Disclaimer: This is a Stephanie Plum FanFiction Story. All recognizable characters belong to the fabulous Janet Evanovich. I am just borrowing her amazing characters for a while.

Warnings: Adult language

Summary: Carlos "Ranger" Manoso has seen it all. As the quiet, calculating force behind RangeMan Security, he thrives in a world of high-stakes risks and few surprises—until a mysterious woman in green slips past his defenses at a crowded Halloween party.

The Fairy and the Enforcer

As my eyes scanned the sea of costumed partygoers, my gut clenched. This was a clusterfuck. Pure and simple. I barely managed to swallow an audible sigh, reminding myself there were five pairs of ears listening. My eye began twitching uncontrollably behind my Zorro mask.

"Fuck," I muttered to no one in particular, pressing a finger to the mask's edge.

"Everything okay, boss?"

I didn't bother to identify the voice. One of the new guys—Rodriguez, Roberts, Beavis, Butthead, who the hell knew. I certainly didn't. Business was expanding fast, way too fast. Since RangeMan had taken on investors, I no longer knew every man working for me.

The vibration of my phone drew my attention. "Manoso," I barked, muting my mic so the rest of the team couldn't hear.

Tank's low chuckle rumbled through the line, and my eye twitched again. We both knew I'd rather stitch a wound with dental floss and no lidocaine than be at this party with blaring '80s music, a fog machine that made me want to sneeze, and weird strobing Halloween lights. Not to mention the partygoers—clowns, vampires, zombies, werewolves. I'd swear I even glimpsed Michael Jackson's Thriller outfit, not to mention the sexy nurses. Those, I had to admit, held some appeal. A few of them had a nice rack. My gaze drifted to a blonde sipping a purple drink with smoke curling off it. She traced the rim with her finger, her lips curving in a sly smile. I watched, transfixed, as she sucked the droplets off with her cherry-red lips. The corner of my mouth tipped up, my thoughts running with the implications. The girl had skills.

"What do you think?" Tank's voice jolted me back to the job. "I'm heading back to the surveillance van, nothing turned up on the parking lot canvas."

Squinting, I scanned the room again. "This isn't Barry the Blade's kind of party."

Tank gave a low grunt. I knew him well enough to know that meant agreement. Barry the Blade was a mob enforcer who had earned his nickname for his up close and personal knife skills. He was known for skinning rats alive to make them talk. Gruesome, but effective. After a month-long dry spell, this was our first lead on him, and the clock was ticking.

"You think the intel's off?" Tank asked.

I rubbed the back of my neck, mulling it over. Connie, Vinnie's big-haired, big-mouthed, busybody office manager, had given us the lead. Vinnie was a POS human but a decent bondsman, though I still had no idea why he'd put up bond for Barry the Blade. Maybe it was family business. Maybe it was money. Frankly, I didn't care—except that it had landed me at this migraine-inducing rave. Vinnie's father-in-law, Harry the Hammer, was Barry's cousin. Talk about married to the mob.

"The guy Connie hooked us up with seemed a bit… out of it," I said, hedging.

Tank and I both knew that was an understatement. The guy had been so baked out of his mind, I couldn't tell where his pupils ended and the whites of his eyes began.

"He seemed certain about this," Tank replied.

"Yeah. Too certain," I said, cringing at the memory. He barely remembered his own name but rattled off the details without missing a beat. "Barry the Blade will be at the Halloween rave on Stark Street," I parroted in my best imitation of a stoner.

Tank grunted again. "You follow up with Connie?"

I winced. "Didn't want to risk it. She's been pushing me to train their new bounty hunter. From what I can tell, the woman is only qualified to breathe and be Vinnie's cousin."

"She might not be so bad," Tank offered, his voice dry.

"Right," I snorted, my disdain obvious.

"What's the plan?"

"Give it another hour," I said, scrubbing my hand over my jaw.

The line went dead, and my lips hinted at a smile. Tank's characteristic brevity was the one constant in this business. Clicking my mic back on, I relayed, "One hour, then we pack it up."

"Roger that," a chorus of voices replied, triggering another eye twitch.

A half-hour crawled by as I nursed a club soda and mulled whether this beat my recent experience of being waterboarded. Right now, it was a toss-up, as everybody yelled stroke me, stroke me to Billy Squire blaring over the speakers, and I tried not to vomit in my mouth. I handed my empty glass to a passing waiter and considered making a move on that blonde nurse. At least then the night wouldn't be a total bust. Before I could take a step, a flash of green stopped me cold, stealing my breath.

A woman stood under the flashing lights, her head scanning back and forth. She was a vision, draped in vibrant green. Her dress shimmered like a pond under moonlight, catching and reflecting every flicker, as though woven from the very essence of a forest. The fabric hugged her figure, flowing into cascading layers that fluttered around her legs with each slight movement, like petals in a breeze. Iridescent beads traced the bodice, glinting like dewdrops along the delicate curves of her waist and hips.

Her hair, a cascade of dark waves, was adorned with small, white flowers, adding a touch of softness to her striking look. A crown of twisted vines and emerald gems rested upon her head, framing her face like an ethereal halo. Long, graceful wings, almost translucent, extended from her back, glinting with shades of emerald and gold, creating the appearance of a creature born from the heart of the forest.

She was like something from a dream—unreal, otherworldly. Without realizing it, my feet moved toward her as if compelled. Everything around me dimmed, fading to a backdrop of muted shapes and sounds, leaving only her, vibrant and radiant, the only reality I cared to see. The lights cast a shimmering glow over her, like she'd stepped out of the night itself—a creature sculpted from leaves and starlight.

As I approached, her eyes met mine, and I felt a jolt, like the shock of cold water. Her eyes, a deep, captivating blue, sparkled with a hint of mischief, catching and reflecting the hues around her. It was as if she was seeing through me, past the layers I wore every day, straight to the very core of who I was. Her lips, a soft shade of rose, curved into a smile, with a touch of anticipation, as if she'd been waiting for me all along. Not just standing there by chance. It was as if she knew I would come.

Her delicate wings trembled ever so slightly as she tilted her head, her expression curious and playful. The iridescent beads on her dress caught the light again, sending glimmers that reminded me of fireflies.

"Hello," she said, her voice soft, melodic, like the wind whispering through the trees. It wasn't just a sound—it was a feeling, echoing through me, calming my racing heart.

I tried to speak, but words seemed to fail me, caught in my throat. She took a step closer. Her wings rustled and for a moment, I thought she might take flight, vanishing into the night sky, leaving me to wonder if she was ever real. The thought sent a ripple of panic, one I ruthlessly smothered.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," she teased, dimples flashing with her widening smile. "Or maybe... a fairy?"

I blinked, fumbling to find my voice. "Are you?"

Are you what? I had no idea what I was about to ask. Was she real? Was she a fairy? Had I lost my mind?

She laughed, a sound that made the world around us feel brighter as if everything might float away. "Maybe," she said, her eyes twinkling with secrets. "But if I am, then what does that make you, to have found me here?"

I couldn't answer. All I knew was I couldn't look away. She radiated an allure that called me closer, a magnetic pull I couldn't resist. I wanted to reach out and touch her, just to see if she was real. But at the same time, I felt like doing so would break the spell, like she would dissolve into the manufactured fog of the dancefloor the moment my fingers brushed her skin.

Then she held out her hand, her eyes never leaving mine. "Come closer, and I'll tell you a secret," she whispered, her voice dropping like the final notes of a song. "But you have to promise not to be afraid."

A grin tugged at the corner of my mouth as my pulse thundered in my chest. I stepped forward, reaching out and placing my hand in hers. Her palm was impossibly soft, and a shiver ran through me. She leaned in close, so close I could see the flecks of gold in her eyes, and her breath tickled my ear.

"Sometimes," she whispered, her words wrapping around me, "the things you find when you're lost are the things you've been searching for all along."

I stared at her, still reeling from the strange magnetism pulling me toward her and the unsettling familiarity in her eyes. Confused, I asked, "Who are you?"

Without a word, she lifted her hand and pushed my mask up, exposing my face. Her gaze never wavered, and a knowing smile tugged at her lips. "You're Carlos Manoso," she said softly.

My brows knitted together in confusion, my thoughts racing. How did she know my name? Reflexively, I replied, "Ranger."

Her eyes glinted with amusement, and she tilted her head, lips curving skeptically. "Ranger?" She repeated, like she was testing the name on her tongue. "What? Your mother didn't like you or something?"

I couldn't help but smirk, and a quiet laugh slipped past my defenses. This woman had a way of pulling a reaction out of me, one that felt both dangerous and irresistible. My hand snaked out, instinctively wrapping around her wrist. Her pulse fluttered under my fingertips, but I held firm, making sure she wouldn't vanish like mist in the night.

"It's a street name." I wasn't sure why I felt compelled to explain. "And who are you?" I asked, my voice low, almost a whisper. There was an intensity in her gaze that made my heart rate pick up, as if she were holding back secrets just beneath the surface, and I wanted to know them all.

Her smile deepened, a touch of mystery sparking in her eyes. "I'm someone you've been looking for," she murmured, her voice as delicate as a breeze. Her gaze shifted, holding mine, and I could see the challenge there. "Someone who knows exactly who you are."

My grip on her wrist tightened, but not in control—in something close to surrender. I'd spent my life guarding secrets, crafting masks and walls, only to find them useless here, under her gaze, in her presence. Her hand lifted to my face, fingers brushing lightly against my jawline, lingering as though memorizing every angle.

"Carlos," she said again, her voice like a whisper of my own name on the wind. "Sometimes what we hide behind is as much a cage as it is protection."

I swallowed, feeling the weight of her words pressing into the silent spaces I'd kept closed off for years. I wanted to ask her why she was here, how she knew me, but somehow, the questions felt irrelevant. She felt familiar in a way I couldn't explain, as though she'd stepped out of the darkness of my past or the shadows of my mind.

A flicker of something I couldn't quite place crossed her face as she dropped her hand, and I felt its absence as a tangible loss. "Maybe one day, Carlos Manoso, you'll find out who I am," she murmured. Before I could stop her, she stepped back, her form fading into the flickering strobe lights and hazy fog, leaving only the faint scent of wildflowers and the lingering echo of her touch.

I reached out, fingers grasping at the empty air where she'd stood. She was gone, like a dream slipping away with the first light of dawn.

I exhaled a long breath, feeling the weight of her words, of her touch, like an imprint. I looked around the crowded room, half expecting her to reappear, half believing she'd never been real at all. But as my eyes scanned the room, I caught a flash of green by the exit, just a flicker, a glimpse, before it vanished.

I stood there, in the pulsing chaos of the party, my heart racing and my mind tangled, the night's mystery lingering like a half-forgotten promise. For the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of anticipation rising, a pull toward something I couldn't name. And I knew, somehow, that I'd see her again.

A beat passed and I realized she'd slipped a business card into my palm. I glanced down at the card, unable to keep the smile from spreading across my face. Scrawled across the back, barely legible, were the words Stephanie Plum, Bond Enforcement. Her number was scribbled beneath, along with a simple note: Blue Bird Cafe, 9 AM.

Amused and impressed, the grin still splitting my face, the tension of the night dissolved. This woman—Stephanie Plum—had slipped right past my guard, left me guessing, and somehow, even managed to walk away without my figuring out who she was. Maybe I'd been wrong about her qualifications. At the very least, she had a knack for the unexpected.

With a smirk, I lifted my hand to my mic. "Let's pack it up," I said, my tone a little lighter. "Barry the Blade isn't here."

The chorus of acknowledgments from the team faded, leaving only Tank's familiar grunt on the line.

"What's got you grinning?" he asked, his tone holding a hint of curiosity.

"Change of plans," I replied, folding the card between my fingers. "Meeting someone interesting tomorrow. She might just keep things… entertaining."

"She?"

"Stephanie Plum," I relayed.

Tank let out a low chuckle, but I could tell he was curious. "Stephanie Plum, huh?"

"Yeah," I said, tucking the card into my pocket. "She's got a bit more to her than I'd expected."

Tomorrow at nine, I'd meet her at the Blue Bird Cafe. Whether she needed a mentor or a guide, I'd be there—if only because it was rare someone got past my defenses and left me intrigued.