The site's been a little wonky as of late, showing the story one sec and then saying it's unavailable the next. Hope this update is visible, uninterrupted (app seems to be working fine, though).

Disclaimer: The Plum universe belongs to JE. Typos are my bad.

Lester's POV

It's so hard to let reality sink in, but there's really no other option. First responders were ill-timed to provide life saving measures. There was nothing they could do.

Wholly beyond saving.

We were all too late.

Looking around, taking in the hectic scene, it felt like some scripted sequence out of a post apocalyptic world. It's hard to comprehend how just a day ago we were teasing Beautiful for the hot liplock she shared with the Boss after our most recent distraction op. It was friendly ribbing, enjoying a moment of levity after what could have gone sideways so fast once our target decided to aggressively attempt to paw Beautiful. Ranger snapped some bones the

millisecond Stephanie led the asshole out of the skeezy bar.

Despite the first rays of dawn illuminating the overcast sky above, we all know it'll never be a beautiful day without Bomber gifting us her daily dose of sunshine in our lives.

Not today and not ever again.

Surveying the still active scene, I locked eyes with each of my Rangeman comrades. Despite our solid blank faces, it's easily decipherable what we're thinking: that this can't be real. That this is a collective nightmare we so desperately want to wake up from.

Then there's Ranger, mobilized and barking orders at the first responders still milling about the scene. The cops are giving him a look that signifies the finality of it all. It's not a condescending look, but more of a condolence response. The officers share glances that tell anyone who's watching that they have sympathy for my cousin. It's possible that the boys in blue have a consensus about Ranger's reaction to what could only be described as the biggest loss for him. Ranger's feelings for Beautiful were never a secret. The officers understand that he's very much in the denial stage.

"We should, uhm…" Ram cocked his head towards our Bossman, silently indicating that maybe one of us should talk to him. Finding the love of your life charred beyond recognition is definitely up there on our long list of traumatic experiences.

"Bobby." My voice cracked when I witnessed him escorting the coroner out of the now probably permanently condemned building.

Damn. I had to choke down a sob as we all watched the body bag on the stretcher pass us by.

Jesus, this hurts.

S&R

Stephanie's POV

The instant I regained consciousness, I knew I'd been stunned. For one, I had a raging headache, kinda like a hangover but worse. Two, my thoughts were very jumbled. Confusion and chaos are running amok with my thoughts. I'm not the most organized, thoughtful person to ever exist, yet I know my current mental spiral is a product of being zapped by a fully charged stun gun.

My stun gun.

Attempting to regulate my breathing wasn't an easy task. My chest and ribs felt sore, sensitively tender just to breathe.

My eyes flew open despite my best efforts at keeping my being awake as an ace under my sleeve while I fully processed the scene. No can do when I remember that some asshole broke into my apartment in the middle of the night!

The lighting in the room was a weird mixture of too bright for my already sensitive senses and so yellowish toned that it took me too long for comfort to get a grasp of the layout of the room. The danky scent also didn't help, combining with the lightning to make me both nauseous and dizzy. As is, my head is already spinning.

"Oh, great. At last, you're awake." A nasally voice announced, too false cheery for my liking.

In a matter of seconds, my line of sight was filled by an approaching figure. The lighting and weird angles of the room made it so that from my vantage point, securely tied to a solid wooden throne-like chair, I had limited visibility. It wasn't until he stood right under a light source that I could make out that the heavier set man was also on the shorter side. I'm easily half a foot taller than him, give or take.

The surprise attack in my bedroom while I was asleep came rushing back the closer he approached. No wonder my chest and ribs feel sore! Sinking his full weight on my upper half, he left me with a tender rib cage. Ouch!

"I was wondering when you'd check back in. It's been a while." He shared, shooting me what he must have thought was a friendly smile, but in actuality looks beyond creepy. I can sense that smiling isn't necessarily in his daily emoting repertoire.

And that's when the realization hit me. I've seen that chilling, unnatural smile before. Up close, too.

Think, Stephanie, think!

Sitting in the Rangeman break room to eat lunch means there's never a lull in conversation. As the only female in the building aside from Ella, the guys have become very comfortable around me now that we regularly work side by side. Being privy to the more 'guy' chatter is a sign of acceptance, and honestly tends to be quite entertaining most of the time.

"Dude, your face is looking real smooth lately." Zip complimented Ram, asking what he's been using to get such a good glow on his skin. Ram, like some of the other guys, can get some face blemishes after some rough time in the field. Nothing major, really.

"Oh, thanks, bro." Ram flashed the room his patented conquistador mega smile. "Been using some soap my girl keeps in the shower." Shrugging, Ram proceeded to comment on how effective said liquid cleanser's been. "My only complaint is that it doesn't really smell that good, though."

The moment Ram said that his alleged miracle shower gel didn't have any sort of scented goodness, I just knew what he'd been using. Hiding my grin, I continued to silently eat my meal. Just the image of Ram, this big and buff Merry Man, using that soap on his face was a pretty hilarious mental image. The bottle is no doubt super tiny in his hand.

"Dude!" Lester laughed so hard that it almost sounded like a cackle as it reverberated against the break room's walls. "That's pussy soap."

Several of the guys briefly locked eyes with me as they grinned, because they too knew exactly what Ram was describing.

"Nuh uh." Ram defended, looking a little mortified. For a self-proclaimed ladies man, second only to Lester's boisterous tales, Ram sure doesn't know that much about a woman's open secrets.

"Yuh huh!" Lester nodded vigorously, unexpectedly tapping me in for confirmation.

All eyes shifted my way this time, several of the men sporting huge shit-eating grins while Ram looked a little too pale.

"Does it have a distinctive V as the logo?" I asked.

"It's a dove… or is it?" Ram was seriously rethinking his life choices. I bet he'll never pilfer personal care products again.

"You've been using her Vagisil." I mean, I've never used doodah soap on my face, but it's likely fine. To soothe his horrified expression, I added, "It's just a pH neutralizer. It should be okay to use on your face." I think, but what do I know? I'm not a doc and science was definitely never my strongest subject.

"Bobby?" Ram squeaked, all eyes now directed at Bobby as he got up to serve himself seconds. Ella's food is top tier. Gordon Ramsay, who?

"Yeah, it's fine." Bobby confirmed as a slow grin crossed his face. "Then again, your face's been all over her, so…" That elicited a rumble of laughter from the guys, somehow simultaneously curbing Ram's worries.

"My advice, for what it's worth…" I said as I gathered to toss my trash and get back to the pending searches awaiting me in my cubby. The guys perked up, wanting to have a little insight that may be helpful, if not now, in the future. "Replace anything you've used up, especially Jackie's expensive shampoo and conditioner."

Ram may have been really popular with the ladies since his teens, but this is his first serious relationship. He's been spending a lot of time at her place. I foresee them moving in together in the not so distant horizon. Mark my words. Of course, with Jackie's gorgeous kinky hair, Ram better replenish the shampoo Mr. Alexander specially concocted for her coily hair type. Mr. Alexander is the best in Jersey, and I know from experience that he isn't cheap.

"Just like you replenish the shower gel you swipe from the Boss?" One of the Merry Men stage whispered under his breath as the room erupted in deep rumbling laughter.

"Hey!" I pretended to be offended by Cal's jab, but we all know it's in good fun. Witnessing a room full of ex-military badasses grinning wide isn't an everyday occurrence.

When the convo threatened to continue engaging us in non-crime topics, the research team, myself included, received notification alerts on our cells from Rodriguez. Luckily for me, I was saved by the bell from having to admit that I keep taking Ranger's Bulgari green shower gel because of its great benefits. For one, the scent reminds me of Ranger whenever he's in the wind. And two, it has the same effect on Ranger that it does on me: he wants to ravish me very thoroughly whenever I use it. It's a win/win for yours truly.

When my inbox was finally empty, I gave the guys in the control room a finger wave once I clocked out for the day. Instead of heading to my apartment to unwind after a busy day at Rangeman, I fed Rex and carted a heaping clothes hamper full of my bedding.

"I'll be back." I said to my hamster after giving him a little piece of my Butterscotch Krimpet. Rex stuffed the pastry into his cheek pouch and blinked before scurrying back into his soup can. He didn't understand why I was going to the laundromat when I still, nine times out of ten, have my mom or Grandma Mazur wash my clothes. When I wash my stained clothes after a messy encounter with a skip, the stains don't seem to come out. Besides, Grandma Mazur and mom have some magical sorcery going on that gets even the nastiest of stenches right out of my clothes. It's a gift of theirs really.

So why am I going to the laundromat? Well, there's no way in hell I'm letting my mother, or even worse, my Grandma Mazur, wash my love stained sheets! Heck no.

The small laundromat near the Bonds office is generally empty at this time during a weekday. Weekends and mornings are usually busier, so I was surprised to find that this afternoon there was more hustle and bustle than usual. Snagging the last available large washer, I did all the usual set up before starting an extended wash cycle with extra rinse for good measure. With Ranger and I now engaging in sexy nightly activities, I'm doing loads nearly every other day when we spend the night at my place. I, unlike him, don't have an Ella. I try not to think about how many soiled sheets Ella's had to change from Ranger's bed. Jeez.

With it being summer, it's still pretty hot up until late afternoon. Not wanting to sit in a pool of my own sweat inside the small laundromat, and not wanting to have my car running so I could blast the AC, I decided to head over to the small restaurant joint around the corner. They have cheap food and outdoor seating, which is perfect for the delicious breeze that's picking up. Scrolling through my phone, I was startled when a stranger asked me for my drink. The request was extremely unconventional, yet I complied despite my confusion.

My mind was still pretty scrambled, memories jumbling together until it hit me like a full-speed train. This was the man who asked for my Coke earlier this month. He'd had a medical emergency, so I did what I could to help. At the time, I thought the odd way he tried to smile was simply a product of the circumstances. Perhaps he wasn't at his best or he was on the reserved, shy side. It didn't matter at the time.

Now, I can clearly see that wasn't the case. No, the reason his smile seems so uncanny is because of the lack of emotion in his abnormally large eyeballs. It's as if he's attempting to mimic what's supposed to be a normal human display of emotion, but he can't get it quite right since he's never experienced the feeling.

I've been told that I have a unique way of seeing things, paying attention to details that others don't necessarily give a second glance. This has been quite handy as a bounty hunter, a gift as it's referred to by the Merry Men and Ranger. However, this so-called ability of mine has landed me in hot water many, many times. It's those times, the ones where I've had awfully close calls, that have equipped me with the haunting recognition as a survival mechanism.

There's crazy eyes, those who are unpredictable and can be extremely dangerous to themselves or others.

And then there's dead eyes, unnatural and eerie, just like the ones I'm presently staring dead on.