Under Pressure - Chapter 13

I'd gone down to the police station and made my statement, Eddie Gazarra and Carl Costanza staying by my side the entire time. I think they were aware I was feeling a little stunned by what I had done. I'd killed a man for the second time.

Somehow, though, it seemed different this time. Last time I'd shot and killed a man in self-defense and I had been filled with self-doubt and horror. This time I felt like there had been no choice. Either Ranger ended up dead or he did. Simple either/or. Interestingly, even though the police frown on "civilians" shooting other civilians, the cops were solidly on my side. I'd killed in defense of my partner. A regular fact of cop life, one they had no trouble accepting. And they all seemed to have no trouble believing that Ranger was my partner.

Eventually they let me go and Eddie drove me home. I hadn't seen Ranger at the station.

It was late when I got back and my apartment seemed quiet and peaceful - Rex was running in his wheel and stopped to give me a once-over. I told him about my day and about the shooting. He seemed to think I was okay, though, because when I stopped talking he immediately started running again. Fair enough. I must be okay. I headed straight for the shower and stayed under it until the water turned cold. I got out, clean and as close to relaxed as I could get.

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but when I went to my dresser to pull out something to sleep in, my hand strayed past my usual tshirts and stopped at a lacy, sheer thing. It was black and see-through in all the right places. It wasn't meant for sleeping in, but for taking off, one slow piece at a time. I had my hopes.

We were friends again, right? So he could break into my apartment again.

Except that he didn't. Not that night, not the next night or the night after.

By Friday I was feeling pretty cranky. The high point of Friday morning was that both Lula and Connie were back at the office and we'd had one good screaming session with Joyce Barnhardt. Tank had even been there for that one and had leaned against the wall, smiling, as Lula and Connie had torn into Joyce.

All of us, including Tank, lined up in the window to watch Joyce make her hasty retreat. Lula, Connie and I sighed in unison as she got into her car and left.

Connie and Tank walked back over to her desk and began to fill out some paperwork, leaving Lula and I still standing by the window.

"Girlfriend," Lula started. "I heard what you did for me. So, c'mon, tonight we go out, my treat."

Connie heard the "out" and the "my treat" parts and looked over. Lula rolled her eyes and beckoned her to come over.

"Look," Lula said. "You got me my job back and you got the weasel to gimme a raise. Might as well spend some of that raise on you and show us all a good time. We'll go out and have us a party."

Parties with Connie and Lula tended to end up with them squabbling and, if I wasn't careful, me plastered. Both of them could drink me under the table and I had to be careful not to match them drink for drink. I started to refuse the invitation and they tag-teamed me and I heard all of the reasons I should go in stereo.

"Okay, okay," I said, answering back in stereo. "Where to this time?" One night, when Lula had been drinking heavily, too, we'd been asked by the club manager to leave and never enter the premises again - so now our policy was to never hit the same club twice.

Lula folded her arms and wiggled her shoulders. "Girl, we goin' classy. You know that new place opened up over on Fremont? Meet us in the bar, dressed to make the boys' tongues hit the floor, at 9:00, and from there," Lula started to do a little strange dance thing, jerking with emphasis at the start of each word, "We Hit The Town."

God knows I hadn't been doing anything at home except moping. I may sometimes end up plastered when we party, but it was always fun. I'd take a cab there and Lula could take me home and pour me into bed. Deal. I was feeling better already.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lula give Tank a meaningful look. Was this a potential romance brewing? Huh. Tank and Lula. That could be .. interesting.

-0- -0- -0- -0- -0- -0-

When the cab dropped me off at quarter after nine, Lula and Connie were standing in front of the bar/restaurant. Odd. Whenever we agreed to meet, Connie was usually fifteen minutes early and started drinking without us and Lula was usually a good hour late. I tried to average them out, which meant that I still showed up later than the agreed time. But here they both were, already waiting for me.

They were both excited and grinning. Lula hugged me. "Lookin' good tonight - this is gonna be your night, honey."

We went into the bar area and sat at a table in the middle of the room. There was a good crowd and the noise level was high enough to let you know there were a lot of people there but low enough that the three of us could still actually talk. I ordered a beer. Lula and Connie were still on the Vodka Cosmopolitan kick and started with doubles. I shuddered.

Lula tossed off the first drink and started looking around the room. "Lotta fine men here tonight. That one there," she pointed with her drink at a handsome - and barely legal-age man - "is not no pain to look at." For some reason, talking about men brings out the double negatives in Lula's speech. "Course, none of these guys got the whole package that Batman got."

"I thought you said you were never going to mention his name again." In arguing with Ranger, Lula had either shown more courage than 99.9% of Trenton or she had the kind of courage only fools have. Or both.

"Yeah, well," she smirked. "Batman came by the office day before last to apologize. Seeing as how you said you two are back to bein' buddies, I accepted the apology."

I nearly spit my beer out. "He what?!"

"I know an apology when I hear it, even if the word "sorry" ain't in it," Lula said with a swagger.

I couldn't decide which was more astonishing - that Lula had confronted Ranger or that Ranger had actually apologized.

Connie looked at Lula and shook her head. "If you're going to tell stories, make sure you tell what actually happened." She rolled her eyes. "Ranger came by because he wanted to talk to Vinnie. Whatever it was about wasn't good. We could hear Vinnie whining from the front office." She tossed back the rest of her drink. "Lula and I couldn't hear very well, so we were standing close to the door."

I mentally finished her sentence "With our ears pressed up against it." Having done that a time or two myself, I knew it was the only way to successfully eavesdrop Vinnie's office.

"When Ranger came out of the office kind of unexpectedly, Lula and I sort of stumbled and fell. Ranger reached down and helped us both up and said "Wouldn't want eavesdroppers to think I have no manners." Lula decided that counted as an apology."

"You had to be there," Lula said, defensively.

"I was there," Connie said.

I took a large swig of beer and decided against saying anything further. Everyone's entitled to their Ranger-related delusions, I guess. Lula and that 99.9% of Trenton. I had relationship delusions. Lula had apology delusions.

I happened to look up from my beer to catch Lula giving Connie and nudge. Both of them were looking at the back of the room, behind me, where the back entrance to the bar was. I felt two things simultaneously. A tingling across my skin and a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I turned. Ranger, Tank and Lester must have come into the bar from the back parking lot. They were all dressed in casual clothing, not work clothing - Ranger in charcoal gray and black, Lester and Tank a little more colorfully. As though he felt me looking at him, Ranger's eyes swung up to meet mine. And froze for a moment. Literally froze, his neutral expression becoming icy.

I looked back at Lula and Connie, who were carefully not looking at me. Quite the coincidence, this.

My first thought was that Ranger, the master planner, had arranged this, and then I saw his cold, cold gaze going to Tank and Lester and then to Connie and Lula. I was glad that I wasn't on the receiving end of that look.

They'd all gotten together and set us up.

My only consolation was that the look Lester and Tank were getting said they'd be in physical pain as well as mental pain shortly.

I looked at my own set of betrayers, who were both looking rather pleased by this escapade. I wanted to see him, to talk to him, but not like this. This felt like junior high-school. This felt, well, humiliating.

Lula and Connie urged me - if urged is the right word to use for dragging me up by both arms - to stand up. I saw Ranger get to his feet as soon as I did. I turned back to Lula and Connie. "I can't believe you did this to me," I hissed.

Lula pushed me ahead of her. "This is what friends are for, girl." I sighed and walked to my fate. No sense throwing a fit here. I could always do that later.

It hadn't been lost on Ranger that I was reluctant to join him and by the time we crossed the room, his expression was as harsh as I'd ever seen it.

"I had nothing to do with this, Ranger."

His eyes slid back to Tank. "Know you didn't, Babe."

Tank shrugged. "Girl saves your life, Boss, seems like you at least owe her dinner. Maybe a drink or two."

"You don't owe me anything, Ranger. I owe you and you know it."

Ranger and Tank held eye contact for what felt like minutes. Finally, Ranger turned to me. "Dinner is a good idea, Babe. Let's lose the audience, though." He held his hand out, his face neutral. Carefully, obviously neutral. I looked up into his eyes and the pretense of neutrality crumbled. He wasn't angry with me and he wanted me to accept. Maybe even almost as much as I wanted to.

I reached out and took his hand, felt the brief tightening of his fingers on mine. I cleared my throat. I'd already eaten, but I always leave room for dessert. Even when I'm eating dessert. "Dinner. Sure."

As we turned to leave, Ranger looked at Tank and Lester one last time. When he spoke, his voice was quiet but stern and he tapped his finger, once, lightly, on the table in front of them. "Payback, gentlemen." Both of them blanched. I settled for glaring at Lula and Connie. Lula smirked and sat down next to Lester.

We left the restaurant together, his fingers still tightly wrapped around mine. He led me out to the BMW, opening my door for me before getting in and heading the car into the night.

"Where are we going?"

His eyes slid over to mine. "I think we could be going for a long ride together, Babe." He turned his attention back to the road and zoned away from me.

Under Pressure - Chapter 14

The ride was only about twenty minutes into one of the older parts of Trenton. We drove down residential streets of beautiful old houses and finally turned into a driveway at the end of a long wooded lane. Ranger stopped at the gate and swiped a card through a cardlock.

I looked over at him. "I thought we were going for a long ride?"

"We'll talk about that later."

The gates slid back and we drove forward. It was dark and I didn't get a very good look at the house, but it was definitely an older style, white and many-windowed. We stopped in the circular drive in front of the massive front door.

I got out of the car and looked around. "I'd never guessed you were the old-house type. I'd have guessed ultra-modern, chrome and glass."

He shrugged as he put a hand at the center of my back and walked me up the steps. "You'd have been wrong. It's a beautiful old place. And private. Secure perimeter." I wondered if the real estate agent had listed those last two as selling points for the house. Probably not.

We walked into the larger foyer. Apparently his appreciation for the aesthetic arts stopped at structures, because most of the rooms I could see were empty of furnishings. The living area to the right had a wood floor covered by a huge Oriental rug but no furniture.

He lead me to the left, through a doorway, into a large kitchen with a formal dining room just beyond. He walked into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of wine out of a wine rack and opened it, pouring both of us a glass of deep red wine.

I waived a hand back toward the empty living room. "So you're in to Minimalism?"

"I haven't been here long. I bought it about a month ago, been having some work done. Tired of spending all my time in the apartment above the office."

"Above the office… Did you just tell me where you lived?"

"You're in my house now, Babe."

I walked across the room, my heels clicking against the hardwood floor, the sound echoing off the bare walls. "Not much furniture." I sipped the wine as I looked around at the beautiful old rooms. I set down the glass and wandered over to the windows.

"Recently I've been thinking about filling it with someone, not something." He paused. "You."

I spun around and looked at him. He was leaning back against the counter, his arms folded loosely, his feet crossed at the ankles. Completely casual.

"What? Look, Ranger, this isn't funny…"

He cut me off. "I mean it, Steph."

"You want me to live here." He nodded. "With you." He nodded again. I picked my wine glass up, more to give my hands something to do than anything else. "Hard to do if we aren't supposed to see each other again. If we're just friends."

He said nothing.

I looked up into his serious face. "I want to. I think we could be... good together." I looked around the empty, quiet rooms. "But you have rules. What happens when I .. break a rule?"

"I do have rules for you. Non-negotiable rules. You'll carry. Always." He looked at me, waiting for my nod. "And loaded." I nodded again. "Not down in the bottom of your purse where you can't find it. On you. You'll keep your head up and pay attention to what's around you. When I tell you to do something for your safety, you do it. Without a word. No questions or arguments."

"When you're working, I'll want to know where you are, what you're doing. That you'll call if you need help, and you'll call for it before you are in a jam and not wait until it's too late." He kept his eyes fixed on mine. "Know this, Babe - in a crisis situation I will put your life ahead of mine. Every time. So if I have to come get you out of big trouble, you risk my life even more than yours." I'd already seen that this was true, more than once, and I didn't ever want to have to see it again. He understood me well enough to know that.

He shrugged. "I want you safe. You know how far I am willing to go to keep you that way." I knew he meant Abruzzi. "And those are my rules."

"But you know how open my life is. My family and my friends. Isn't that .. dangerous for you? Won't it drive you crazy?"

He tilted his head and considered me for a long moment. "I want you. I want a life with you and I'll accept change for that. Even some changes I may not like." There had been no change in his tone or his expression but the underlying emotional tension I felt made my heart start to speed up.

"What is this going to cost you, Ranger? What changes will you have to make?"

"Since you will agree to be more careful, I will agree to back down off the higher risk jobs and as many of the solo jobs as I can - take the business even further toward completely legal than it is now." He was very serious, dark eyes intent and fixed on mine.

And here was one of the issues with Ranger that had always scared me the most. "Exactly what kind of jobs are you talking about?"

"I've always kept up my contacts, in and out of the military. Most of the off-shore jobs I can turn away. There will be some that I can't. Favors called in, markers owed. Debts of honor. They have to be paid back. There are a couple of long-term jobs that I will need to complete."

"How much of this stuff could get you killed or put in jail?"

"Everyone is carrying, sometimes high-powered arms are involved. It's always a possibility. Chasing high-risk skips isn't that much safer." I closed my eyes. Some of the skips Ranger chased were beyond terrifying, and he was saying that they were safer than the other things he did. "As for jail - not likely in the U.S. I have very good contacts."

I could read between the lines on that one - if he got caught on the non-US jobs, jail was the least of his worries. Not the most responsive answer I'd ever heard. Typical Ranger, though. He didn't lie but he didn't always fully explain things, either.

"Answer a serious question?" Eventually he nodded, a single small incline of his head. "What did Brooks want with you?"

"He wanted something and someone back and knew that I could get them. And probably wanted a couple people, including me, dead in the process."

"Did you really kill his girlfriend?"

His face was serious, expressionless. "Yes."

"How?"

"I shot her in the head." The words just hung there in the air between us for a moment. He studied my face before he continued. "When I left the Rangers, I free-lanced for a couple of groups."

"Mostly legal but completely morally right?"

"A few of them. A very few of them. This wasn't one. That became clear to me after the mission started. It went down in a four-way clusterfuck. They all sold each other out. Brooks, my mission CO, the suppliers and the buyers."

His eyes were unfocused, visiting an old and ugly time.

"The deal was for 20 million in investment grade diamonds in exchange for weapons. Brooks had his sister Therese act as courier and his girlfriend was the banker of the deal. The CO of the operation, Mendoza, decided to keep Therese, the diamonds and the weapons. Keep it all away from Brooks. Resell the arms to an organization higher up on the CIA-approved list for a big payday."

"My team was supposed to provide security and make sure we had the only weapons at the meet. We failed. Brooks' girlfriend had a gun hidden. The man I had assigned for body search didn't bother to search her. Dismissed her as unimportant. She put a round into Mendoza's bodyguard, point blank, and then turned to shoot Mendoza. I shot her before she shot him."

"Mendoza and Therese and their children live ... not far from here. Brooks has apparently been hunting for his sister and the diamonds. He was a distant business associate of Abruzzi's and put the pieces together about us after hearing about Abruzzi."

We sat silent as I took in what he had just said.

"And now," I asked, "Brooks?" My voice was tight.

He shook his head.

"You?"

"No," he said, his voice calm and even. "But I was there. Mendoza knew his family would never be safe as long as Brooks was alive."

"So you don't do mercenary work anymore?"

"No. But, like I said, there are people who can call in favors."

I looked back at him, my own face serious. "That's quite a bit to commit to."

"It is. I expect complete commitment. To me and to all parts of my life. And I offer the same to you in return." My past relationships had not involved men who understood the concept of faithfulness but I knew that I would never doubt Ranger's word. He studied my face. "This is what I do. Who I am."

I looked up into his serious, calm face. He was offering himself as completely as he could. It sounded so simple, so cut-and-dried, and I knew it was anything but. He had a very busy, complicated life and he wasn't good at sharing. He had a temper and he liked to snap out orders. We'd clash. He was willing to compromise now but I couldn't expect much of that in the future.

Was I ready for this? Ready for him? I folded my arms and stared at him. "Sounds like a business merger, Ranger. Another deal between us. I want more." He raised an eyebrow and waited for me to continue. "I want to know that I am more than that to you."

He reached out and pulled me the rest of the way toward him. He was still leaning back on the counter and I stood between his legs, my hands on his shoulders, looking up at him. He brushed my hair away from my face. I was going to have to be patient if I wanted to hear this. So I waited.

Finally he spoke. "You have become a part of me," he said in a low, harsh whisper, "as important and basic as breathing." My hands tightened on his shoulders. "I feel things for you that I can't even name."

He smiled and bent to kiss me and I stopped him. "That's a good start, tough guy," I murmured. "But it's your turn to say it."

We both remembered that night in my room when Ranger had asked me to tell him that I loved him. The smile left his face and he became serious again. Very serious, very intent, his eyes focused on mine.

"These aren't words I say lightly." He looked down at me for a moment and then brought his hand up and stroked my face with the tips of two of his fingers. I closed my eyes at the power of the sensation. "Querida." He tugged a stray piece of my hair, sharply, and I opened my eyes and looked into his calm, clear, dark eyes. "I love you, Babe."

I put my fingers up to trace across his lips. "I love you, Ranger," I whispered back.

For a long moment we stood there in mutual surprise. We'd both finally said it. At the same time and to the other. After all the time we'd spent avoiding it. I felt freer and lighter than I had in a long time. I smiled up into his serious face and saw his answering smile start at the corner of his lips and spread into his eyes.

"Now," he said, taking my fingers and gently pulling me with him. I clasped his hand tightly and we moved together toward the dark stairs.

We began to kiss even as we moved to the stairs. Gentle kisses at first, but heating up as we climbed the steps. Half way up the stairs I gave up on trying to walk and kiss at the same time and just threw my arms around his neck, trusting in him to catch me, to be steady for us both. He lifted me into his arms and took the remaining steps two at a time.

I tightened my arms around his neck and felt his answering growl. I pulled the leather tie out of his hair, tangling my fingers in the thick, silky darkness of it. At the top of the stairs he carried me toward double doors at the far end of the hall and kicked the door open with one foot. The room was large, lit only in bright moonlight, and the bed – the only bit of furniture in the room - was huge.

Ranger dropped one knee on the bed and lay me down on the center. He stood up and pulled back to stand a few feet from the bed, folding his arms to consider me on his bed. "Perfect," he said, his voice thick.

I kicked off my shoes and then sat up on my knees in the center of the bed. "Not yet." I pulled the black knit dress over my head, leaving myself wearing a barely-there bra and satin panties. "Your turn," I said, my voice gone husky.

He stepped to the side of the bed and I unfastened his belt and unbuttoned his pants and pulled his shirt out. I reached up to unbutton his shirt and realized my hands were shaking. His hands moved to cover mine and we slowly finished the buttons.

He ran his fingers over the satin trim of my bra, part of his finger so warm against my skin, and I shivered. With a deep growl he abandoned the slow pace and removed the rest of his clothes and my bra rapidly. My panties he simply ripped and they fell away.

Naked in the moonlight he was the most magnificent thing I'd ever seen. Strength, power, control and an almost inhuman grace. And that very impressive erection. I licked my lips and I saw his sharp inhalation as he watched me watch him.

He moved to stand at the bottom of the bed. "Lay down," he said, his voice so deep it was almost unrecognizable.

He knelt at the edge of the bed and leaned down, his weight on his hands. He began, slowly and deliberately, to caress, kiss and lick his way up my body, starting at my feet, throwing in small nips - small, sucking bites - that got progressively harder as he moved higher. His lips and tongue were warm and demanding and left a trail of heat and desire across my skin.

By the time he reached my thighs, I was moaning and writhing on the bed, only the pressure of his left hand and fingers, spread wide and high across my abdomen, keeping me from sitting up and trying to pull him up to me. Even so, I pushed against his restraining hand.

"Be still," he said against the skin of my upper thigh.

I moaned. "No, please.." It felt wonderful, but the sensations were creating a huge, empty ache in the core of me that I needed filled. "Please.."

I felt his smile against my very sensitive skin. "We've got all the time we need now, Babe."

With his right hand he part my folds and stroked me as he kissed his way along my thighs and across my stomach. His lips joined his fingers and this time I did jerk up off the bed, fisting my hands tightly in his hair. I started to sit up and he simply put one hand below my ass and lifted me up. My shoulders fell back on the bed.

He pushed the tip of his tongue against my clit, rubbing it in slow, tortuous circles. He entered me with one thumb, stroking in and out, his other hand touching, stroking, inciting me. I came quickly, my legs wrapping around him and pushing into him.

He kissed his way up the rest of my body, stroking me, pausing to cup my breasts and lick the nipples. He probably would have taken his time there, too, but I reached down and dug my fingernails into his back, hard enough to hurt. "Now," I said. "I want you in me now."

Before my body had stopped pulsing he entered me in one long, slow stroke, filling me completely and deeply and I lifted my hips off the bed and gasped. I looked up into his eyes and what I saw there had me catching my breath even more. I opened my eyes wider and hoped he saw everything I felt for him.

He kept his pace slow, his thrusts deep, whispering my name into my skin, into my hair. I felt the basic rightness of what we were doing, how well we fit, how well we shared pleasure and I arched up into him. He moaned and began to stroke harder, faster.

I could feel myself coming closer and closer to the edge and I could feel his body tensing and tightening. He brought one hand up to my face, his palm along my cheek, his fingers curled into my hair. I reached up with my hands and framed his face and we looked into each other, both feeling the swirling, coiling tightness that was about to break over us.

And then it was there. The orgasm we shared seemed to echo between us, gaining physical speed and power, transmitting sharp edgy fire along our skin where we touched or were joined and through our gazes. My hands tightened in his hair and I slipped them down to his shoulders, digging my fingernails into his back, screaming his name as I heard his harsh groan calling my name.

After, when I could think again, I ran my hands across his shoulders and down his arms, feeling the light sweat slowly drying. He brushed his forehead along my neck and shoulders, the heavy silk of his long hair another form of caress over my sensitized and quivering skin. I arched up against him as a shiver of sensation echoed through me again.

"Ranger," I said, my voice unsteady. "Ranger, that was…" I trailed off, unable to find a word for it.

He dropped on to his back. "Yes," he agreed. "It was."

I grinned at the faint smile on his face and rolled on to my side, snuggling up against him. His smile deepened. I propped myself up and put my head on his chest, flexing my hands against him.

He made a low sound deep in his chest. It sounded like a contented purr. "So," he said. "How's tomorrow look for that long ride?"

I yawned. "How long of a ride?" This much exercise makes me tired. I rubbed my cheek against his smooth hard chest, enjoying the feel of his voice vibrating through me.

He sat up, pulling me with him, so that I was still sprawled across his chest. He seemed to like that. "Long enough to do the commitment thing." He stroked his hands down my hair and back and I shivered up against him.

"The commitment thing?"

"We leave now. We get married now - Caymans, Bermuda, Vegas, doesn't matter where. Just us. No crying mothers, screaming grandmas. We do family and friend stuff later, discreetly, privately. No public announcements. You keep your last name. We keep a very low public profile." He gave me a wolf grin. "In private, well…"

My head snapped up and I stared at him, completely unable to believe what I was hearing. "Married?" I croaked.

He smiled and waved a hand in front of my face. "Yo, Babe. What did you think I meant?"

"I thought .. I thought we'd just live together."

"You thought wrong."

"So you're willing to do the whole thing? Love, honor and obey?"

"Obedience would be good, but I doubt I'll get it. Prefer to keep vows realistic. Honor, love, trust, faith - those'll do me." He spoke the last sentence lightly, but his eyes were serious.

I gaped at him. Somehow the idea of marrying him generated a panic that the idea of living with him hadn't.

His ESP kicked in and he reached up and grasped my jaw, tilting my face up until I looked into his dark eyes. "You are mine and you'll be bound by your word."

I narrowed my eyes at him and hid my smile. "You seem to be applying pressure again."

He leaned down to kiss me, a thorough, possessive, hot kiss. "You do your best work under pressure, Babe."

~FINIS

Epilogue to this story/Prologue to the follow-up story, Pressure Cooker

Pressure Cooker – The beginning

My first wedding was pretty much what everyone expected of a 'Burg wedding. Big dress, big hair, big production. Big scandal when it fell apart. My second wedding could never have happened in the 'Burg. I doubt anyone in the 'Burg ever even dreamed it.

It took place on the veranda of a private home in the islands just before sunset. The owners, two old friends of Ranger's, were away and we had the loan of the beautiful estate. I had told Ranger I was sorry not to have met his friends and he had just snorted, murmuring, "some things are best saved for later. Much later."

The groom entered from stage left, wearing a black suit, white silk shirt, black tie and black loafers. The bride entered from stage right, wearing a form-fitting, low cut, square-necked ivory sheath made out of raw silk and a crown of tiny ivory roses. The groom had given the bride a very old necklace and earring set of diamonds and cornflower blue sapphires, covering the "something old" and "something blue" categories nicely. The delicate earrings dangled in a long drop and the fiery small diamonds sparkled in the light.

Underneath the dress, in consideration of my husband-to-be, I was wearing the filmiest, sheerest ivory lace bra, panties and garters I could find. I was willing to predict that when he unzipped my wedding dress later, he'd be pleased with what he found under it. And if he was happy, he'd be sure I was happy. A good deal, all the way around.

The minister and two witnesses stood at the edge of the veranda, overlooking the sea and the sunset. We walked toward each other and met in front of the minister and stopped, facing each other.

His face was so serious it made me nervous. Was he re-thinking the whole idea of marrying me? I would if I were him. I was nervous, yes, but I wasn't having second thoughts. This felt completely right, just Ranger and me here, the two of us ready to make a formal commitment to each other. If my family had been here I would have had to keep my eye on my grandmother, worry about what my father was thinking and try to ignore my mother's wailing. My sister might have been wailing with her, too. Who knew about Val? I'd deal with all of them later. They would accept my marriage and learn to love my husband as much as I did. Or else.

I took what was supposed to be a deep, calming breath and studied the man I was about to marry. His hair was loose, falling just past his shoulders. The breeze lifted strands of it and I smiled to myself. His thick black hair was baby-fine and soft, and in the humidity of the islands, slightly wavy. I remembered the feel of it on my skin, like textured silk, and shivered in spite of the heat of the day. I was wearing heels but I still had to look up several inches to his face, up across the hard line of his jaw, past his firm, unsmiling lips, the sharp plane of his cheek. I looked into his eyes, finally, and saw that he had been watching me watch him. Women had a tendency to walk into walls and drop things when he smiled and I wasn't immune to his smile or his handsome face, either, but it had always been his eyes that suckered me in. He had complete control of his body language, his face and his voice – but I had discovered that his warm chocolate brown eyes were the key to his thoughts. And right now his thoughts were very pleasant. He might not be smiling, but he was pleased.

He took my hands in his and we turned to face the elderly minister and the kind old gentleman winked conspiratorially at me. Earlier the minister and I had had a private chat about some changes I wanted in the ceremony. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ranger's eyes slide from me to the minister and back to me, one eyebrow slightly raised, the corners of his lips turned up in a near-smile. I kept my own smile under control. He'd find out soon enough.

The minister began to speak in his lovely, island-accented voice, discussing the wonders and fringe benefits of marriage, the timber of his voice and the lilting accent making marriage sound like the biggest party ever thrown. I didn't expect married life to be a party, though certain parts of it were definitely going to be thrilling. I looked at the hands holding mine. Big, competent hands with long fingers, powerful yet capable of the most delicate touch. But scarred hands, too, the product of wars and battles and back alleys that I probably couldn't even imagine. I moved my finger to stroke the largest scar. His past was his own, for good or bad, but his future was ours.

The minister paused, and his smile became even wider as he turned to Ranger. "Do you, Ricardo Carlos Alejandro Luis Alvarez Manoso take Stephanie Ellen Plum to be your wife? To love, respect and honor throughout your life together?"

I blinked at the length of Ranger's full name. Very impressive. All of those syllables as the minister rolled his rrr's in the right places. And I shivered again as Ranger spoke, agreeing to all those terms, his voice deep and firm. Then it was my turn to agree, and I was surprised to find my voice clear and firm, too. I looked up from the minister to Ranger and found him watching me again. I smiled at him and watched his smile start in his eyes.

He turned back to face the minister, listening to the phrases he was to repeat. About midway through he gave a shout of laughter and turned toward me, grinning, but he repeated the phrases without change. "Stephanie, with all of my heart I take you to be my wife, throughout our life together to be honest and faithful. I promise to answer all nosy questions as completely as I can. I pledge to give to you the same happiness you give to me, through all of our life together."

His grip on my hands, as I repeated the same phrases, without the comment about questions, was tight enough to be almost painful. He meant every word he said and he knew I meant them, too. We smiled at each other, a little lost in the moment, and the minister cleared his throat. We dutifully repeated more phrases after the minister, exchanging rings as eternal symbols of love and commitment – heavy, intricately-patterned bands, mine with sparkling diamonds and sapphires worked in as part of the pattern, his matte black with no stones.

Finally the minister stepped away from us and folded his hands. "You may now seal your commitment with a kiss."

Ranger turned toward me, smiling, and as the sun set, I saw the last rays of light reflect from my husband's eyes in a wicked gleam.

Oh, boy.