He quickly connects the call to the vehicle's Bluetooth system.
"Is everything okay, Pumpkin?" Dad asks. Ranger smirked as though he recognized the voice. I wonder if Daddy is his handler.
"Hello, sir. My name is Bobby Brown. I'm calling from Stephanie's phone. She was assaulted earlier tonight by her boyfriend, Officer Joseph Morelli. My friends and I are taking her to Ewing Medical Clinic," Bobby explains.
"How bad?" Dad asks. "I'm leaving the lodge, and I'll meet you there."
"Broken arm, possibly broken ribs and a lot of contusions," Bobby replies. "Lester Santos is following behind us in her car."
"Good. I'll have her Uncle Joe pick it up later. He has the spare key fob for her car. We can store it in his garage until Stephanie can drive it," Dad says. I hear him climb into the cab and start the ignition. "Take care of my little girl until I arrive."
"What about Morelli?" Ranger asks.
"Leave him to Stephanie's Uncle Joe," Dad replies and hangs up. It isn't like Dad to be rude and end the call without saying goodbye.
"Who is your Uncle Joe?" Bobby turns in his seat to ask. He shuts down my phone and drops it into my purse. "I don't know if Morelli can track your device. It's best to be safe."
"Juniak," I reply.
Ranger laughs. His shaking chest makes me groan. "Sorry, Babe. I didn't know your Uncle was the Chief of Police."
"Godfather, not Uncle," I whisper. Ranger brushes the hair off my face. I can see a future with him as he looks into my eyes. It plays like a silent movie. I never knew finding your other half in a freak meeting was possible. His fingers caress the bruise along my jaw. It hurts but isn't broken. Tank watches in the rearview mirror. He raises a brow but doesn't comment.
"Two minutes," Tank announces, breaking my moment with Ranger. What does this mean? Is Ranger my soulmate? I want to believe we have a future. Soldiers, especially career ones, don't have lasting relationships. I can tell Ranger and his friends make a living working for Uncle Sam.
A gorgeous woman awaits us when Tank parks the SUV in the lot behind the clinic. She smiles as Ranger carries me inside. "I'm Celia Rodriguez. Carlos, the man carrying you, is my younger brother. What happened?" she asks.
"My boyfriend beat me," I answer.
"Why? Did you provoke him?" Celia kindly wonders as she examines my nose. I shake my head.
"He didn't like what I shared," I whisper.
"Your nose is broken," Celia says. I wince as she straightens it and applies strips to hold it.
Celia helps me change my clothes. She slips a soft hospital-type gown over my shoulders before removing my bra. Ranger refuses to leave my side. "What did you say?" Celia asks as she examines my abdomen. She quickly glances at her brother when she sees the black Sharpie drawn on my left side, beneath my ribs.
Before I can answer, Ranger says, "Bobby wanted to ensure she wasn't bleeding internally."
"Wise man," she mumbles. "The bruises didn't extend past the line, Stephanie. That's a good sign. I'm going to take some X-rays to check your ribs. Is there any chance you're pregnant?"
"None," I reply. Celia gets Ranger to lay me on the table in the X-ray room. She covers my lower abdomen to protect my reproductive organs. It's pointless because I can't have children.
"Try to hold your breath for a few seconds," Celia orders. It hurts, but I manage. "Great. You can release it." She returns to the bed and gets her brother to sit on a chair. Celia has me sit on his lap as she positions my arm to check the fracture. Before she leaves, Celia drapes a lead blanket-like item over my front, letting it drape over Ranger's shoulders. "Hermano, hold it in place for her," she says.
I roll my eyes as Celia takes a few X-rays of my arm. "What's the damage?" Ranger asks when Celia turns off the machine to examine the scans.
"Stephanie, you have a simple fracture to your left arm. I have to set and plaster it. You'll have to wear the cast for six to eight weeks. Four ribs are broken. Unfortunately, we don't wrap them; you'll be in pain until those heal. Do you have somewhere safe to stay?"
"My apartment," I whisper.
"No," Ranger says. "I'm taking you to my place."
"I need to check your blood and urine, but I need an ultrasound first," Celia announces. She has Ranger carry me to another room where she has the sonogram. I moan as Ranger lays me on the examination table. Celia rolls the machine closer to the bed. She puts the cold gel on my abdomen and uses the wand to check for other bleeding or damage.
I cringe when she passes the wand over my liver and spleen. "Some bruising. I'll keep an eye on those," Celia promises. She moves the wand lower to examine my reproductive organs. "Oh. Ovarian cancer?" Celia wonders.
"No. Adnexal tumours. One on my ovary, the other in my fallopian tube," I reply.
"You can't conceive. I'm sorry, Stephanie," Celia says. She returns the wand to the table. "Is it okay if I share with my brother?"
"Go for it," I say. It doesn't matter. Ranger heard Celia's comment. He might as well hear the remaining story.
"The surgeon removed Stephanie's left ovary and both fallopian tubes. She can't get pregnant," Celia explains. "Steph, is this why your boyfriend assaulted you?"
"Yes," I whisper. "Joe wants a Burg wife and Burg children. I can't give those to him."
"You can always adopt," Celia suggests. I shrug because it doesn't matter. "Let's get the labs, and I'll plaster your arm."